#the message is so loud in the home and the we and the coffee beans.

[clockajoy]

when you’re ❌ anti ❌ sumeru yaoi 👨‍👨‍👦 but your opponent is hoyoverse 😹🙏

[itmeansfreeman]

I love you, Tony.

At 11:11 PM, you texted me "11″... I never answered. We both know I blocked you, but the iMessage on my laptop didn’t block you so your messages still came through.

A couple days later you came to my house. Last night. I know you don’t know this, but according to my Ring camera, you came at 11:11 PM.

It was weird because I had just laid down after listening to some Yoga Nidra meditation so that I can finally fall asleep, after four consecutive days of horrible sleep. Blame it on adjusting to midnight rotations or just the recent break up. But as I was finally drifting off, I heard a thud from the front door. I opened my eyes and asked myself if I heard that correctly. Another three or four thuds. I rolled over to open my safe. I thought, “Who could be knocking on my door this late? Did I leave the car parked in, blocking Rose from pulling out of the driveway?”

That’s what’s so great about the Ring app. I just opened my app and there I saw you in black & white, night vision, standing at my door with the screen door against your right shoulder. I think I said out loud, “Why? Ugh Tony why?” You looked up into the camera, eyes wide open. Your big eyes were always a beautiful brown window to your soul. You always play with your eyelashes at the ends of your eyes.

I considered just ignoring the knocks but I remembered that you still had my keys. The first thing you would see if you came in would be the roses that Brian just brought me on our first date. Fresh, a bright solid red.. a dozen. A new Brian. Sitting in a vase right on the dining table that we shared so many meals together at. The amount of meals you cooked for me Tony... you know in our whole relationship of 3.5 years I only cooked two? I have cried literal tears over how good some meals have been— I know you laughed when I did and loved that. You always made food with love. My favorites were jasmine rice, beans, and Costco salmon... your Chinese wok fired orange chicken, out-of-this-world-good ground turkey tacos... your love for grilling I will never forget. Now it’ll sit in my backyard collecting rust.

I couldn’t bear to break your heart like that. For you to walk in and see roses in your face. So I spoke to you through the Ring. You asked if I could open the door. After a good silence, I told you to give me a minute. I put on pants, went downstairs, took the vase of roses and put it under the kitchen sink cabinet. I walked to the door and there you stood. I think you asked if you could come in or I must have felt in my care for you to get you out of the cold. It’s the first few nights of fall that are finally getting truly cold.

You came in and sat on the couch. No lights were on. I stood by the doorway and looked at you. Then I told Google to turn on the globe light. You asked me to sit down. “Can you please sit down?” So I did on the other end of the couch.

You asked me why I never dropped your stuff off when I said that I would. I told you that I tried, but your apartment keys didn’t work on the new building’s lock. So I just brought it back home with me. I pointed to the corner of the living room where your things were. Two Wegmans totes and your black canvas jiu jitsu backpack. You stood up and went towards it.. looking around the house, seeing what’s different. You saw two cigars sitting perfectly parallel on my console table and asked, “Where did you get the cigars from?” “An event,” I answered. A recent coffee event. I wanted to smoke them with you honestly and I don’t know that I can smoke them without you. They will probably sit there and go stale. We sat back down on the couch.

“Did something happen in Texas?”

I had broken up with you last week after coming home from Texas selling Kopp Wallets. I broke up with you during my 4 while I was home eating dinner in uniform. You had just gotten out of work, showered, and rushed over excitedly to see me. You kissed me. I sat on the kitchen counter and said, “Tony?” Instant tears rolling down my eyes. I knew that it was time to really call it the end.

Nothing remarkable happened in Texas, besides me renting a BMW Z4, my childhood dream car. 

There was a grey zip up jacket on the couch— one that I didn’t really wear much during our relationship. It wasn’t familiar to you and you picked it up and looked at the tag, thinking maybe it was a guy’s. I saw your eyes dart around the house to see what’s changed in a week. You were convinced there was another man. It broke my heart that there was. He came into the picture right after you Tony. If you ever read this, I promise it did not overlap with us.

You begged me, asking what I need from you. It was never going to be us, Tony. You didn’t desire kids, my parents didn’t accept, you had a temper that hurt me too many times. 

You asked me if I was happy that I blocked you. You asked me, “Does it make you feel powerful? Does it do something for your ego?” The anger rushed back into my temples. I closed by eyes and told you to get out now— this is exactly the type of behavior that made me detach from you. You instantly begged for me to open my eyes and look at you... that you read recently that people block each other because it makes them feel powerful. Just like every other fight, I softened again to your voice.

You told me that you kept seeing our relationship in clips like a movie. All of the things we’ve experienced. I did too ever since we broke up. Except I remember all of the negative clips too. For every good moment, there was a bad one that hurt me deeply. I had to remind myself of that reality in that moment, because I would have been swept away by your sentiment like every past time I’ve tried to end things.

I cry now because I know just how fucking beautiful your soul is, fighting layers of demons. But I have to remind myself that these traits of yours are real, and I need to leave you because I love myself.

Suddenly there you sat sobbing. I was stunned and shattered. You were a book that fell off the shelf and all your pages were being read and you couldn’t do anything about it. You confessed that you would have wanted another child one day to do it right this time, feeling like a failure after raising Trey. You said he’s a 24-year old man now and you missed so much of his life. You tried. You brought him to the movies on Saturdays. You barely made it through the sentence, “I don’t even know his favorite color.” You said, “I’m a 46 year old man. I don’t even own a TV and I live in an apartment. What's the meaning of all of this? Why am I alive? Am I here to just work?” 

I have never seen you cry like that. Last night you and me together went through nearly my entire napkin holder.

I told you that I hope that you finally seek therapy... something I’ve been wanting for you to do for the last couple years. I start my own therapy tomorrow. Wow. Whenever I hear of how you’re doing someday, I hope you’ve found your way and redeemed your relationship with Trey no matter how old you are or how old he is. From the moment I met you, I knew you were affected by your relationship with your distant son. I even asked you during our first week dating. You told me that your relationship with him was good— everything was good— honestly! Last night you told me you’ve bottled it up all this time.

You cried and said you’d miss my coffee. You fell more in love with coffee and with me through me sharing it with you. I don’t think I want to share it with any other man.. it’d feel fake. You fucking were there when my business started. When 2nd Rule Coffee started, you saw the cart in separate wooden pieces in my driveway. You saw it all. You saw it fucking all Tony. You saw the beginning of Kopp & Company. You were the one who sat on the turquoise chair in my office room as I asked you to feel different leathers and tell me your opinion. You entered a sacred place of my life. I am so grateful that you were the one. You helped me load my mom’s SUV with the coffee cart two Thanksgivings ago after I served at Elijah’s Promise alone. Now you see me with my employees. You lovingly release me to travel to California and Texas to sell Kopp wallets. What a fucking honor to have had you as my cheerleader. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in that.... a better supporter, a better believer. I will fucking miss you babe.

God I love you and miss you as I write this.

You asked me if I wanted you to leave. I whispered, “Yeah.”

You got your backpack on and went towards the door. I stood up and walked into your arms. I cried and said again and again, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. Please be safe always. Please take care of yourself. Please be safe and please take care of yourself.” I hope this career changes your life Tony. And I hope you change many men in this career. It’s not for anybody, but you do it excellently. You are a leader. Your purpose on earth is to be redeemed, to know the love of God, and to show inmates and officers alike the Way. The very Way you experienced, believe, and are surrendered to.

You told me you’ll never stop loving me. You held my face with your two hands and looked into my eyes. You cried. I held your face and cried. I said, “I love you Tony Rivera.” You cried and said, “You’re my baby.” And kissed my forehead. I never want to forget that. I am your baby. I will never forget the anguish in your face as tears came down and you said, “You’re my baby.” I want to be. I wish I was your baby. I’m so sorry. You denied me the ability to be with you forever. You didn’t treat me right.

Like you said, maybe in Heaven, we will be pure and we will recognize each other. And we’ll really be happy forever. Not limited by age, by our own sin. 

I will miss you for as long as I can tell. Maybe I will forget many memories. I know I will. I have forgotten most of my relationship with Brian Kim. But there are some that I’ll never forget. And like with him, I’ll never forget ours that were uniquely us.

This is all such a mindfuck to me. When Brian Kim broke up with me, it was because I had a temper and didn’t treat him to the best of my ability. I chose my temper over honor. And when he dumped me assuredly, I felt abandoned. He said he loved me and wanted forever with me. And now I leave you for the same reason. I feel so shitty. I feel like this is all a matrix.

Thank you for everything. You changed my life. You showed me that at any age, we can be unapologetically wild and young. You made me laugh far more than any other man. You didn’t own a TV, just like me. You cherished deep talks. We smoked many cigars together and shared conversations that enriched one another. No bullshit. We also drank a lot. We were insanely in love, obsessed, overjoyed... and equally toxic, selfish, and different. There is a part of me that is in you. And a part of you that is in me. 

I guess I have to move on. We all do. 

Please know that I love you. I wish things were different for us.

I hope to one day see you with a wife. One that will accept you better than I could, and one that you can treat better than you treated me. 

Thank you for being my man and allowing me to be your woman. 

Tony Rivera I love you. I think I could never return to Brooklyn to eat pizza, go to the next restaurant, eat more pizza, and walk the Brooklyn Bridge with anyone else. We encountered a man on the Brooklyn Bridge that day who had paintings. One painting had a bird in the sky and you pointed to it. You said that this is one day going to me be when you release me... from this relationship that we both knew would never work out. Three and a half years later, I am that bird in the sky. I appreciate you letting me go. I will always remember what it felt like to be in your hands. I will never regret being in your hands. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

[from-a-reckless-writer]

iv. couch.

read on ao3

To Lena: r u busy??? U didnt answer my calls. Dinner later?

To Lena: my place.

To Lena: Or yours! Can totally go to urs. If u want.

To Lena: Lena????

To Lena: where are u??

To Lena: Answer my calls

To Lena: Pls?

Kara rounds the corner of her hallway, keys bitten, dangling from her lips, as she types with both hands. Her 67th text message of the day to an MIA Lena Luthor sent. She fails to notice the creature lurking around the front of her door; dark fur shining under the cheap LED lights of Kara’s corridor.

She’s still deeply absorbed in her phone with worry, in the middle of jamming her keys in with one hand, when something furry brushes against her legs and Kara yelps.

She pulls the knob clean out of the wood in shock, her phone dropping to the floor loudly, the cat doing a duet with her with a startled yowl of her own.

Heart hammering and adrenaline racing, Kara looks down and sees the cat for the first time.

“Oh! Oh!” she gasps, “I didn’t see you there, buddy. I’m sorry for startling you!! I didn’t mean it.”

The door knob clatters loudly to the ground as it falls out of her grasp. And Kara sheepishly feels guilty for the hole in her door. But the cat meows loudly, catching her attention, as if in response to her apology.

She crouches down low, and reaches out a hand to touch the furball. She snaps a quick pic, sends it to Lena and pockets her phone.

To Lena: KITTY!!

“Oh, oh come here,” she coos, “where’s your collar? How’d you get here huh?”

The cat reminds her of Streaky. The first stray who ever took to her kindly. Although upon closer inspection, Kara realizes this one has striking emeralds for eyes, Streaky’s eyes were a more softer blue.

The cat surprisingly seems friendly, immediately leaning into Kara’s touch. Nosing at the inside of Kara’s wrist and it’s such a familiar gesture but she can’t seem to remember why.

And...oh, a small rumbling echoes through Kara’s palm!

Oh, they’re purring!

Kara doesn’t know how long she stays there crouched low exactly, but eventually, she stands up, takes her hand away, and picks up the damaged doorknob.

“Well, time for you to go home now, buddy,” she tells them, giving their head one last pat before dusting off her hands on her jacket.

“Go on, shooo. Shoo. Go home. I’m sure your human is looking for you.”

But the cat remains unmoving. It looks like they’ve decided to sit firmly in front of Kara’s doorstep, casually licking a paw, as if waiting for Kara to open her door.

“Are you actually waiting for me to open my door?” Kara makes a mental note to thank Rao that none of her neighbors can see her trying to hold a proper conversation with a cat.

“Look, kitty,” she says firmly, “I’m not your human.”

The cat just blinks owlishly at her. Eyes too green, too intelligent and-

Kara makes up her mind.

She turns her face skywards, takes a deep breath (This will probably backfire, she already knows. But she's always had a soft spot for strays.) and then she pushes her door wide open.

The cat races inside, cutting through Kara’s legs and almost tripping her.

“Well, somebody’s excited,” Kara mutters under her breath, she watches the cat head for her living room couch; watches as they pause all of a sudden, changes course and jumps onto Kara’s coffee table instead.

Where the cat then proceeds to knock down everything in close vicinity, even the picture frame of her and Lena together.

“Hey! No! Bad kitty-”

But the cat is already hopping down from her pedestal, landing on the frame directly.

And then things get weird.

The cat proceeds to stomp all over it, meows loud, like really loud; insanely loud for a cat their size.

Her paw seems to be almost pointing? At the other person in the frame.

“I-” Kara seems taken aback by the bizarre behavior, sure she knows cats are vastly different from dogs, but this…

This is just weird.

The cat’s meowing only seems to get louder.

How you land yourselves in these situations, Kara. I really just don’t know, at this point. She can almost hear Alex say.

“What are you- Are you- are you pointing? That’s- That’s Lena, yeah. That’s my best friend.”

At that, the cat seems to vibrate. They start clawing at Kara’s pant leg, meowing and meowing and meowing—

And then it hits her.

"-but it turns out that she’s a witch. And apparently, so am I."

The green, green eyes.

A pink nose nuzzling against her wrist.

“Lena?”

******

“Oh, Rao! Lena you’re a cat! What happened?! Oh, no, baby what did you do?”

Lena-

Lena The Cat—and okay, so she’s still wrapping her head around that one—just stays silent. She’s sitting on her lap, looking regal than any cat has any right to be. A judgmental look in her eyes.

Lena’s a cat. Cat’s can’t speak. Can’t answer Kara’s questions.

“Right. Sorry. Only meow,” Kara murmurs, embarrassed. For some reason even in cat form Lena manages to be intimidating.

“Okay so, uh d-does that mean you still understand me? Two meows for yes. One meow for no.”

Kara gets two meows.

“Okay, cool, cool. Great. You can still understand me, that's good.” Kara runs a hand down her spine, “Gosh, your fur is just so soft.”

She hears Lena give a small growl, body tensing, “Right. Right. Sorry. Not the time for pets.” Kara retracts her hand away.

“Uhm, so next question then, I guess? D-did you become a cat this morning? Were you testing out your uhm...gift?”

Lena meows twice. Kara nods, clenching and unclenching her fist underneath her chin. Fingers itching to run themselves through Lena’s soft fur again. Lena seems to sense this, and nuzzles her face into Kara’s hand, bumps against her repeatedly.

“Really?” Kara double-checks, giddy. If she were human Kara bets Lena would be rolling her eyes like she always does when Kara does something particularly dorky, but she just pushes her head firmer against Kara’s hand and meows twice.

“So uhm,” she starts, cautiously, noting Lena’s increasing purr, “is there like a spellbook for this or something? Something that can help you transform back?

Lena meows yes.

“Is it in The Tower or back at your place?”

There are no responses.

“Sorry, sorry lemme rephrase, is it in The Tower?”

She gets two consecutive meows.

Okay, to The Tower it is.

******

“Are you going to tell me why you’re cradling a cat in your cape or??” Alex raises a brow at her, a hand on her hip, left foot tapping impatiently. Her sister was heading out for the day, it looks like. It was just tough luck that Supergirl landed one minute before the elevator took Alex.

Crap. Now they have to explain. They didn’t talk about this. Lena still hasn’t told her if it was okay to tell people about her gift.

“I-I rescued it,” Kara says.

Well, that isn’t so far from the truth, right? She stares at the bundle in her arms, Lena the traitor staying silent all the while—green eyes shining all innocent at Kara.

Alex’s stares intensifies.

“From a tree,” Kara flounders, and Lena The Cat has the audacity to yawn, squirm and jump away from her arms. She lands gracefully, tail swishing up in the air and heads straight for the lab.

Alex eyes the cat suspiciously before turning back to Kara. She jabs a finger to her chest. “It better not have any fleas. It better not touch my training mat.”

“She won’t.”

Alex just shakes her head, rolls her eyes, grabs her helmet and walks to the elevator.

Before she goes though, Alex says, “You know, this is gonna sound weird, but I swear I think I saw that same cat slinking out of The Tower earlier this morning.”

“Alex, she’s literally a black cat. There are hundreds of black cats in the city.”

“You're being weirdly defensive about this. Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

Alex seems like she wants to say more, but the elevator dings, and she’s never been more grateful that Kelly makes Alex pick her up from work. Alex huffs out breath, before conceding and disappearing into the lift.

******

The camera flash is what gets Kara busted.

But is it really her fault if she walked in on a cute kitty, hunched over, meowing adorably, trying to flip over the pages of a thick spellbook, with her teeny-tiny bean paws?

Lena hisses at her, teeth-bared and fur puffy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you were just really, really, really cute okay?” She walks closer to the desk, carefully lifts a hand and scratches Lena behind the ear.

The hissing slowly devolves into purring, and Kara grins triumphantly. Lena lets herself be picked up after a few moments, Kara leafing through the pages for her.

“So, found anything yet?” She asks, cradling Lena close to her chest. A warm weight on Kara’s arms, and as much as she wants to get her real Lena back, she also isn’t too eager on giving up this version anytime soon. Then again, Kara thinks, it would be impossible for her to give up any version of Lena Luthor.

“Spell? Charm? Anything? Do you need to make a potion? Are we gonna get to make a potion? Oh, oh do you need a wand? Do you have a wa-”

Kara’s words get muffled as two black paws press against her lips. Lena’s green eyes narrowing at her. She meows at Kara. Loudly.

“Mkay, mkay. Shut up. Got it.”

Lena removes her paws, and Kara makes a gesture of zipping her lips together. This seems to appease Lena enough because the next second, a pink tongue darts out and she...licks Kara's nose.

“Did you- did you just lick me?” Kara gasps out.

Lena doesn’t even acknowledge her with a meow, just turns away and jumps out of her arms again. Before Kara can do anything about it though, her phone rings.

The screen lighting up with Andrea’s name.

“Danvers, I’ve got a story for you.”

******

“Alex, please, I’ll be quick. I promise. I’ll only be three hours at the most. Please just look after her,” she pleads, pouting and puppy eyes in full power.

It also helps that the cat burrito in her cape looks to be cooperating. Lena The Cat staring at Alex with wide round eyes.

Apparently, some governor was found dead downtown, and now Andrea wants her on the scene. She can’t just leave Lena all alone in The Tower. No matter how hard Lena’s been protesting, this is brand new territory for both of them. Nobody knows the extent of Lena’s powers.

Point is, Kara would feel a lot better if she were to leave Lena under the care of someone she trusts. Even if said someone, accuses Lena of being a stray with fleas. It's still better than leaving Lena all on her own.

“Ugh.” Alex groans and Kara knows she’s won. “If this cat causes trouble I will throw it out the window, Kara.”

“No!” Kara yells, distressed. “Don’t do that. She’ll behave. She promises.”

She puts her hand under Lena’s arms and raises her up to eye level—Simba style. “You promise to be good for Alex, don’t you?”

All she gets is a lot of squirming and screaming, there were also a lot of attempts at scratching Kara’s nose.

“See?” Kara says, chuckling nervously. “She’s telling you she’s good.”

Alex looks skeptical, her arms crossed against her chest.

Kara sets her down on the couch, and crouches down low.

She tries to pet her head, but Lena bites at her finger, she catches her teeth on the skin of her supersuit’s thumb slot. She bites deeper, her teeth accomplishing nothing but a few dents.

And oh, Rao she thinks she’s such a feral little cat but her pink adorable gummy snarl says otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispers, careful not to let Alex hear. “And then we’ll figure it out later, okay? The safest place for you right now is to be with Alex.”

She really doesn’t want to go, and based on Lena’s protests she doesn’t want Kara to go either. But well, Andrea had finally threatened to fire her if she disobeyed...which is...fair.

She’s aware she’s been doing a less than stellar job at being a journalist lately. Rao, what an understatement. This is basically her make it or break it.

“Look, I’ll be quick, promise. Be good to Alex,” Kara murmurs. She presses a kiss on Lena’s furry forehead. Lena finally unclenches her jaw and lets Kara go. The little whine she lets out, letting Kara know that she knows the battle’s lost.

“Both of you, be good,” Kara tells them sternly. “Alex, please don’t yeet my cat out of the window.”

Alex shrugs, staring at the cat with suspicion. “I make no promises.’

Lena is staring at Alex just as hostile. Great. They both deserve each other.

Kara sighs exasperatedly. Well, at least she tried.

******

She gets a very angry Alex Danvers on the line, right after she’s finished talking to some sources. It’s nighttime now, and when she checks her watch—yep, she’s left Lena in Alex’s care for more than six hours.

Crap.

“Hey, Al—”

“KARA IF YOU DON’T PICK UP THIS THIS THIS GODDAMNED HAIRBALL RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL NEVER SEE IT EVER AGAIN.”

There is loud meowing, and then, “What the- Get off! Get off me right no-”

The line clicks dead.

Kara Danvers quickly changes into an alley, manages to break the sound barrier.

******

It’s Kelly who opens the door.

“Hey, Kara,” she greets her. Kara is impatiently rocking on her heels, trying to peer past Kelly’s shoulders.

The place was quiet; ridiculously quiet, and Kara feels fear swoop in her belly.

“Please, tell me my cat is still alive,” Kara bursts out, Kelly just gives her a pained smile and oh, no, oh no.

She muscles her way past Kelly to a brooding Alex on the couch.

Lena is nowhere to be seen.

“Alex, Alex where’s my cat? Where is she? Where did you put her?”

Alex finally looks up at her, Kara taking notice of the red marks on her arm.

Oh no, Lena, what did you do?

“Calm down, I didn’t throw the little demon away. She’s-" Alex sing-songs before finishing, "on time-out.”

“Time-out?” Kara asks, voice shaking. Rao, does she really want to know.

Alex takes too long to answer, taking a swig of her beer first before pointing to a corner in the living room.

And there, she spots it.

It, being a small pile of laundry on the floor, next to an upside down hamper. A big white hamper housing one Lena Luthor. There's a crude cardboard sign stuck on it; "Kitty Jail". Alex has also stacked a few encyclopedia on top of it, no doubt an attempt to keep Lena from escaping.

“Oh! Oh, Lena!”

Kara superspeeds her way and scoops Lena up, the cat meowing immediately and curling into Kara’s chest.

“You named the cat after Lena?!”

Crap.

Kara turns around slowly, “Uhm yeah?”

Alex just shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

“Her eyes reminded me of Lena, okay?!” Kara yells defensively, pressing tiny kisses onto Lena’s fur.

“I’m sorry that Alex has been such a meanie to you," she coos, "I know you didn’t deserve it, baby."

Alex seems to perk up at that, because she raises up from the couch. “That,” Alex jabs a finger in their direction, Kara cradles Lena protectively, “That baby ruined my couch and she so totally deserves all the mean! All the mean in the world, Kara!”

Lena hisses in her arms.

“No, no. That’s not true. Lena is baby and she’s perfect and you’re just a meanie.”

“She ruined my upholstery! She left hair all over the place and that’s not even to mention the scratching!”

“Because you were mean to her!”

Alex scoffs, eyes bulging wide in disbelief.

“Get out,” Alex says, her brows pinching comically, “Get out of my apartment before that little devil causes more damage.”

“Gladly,” Kara says, and Lena meows her assent. They make their way past Alex, Kara unaware that Lena has stuck out her little tongue at Alex over her shoulder.

“And she’s not a little devil!” Kara calls out.

Alex slams the door in her face.

******

That evening, Kara pores over a thick spellbook, eyes swimming with Latin symbols with a purring machine on her lap.

By midnight, Kara has managed to pass out on her couch, a black cat curled on her chest.

The spellbook lay open on her coffee table, forgotten.

******

The first sight that greets Kara when she wakes up are green eyes.

Green human eyes.

And then it hits her.

“Lena!”

The spell had blessedly wore off by morning, and Kara’s never been more glad to see the sunlight lighting up Lena’s face.

For a moment, Kara’s assaulted with the mental image of laying in a pool of sunlight with a black cat stretching leisurely next to her.

“Good morning,” Lena purrs, and oh Rao, that sound is much, much better than her meowing.

“You’re back!” Kara gasps in awe.

“I’m back,” she whispers, she’s still draped fully over Kara on the couch. A blanket covering them both.

“Rao, I missed you.” A palm comes up to cup her cheeks, Lena automatically nuzzling into the inside of her wrist.

“Mm, I missed me, too,” Lena tells her, face breaking into a small smile. Kara traces her fingers up and down Lena’s spine. Oh, how she’s missed touching Lena’s skin.

Wait-

Skin.

Is she-

“Lena,” Kara begins, swallowing. Her nerves not going unnoticed.

Lena raises a brow at her. “Kara?”

“Are you- uhm- ah. Are you naked right now?”

Lena’s eyes light up like a cat’s and Kara knows she’s in trouble.

“Mm. It seems that I am,” Lena says, and all Kara can do is gulp.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

special shoutout to @mike-wachowski, @sexybread-png and @thebreakfastgod for their cat expertise without whom this silly little fic would not be written.

[asavt]

Another cookie squad Headcanons

Featuring Sparkling, Vampire, cellphones and the Espresso and Madeleine Story of how they came together. Consider it an AU now baby!

-As a note, when I say the squad I'm mostly referring to the adults, so no worries about Walnut or Creampuff useless I mention them too

-Each one of the squad has been in Sparkling's bar at last once. There's no need to say who has been there the most. Sparkling has a time every time someone besides Roguefort comes, because to him it's mostly like "Oh I'll finally know the continuation to the burnt toast accident or maybe the cat catastrophe? Maybe a new POV of the--"

He practically knows a lot of what happens in between the squad.

-As another note, Sparkling's bar is called Milabo (You know, like the song from Zutomayo of the same name, which, btw, I relate a lot to Latte)

-*A great part of this “AU” is kind of inspired by the song. Part of its lyrics and vibe.

-Vampire is there most of the time when the squad visits the bar (it's almost as if he never leaves the bar and this is definitely not me low-key putting sparkvamp in this oh no--) Sometimes the fakes his sleep to listen to the things others say (Which is how he knows most of Rogue's pan-ic).

-Walnut has been in Sparkling's bar too, but at day and for case-solving purposes only. Sparkling will give her some alcohol-free drink for free sometimes (mostly because he gets along pretty well with the nut family and because Almond usually pays him whatever he serves her).

-If the squad had cellphones (and probably an app like discord because.), their group chat would initially be called "Coffee mage appreciation group" and then be changed to "Coffee bean appreciation group"

Coffee Bean: Can we please change the group name and mine?

Guided by the Devine: No <3

Coffee Bean: Fuck you.

-*And they all would dedicate half their time to make fun of Almond but with love.

-Espresso has been mistaken for a dark mage before by Almond. It was how they meet actually. Almond had pulled him to interrogate him and got a long lecture on the differences between black magic and coffee magic.

-Madeleine gets along rather well with Roguefort. Rogue seems impressed by Maddie’s acting skills.

-Madeleine is currently living with Espresso. Out of his armor most of the time. He usually takes care of keeping the house clean and preparing meals (He never really had to cook before but the first dish he made wasn’t bad at all). Sometimes he will tag along Almond in the detective’s work, or Almond will ask for his help.

-I’m still unsure if I want the Almond/Roguefort/Latte to be romantic or platonic. But honestly? Both are good. Latte is pretty close to Almond and Roguefort but not in the way she is with Espresso (that makes them look like siblings jkashduawhu). Perhaps I’ll keep it platonic.

-The Espresseleine/Madespresso story of how they came together, because I seem to not be able to write it down JSHALDHUIWADWA-

--It happens after the Puppet Show mini quest. Madeleine starts to ask for Espresso's "assistance" in different mission that are given to him. Angel is there too, of course.

--During these missions is that Essy clarifies that no, they are not friends, no, he does not like Madeleine. Bringing up the knight begin too prideful and self-centered if not all then most of the time.

--Is not until one of their missions goes wrong, were Angel is knocked out and Espresso (seeing and knowing that if Madeleine is knocked down too they might not be able to go back to the kingdom ever) pretty much receives a rather big attack for Madeleine is that he kind realizes the facts given by espresso true. All while he is carrying Essy and Angel back to the kingdom, running and exhausted too.

--Clover begin kind of a mediator between the two (I want to see more of my son--)

--"Devine, protect us" Should happen too after this. An scenario like, Madeleine coming to think something like "I'm the shield, the one who goes on the front line and receives the blows for those who can't, always looking straight ahead... but if I am doing that then who watches my back? Who do I rely on and trust to take care of most enemies so the damage received is not overwhelming...?"

Power of team work baby!!!

--As a note to this, Maddie getting his cape damaged as well as his hair. So, you get short hair Maddie~

(I've been drawing him with short hair in secret now I have an excuse to show)

-- "You...cut your hair..." *Madeleine touches the points of it with one of his hands, pensive* "...pft it'll grow back!"

--There's also this "Search for your own light" thing between Angel and Maddie. Angel encouraging Madeleine to do so. Maybe Madeleine giving his best wishes to them for their wish to fly before they decide to part ways.

--Madeleine trying other ways to befriend Essy. Which at first Espresso mistaken as the knight usual attempts to befriend anyone he sees out of habit and attention seeking, but once they realize the feeling is completely genuine, Espresso is rather perplexed.

--"You can't just befriend people by buying them gifts (although I do appreciate them)" "Then what?" "hmm..."

--Said gifts used to be rather expensive things, simple though. Eventually Madeleine settles to just pass by Espresso's place, give him any food he had bought that day (which usually is glazed donuts), ask if he needs any help with something (getting a vase, materials, moving things), and if not then he just says his good byes, best wishes and silently leaves. (A note on the "silently leaves": Madeleine is pretty much used to speak loudly and enter loudly anywhere, he still does this at this point, but when it's about Espresso he is a bit more quiet, a bit showy over his entrances still, but less loud, and he actually knocks the door)

--Madeleine eventually manages to go out with Espresso to other places that aren't some place in the forest full of enemies. Probably after some more visits to his place and more calm talks between the two, Madeleine brings up that Espresso tends to act a bit cold or distant towards a lot of people, and that, although he understands his discomfort at begin in public spaces or too long out of his work, he should try and open up a bit. This reminds Essy of a certain friend he hasn't seen in some time, and from whom he keeps getting letters.

--Shenanigans.

--There's still some bickering between the two, always with a playful undertone though.

--Espresso explains Madeleine, one time the knight has gotten Espresso wrapped in a blanket burrito again and got him to bed, that sometimes, no matter how tired he might feel, he is simply unable to sleep. Part of a headcanon of mine that coffee magic has this side effect on it's users, prolonged usage of this kind of magic will induce a high caffeine kind of state, which on the long run can fuck up the user's sleep schedule. Madeleine understands this, but remains stubborn about keeping Espresso in the bed so at last he can get some rest from his work and clear his mind a little, the idiot falls asleep in the process and Espresso doesn't try to wake him up.

--This happens several times after, neither of them thinking of the implications of not begin bothered by the sudden closeness they share until it's too late.

--Espresso realizes first that he has slowly, yet nicely, fallen for Madeleine. I think I talked about this before but I'll do it again: Is in one of the times Madeleine has gotten Espresso to bed to get some rest, Espresso not begin able to fall asleep and Madeleine doing again. Is while he thinks of how he has gotten to know Madeleine for real, not the Knight Commander from a noble family or the Chosen by the Devine, but as he is, that he comes to think that "Ah.... I love him" and he remains calm about it.

--Espresso doesn't overthink it, just thinks that, if Madeleine ever got an interest in him, he would surely show it. So he waits. Even if in the end his feelings aren't mutual he knows he'll do just fine remaining friends.

--Madeleine realizes not many days after. And the realization hits him like a truck. Alone in his place and probably in bed looking at the ceiling thinking about Espresso. Once he realizes and thinks about it a bit more his face gets all red and chooses to scream in the pillow.

--He would think about telling Espresso as soon as he can, after all, he doesn't want his feelings to make their friendship weird. He values it, a lot. Maybe because his friendship with Espresso it's the first one where he genuinely wanted to become friends with someone.

--Espresso takes the confession calmly, gets all flustered after they kiss for the first time.

--As a few extras of this: Madeleine goes back to the Republic, asked to be seen by his family and Espresso goes to Parfedia, where a few students have applied to his class to his surprise. When they see each other again is at Parfedia (Madeleine sending a message to Espresso beforehand about his arrival) -there was this one drawing I did once of Maddie running to hug Espresso, something like that happens-. Madeleine gets very clingy for some reason, which they speak later and comes out as “Home doesn’t quite feel like home…” “Why is that?” “I don’t know… maybe I’ve become used to be around you”

--Espresso lets ends up letting Madeleine stay with him until he either feels like returning to the Republic or is called back, whatever happens first (though none will happen for maybe a year or a little more).

--Ends with Madeleine meeting Latte and Almond.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

My Darling Cat Roommate

lmao this isn’t lambden, as the title may suggest. sorry folks

@stinastar hit me with some feels over and modern roommate au where Geralt just doesn’t know what to do to make Jask feel better and this happened. 

Warnings: We go into some Seasonal Affective Depression stuff here so like be careful with that if it triggers you, jask beats himself up a little, mentioning feeling numb at things that usually bring him joy, i swear in this one. I haven’t changed, dont worry lol

_______________________

Jaskier trudged home from work on Friday, exhausted but relieved he had the next week off. He wolfed down the leftovers Geralt had heated up for him and almost fell asleep on the couch before Geralt hauled him up and walked him into his room, where he promptly fell asleep on top of his duvet in jeans and his shoes. Sometime around when early morning coffee workers were getting up he undressed and snuggled under the warm blankets. 

When he woke to Geralt making a smoothie he was prepared to launch into a full ‘morning people’ rant, only to check his phone and realize it was 2pm. So, maybe he’d needed rest. 

It was still grey enough out that he shrugged and went back to sleep. 

When he woke up again it was dark and the TV was going. He wrapped up in his comforter rather than putting on sweats and shuffled out to the kitchen only because his stomach growled when he tried to roll over.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Geralt called over his shoulder as he floated past with the pasta he’d left in the microwave. 

Jaskier just grunted a small “Thanks,” before he disappeared back into his room. He scrolled through various apps as he ate and rolled back into bed. 

He might have fallen asleep, he might not, but he certainly didn’t get out of bed until his bladder absolutely demanded it on Sunday morning. 

Geralt intercepted him in the hallway before he could make it back to his room, “You feeling okay?”

“Hm? Why?” Jaskier took a moment to respond, staring at Geralt like he’d grown a second head. He knew his hair was probably greasy but he couldn’t look that bad.

“You slept all day yesterday.” Geralt looked like he was diffusing a bomb rather than talk to his roommate, “Did something happen at work?” 

Jaskier just shrugged, “I’m just tired.” And a little numb.

Geralt nodded, “I’m headed to the store. You sure you don’t want me to pick anything up for you?”

“I’m okay, Geralt…” he sighed, slipping past his brick wall of a roommate to slink beneath his blankets once again and make himself as small as possible. 

It was late January and the Seasonal Affective Depression was in full swing. He should have bought that fucking happy light when it was on sale. Should have bought the Vitamin D tablets he saw last week. Should have let Geralt drag him to the gym a little more when he felt the initial dip. Should have blah blah blah. He thought over every little thing he knew would have helped that he just hadn’t done and sighed, pulling his blankets tighter around him. He knew he wasn’t going to do any of it until it got bad enough that his hair would stick to his forehead once he hit this point. Might as well hurry it along so it could be over with. 

Geralt knocked on his door, snapping him out of his mini spiral. He hummed, not even bothering to turn over until he heard the rattle of the doorknob. 

“I know you didn’t want anything, but… uh. I was in the bulk section. Got you the peach things.” Geralt’s voice was lower and softer than usual as he raised the frankly massive bag of peach rings for emphasis before he set them on Jaskier’s desk. 

“Than-” Jaskier coughed when his voice came out raspy and broken, “Thank you.”

Geralt leaned against the doorframe for a moment, a curious frown on his face, “Bake Off is on in an hour if you wanna watch it.”

Jask forced a smile and shrugged, “We’ll see.”

Geralt pursed his lips and nodded, pausing a moment before pushing off the doorframe, “Okay.” 

Jaskier stared at the peach rings for a while after Geralt closed the door. Eventually he compromised with his brain and rolled out of bed onto his knees, waddling a couple of steps until he could reach the rings then launch back to bed. 

Normally he would have almost cried with happiness that Geralt had gotten his favorite treat. He loved it when Geralt did little things for him or thought of him enough to give him something, but he felt rather indifferent as he shoved the twentieth peach ring in his mouth. 

Without warning his door opened just enough for a plate to appear and be gently set on his desk.

Geralt muttered, “For the sugar high…” before his hand disappeared and the door once again shut. 

Jaskier almost smiled when he saw the neatly arranged concentric circles of Totinos Pizza Rolls on the plate. He got to his feet to fetch them this time. 

Around ten that night there was another knock at his door that pulled him from an hour long scroll through tiktok.

“Jask?”

“Yeah?”

Geralt held a big grey bundle in his arms, “Do you- Uh. I thought- weighted blanket?” He held his arms out with a hesitant smile. 

Jaskier sat up, “But don’t you use it to sleep?”

Geralt shrugged, unfolding the bean-filled blanket and laying it over Jaskier’s legs, “I’ll be fine.”

Jaskier stared at the ceiling for a while after he left, confused by Geralt’s suddenly attentive behavior. He would have expected the grouchy man to enjoy the silence that came with his bad days. For how much Geralt complained about his loud music, he certainly wasn’t expecting gifts. 

Geralt left a note in the kitchen Monday morning saying he’d made Jaskier a breakfast sandwich with instructions on how to warm it up without it turning soggy. Jaskier stood in front of the panini press reading and rereading the note as he heated his breakfast like it was in Old English. He ate at the kitchen table this time, annoyed with the crumbs in his bed, and counted up all the little gifts he’d been brought. He could come to only one conclusion.

Geralt was part cat. 

He’d stopped functioning and Geralt kept bringing him mice. 

He smirked and sent him a quick text, “Thanks for the breakfast. 👌 V  good.”

After breakfast, he decided maybe he could change his pajamas, but he stayed tucked under Geralt’s weighted blanket for most of the day. Every now and then Geralt would text him something stupid Eskel or Lambert did, or a meme he found on his break, and every time Jaskier would grin and send back an emoji. Words were out of reach but Geralt frequently only communicated in emojis and one-word sentences. He should get the message.

Jaskier fell asleep around two, really asleep not just the fitful light sleep he’d been having the last couple of days. He was rousted from a dream about a talking panini press by Geralt tripping over a pile of laundry and softly swearing as he tried to right himself without crashing into the bed or Jaskier’s lute. 

“Geralt? Darling, what are you doing?”

Geralt finally caught himself and nearly blinded Jaskier with a smile as he straightened up, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Jaskier sat up and scratched at his hair, “Yes, but doing what?” 

“Oh! Yeah. Uh. I-” Geralt, still grinning, pointed to a small fern in a bright orange clay pot sitting on his windowsill. 

“You got me a plant?”

Geralt was practically beaming when Jaskier glanced back at him. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a cat?” 

Geralt snorted, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “You’re feeling better?” 

Jaskier tilted his head, “I think so? What makes you say that?”

“You called me ‘Darling’.” 

A hesitant smile crept on Jaskier’s face. There was an echo of the usual all-consuming warmth spreading in his chest that he usually felt when Geralt smiled at him. He may indeed be feeling a bit better. Come to think of it he actually wanted to shower.

“I taped Bake Off. If you’re feeling up for a trek to the couch,” Geralt offered, forced nonchalance dripping from every word. 

Jask nodded, “Let me shower, then we can finish off the peach rings.” 

Geralt’s smile nearly stopped his heart, a sure sign he was nearing the land of the living again, “I got lasagna on the way home too,” he chirped as he jumped up and made his way to the door. 

“Hey, Darling?” It felt a little forced and goofy saying the pet name like that, but Jaskier just couldn’t help himself, “Thank you.”

Geralt’s smile softened, “Anytime.”

[pockyxx]

“ seijoh 3rd years as boyfriends ”

oikawa toru x reader, iwaizumi hajime x reader, matsukawa issei x reader and hanamaki takahiro x reader

genre: fluff

oikawa

would be the type of boyfriend to send you those lovey dovey good morning texts 

even if they were cheesy as hell you’d know they were sincere 

he’d always be there to reassure you when you felt insecure 

this includes when you’re insecure about all his fan girls constantly giving him attention 

tight hugs 

this boy may be scrawny but I know he’d squeeze the life outa you

you’d bully him along with iwa-chan 

he’d text you at ungodly hours with new alien conspiracy theories 

would take you to instagram-able places for dates 

definitely would initiate the cuddles 

would force you to wear his jersey on game days 

his love language is words of affirmation 100% and will always remind you how much he loves you

“Hurry up shittykawa, you were suppose to be warming up five minutes ago!” Iwaizumi scolded him in the hallway of the recreational center that the volleyball tournament was being held at.  Oikawa stuck his tongue out at his childhood best friend. 

“So mean iwa-chan, can’t you see I’m with n/n-chan.” He called you by the nickname only he called you. Your cheeks begin to heat up as Iwaizumi had caught you mid kiss. The ace rolled his eyes and went back to join the rest of the team. 

“Where were we? Oh right, my good luck kisses!” He snickered, waiting for you to get up on your tiptoes to plant a handful of kisses on his lips. 

“You heard him shittykawa, you’re game is starting soon!” You denied him, dragging him towards the court he was to be playing on. 

“Not you too!” He whined in an over dramatic fashion yet he couldn’t help but think how cute you looked dragging him, his hoodie draping over your figure perfectly. 

iwaizumi

tries to act tough and manly but is really a big ole baby 

wouldn’t be much for pda except for the occasional hand holding and waist grabbing 

in private tho... this man would cling onto you like no tomorrow

loves when you touch/ play with his hair--its softer than it looks 

forces you to watch his godzilla movies but in return you can make him watch whatever you want

his love language is definitely physical touch 

he loves idle touches, just feeling your skin against his 

walks you home and waits for you to step into your house before leaving 

great big bears hugs, no one can tell me other wise 

hits the ball extra hard when he knows you’re watching 

always wants to know about how your day’s been 

You cuddled up to your boyfriend’s side, as his eyes are glued to the screen; as if someone was going to kill him if he looked away. Yawning slightly you lay your head in his lap as you grab his hand to play with his fingers. 

You’d lost interest in the plot, finding Hajime’s reactions much more enjoyable. Watching his expressions change from excited to sad to anxious was enough to make you laugh. 

“What’s so funny babe?” He looked down at you, finally taking his eyes off the movie. You looked up at him as his larger hand was still in yours. 

“You’re really cute Hajime. Did you know that?” You giggled, making his face blush a deep shade of red before he snapped his head away from your gaze.

You sat up, forcing him to lock eyes with you, laughing again at the sight of such a macho man being so flustered just by words. 

“Don’t act like it’s a bad thing.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his lips, “you’re a softy deep down.”

Iwaizumi’s heart went into overload. He brought you into his arms, in a bone-crushing and laid back down on the couch to finish the movie.

matsukawa

definition of dating your best friend 

enjoys listening to you talk about your day 

would send you really funny memes in the middle of class just to see you get red as you try to hold into your laughter 

your laughter is like music to his ears 

loves pda, as long as you’re okay with it 

would take you to mcdonalds anytime of the day, just say the words 

besides memes and reaction pics, his camera roll would be filled with stupid pictures of you 

surprisingly good at cuddling 

place things high out of your reach just so you can ask him to get it down for you 

silly pet names; like that are overly absurd

he would get involved with your interests/ hobbies or a sport you play  

Class was just so boring, especially with your teacher being a rude old fart. You sat near the front and as your sensei wrote something down on the chalkboard you looked behind to catch a glance at your boyfriend, Issei. 

He was looking at his phone as per usual, probably messaging his friend Makki in the class next to you. His dark eyebrows had been raised, his lips tugging into a half smile and you could tell he was up to something. 

On your desk, your phone buzzed and you could only attribute it to your boyfriend sending you a message. Of course you were right and went to check it out. 

matt-sunshine: *attachment one photo* this could be us but you playin 

You looked back at him hesitantly but Issei had gone back to paying attention to the lecture. Biting your lips, you opened the picture your boyfriend had sent and you then proceeded to pray that you’d be able to keep your mouth shut. 

The picture in question had been two feet mimicking holding hands, except it was toes. For some reason that picture with what Issei had captioned it had sent you over the top. You let a loud, ugly laugh slip past your lips.

As you excepted, your teacher had issued you three days of after school detention for that. You glarred at your boyfriend, upset with him getting you in trouble but it was soon forgiven after he offered to take you out to eat after your detention. 

hanamaki

similar to mattsun: he’d be your best friend and lover 

when you’re feeling down he’ll do/ say funny thing to make you feel better 

you dye each other's hair 

lots of teasing on both ends 

this boy is always hyping you up no matter the occasion 

is mutual to pda, it all depends on how you feel about it 

loves to kiss all your ticklish spots just to see you giggle 

convos with him would be like you saying something funny, then makki following it up with something even more funny and so forth until you’re both about to pee your pants 

no matter what’s happening, he’s got a meme for it

religiously quotes the ‘ily bitchhh, and i ain’t ever gonna stop loving you, bitchhh’ vine when talking to you 

You sat in Takahiro’s room, waiting for him to come back up with snacks for your video game session, something you and him took very seriously. You leaned back in the bean bag, thinking about what the loser’s punishment would be and right as an idea popped into your head, your boyfriend walked in. 

He placed the candies, chips and sodas on the small coffee table and passed you the Wii remote. 

“So my precious booger,” cue the disgusting nickname he swore on his grandfather’s grave was suppose to be endearing, “what will the looser have to do this time?” Takahiro flopped down next to you. 

Pressing your lips together, cautiously bringing up what you had in mind.  “Loser has to dye their hair hmm... green!” he laughed and agreed to the idea. 

The two of your then wiped off the cutesy faces before starting the game: Mario Kart. You looked at him, a competitive glaze coating his eyes. You knew for sure you didn’t want to loose. 

After a grueling final race, the winners slides popped up and to your surpirse you were the winner. 

Makki threw his control in disbelief, “it’s rigged, I swear!” He huffed, crossing his arms but you only got up in his face, teasing him with your victory. 

“Now you’re going to be the booger-head, Hiro!” He rolled his eyes, gentally hitting your face with a pillow before standing up. 

“Where are you going?” You wondered, drinking some of the soda he’d offered you earlier. 

“That hair dye won’t buy itself.” 

[marlahey]

under the same roof part three: all the time you need

a harry styles rpf part three of six written by annie and aj (marlahey and formerly harryonstage) ratings/warnings: disaster gays, endangered ovaries from dad!harry, women aggressively supporting women notes: enter the rest of harry’s family unit! in case anyone’s curious, annie tells sylvia to give her dad a kiss in vietnamese, to which he responds, good girl. before anyone comes for me, there will be plenty more opportunities for bed-sharing to come. side note: aj always pictured olivia coleman as officer warren.  masterlist | part one | part two | part four (21.12.20)

............................................... • saturday, 5th january 9:18 am • The second time you’re roused from sleep, sunlight illuminates Harry’s room. You lift your head, squinting, but more quickly you recognize where you are.

Harry is nowhere in sight, but a fresh glass of water is within reach on the nightstand, and a cardigan knitted with primary-colored patches lies folded at the foot of the bed. After slipping your arms through the loose sleeves, you take a few gulps of water and make sure to shut his bedroom door quietly on your way out. You hadn’t spent much time in the living room as per Officer Warren’s instructions to avoid the windows, but you can see into it from the hall. And since there’s still no sign of Harry, you take a minute to discreetly look around at the place he and his daughter call home. His flat is obviously larger than yours—he has two bedrooms versus one—but the morning light seems to stretch the space even further, like an open armed welcome. The atmosphere bustles with a little dose of chaos. Two brimming bookshelves span one wall of the living room, and plants line the windowsills. A half-sized Christmas tree stands off in the corner, wrapped in twinkly lights and strings of popcorn. A white fender guitar decorated with various stickers stands with a speaker beside the couch, and records tile the wall behind it: Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, The Stones, The Cars, Hello I’m Dolly.  There is ample evidence that a child lives here, too. The walls are dotted with drawings in watercolor, crayon, and sparkles. You can see pieces of Lego strewn out on the carpet; they must be from that towering box Harry had towed into the lift a week before Christmas. A small smile tugs at your lips as you follow the smell of espresso into the kitchen. You find Harry leaning against the counter looking contemplative, holding aloft a cup of coffee that he seems to have forgotten about. He’s wearing the same shirt he’d slept in, but thrown on a pair of joggers. You bid a quiet, “Good morning.” He inhales sharply as his head whips toward you, his drink sloshing over the edge of his mug slightly. “Jesus, sorry,” he laughs softly, shaking his head at himself. You watch as he wets a dishrag and cleans the small mess. “Not really used to company my age.” “Oh… Sorry.” “S’alright.” His voice is covered in sleep; it almost sounds like he has a cold. “Coffee?” You hum appreciatively. “Love some.” “Were you able to get some sleep?” he asks, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “Enough, yeah.” All you can think about is waking up locked in his embrace, on the still-dark cusp of sunrise. “Thank you for letting me, um…” “Course. Cream?” “That’s great, thanks.” Harry nods over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “It help at all?” How are you supposed to answer that? “The real bed?” he clarifies, like it is at all necessary.  You listen to the spoon clink rhythmically against the ceramic, and settle on “I think so,” as noncommittally as possible. “How did you sleep?” “Very well.” In passing you your mug, Harry catches your eyes for the first time today in a way that feels like not an accident. “More importantly, how are you feeling about everything else?” You shrug, eyes glued to the cream swirling in your coffee. “Better, a little.” “That’s good.” “What about you?” you ask. “You’ve kinda been through the wringer, yourself.” “I’m good, yeah.” Harry pushes up his glasses. “I was thinking—if you don’t mind—I’d like to come with you to the police department this morning.”  “No, no, Harry.” You wave away the offer. “Don’t worry about that.” “No, really. It might make more sense. I saw him in the hall last night, and I was with you in the lift. They might need to ask some questions of both of us.” You consider this a moment. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” “I don’t have to,” Harry counters. “I want to. I want you to, y’know… ” he trails off. “I want them to get this guy.” You blink at him. There’s a strange feeling in knowing that Harry has clearly thought about your wellbeing beyond the night that you’ve effectively been trapped in his flat. Regardless, it’s too early for a battle of wills, and he has a point. You slouch against the fridge. “Alright. Well… I still have India’s car so I can drive us,” you concede. A smile lights Harry’s face. Suddenly your stomach rumbles so powerfully and for so long that it interrupts the conversation. You cover a small, mortified laugh with both hands as Harry’s eyebrows raise. “Well,” he begins, exaggerated. “Let’s take care of that… You take the first turn in the bathroom, I’ll fix us some breakfast.” “You sure?” “Go ahead.” He grabs a skillet from the drying rack, turning on one of the burners. “Thank you, Harry.” “It’s no problem.” You wash your face with something you find above the sink and brush your teeth on auto-pilot before considering your bundle of clothes from the night before. Your cardigan lays at the top of the stack. Four of your fingers fit through the gaping hole in its collar, and dirt covers one of the sleeves. You hadn’t forgotten about the shape it was in last night, but you didn’t consider it a problem until now, as you hold it up in front of you by the shoulders, frowning. You try to tame your hair with a purple, sparkly brush to no avail, so you take a quick look around to see if Sylvia has any spare barrettes or pins. Thankfully there’s a single hair tie floating in the bottom of your purse. You shrug back into Harry’s patchwork sweater—oddly comforting in how fully it swallows your shoulders and hands—and slip back out to the kitchen, where Harry plates grilled tomatoes and bacon. “We’re about ready to eat.” Harry turns the stovetop down to a simmer as the toaster pops. “How do you take your eggs?” “Sunny side up, please.”  He salutes you with his spatula, attention already returned to the pan.  “Can I help with anything?” Harry nods to a drawer. “Yeah can you pass us a couple napkins from just there? I’ll be right back,” he rushes, already halfway out of the kitchen. You pull a few paper napkins from their packet as he returns with two chairs that you recognize from his small wicker table. “Blinds are open in the other room, thought it might be best if we just eat in here.” He sets the chairs apart, facing one another. “Now this is living,” you deadpan. Harry laughs lightly as he gestures for you to sit. The two of you get adjusted with your plates on your lap, and your knees almost bump in the small space. “This is great, Harry. Thank you.”  “I’d make you bubble and squeak, too, but we’re fresh out and Sylvia hates beans so we don’t keep them on hand. So technically...” Harry lowers his voice to a whisper. “S’not a full English fry up.” You can only smile around your mouthful, unexpectedly endeared. The rest of breakfast passes in silence. You shouldn’t have slept on an empty stomach; you’re ravenous from skipping a meal last night.  He looks up at you eventually, a touch more serious than before. “Shall we think about heading to the police station soon?”  You dab your mouth with your napkin and nod. Harry stands from his chair and reaches an open hand down to you for your plate. “No, no,” you nudge him away with your elbow. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”  “Let me deal with these. You’re a guest.” “I’m a captive.” “No you’re not! You’re—” He breaks off, hesitating a moment before plunging on with an amused slant to his lips. “You’re my sort-of friend.” Your assumption he hadn’t overheard that comment to your mother last night on the phone was clearly in vain. You press your lips together against any inadvertent reaction. Your head swivels toward him, eyes full of lighthearted reproach. “Look, just let me do the dishes to give myself the illusion that I’m not just a freeloader here. Besides, I’m already ready to go.” "Fine,” he caves disapprovingly. “I’ll get myself sorted and be out in a minute.” “Take your time.” While Harry is preoccupied, you finish slotting the clean plates from breakfast carefully into the drying rack and pull out your phone to message India. Hey, I have a lot to update you on but it’ll be much easier to explain in person. I still have your car and I need it for one thing this morning but I promise I’ll fill the tank ASAP. It’s about the guy that’s been following me. Just know that I’m safe and everything’s okay. I’ll call you when I can. Love you. Send. That’ll have to do for now. Harry returns in jeans and a sweater. It’s still strange to see him so dressed down. “Ready?” he asks. “Yeah. You mind if I wear this to the police station?” you ask, pinching the fabric of his cardigan. You feel the urge to explain yourself—the hole in your sweater, the grime—but Harry’s already shaking his head. “Not at all. Do you maybe want something a little less… loud? I don’t even wear that one out, myself, really.”  You consider the bright cacophony of color like it’s brand new to your eyes. Loud is right. “Yeah, that’s not a terrible idea.”  Harry’s lips twitch. “C’mon then. You’re welcome to pick anything you’d like.” Pick? You nod because you’re worried the surprise is painted on your face. “Okay.” Harry leads you to his bedroom again, and over to the large wooden wardrobe.  He pulls the double doors open and you cannot help yourself from gawking a little. You’re taken by all the exquisite patterns and intricate textures of the suits, but it’s oddly wistful to run your fingertips along all of them hung in a row. You smile privately, a bit removed. “What?” Harry laughs from behind you. “Nothing!” you reply, glancing over your shoulder before saying more softly, “I just recognize some of these.” “Oh, thought you were sizing them up. My mates all take the piss… They say my suits are eccentric.” He rolls his eyes, reciting the insult like he’s quoting their words verbatim. You turn back around to his closet. “I think they look nice—I think you look nice in them.” You take a step back and crane your neck to the shelf of folded sweaters above the hanging rod. The extensive array of muted wool and cotton is a bit overwhelming. You spot the planet sweater he’d worn the first time you saw Sylvia, the oversized yellow one that reminded you of Charlie Brown, the black one with half a red heart and the letters, NY in bold white text… It takes a minute of jogging your memory before you can recall him wearing something more plain. Harry doesn’t own a lot of plain. You still can’t quite reach the shelf up on your tiptoes, but Harry is at your side immediately. “The brown?” He tugs it from the stacks and passes it down. “Yeah, thanks.” You examine the camel colored fabric with tiny flecks of black thread, and run your hand along the smooth purl. “This should do.” You tug the sweater over your head; it’s boxy, your arms aren’t long enough to fit, and it isn’t doing any favors for your shoulders. You have to roll the sleeves up past your wrists before the outfit can half pass as something you purposely wore out of the house. You spin around to face him. “Does it look normal?” Harry’s jaw flexes as he gives you the up-down. You fiddle with one of the sleeves. “Yeah,” Harry says stiffly. “Looks normal.” It’s bizarre walking through the level six hallway; it’s identical to your own, but the last time you’d been here, everything down to the carpet and light fixtures had been tainted by your deafening fear. What’s more is that riding down in the lift with Harry feels entirely different now. You see it all from his perspective, and try to visualize what you look like to him most mornings, standing in the corner with your school bag and a book tucked beneath your arm. The lift picks up a few people on its way down, but by the time it reaches the garage, you and Harry are alone. You catch his eyes in the reflection of the doors a second before they open. He clears his throat. “I know it’s probably… we’ll be fine, but stay close, yeah?” You look up at him and nod. It’s easy to keep to your word. Harry guides you to walk in front of him the entire way as your eyes scan the shadows in between the rows of cars. You’re sure you will never be able to see this garage quite the same way. “It’s the old Volkswagen.” “I see it.” You’re so out of it that you almost try to get in on the passenger side. It’s the kind of slip up that Harry might have teased you about, but he’s quiet and looking around, too. You pull the jacket you’d left on the seat last night into your lap, the two of you strap in, and you cannot pull out into the street fast enough. The mustard yellow envelope in the back seat is an unwelcome passenger, visible in your rearview mirror.  Who else knew about these photos? How many are there that weren’t in your envelope? Are they online somewhere? Would they follow you to law school? Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as you grind your teeth. “Alright?” Harry asks. His voice brings you back down to earth. He’d asked you that question when you pricked your finger on the poppy in your jacket pocket. He’d asked you in his bed on the most terrifying night of your life. And he’s asking you now. You nod. “I will be.” • saturday, 5th january 10:42 am • In the parking lot behind Lavender Hill Police Station, you’ve killed the engine but remain in your seat. Part of you is still reluctant to have Harry come along; keeping your composure in front of the police feels hard enough without the prospect of him being there, too, but maybe that’s the one thing that will get you through this. “Sorry.” You shake your head, suddenly aware of how long you’ve been sitting motionless at the wheel. Harry’s gaze is unperturbed. He watches you push anxiously at the sleeves of his sweater. “Take all the time you need.” It’s the same phrase the initial officer who’d taken your statement all those weeks ago had used. It’s what Officer Warren had said to you on the phone last night, and you’re so tired of hearing it. You don’t want to have as much time as you need to feel calm or steady or normal again. You want your time back. You want to reclaim all those extra seconds spent checking over your shoulder, the minutes lost to changing your routes, and the hours spent staring up at the ceiling when you should have been asleep. Rationally, you know that there will be time to relearn how to walk down the street and feel at ease, and plan that trip to Brighton you and India have been talking about for months. There will be time with Harry that isn’t this… stuck in a cramped space, crushed by the weight of your own fear. You hate the way you felt with him in the lift this morning; you want that back most of all. “Faster we get in there,” you say—half to Harry, half to yourself, “the faster we’ll get to leave.” Harry nods. “C’mon then.” The heather grey of the building is no less intimidating than it was in October, but at least this time you don’t have to pull the heavy glass doors open on your own. Inside, you speak with the woman at reception, who gestures for you to sit in a small waiting area just beyond the desk. People in uniform bustle back and forth. Harry’s leg brushes against yours as you sit. He doesn’t move. Neither do you. You have no sense of how long you sit waiting—this doesn’t feel like a place where it’s appropriate to play Solitaire on your phone. You can feel Harry looking at you periodically, but you don’t glance back until a woman with a familiar voice appears before you. She ushers you to follow with a quick, professional smile. Harry doesn’t quite offer the same, but you’re reassured anyway. “I’m Officer Warren.” She stops at a desk with an empty chair beside it. You take care to shake her hand firmly, introducing yourself with all the confidence you can scrap together. “Are you comfortable sitting here?” “Yes, this is fine.” If either Harry or Officer Warren notice your voice is an octave higher, neither of them make any sign. “Good.” She reaches past you to shake Harry’s hand too. “Harry.” “Nice to meet you both. We can also find a conference room, if you’d like somewhere more private, or if you’d both like to sit.” Harry speaks up when you don’t right away. “I’m fine standing.” He looks exactly as he had in the car—calm and willing to take your lead, so you sit before you can change your mind. Officer Warren smiles again, clearly trying to put you at ease. You wish it was more effective. “Right, well I won’t take up too much of your time. Since I took your statement last night, I’ve already got a copy of the transcript from our conversation over the phone, and you won’t need to go over all of that again.” Your shoulders cave a little in relief. Harry’s fingers hook gently over the top of your chair. “Okay.” “But,” she continues, “there is the matter of how to proceed. What we talked about regarding your flat still stands… it really isn’t safe for you to remain there, especially since the suspect seems to know which one is yours, and we still don’t have a clear idea of where he is now, or how he was able to access the car park in your building in the first place.” “So…” You shake your head, in either confusion or denial. “I can’t even go home?” “I’m afraid not, for the time being.” Her eyes are soft, regretful. “Not if he knows where you live. Not if there’s a chance he could get more photographs, or try to break in again.” Your stomach twists. “Were you able to figure out who he is?” You’re not even sure you want to know. Officer Warren’s mouth pinches apologetically. “Not yet. We have a couple technicians working on the security footage and the photos you’ve turned in, so hopefully we’ll be able to get something from them. The car he was driving had no plates. You haven’t seen any sign of him since we spoke last?” You shake your head, and she glances up at Harry as if to confirm. “Alright, that’s a good sign at least. He knows we’re watching, now. On the other hand, there’s a chance he’ll carry on, but be stealthier about it. Is it possible for you to physically stay inside, completely out of sight for let’s say, a week?” “I mean… where?” “Do you have somewhere else you can stay for the time being? With a friend?” You open your mouth, but the “Yes,” is not your own. You force yourself not to turn back to look at him; Harry’s fingers touch your shoulder again. “Yes, she does. She can stay with me. We live in the same building after all, so it’ll hardly be disruptive.” Officer Warren gives him a long look. You can’t tell if she approves or is displeased with him for speaking for you, but now that the initial shock has worn off, gratitude washes over you. Asking India to stay with her indefinitely would have been out of the question; there’s no way you’re endangering your best friend any more than you already have. You’d be putting her in a position where she couldn’t say no. She has four roommates. She doesn’t even know about the photos yet.  “That works,” you hear yourself say. This will only be for a few days, you reason—it’ll buy you just enough time to find your feet. By then, you can sort out a longer-term place to stay if the police still haven’t found the man. Officer Warren is speaking again, and it takes effort to actively refocus on the conversation. “The objective here is to make it seem as though you’re gone. On holiday. He’ll be keeping an eye on the building, no doubt, so he’ll notice if the car is gone, or your flat is empty. Is there any way you can take your classes remotely?” You find you can barely speak, so you just nod instead.  She leans in a little, her eyes finding yours more carefully. “I know it’s frightening, but you’ve been incredibly strong. This won’t be forever. In the meantime, we can send an officer back with you this afternoon so you can gather a few of your things.” You nod again. “Do you have any questions for me?” You force yourself to say, “No, thank you,” which Harry echoes. Officer Warren nods, almost perfunctorily, and stands. “If you wait here just a minute, I’ll introduce you to the officer who’ll take you back to your flat. You’ll be in an unmarked car, and we can arrange for yours to be retrieved.” “Thank you. I’ll call my friend now,” you say. “Maybe she can… I'll have to ask her to look after my cat. And it’s her car, anyway.” Officer Warren nods, apparently satisfied.  You shake her hand again, though your mind is stuck on this won’t be forever. As you rise from the chair, you feel the gentle pressure of Harry’s hand on the small of your back. When Officer Warren returns with another uniformed policeman, you don’t want to move, but your legs carry you anyway. Harry’s gaze finds the side of your face periodically like a lighthouse beam while you call India from the backseat of the police car. After reassuring her again that you’re fine, you gloss over the details of staying in Harry’s flat. You can tell even in her silence that she’s not going to let you off the hook that easily, so you start rambling about what to do with Chowder before she gets the chance to say something embarrassing while Harry is sitting right there. “Of course I’m taking Chowder,” she says before you get the chance to phrase the question. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ll get in a cab right now. Do you need help packing up?” “Yeah sure, thank you. But what about your car?” “I’ll take the keys from you and get it after. Honestly, it’s fine. It’s not like it’s gonna get stolen from the bloody police station.” It’s a stupid joke but you’re comforted a little anyway. “Okay.” “Be there soon. I love you.” “Love you too.” Harry glances over at you. “Everything okay?” “Yeah.” You smile a little and for the first time in ages, it doesn’t feel forced. “She’s gonna meet us at home and take Chowder for me.” “That’s great.” “I know,” you reply, a little distant. “Harry, thank you for coming with me… It was nice not to have to, y’know, do that alone.” “That’s alright.” His voice is equally gentle. “We’re gonna… They’re gonna find him. And they’re gonna fix this, and then everything’s gonna go back to normal.” You aren’t sure which of you he’s trying to reassure, but Harry meets your eyes and you nod. Back at your building, you meet up with India. “Think I might just pop home, if that’s alright,” Harry says, going in for the sixth-floor button on the keypad. “I told Annie a bit about what’s going on, but I owe her an update.” “Of course.” You look up at him in the reflection of the doors. “We’ll see you down there.” It’s your first time seeing the dent and scratches on the door to your flat in person. You shiver, turn the key, and push the door open.  “Chowder!” you shout as a flash of orange darts through your legs, meowing down the hall. The officer’s hand lands reflexively on his baton as your cat scares all three of you half to death. Once you manage to corral your cat back to your corner of the hallway, you struggle to keep him still in your arms. “Indy, his crate is under my bed—” “Hold off a minute, I’m going to do a quick walkthrough. I’m sure everything’s fine, but wait out here.” The officer leaves the door cracked open behind him. India offers a small, encouraging smile when you flinch at the sound of him announcing himself in your apartment. You stroke between Chowder’s ears; he is heavy and warm in your arms, and his fur sticks uncomfortably to the sweat on your palms. “All clear.” The officer reappears. “Let’s try to be quick about this.” India immediately ducks through the door following him, but you have to take a deep breath before stepping through the threshold. The place looks completely untouched. Had you been expecting company, perhaps you would have thought to clear the dishes from the sink or remove your laundry from the drying rack. After coercing an unusually talkative Chowder into his travel crate, you and India work as a team to stuff as much into your duffel bag as will fit. Shirts, bras, and pants hurtle past your head. “Indy, I’m staying at a neighbor’s for a few days—what on earth am I going to need this for?” You hold up the silk, strappy dress that just landed on your neatly-folded stacks, shooting her a disapproving look. “I’m just grabbing and throwing!” “Well just, y’know… let’s make sure we’re not speeding through this at the expense of packing with a little common sense.” “I’ve got this,” India says, waving down at the open duffel. “Go sort whatever toiletries you need, yeah?” Thankfully you’ve stayed overnight at her place enough times to warrant a travel case of essentials that lives under your bathroom sink. There’s makeup cluttered all over the counter. You stare at it a moment before rolling your eyes at yourself. “We should probably get going.” The officer’s voice from the other room startles you both as India zips up your duffel. “Are you two about ready?”  As you stick your head out of your bedroom, the officer is peeking through the blinds across the street. “Yes,” you reply. “We are.” Overnight bag and Chowder in tow, you clamber back onto the lift. “Did you get your toothbrush?” “Yes.” “Face wash?” “Yes.” “Pillow?” “Indy, you saw me putting it in—” “Towel?” “Yes.” “Phone charger?” “… Shit.” Ding. The officer steps out with you on the sixth floor as you thank him, and bid a quick goodbye once he reassures you to call if you need anything or, of course, if anything happens. India turns to face you next. “He’s this way.” You nod down the hall, and she leads. “It’s right at the end. The one with the wreath.” The doors of the lift close. You don’t want to think about the last time you’d been walking down this corridor and heard that sound from behind you. India moves aside holding Chowder’s crate by the handle, and the shopping bag full of his supplies as you step up to the welcome mat with your things. Harry swings open the door to his apartment after the second knock, immediately taking the duffel bag from off of your shoulder. “Oh, Harry, you don’t have to—” “I got it.” India elbows you in the ribs. Harry turns to carry your bag to Sylvia's room, and when you look behind at her, her eyebrows are raised above an animated smirk. “Don’t,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She raises a hand in defense as Harry returns before reaching out to accept his offered hand. “Hello, I’m India.” “Harry.”  “Pleasure.” He flashes her a warm smile. She nods appreciatively as they shake hands—at you, however, instead of Harry and your cheeks ignite. “Okay great. That’s settled then. Shall we—um… Indy?” You cut in, then turn to her, nodding to the door with I’m going to kill you in your eyes. “Lovely to meet you, Harry!” “Cheers, dear. You as well.” Harry’s attention returns to you for a moment. “I’ll just be…” He gestures vaguely to the kitchen. You step out into the hall with India. Chowder meows from the crate in her arms and she almost drops him. “What,” you hiss, “was that?”  She ignores your tone, then says your name like it’s a plea. “Call me if you need absolutely anything, or text me—no matter what time it is. I’ll drop everything and come straight to you.” “I’m sleeping two floors below where I usually do, Indy, I’m not dying.” “I know, I know… How’s a Skype dinner tomorrow night? I’ll order us a take away.” “Definitely.” You wish you could squeeze her in another tight hug, but Chowder’s crate impedes you. “Thank you.” “Love you, babe.” “Love you too.” She looks unsatisfied. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. Text me when we’re eating, okay?” You begin to walk backward into Harry’s apartment and blow her a kiss. “I will… Bye!” “Please don’t kill my cat!” You lean on the door frame, watching India’s silhouette shrink as she heads back down the hall to the lift with Chowder. You sigh and close the door, but as you turn around, your hand rushes to your chest in a gasp; Harry is standing just behind you, rubbing his face. “So I’ve just rung Annie while you were upstairs… ” He steps aside to give you a clear path through the hallway. “Oh?” “I’m sorry—they’re just coming,” he rushes, sounding a little panicked as you step into Sylvia's room. You set your phone and laptop down with the rest of your things. “They insisted ‘cause they’ve got a spare mattress, and I told them you needed a place to crash for a bit and also that you stayed here last night so… yeah. You don’t have to be here for that. When they come—oh, and they probably have Sylvia, too, if that’s… ” Harry trails off.” “Wait, I’m sorry.” You close your eyes and shake your head. “Annie? You mean—” “Sylvia’s mum, yeah, and um… her fiancé, AJ.” Harry tilts his head down, as if to gauge your reaction. “And they want to give… they have a spare mattress? But you already have a mattress.” “That’s what I said!” Harry gestures wildly. It must have been a lively phone call. “Oh, well that’s… awfully kind of them,” you begin, trying to keep up. “Would it be easier if I wasn’t—” “No.” He’s clearly surprised at his own volume as he cuts you off. Harry literally leans back, hesitating. “I mean… stay. They’d love to meet you. They’re my family and you’re…” His eyes flit back to yours and hang on. “You’re obviously gonna to be staying here a bit, and they drop by all the time so I jus’ don’t wanna overwhelm you, is all.” Suddenly, it’s your turn struggling to look at him. “Well, I—” “H, open the door! This is heavy!” a voice bellows from beyond the front door. Harry’s eyes shut momentarily. “Coming!” he calls. You stand there, in the doorway to Sylvia’s room, stunned at the pace with which this is all unfolding. Harry jogs to the door. You poke your head out as an explosion of noise disrupts what had before been so peaceful. A child’s high-pitched shriek rips through the flat, followed by a long, labored groan from Harry as Sylvia barrels into his arms and he crouches down to lift her. “How’s Daddy’s girl?” he greets. Sylvia simply continues screaming and tries to bend over backward out of his arms. “Hi, Harry.” A striking woman with jet-black hair waltzes in, carrying a large dish of food wrapped in tin foil, seemingly unphased. Harry shifts Sylvia to one arm, bending over to greet her in a side hug and quick kiss to the cheek. “Hi, love.” What appears to be a twin sized mattress with twig legs follows in suit, grunting softly. “Still heavy.” “Right, sorry.” Harry hands Sylvia off to who you assume is Annie as he hurries to take the mattress, revealing a second, much taller woman with sunglasses atop her blonde head of hair. She’s wearing red lipstick and bright suede pumps. “There we go,” she sighs. “I need a fag.” Harry almost takes out a light fixture as he hauls the bed. You press yourself up against the wall as he offers a quick, “S’cuse me,” and passes you to Sylvia's room. The two women look at you as simultaneous smiles light their faces. “Hi!” “Hello!” Sylvia waves at you, too. “Guess this one doesn’t need an introduction,” the dark-haired woman laughs, approaching with a hand extended. You notice that she’s the one wearing the ring. “I’m Annie.” “It’s great to meet you, Harry has spoken so highly of both of you.” You turn to the other woman after introducing yourself. “AJ.” One corner of her mouth quirks up. “It’s a pleasure.” “Thank you so much for the mattress, ” you begin, wringing your hands. “It seems like everyone’s done so much to help me in the past few days… It’s really meant a lot.” AJ tilts her head to look at you with a more meaningful gaze, and Annie steps forward to rest a hand on your forearm. “Harry hasn’t gone into a terrible amount of detail but… we’re so, awfully sorry for what’s happened to you.” She squeezes gently, her fingers in the crook of your elbow. The strange familiarity of the gesture disarms you. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through, and with your family so far away—I just… we heard about what was going on, and that was it. We had to help.” You nod and suddenly have trouble swallowing. There’s just something different about discussing this with women. “Harry’s air mattress,” AJ chips in, sardonic, “belongs in an incinerator.” “Hey!” His voice comes muted from the open door of Sylvia’s bedroom. Now that you’ve seen the both of them together up close, you realize how wrong you were in thinking that Sylvia only took after her father. Annie’s features are evident in her daughter’s deep, brown eyes, her nose, and the high angles of her cheeks.  “Well,” Annie starts, raising her eyebrows at everyone, “we’re obviously feeding you.” You laugh in disbelief. “No you’re not!” “We are!” She smiles as she sets Sylvia down, who weaves through everyone’s legs to her bedroom. “And relax, it’s already cooked so there’s no use in turning it down.” AJ pulls you in for a side hug, which you were grossly unprepared for. “Thank… you.” In your bewilderment, it’s all you can manage to say as Annie removes the tin foil from a full pan’s helping of chicken and vegetables. “Isn’t this supposed to be tomorrow’s roast? The Sunday roast?” Harry appears in the kitchen with Sylvia on his hip. He frowns, poking his head over Annie’s shoulder as she preheats the oven. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies. They lock eyes. Something tender passes between them; part of you feels like you should look away. “Annie… ” Harry says, softer now. “You didn’t have to do all this.” She ignores him, setting the timer on the oven as AJ slides a small mountain of tupperware into the fridge. The kettle starts to scream. You hadn’t realized someone started tea. You’re not sure what to do besides stand by the sink and stare. AJ rushes over to fill four steaming mugs, portioning different amounts of cream and honey into each. She turns to the few stray dishes in the sink, beginning to wash. “AJ, stop tha—” “Harry, relax would you?” She whips his leg with a dish towel and he relents. “Why is she staying in my room?” Sylvia pipes up from Harry’s arms. He looks across the kitchen at you, and then down to her. “Well see, bug, Daddy’s got a friend who’s gonna stay here for a little while.” Harry points at you and twists so she has a better view. You wave your fingers at her, and Harry asks Sylvia if she can say your name, but she simply buries her face into his sweater. “Like a slumber party?” “Um—” Harry falters. “Sort of, but not quite.” “It’s a grown-up slumber party?” AJ chokes on her tea. The tips of Harry’s ears go crimson.  “Honey, it’s like when Auntie Kristen comes over to Mummy and Mum’s to stay on holiday,” Annie salvages. Harry’s shoulders visibly relax.  Sylvia tugs at the collar of Harry’s sweater. “How long?” she begs. Your heart falls. “‘M not sure, Vi.” Harry moves some hair from her face as she pouts, then kisses her forehead. “Not forever.” “This’ll be good for you, Harry. You need more friends.” Annie pinches Harry’s side before turning to you with a smirk. “Maybe you can finally start hanging out with people your own age.” You shrug to play along, pursing your lips against a smile. “I mean… ” “Harry doesn’t go out much.” Annie’s comedic whisper fills the room as she carries your tea over to you. “Neither do you!” Harry retorts, frowning playfully over his shoulder, attempting to smack her; she narrowly dodges. “Yeah, just the one time,” AJ deadpans, pointing between them and then nodding to Sylvia. “Jesus Christ,” Harry breathes before they break into laughter. You can’t help but join in. Sylvia’s head swings from parent to parent, smiling in oblivious delight. “Alright, alright,” Annie wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Just leave the roast in there until you’re ready to eat. We should get going soon.” “Have you got sheets that fit the bed?” Harry asks, bouncing Sylvia on his hip. “Right!” Annie’s eyes go wide. She turns to AJ, “Darling, you mind popping down to the car to get those?” “Since I already hauled up the mattress, am I allowed to play the gender card?” AJ throws eyes at Harry. “Hands are full,” he replies cheerfully. He holds one of Sylvia’s arms up to wave. “Fine,” she relents, plucking the keys from Annie’s back pocket. “Thank you!” Annie calls after her. AJ simply waves a hand behind her head. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while later!” AJ begins to walk faster. Harry shoots Annie a jokingly scandalized look with a hand covering his gaping mouth. She squints at him and rolls her eyes. He puts Sylvia down, whispering in her ear as he points to the miniature arts and crafts table in the living room.  Sylvia takes a seat on the colorful stool, her tiny features already pinched in concentration as she finds a crayon and begins to draw. Harry crouches at her side, watching her for a moment before kissing the top of her head. He breezes past you before you hear the bathroom door lock shut and now it’s just you and Annie alone together. “I love Harry, but he’s a man and he doesn’t know anything.” You shouldn’t laugh, but you do. “We live ten minutes away. If you need anything at all—anything, I mean it, please call us. Mine and AJ’s mobile numbers are both on the fridge.” “Thank you, Annie.” She hesitates, playing absently with the tag of her tea bag before nodding to the living room. “Let’s sit.” You have a seat on the couch; Annie takes the small leather armchair on the other side of the coffee table. Her eyes are warm. You see a flash of that expression that had passed between her and Harry. “He is a good man.” Annie’s voice is so low, it’s almost a whisper. “One of the best I’ve ever met… You’re in good hands, I promise.” There isn’t a chance for you to respond as the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom interrupts. Harry re-enters the living room, his eyes flitting between yours and Annie’s with a curious look on his face. “Am I interrupting something?” “Course not, lovely. We’re just waiting for AJ with the sheets,” Annie replies. She must be killer at poker. AJ slips through the door with a folded bundle of checkered sheets nearly covering her face. “Miss me?” She perches on the armrest of Annie’s chair upon returning from Syvia’s room, an arm wrapped around her shoulders. You are acutely aware of the warmth of Harry’s leg against yours, suddenly too nervous to shift and potentially draw attention to it. Though you try hard not to, you can practically see the silent conversation happening between the three other adults in the room; if you had to guess, it’s probably about you. You categorically refuse to look at Harry, so you’re left with AJ’s nearly imperceptible eyebrow-raising, and a curl of Annie’s lip that seems to be a question and a confirmation all at once. The three of them are a little… too quiet. “Well we should be off then,” she says, drawing her hands together in a clap. “Someone needs a bath tonight.”  Sylvia hurries over and locks her arms around Harry’s legs. He scoops her up like she weighs absolutely nothing. “C’mon now, angel,” he murmurs, glancing over his daughter’s head to look at you with a vaguely resigned expression. “Gonna see you tomorrow, aren’t I? Gotta be good for your mums.” Harry fixes Sylvia’s wobbling lower lip with a stern look. “Hey, now. What’s this about? S’not any different from Mummy’s normal turn with you, right? You know you’ve got too much love pumpkin, we gotta share ya.” Sylvia mumbles something too soft to make out; Harry ducks his head close. “Tell me?” You don’t catch all the words, except, “stars.” His face crumples a bit. “Oh honey, of course you’ll still have your bedtime stars. They’re not going anywhere. Nobody’s gonna take your stars.” “And that sounds like the beginning of a meltdown,” Annie says, standing quickly and pulling Sylvia from Harry’s arms. “Best be on our way before she tests all our eardrums.” Sylvia momentarily seems like she might reach back for him, but then she looks at you as though by accident, and shrinks back into her mother’s arms. Shame knots in your stomach as the two women head for the door. Sylvia peeks over Annie’s shoulder as AJ slings her purse over her arm with the car keys in hand. You busy yourself clearing the empty mugs of tea in some small attempt to give them privacy. “Come ‘round about six, yeah?” Annie says as AJ waves at you and disappears first out the door. Harry is sliding Sylvia’s arm through the second sleeve of her coat. His and Annie’s teamwork seems fluid and practiced. “Sounds good.” He tugs her tiny knit hat more securely over her curls. “Love you, bug.” “Hôn ba đi, Vi.”  You have no idea what Annie’s just said to Sylvia but Harry leans forward to receive his daughter’s kiss, placing an audible one on her forehead in return.  He says something else to Sylvia that’s not English. That deeply tender look in Annie’s face returns. Harry’s hand falls to her waist and she touches his jaw to place a quick peck at the corner of his mouth. “Call us if you need anything.” She turns back to you. “You too. Our numbers are—” “On the fridge,” you finish with a smile, waving. “Thank you, Annie.” Harry shuts the door behind them and the flat falls silent for the first time in what feels like ages. You hear him laugh once before he turns to you. “Sorry about that.” “No. Harry, I should be the one apologizing. Sylvia’s so upset, I feel awful.” Harry looks from you to the door and back again, shaking his head as he moves towards the kitchen. “Oh no, don’t worry about that. She was mostly tired, is all. Happens all the time.” He pauses before joking, “Sorry you had to hear my really terrible Vietnamese.” You watch as he begins to rifle through the cabinets. “What are you doing?” “I’m sure I left it in here somewhere—aha!” He holds an empty mason jar aloft before grabbing a sharpie and the magnetic pad of Hello Kitty sticky notes from the fridge door. Harry scrawls quickly, the cap of the pen between his teeth, before sticking a note on the glass and holding it up for you to read the big, block letters. APOLOGIES.

[twokinkybeans]

MAKE IT LAST - STARKER MOB BOSS/COFFEE SHOP AU

HERE IT FINALLY IS! So, a few months back we did a prompt line fic thing. This means this one shot is wayyyy late, but it also got wayyyyyyyyyyyy out of hand and is now nearly 11k words long omg.

The prompt line @jeranasblog gave me was: "He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City." I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mob boss!Tony, Barista!Peter, No powers!AU, Peter is a little dense but we still love him, angst, fluff and smut, near the end there are some gruesome threats, abduction, guns, May is mentioned, Obadiah Stane is the bad guy, Bucky and Steve are there, Coffee Shop boss is an OC and has a gambling addiction. Smut tags: NFF, teasing, sexting, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, hand job with much lube lol, hand & finger kink, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, dry humping, finger sucking, anal fingering

Read “Make It Last” on AO3! Taglist: @the-secret-avenger ​@ironspiidey

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“Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. You see, the owner of the coffee shop, Mister McDougall, made a deal with New York’s biggest mafia boss to be able to keep the shop and… He wasn’t able to pay back on time. Lucky for Mister McDougall, Peter was working when the Big Boss came to collect. At two PM. On a Tuesday afternoon. A few months ago...

The bell of the front door rang and Peter walked in from the back, smiling kindly. He greeted the rich looking man. “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said in his regular chipper voice. The man cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses and pursed his lips. His neatly trimmed beard moved along with his expression and he sniffed once. “One black coffee to go,” the man demanded. Peter’s mood didn’t falter. He was used to stern customers, New York generally wasn’t a kind city. Peter smiled and nodded, immediately getting to work. It wasn’t a difficult one to make, after all. He’d ring this guy up in less than a minute. “You know what,” the man suddenly said. “Make that a caramel Frappuccino. Extra whipped cream. Drink here. Make it last.” Make it last? Peter wondered what the man meant with that. It was only then that Peter realized that the man was studying his every movement a little more closely than a regular customer would. It didn’t necessarily make Peter uncomfortable, though. The man was at least twice his age, but it was undeniable that he was the hottest man Peter had ever laid eyes on. Even though his eyes were covered by an expensive pair of sunglasses. Peter quickly moved to pour the milk, but the man’s deep voice filled the empty space again. “Make. It. Last.” Peter blinks, dumbfounded. “You… You want me to work slower?” The man then raised his hand to pull down his glasses slightly, so he could look Peter in the eye properly. Infinite whisky browns stared straight into Peter’s soul. “Yes.” “A-alright,” Peter stuttered and went back to work, tearing his gaze away from the man. If Mister McDougall were here, he’d kill him for working at this pace. But ah well, the customer is always right. The customer is king. And the man he was making the coffee for sure looked like he was in charge. Maybe he would leave a nice tip. “Where’s your boss?” There was a hint of annoyance hidden in the man’s voice. “Mister McDougall?” Peter replied as he turned to grab the caramel. “He’s at a convention on the other side of the country. Was pretty vague about it, to be honest. Something to do with beans.” “Beans,” the man scoffed. “Sure.” He rolled his shoulders and walked to the other side of the counter where Peter would ring him up. His eyes never left the young man. “And he left you in charge of the store on the day he knew I’d show up?” Peter glanced up from his work questioningly, but then shrugged. “Apparently.” “Do you know about our deal?” “Oh!” Peter exclaimed softly as he placed the large cup on the counter. “He mentioned he was working on a business proposal with someone, but I didn’t pry, cause this isn’t my store. I’m sorry, Sir, did he have an appointment with you?” The man gritted his teeth and pushed out his reply. “Yes.” “I could call him now? If you want?” A slight smirk crept up on the man’s face. “Please do.” Peter didn’t hesitate to grab his phone from his back pocket. There usually weren’t any other customers at this hour of the day anyways. He looked up the number of his boss and hit call. “Hey Pete-“ “Hi, Mister McDougall, there’s someone here to see you, but you must’ve forgotten your appointment.” The other end of the line stayed quiet and Peter pulled a face at the customer. “Sir?” More silence. “Do you want me to reschedule it for you?” “Peter,” the customer interrupted them. It didn’t matter how long Peter wore that name tag, he never got used to strangers saying it out of the blue. “Hand me the phone and go to the back. Mister McDougall and I can discuss our arrangement here and now, but I do require some privacy.” Peter blinked once. Twice. And then he slowly moved to give his phone to the man in the suit. “Don’t let your coffee go cold,” Peter said with a curt nod before rushing off to the back. He shuffled to the dishwasher and turned it on to give them some more privacy, the loud rumble of the water inside the machine drowning out any other sound in the back. Not even five minutes later, the man walked into the back with Peter’s phone in hand, a dark smirk plastered on his face. “Your phone,” he said politely, placing the piece of technology in Peter’s palm. Peter smiled warmly. “Thank you, Sir.” He walked passed the man back to the front. The man followed. “No, Peter, thank you,” he chuckled. He grabbed his coffee from the counter and sat down at one of the tables. “Did the arrangement work out okay?” Peter asked innocently. If this man was working together with his boss, it was probably smart to stay kind. Though, that wasn’t all that hard, somehow. There was something about him that lured Peter in- made him feel warm and at home. The man grinned even wider while placing his sunglasses on the table. “Perfect.” His smile turned sour after he took a large sip from his coffee. “Is- is something wrong?” “Eh, no. I’m not one for overly sweet coffees.” Peter swallowed a sassy reply. If he didn’t like Frappuccinos, why would he order one? “Would you like me to make you another one?” “Still got that black coffee there?” “Yes, Sir.” “Very good.” The man left, just as hoped, a big tip and walked out the door with a promise. “See you next week.” Somehow, that made Peter’s stomach tingle. He did want to see the man again. There was something mysterious about him. Alluring. Their conversations were interesting and surprisingly eloquent. The man was very smart and Peter found himself loosening up more as the chat went on. The man let him. It was nice. That night, when Peter wanted to message a friend, he wondered when he added “TS” in his contact list. He didn’t recognize the number, but he couldn’t be bothered to look it up either. From then on, every Tuesday at two PM on the dot, the man walked in. Mister McDougall was always nervous about his arrival and usually fled to the back, leaving Peter to take care of the customer. But more often than not, he’d leave Peter in charge of the store entirely, leaving for appointments or errands whenever the man was bound to come in. Peter learned the man’s name is Tony and their conversations were always pleasant. Interesting. They talked about Peter’s life, mostly. Tony always managed to make everything about the college student, earning his cash as a barista. Peter didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help that he was curious. Tony offhandedly said he worked in real estate, when Peter asked. That and ‘some other things.’ He learned Tony was a tinkerer and a scientist in his free time. That he enjoys fixing up old cars, modern art and what he called ‘a good fuck.’ The comment had Peter blush a bright red. A blush Tony would always compliment whenever it crept up to his ears. Something about Tony drew Peter in. Maybe it was their casual conversation. Maybe it was his compliments. Maybe even his smile? Though, Peter’s smile always faltered as soon as other customers came in, since Tony would usually leave the store when they did. One day, the customers appeared to be his employees. And they all stayed. Two men, both tall and wide. One was blond, clean shaven and the other had slightly longer brown hair and a trimmed beard. “So, this is your Tuesday retreat, boss?” the blond quipped before ordering an americano. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Tony sassily replied, leaning back in his chair. “Coffee break,” the brown haired man said simply. Tony scoffed and waved it off. The three men were awfully picky about what they said and how they said it, Peter could tell, but that might just be private business stuff, so he didn’t pry. After they finished their drinks and walked out the door, Peter blushed again when the brown-haired man spoke. “That sure was a good coffee. I’d come here every Tuesday too, if I knew I’d be served by such a good lookin’ young man.” The compliment was paired with a wink. The door closed and Peter laughed softly to himself when Tony gave the brown-haired man a gentle slap at the back of his head to scold him. … One Tuesday, Peter called in sick. He lived to regret that. Mister McDougall was furious, but Peter couldn’t help that he was down with the flu and he didn’t want to make other customers sick. Especially not the man he’d grown to like so much. He got a text, later. TS: Are you okay? Peter: Who is this? TS: Tony. TS: Black coffee Tony. Peter: Oh! Peter: Sorry, I wasn’t at the shop today. Caught the flu, I think. Hope not worse. Glued to bed rn. TS: Got it bad? Peter: Can barely stand, tbh. Coughing a lot and it sounds weird. Don’t wanna make anyone sick. TS: That’s sweet. Peter: Just lookin out for the little guy. TS: I’m not little. Peter: Didn’t meant it like that, omgg, im sorry! TS: I’m messing with you. Peter: Ohh 🙈 It was quiet for a little bit, and Peter nearly fell asleep again if it weren’t for his screen lighting up. TS: Can I get you anything? Peter: I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be fine. I mean it. TS: Peter. Tony wasn’t even in the same room as Peter, yet he knew exactly how Tony would’ve said his name if he were. Peter: I’m a college student. Meds are out of the picture. Don’t have much cash. TS: I do. And after not even half an hour, there was a doctor on Peter’s doorstep to check on him. Pneumonia in its early stages. A few days of antibiotics and he should be good as new. He wasn’t sure how Tony knew his address, but figured he got it from Mister McDougall. True to the doctor’s words, Peter was up and running again in a few days and on Tuesday, two PM on the dot, Tony walked into the shop with a wide grin and spread arms. “Good afternoon to my favorite barista,” he quipped. Peter grinned and cocked his head. “Good afternoon to my favorite customer.” “Oh,” Tony gasped, placing his palm on his chest. “You flatter me.” “Do I? With the tips you leave, everyone must like to see you.” “Most rather see me go, trust me.” Tony loudly cleared his throat and evaded Peter’s gaze to collect himself, before he casually leaned over the counter. “Black.” His coffee order is followed by his usual command. “Make it last.” “All I do is press a button, Sir, it’s pretty hard to make a black coffee last.” Peter laughed quietly as he started rubbing a cloth over the counter to clean it while the coffee set. “Then make yourself what you like.” Peter stared at Tony for a second before turning to grab another, taller cup. “Would you laugh if I said it’s a caramel Frappuccino.” He licked his lips. “With extra whipped cream?” “No,” Tony replied immediately. His voice was lower. Darker. Hotter. “It fits you.” “Does it?” Peter chuckled as he handed Tony the black coffee. “Overly sweet,” Tony said with a nod, toasting and raising the cup to his lips. He glanced at Peter and then repeated himself. “It fits you.” Peter slowly moved around the bar, preparing his own Frappuccino. “Thought you didn’t like caramel Frappuccinos?” “I like you.” Peter didn’t halt his movements as he worked himself around the coffee machines, though, his body went at a whole different speed than his brain. Did Tony actually just say that? “I think I like you too.” The reply had left Peter’s lips before he could even process the thought. “You think?” This time, Peter stopped. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” It was barely a whisper. His hand was stuck on the lever and he bit his lip. “Wha- dating?” Peter opted to ignore the implication of what Tony just said and instead, replied honestly. “Flirting.” “Oh, pretty boy, you’ve got a lot to learn. And experience.” Goosebumps spread over Peter’s body at Tony’s words and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt embarrassed or… Something else. This was the first time Tony called him anything like this and it felt like they both stepped over some sort of threshold they had both been ghosting by for a while now. Tony brought him back to the present with his trademarked sniff. “I have no need to rush things. If you’re interested, we’ll take it slow.” Peter finally turned his head to look at Tony with big eyes. Tony just smirked and quipped with a wink. “We’ll make it last.” … Peter: You up? It was two AM. Two Tuesdays later. Tony had become a lot more flirty and a lot more forthcoming with his sweet words and suggestive praise after they addressed their interest in each other. Most of it was via text, but whenever he was at the store, Peter could see Tony’s dilated pupils, could feel the man’s hot breath as Peter explained how one of the machines worked with Tony right behind him. He admired Tony for holding back too. He knew Peter wanted to take things slow, heck, he even suggested it. And he never snapped. Never broke. Never did anything out of line. Sure, his words were suggestive, but he never acted upon any primal needs. He was a gentleman. And it made Peter respect him even more. It also made him want Tony even more. Peter bathed himself in the compliments Tony peppered him with and Peter realized the man knew everything he said and did made Peter… Needy. Peter was fairly sure Tony was already asleep, but after all the sweet and… slightly filthy things the man had been saying to him that day, he couldn’t help himself, he had to jerk off. And he needed Tony to help him with that. TS: Been working. You’re up late. Don’t you have uni tomorrow? Peter sighed gratefully as he typed one handed, the other already creeping down to cup his half-hard shaft through his sweatpants. Peter: I do. TS: Hm. TS: Then why would you message me so late, huh? Peter wanted to scoff. Of course, Tony knew. The man just wanted Peter to say it. And… Peter kind of liked it. No matter how embarrassing. He typed and erased. And typed and erased. Typed and erased. He really wanted to send Tony what he wanted, but he felt like too much of a chicken to actually say it. He needed Tony’s sweet words. His… His filth. Peter: I’m,, eh… TS: Hm? Peter: Talk to me like you do in the shop? Please? TS: How I talk to you in the shop is a lot tamer than what I think you need right now. Peter hid his face in his pillow for a second, before taking a deep breath and finding the courage to reply. Peter: What do I need then? TS: You need me. Without a filter. But before I tell you anything… Where are you right now? What are you wearing? Talk to me, first. Peter: Alone. Bedroom. Bed. Sweat pants. T-shirt. TS: Turn off autocorrect, baby, how am I supposed to know you’re losing yourself if I see full words? Peter: happyy now? TS: Yes. One-handed, huh? Already touching yourself? Peter: mhm, thruogh fabric. TS: Alright, first things first, pretty thing, take off all your clothes. TS: Make it last. Peter complied immediately and he both loved and hated the slow movements he used to slide off his shirt. When his sweatpants were down on his knees, his screen lit up. TS: Are you making it last? Peter: yes TS: Good boy. Peter didn’t expect to moan so loud, but he did. The praise blasted through him and went straight to the cock that now rested against his abdomen. Stiff. Twitching. Leaking. Peter: say thatagain TS: Earn it. Peter: how TS: By being good for me, my sweet. Are you naked? Peter: almost TS: Let me know when you’re done. Peter was almost afraid that when he finally finished undressing after another minute, it was still too fast for Tony. He decided to make the jump, though. Peter: done TS: Lovely. Hard, baby boy? Peter let out a soft growl and was already struggling to type. Peter: ys, for you TS: Touch yourself for me. Go on, hump the hand you make my coffee with, Peter. It felt perfect – absolutely perfect – to wrap his fingers around his cock, now that he was doing it on demand. He couldn’t even hold back if he tried. His thrusts were relentless, straight away. Peter: Yyes yes TS: Oh, I wish I could see how pretty you look right now. How you roll your hips and fuck your fist. TS: Want to see the sweat drip from your temples, want to hear your soft gasps and moans. TS: Want to hear my name fall from your lips. Say my name, Peter. Say it. “Tony- O-oh-“ Peter gasped and he barely managed to keep his eyes open to watch the next few messages come in. TS: Don’t come. Not yet. TS: Slow down. Peter: nn tony please TS: Make. TS: It. TS: Last. Peter felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He felt so good. But he couldn’t come. Not with Tony right here with him telling him not to. Peter: yes sir TS: Good boy. Peter: feelsso good when u callme that TS: Mm. It does, doesn’t it? You know what makes me feel good? Peter: ?/ TS: When you call me Sir. A dreamy smile spread across Peter’s face as he lazily stroked his cock. His hips kept rolling, arching his back and lifting off the mattress with each thrust. His intellect had melted away. All he wanted was to feel good for Tony. TS: You know what else would make me feel really good? Peter: nno? Sir TS: If my good boy called me Daddy. Peter had to stop his hand or he would’ve cum right then and there. And he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He simply had to make it last. Instead, he moaned obscenely. Peter: ggod, nearlu came TS: Did you now? Peter: yes daddy Peter: held back TS: Oh, you’re so sweet for me. Wish I could taste that awful Frappuccino on your lips. Suckle on your tongue as I squeeze your cock, run my thumb over the head. TS: You have no idea how much I want to make you come for me. Peter: wanna cum for u Peter: faster?????????????/ TS: Speed up, baby. Show Daddy how desperate you are for him. Such a good boy for asking permission. The fact that Tony’s messages were still put together as opposed to Peter’s near button-mashes had another rush of arousal flow through Peter. Everything about what was happening was so hot. He’d never done anything like this before. He never even had sex in his life. And now the hottest man in New York was sexting him. God, he wished he could see Tony right now. Was he naked too? Was he stroking himself? Maybe he was fingering himself. Or fucking himself on a dildo so he still had two hands to type his coherent sentences with. Shit, that’d be so hot. Though, the image of Tony at his desk, working while casually messaging Peter all these things as if it’s just a regular chat about their day was even hotter. Tony, in his tailored suit, barely bothered by Peter’s desperation. Fuck. Peter: Yes yys ddaddy thanku TS: Mhm. It didn’t take long for Peter to get near the edge again. He was barely able to contain himself, phone shaking in his hand with every jerk of his other fist. Peter: close TS: Are you now? Peter: ya TS: Do you want to come? Peter: eys yes so badsoo bad TS: What do good boys say when they want to come? Peter squeezed his eyes shut, gasping and writhing on his sheets. His toes curled as he whined and begged while typing. “P-please-“ he muttered. “Please, please, please-“ Peter: pleease TS: Please, what? That’s it, Peter couldn’t type anymore. Didn’t want to type anymore. Instead, he hit the voice record button. “D-daddy, wanna cum, I wanna cum so bad, please, may I?” His lines were paired with moans and sobs. Desperation dripped from every word. Every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his fingers, had him see stars. He had to come, he simply had to. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Lucky for Peter, it didn’t take long for Tony to reply with a voice message of his own. His deep, dark voice, coated with lust, like fresh honey, echoed through Peter’s simple bedroom. “Come, Peter. Come for Daddy.” … As time went on, Peter realized that Mister McDougall didn’t like to have Peter around anymore. Every chore he had to do, every command he had to follow, everything McDougall asked of him; he was never good enough. Peter felt like a nuisance. And he wanted out. He felt a weight fall off his shoulders when an on campus lab learned of Peter’s skills and offered him a job. So now, a few weeks after Peter and Tony started sexting, Peter told Mister McDougall he wanted to quit. “You can’t,” was the short reply. It had Peter nearly explode with frustration. “I can, though? I got a job offer in one of the labs on campus, I’m not letting this fly by!” Mister McDougall grabbed Peter’s shoulders and dragged him to the back by his shirt. He nearly flung the young man against the large dishwasher. “You’ll ruin me! You’ll get me killed!” “Don’t be so dramatic!” Peter yelled back. He was done working for Mister McDougall. So done. Peter swallowed his next words when a knife was suddenly pointed at his nose. He stared at it wide-eyed as he got ushered into a corner. “Tony owns this building, Peter, and the only reason I’m allowed to stay here is because you work here.” “Wha-“ “SHUT UP! You shut your mouth! I’d have fired you ages ago if it weren’t for him!” Tears pricked in the corners of Peter’s eyes. “If you leave, I’m going to pay your aunt a visit. And none of us will like what I’ll do to her.” What was happening? What was going on? Why did his boss threaten him like this? “S-sir?” “You’re not quitting, you hear me? You’re gonna get your ass back on the floor and you’re gonna do your job. As long as Tony doesn’t hate you, I can keep this business. You don’t want me to lose this business do you?” He waved the knife, pushing it towards Peter’s left eye and resting the tip right below it. The young man leaned back as far as the wall allowed him to. “Do you?!” Peter didn’t even dare to blink. “No, sir,” he lied. “Why are you so scared of him?” Mister McDougall laughed maniacally. “Why aren’t you?!” He yelled. “That’s Tony Stark! He owns sixty percent of New York!” The world stopped spinning. Tony - Peter’s Tony - is Tony Stark. The biggest, baddest Mafia Boss of New York. Known to be vile, relentless and cruel to anyone who dares to cross his path. And Peter… Peter had fallen in love with him. No. No, he didn’t. He fell in love with Tony. Not with Stark. But if they were one and the same, maybe the stories were wrong? Maybe- “You didn’t know?” Mister McDougall stepped back and let his arm down. Peter finally allowed himself to breathe, even if it was the worst intake of air he’d ever done. He held back his tears with everything he had. “No.” “Jesus Christ.” Mister McDougall threw his hands up, flailing the knife around. “You’re an idiot!” “But-“ A quiet beep came from McDougall’s wrist. He looked at his watch and turned. “Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. “Get to work.” Peter swallowed and blinked away his tears as he walked into the front of the store. He took a deep breath and fumbled with some of the cups on the counter. Mister McDougall stayed in the back, as usual. Peter looked up, startled, when the bell rang. Tony walked in, blissfully unaware and leaned on the counter like he always did. Peter was bad at hiding his fear, he knew that, and it didn’t even take a second before Tony caught on. “Did you cry?” His question was blunt. Straight to the point. “I’m alright, I hit my head.” Peter had to pause to clear his throat in the middle of his sentence. His words were small. Unsure. Tony didn’t buy it. “Who hurt you?” A shiver ran up Peter’s spine. He couldn’t tell Tony about what Mister McDougall did to him. As much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want the deadliest man in the area to… To hurt him. Peter didn’t dare think of the k word. But more importantly, he didn’t want anything to happen to May. “Me,” Peter tried to sound cheerful, but his voice shook. “I hit my head. I hurt me.” Peter finished up the black coffee and turned to give it to Tony, so he could start making his own Frappuccino. Tony wanted to take his hand, but Peter swiftly turned around. He played the machine to make his own drink, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make it last. He had to get it done. As fast as possible. He had to get this over with. Tony spoke, but Peter didn’t hear it. He could already feel the tears threatening to glide down his cheeks. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t- Tony grabbed Peter’s wrist from over the counter and the Frappuccino cup slipped from the barista’s fingers. Peter stared wide-eyed at how the scorching hot liquid gushed onto Tony’s suit. The stain was evident, but Tony seemed unfazed by the heat. Peter’s lip trembled and he was certain there was no oxygen left in the store. He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City. Peter barely dared to look up, but when he saw Tony’s expression, his shoulders fell. The way the man looked at him was… Vulnerable. “You’re afraid.” Tony’s voice was fragile. “Of me?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears flow freely now. He screwed up. He screwed everything up. “I don’t know,” Peter replied honestly, through quiet sobs. Tony swiftly jumped over the counter so he could embrace Peter. “Talk to me, Bambino.” “I- I didn’t know-“ “Didn’t know what?” “S-Stark-“ “Yes, Frappuccino, that’s me.” “Did you just call me-“ “Yes, did it make you feel better?” Peter scoffed, but managed to smile. “A little.” Tony then pushed Peter away from him to force the young man to look him in the eye by holding Peter’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Did you really not know?” Now Peter feels stupid. He should’ve caught on, obviously. Everybody knew Tony Stark. Peter pushed his lips together and gently shook his head. “Oh, bother,” Tony mumbled as he pulled Peter against his chest to hug him tightly. Peter’s insides were in a struggle. Every part of his rational brain told him to get out of there. To push Tony away. The man was bad news. He reeked of danger, yet… He smelled so wonderful. His cologne invaded Peter’s nostrils and there was no way the young man could let go of him. The way his arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, the way he held him, kept him warm and safe... No matter how frightening Tony might be, Peter felt protected. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. Peter’s face was pressed against Tony’s shirt and he could feel the wet coffee stain from Tony’s suit seep onto his own pants. A hand found its way into Peter’s hair and gently started massaging his scalp. The soft lips Peter had only imagined up until now, pressed themselves onto his curls and stayed there, leaving long, slow pecks. Sometimes, Tony hummed. With every passing second, Peter’s muscles relaxed more and more until his body practically went limp against Tony’s. “Now…” The man finally spoke. He gently pushed Peter away from him until he could look Peter in the eyes, hands cupping his face. His thumb gently stroked away the drying tears and he smiled kindly. “Who hurt you?” Peter’s pouting lips were pressed together. He tried to hide the truth, but one quick glance towards the back and Tony knew enough. “Please, don’t kill him,” Peter whispered. Tony scoffed softly. “Is that why you’re suddenly afraid of me?” Tony pushed forward slightly, until something long and hard pressed against Peter’s thigh. And it wasn’t Tony’s cock. “Cause I’m not just happy to see you?” Peter whimpered and closed his eyes, still not wanting to leave Tony’s embrace, even though he was afraid of what might happen next. “Do you know why I own 64.7 percent of New York?” Peter shook his head lightly, focusing his attention on Tony’s warm hands still keeping his face up by his cheeks. “Because I don’t just shoot whoever gets in my way. I give people a chance,” Tony said matter of factly. “Take your boss, for example. This building? It’s mine.” The way Tony enunciated the word, not just verbally but also with a soft squeeze of his hands, had a shiver run down Peter’s spine. “Ex-gambling addict who wanted to get back on track. Promising fellow. Clean for years. He loaned a chunk of my money to start his business. All was good. A thriving coffee store can make quite a bit of money in this area in New York. During my first visit I learned that not everything I offered him went into this shop. Told him I wanted the money back that he didn’t spend on the store. He also couldn’t pay rent. Somehow.” Peter breathlessly listened to everything that came out of Tony’s mouth. “I gave him another shot. Told him to have my money ready in a month. That’s a fair time to make what he owed me. And when I came into the store to collect… I found you. And your boss? Well, he wasn’t exactly at a convention. He was at the other side of the country, though. In Vegas.” Tony sighed and broke eye contact for a few seconds. “This is where it gets embarrassing…” He mumbled. “Embarrassing?” “I was completely enamored by you, Peter.” Tony’s eyes reconnect with Peter’s and they lock gazes. “And I decided that, when you called McDougall, I’d change the deal. He’d get a delay on his debt as long as you would be there to serve me coffee. On Tuesdays. At two PM. Figured you’d stick around for a while, give McDougall enough time to cover his ass.” “So,” Tony cocked his head. “After half a year, he still doesn’t have my money. And I’m guessing you want to quit the job?” Peter nodded, face contorting. “He had a knife and-“ “A knife?” The energy in the room changed abruptly. From loving and caring to dark and aggressive. Peter immediately pulled back, but Tony’s grip on him tightened. “He threatened you?” He seethed. “No- Tony, please,” Peter begged, but he didn’t fight. “Is he in the back?” Tony stared Peter down with an intense gaze. The young barista froze. “Peter.” “Yes.” Peter felt small, yet his body betrayed him when his cock stirred at Tony’s authoritative voice. Tony guided Peter to one of the chairs and gently sat him down. His hands caressed Peter’s curls before he pressed another kiss on top of them. He bent down until he squatted in front of Peter and looked up reassuringly. “I will not physically harm him, I promise. I just want to have a word with him, okay?” “Okay…” Tony smiled and nodded before standing up and making his way towards the back. Before he disappeared, Tony looked behind him one more time and winked at Peter. Probably to relieve the tension. Not long after Tony went to the back, Peter was startled by the doorbell. He looked up and quickly collected himself before greeting the customer, wiping the remainder of his dried tears away. “Good afternoon, Sir, how can I help you?” Peter barely managed to put up his customer smile. The man was a bit scruffy looking, dark haired and he had a slight beard. There was a strange look in his eye. Peter wanted to walk around the counter to his usual spot to take the order, but the man stopped him. “Hold it there.” Peter paused his trek and turned back to the man with a questioning look. The man suddenly bolted for him, but Peter realized too late he was holding something in his hand. Peter tried to yell but before any sound could leave his mouth, it was covered by a damp cloth. His eyes went wide as he stared straight into the other man’s. He had no choice but to inhale the strange and intense, sweet scent of whatever was in that piece of fabric. The man didn’t smile, nor did he look angry. He seemed rather indifferent. The man’s other arm wrapped around Peter’s body, right before he lost the strength in his muscles and dropped against the man’s chest. Peter’s mind suddenly felt over-stuffed with fuzz and it was only a few seconds before his muffled scream died out and his eyes rolled back. Right when Peter lost himself, the man spoke softly, with a mocking tone, before carrying him out of the coffee shop. “Night night.” … Peter’s head felt like it was going to burst. He could barely open his eyes, but the hand that pulled him back at his hair in the uncomfortable chair forced him to wake up. He gasped for air, squinting his eyes into slits in the bright light. “Wakey, wakey.” A dark voice echoed through the room, ringing Peter’s ears. He finally managed to open his eyes when the light was blocked by a shape. A person. “Eh…” A soft whine escaped Peter’s lips, but the sound wasn’t taken kindly. The person- man- yanked at his hair, causing Peter to wince in pain. The man was bald, but had a thick beard. A scowl pulled the strangers bushy eyebrows together and Peter’s entire body tensed when he spotted the gun in the man’s other hand. “So…” The man leaned in and cocked his head. “All this trouble for a twink.” Peter tightened his jaw even further and kept his lips glued together. The man quite forcefully let go of Peter’s hair, allowing Peter to take in his surroundings. They were in a plain room, nothing too interesting. Peter could hear seagulls outside. They were probably close to water? The door was guarded by two imposing looking men, one of them Peter recognized as the guy who took him out. In the darkness of the room, a camera seemed to be recording them, judging by the red light flickering in the corner. “Barista,” Peter mumbled, staring at the gun in the guards’ hands.. “Excuse me?” The man pushed into Peter’s space again, seemingly offended. Peter held his breath, but replied anyways, eyes locking with the bald man’s. “I’m just a barista.” “Just a-“ the man interrupted himself, put his hands on his hips and leaned back, letting out an over the top laugh. When he finally calmed himself again, he bolted forward, pressing the gun against Peter’s neck. The young man instinctively tilted his head up, eyes wide at the unexpected aggression. “You,” the man spit out accusingly. “Tony seems to think more of you.” “He doesn’t,” Peter bluffed, silently swearing at himself for his reckless bravery. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. “I just make his coffee. Black. Every Tuesday.” “Right,” the man scoffed and revealed Peter’s unlocked phone from his inner pocket. “And does just making his coffee include a happy ending?” “N-no-, it’s-“ “Nighttime sexting? Then?” The man sauntered around Peter, casually scrolling through Tony’s and Peter’s chat. “Was hoping to find some intel, but all I got was your disgusting conversations.” Peter swallowed hard. He angled his head to look down so that he wouldn’t have to meet the man’s judging eyes. “I’m not gonna lie,” the man sighed. “Those voice messages? Your moans? They’d rile up anyone.” Peter gently tugged at his restraints, pressing his eyes shut. To say he was afraid of what the man could and might do to him was an understatement. The thought alone paralyzed him. There was a pressing ache in his chest and a growing need to get out of there. If only he could move. “What do you want from me,” Peter managed to push out. The man chuckled darkly. “I want at least 75% of what Stark has.” The man stopped circling Peter to gently push the tip of his gun through the young man’s hair- toying with it. ���And you’re going to make sure he gives it to me.” “As if,” Peter replied simply, immediately swallowing his confidence. It now weighs heavy in his stomach. One short glance at the guards made them leave the room. They shut the door behind them and Peter couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Tell the camera-“ The man gestured at the red flashing dot. “-Tell Tony- what to do. If he doesn’t give me what I want, I will take what he wants most.” Peter looked up at the man confused, but the man’s smirk made the student’s legs burst with adrenaline. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He’s bound. The man’s eyes sparkled and turned to slits. The wide toothy grin plastered on his face had Peter’s heart drop. “You.” “Oh, don’t worry about that ol’ camera.” A familiar voice said from the door opening. Peter and the man turned their heads towards it surprised. There, Tony lazily stood against the door post, the two men that Peter had met one Tuesday accompanying him. The guards that were there before were now laying on the floor. Peter quietly hoped they were nothing more than unconscious. “You can ask me, right here, right now, Stane.” Tony absentmindedly studied the pistol in his hand, turning and twisting it. Loading it. “Tsk. Answer’s gonna be no, though.” He moved to stand up straight, confidence oozing off every inch of him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” A shiver ran down Peter’s spine and he gulped when the gun that was still aimed at him pushed under his jaw. He dropped his head backwards in an attempt to get away from it and whined quietly. Peter’s breath quivered and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “If you want your boy to live, you’re gonna do exactly what I want.” “Hmm.” Tony grinned. “If you put a bullet in his head, I’m not even gonna use my gun.” He squared up, tightening every muscle in his body. The look in his eye was dark and resolute. “Will let you pick how you go, though. Could snap your neck- stick a knife through your brain. Wiggle it around a little to make your corpse spasm. Heck, I’ll rearrange your guts first if you want me to. Bet that’ll feel real nice.” Peter could barely believe the words falling from the man’s lips were Tony’s. Apparently, neither could the guy Tony called Stane. “You’re all talk, Stark. Never seen you hurt a damn fly, that’s what you got your goons for,” Stane sneered accusingly. “First time for everything,” Tony replied collected. Stane then pulled loose the ropes around Peter’s body and pulled him up, forcing him to stand with his back flush against the man’s chest. Stane wouldn’t allow him to stand comfortably, keeping him up on his toes as the nuzzle of the gun pressed up under his chin. As free as the lack of ropes made Peter feel, the presence of the gun annihilated any feeling of liberty. “Obadiah, I swear to mother Maria, if you so much as leave a scratch on Peter, you will regret it.” Stane didn’t seem fazed by Tony’s threats. He had the upper hand after all. He had Peter. “We’re leaving now. Don’t think I won’t shoot. I will.” Peter complied the nudge in his back, taking small steps in the direction of the door. Obadiah moved the gun until it rested against Peter’s temple. “Step into the room.” Tony’s jaw tightened, but after a few seconds he cast his eyes downward, entering the space. His bluffing hadn’t worked and the soft shaking of his clenched fist betrayed his frustration. He genuinely seemed afraid to lose Peter. In return, Peter was afraid to lose him. The two men Tony had brought with him, joined him silently. When they were all far away enough from the door, Obadiah shuffled Peter to the opening. They reached the hallway and Stane forced Peter to step over the – hopefully – unconscious guards. All Peter could think was ‘No-no-no-no-‘ at the mere idea of being taken to another location. One Tony might not be able to find him at. One he might actually die at. Peter took a deep breath and decided to do something reckless. He could only die once anyways. The second Obadiah pulled the gun back a little to give Peter more walking space, the barista ducked away from the gun, pivoted on his feet and pushed Stane back into the wall with all the force he had. There was a gunshot. One that had Peter’s eyes go wide. With the lack of pain or blood, Peter realized Stane had missed. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an incredibly rapid pace. Peter fell backwards on his ass and saw Obadiah’s gun that had been dropped in the process. The student scrambled to grab it in a reflex. He pushed himself back against the wall, knees up, eyes unblinking and wide, as he aimed the gun two-handedly at Stane who laid there with his hands up. The feral look in Peter’s eye told the small gang leader enough. No matter how scared, this kid would shoot if he had to. Peter couldn’t blink. He just couldn’t. He barely heard the footsteps next to him. Barely felt a hand rest on his shoulder, as another lifted to be placed on Peter’s shaking hands, holding the gun. All Peter could do was stare at Obadiah, stinging tears nearly obstructing his view. His breathing was quick and erratic and he didn’t realize how much he was vibrating until Tony’s voice pushed through the veil, clouding his mind. “I need you to let go of the gun for me.” Peter only clutched the weapon tighter, his finger twitched on the trigger. His breathing was loud and fast, making his entire body buzz with tension. “Boss, he’s in shock, he won’t-“ “Peter,” Tony said a little softer. “I’m right here, Frappuccino, look at me.” The hand that was on his shoulder before, now cupped Peter’s chin, gently forcing him to turn his head. Peter’s eyes didn’t leave Obadiah, though. He held his breath, hearing his heartbeat thump in his brain. “Peter…” For the first time in what felt like forever, Peter blinked, which caused the tears that had been threatening to spill up until now to glide down his cheeks. He found himself staring at Tony’s face as his body slowly lost tension. The man’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was soft. He carefully took the gun out of Peter’s hands and pulled him in for an embrace. Peter hid his face against the man’s chest and couldn’t help but sob into it, adding another stain to Tony’s expensive suit. “Oh, Peter.” Tony’s voice was muffled against Peter’s hair. “You’re okay, we’re okay.” Just like he did earlier that day in the coffee shop, his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and started massaging his scalp. “You’re with me now, ‘s all good.” Another time, Peter would’ve been embarrassed for being pulled into Tony’s lap in front of all these strangers, but right now he couldn’t care less. His arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s torso as the man left his dragged out, flat kisses on Peter’s head. “M-sorry,” Peter mumbled between sobs, curling up into Tony’s embrace and tugging in his legs. “Sorry-“ “Ssh, ssh- you have nothing to be sorry for, my sweet.” They stayed like that for a short while, Tony rocking Peter back and forth until his heartbeat settled and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Tony stood up, carrying Peter bridal style. “Let me take you home.” … Peter woke up among the softest of silk sheets, surrounded by an abundance of throw pillows, wearing nothing but his underwear and an oversized white T-shirt with a V-neck. Everything smelled like Tony. Peter groaned at the stiffness of his muscles and turned around, half surprised by Tony sitting on an armchair next to the large canopy bed. “Morning, sunshine,” he said with a smile. Tony was wearing sweats and a similar T-shirt. The corners of Peter’s mouth curled up too and he instinctively folded into himself, pulling the sheets up to his chin. “Morning.” “How are you feeling?” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Little stiff,” Peter answered honestly. As if on cue, his stomach growled. “And hungry.” “My cook’s making us breakfast as we speak. Should be here soon.” “I knew you were rich, but a personal chef?” Peter chuckled. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” “Look, kid,” Tony laughed, sitting up straight again. “I don’t have time to make my own meals. I’m a busy man.” “Busy enough to visit me every Tuesday at two,” Peter teased, the sparkle in his eyes evident. Tony seemed relieved Peter was acting like his usual self. “Hey, hey,” he said, shaking his head. “I scheduled in that time. I always wanted you to have my undivided attention. That was my me-time.” Peter’s smile faltered. “Was,” he parroted quietly. There was no way he could go back to his barista job. To mister McDougall. Not that he particularly wanted to work for that man anymore, but it felt like this pleasant chapter of this life ended with a terrible cliffhanger. Now, Peter was at the start of the next chapter, going through the repercussions of what happened before. “Pete, I-“ “Where are we?” Tony seemed taken aback by the interruption, but collected himself swiftly. “Home,” Tony replied matter of fact. “My home, to be precise.” He cleared his throat and looked away uncharacteristically shyly. “Could be yours too if you want.” Peter didn’t reply straight away, which caused Tony to stand up and raise his hands in a defensive manner. “But we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.” There was a knock on the door and Tony cocked an eyebrow at it. “Breakfast,” a muffled voice spoke. “Come in.” A man with a giant tray opened the door. He walked in quickly and placed it on the table next to Tony. “Take the rest of the day off. Paid leave. Tell the others the same, save for the guards outside. I want this house empty within an hour.” The cook nodded and thanked Tony for his generosity. Not long after, Peter and Tony were alone again. Peter stared at the over-filled tray and licked his lips. “Anything that tickles your fancy?” Tony’s words are accompanied with a smirk. “A coffee sounds good right about now.” Tony immediately perked up and turned to grab the carefully made Frappuccino, but before he could curl his fingers around the cup, Peter continued: “Actually-“ Tony looks at Peter surprised. Peter grins and nods at the other cup on the tray. “After everything that happened, I could go for something stronger.” “Peter Parker, are you taking my black coffee from me?” Tony chuckled. Peter pulled himself up so he sat up straight among the throw pillows. He then reached forward with both arms, making grabby hands at Tony. “Mayyybe,” he teased. Tony laughed as he complied, handing Peter the black coffee. Peter gratefully took a sip and pulled a face at the bitterness burning his throat. “Sure you don’t want the sugar, sugar?” Peter snorted and nearly spilled the coffee on the bed. He looked into the deep black of the cup in his hands and then up at Tony. “Fine,” Peter said with a grin, offering Tony the black coffee. Peter waited for the older man to give him the Frappuccino, but instead, Tony stood up. “Here,” he said, lifting the tray and placing it on the bedside table. “Mind if I join you?” Peter didn’t answer, he just lifted the sheets. Gratefully, Tony slid in, placing himself flush against Peter and handing him the Frappuccino. For a short while, they just sipped their coffees, not exchanging any words. Peter occasionally glanced at the food on the bedside table, unable to choose where he’d even start. He let go of his thoughts for a little bit, letting his mind wander to yesterday. To Obadiah Stane, to the rope burn on his wrists, the feel of the gun against his head, in his hand, the trigger under his finger. Tony. Tony was there to save him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” Peter was his. And while his rational brain was scared of this mob boss side of Tony that he only just learned about, there was something exhilarating about it too. Tony was still Tony- still the same man Peter made all these black coffees for, the man he had late night conversations with via text. Peter thought back to before he lost himself to sleep, how he was being cradled by Tony, sitting in his lap. The memory made him feel warm, somehow. Peter swallowed and took a breath. “I felt safe,” Peter whispered. “Hm?” Tony turned his head slightly and put down his now empty cup on the nightstand. “Yesterday.” Peter’s brows furrowed as he kept staring ahead. “In your lap.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in a row and say something a bit more sophisticated. However, he couldn’t think of the right words, so he just repeated himself. “I felt safe.” It was quiet for a second. “Do…” Tony sniffed once and tugged at the tray on Peter’s side of the bed. “Do you want to sit on my lap now?” Peter’s mouth went dry, even though he just finished his coffee. The tension between them hung thick in the air. He looked at Tony wide-eyed, but quickly averted his gaze again. “Yes,” he mumbled, nothing more than a whisper. “What was that?” “Yes… Please?” “Good boy.” Peter shivered and closed his eyes, but only until he felt Tony gently pulling at his arm. He didn’t struggle as Tony guided him to sit on his thighs, back pressed against the older man’s chest. “Oh, Bambino,” Tony cooed as Peter’s ass pressed against Tony’s already hardening shaft. “Been through so much. Let me help you.” Peter wanted to ask what Tony meant, but the man had already taken the mug from Peter’s hands, placed it on the bedside table and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the breakfast tray. “Hold this,” he ordered, giving the muffin to Peter. Their hands grazed past each other, eliciting a small gasp from the younger man. Tony immediately moved to rip a small piece off of it and brought it up to Peter’s lips. Peter stared entranced at Tony’s rough hand. “Go on, my sweet,” Tony whispered into Peter’s hair. “Eat up.” Peter leaned in and opened his mouth. He carefully maneuvered himself in an attempt not to touch Tony’s fingers, not wanting to be weird or gross, but Tony had other plans. He pushed in his fingers to help the piece into Peter’s mouth and then brushed his fingers over Peter’s lips. Peter didn’t realize his eyes were closed, but there wasn’t much to see anyways- save for the lusciously decorated room. Peter was more occupied with feeling right now. And boy, did Tony’s lips on his neck feel absolutely perfect. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. Tony’s free arm was possessively curled around Peter to caress his neck from the front, grazing past his Adam’s apple and gently squeezing right under his jaw until he swallowed. Tony presented Peter with another bite, but this time he really pushed his fingers in. Peter wrapped his lips around the digits and sucked, moaning softly. “That’s it…” Peter absentmindedly spread his legs on Tony’s lap, arching his back to grind into Tony’s groin. Tony’s other hand found its way down Peter’s body until it cupped Peter’s balls through his underwear. Peter immediately pushed into it and gasped at the gentle rubbing of Tony’s thumb. “Thaaat’s it…” Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth, a small string of saliva dripping down, to take the muffin out of Peter’s hands, put it on the tray and then stick his fingers into the small bowl of jam. His other hand fondles Peter at a steady rhythm and Peter rolls his hips along with it. “Feeling good for Daddy, Peter?” The young man smiles lazily and nods, letting his head fall back against Tony’s shoulder. “Y-yes,” Peter whimpered. “Feels so good.” An overly sweet scent filled Peter’s nostrils. He opened his eyes to see Tony’s jam covered fingers. He stared at them transfixed, mouth already opening, tongue hanging out, ready to take it all. “Atta boy,” Tony whispered, suckling on Peter’s skin. “Don’t hold back. It’s all yours…” Peter didn’t hesitate and grabbed Tony���s hand with both of his own, pulling it toward him to lick the sweet strawberry jam off of Tony’s fingers. The fingers of one hand were curled around just the thumb, while the other gripped onto the man’s palm. “Don’t hold back,” Tony repeated with a squeeze of his hand around Peter’s clothed cock. The young man immediately moaned louder, pressing himself against Tony harder and licking the man’s fingers clean in a near-obscene manner. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Tony growled as he slowly started to push up against Peter’s ass. Peter groaned and clenched around nothing, working his way down Tony’s hand and suckling at the golden ring on his index finger. “Yours,” Peter gasped between licks. “Your good boy-“ Apparently those were the right words, because Tony let out a guttural moan and within seconds, they were flipped over with Peter lying on his back on the bed and Tony possessively hovering over him, caging Peter with his arms. Peter was met with Tony’s dark pools and twitching nose. There was something animalistic about the otherwise so collected man Peter had served coffee to. It had Peter’s cock throb with anticipation. Tony’s wet fingers pushed under Peter’s shirt to tweak and tug at one of his nipples. “Mine,” Tony pushed out, immediately moving in to ravage Peter’s lips himself, tasting the flavors Peter had only just taken in. Peter, in turn, could taste the bitter coffee. “My sweet.” Peter pulled at Tony’s shirt, quietly telling Tony he wanted them to get naked. The man seemed to understand and within a minute all clothes were discarded. Tony’s cock stood tall and proud and had a girth that had Peter drooling. He wanted it in his mouth. ASAP. “Eager, eager,” Tony chuckled darkly as he saw Peter’s eyes locked on the swaying dick in front of him. Peter’s gaze broke free and he gave Tony a pleading look. “Next time, my sweet.” Tony leaned in to give Peter a short, passionate kiss while his hands squeezed nearly half a lube bottle all over Peter’s groin, slicking him up as Tony massaged every inch of skin. Peter immediately granted Tony access into his mouth and Tony eagerly licked the insides. He pulled back again and grinned. “You first.” Tony’s free hand grabbed hold of Peter’s cock, squeezing it until Peter saw stars. His hips bucked up into Tony’s touch while his hands grabbed at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself as Tony’s hands pleasured him. He moaned with every loudly-squishing jerk of Tony’s hand, but it wasn’t going fast enough. “More-more-more, please, Daddy-“ Tony seemed pleased with the begging, because the hand at Peter’s nipple slowly travelled down his toned body, grabbing and coating itself with the excess lube. “Sure you want more?” Tony had a wicked grin on his face. “Cause I can give you everything.” He curled his tongue up to lick his own teeth. “If you think you can handle it.” “Yes,” Peter gasped, arching his back more, pressing his head into the throw pillows. “Please, please, want everything, want it all, want you-“ “Good answer.” Tony’s praise goes paired with him mercilessly pushing his index finger into Peter’s tight hole. The young man gasped at the sudden sting, but his expression turned to absolute bliss in an instant. He clenched and unclenched around Tony’s digit and soon enough, Tony started pulling out and pushing back in, curling his finger in the process, in search of Peter’s… Sweet spot. “God, yes, T-Tony, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as his body rocked under Tony’s attention. “Mr. Stark-!” Tony’s eyes went wide, revealing a previously unseen aggression behind them. His movements became more forceful and he lowered his face until it was right in front of Peter’s. “Yes, boy, call me that again. Do it.” “M-Mi-“ Peter squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by all the sensations and the tightening knot in his abdomen. His balls were tight and his heartbeat throbbed everywhere. “Whose cock is this, Peter, tell me who it belongs to-“ Tony let his thumb glide over the tip of Peter’s cock as he quickened his pace and the intensity of his jerks. “Yours- Mr. Stark, it’s y-yours!” Peter’s reply was rewarded with Tony’s mouth sucking marks on Peter’s neck. “And this hole? Huh? Who does this belong to?” Right when Tony uttered the words, he found what he’d been looking for. Peter opened his mouth wide in a silent scream as his body convulsed. “Yes, yes, yours, yours-“ Tony attacked Peter’s prostate without remorse, not halting any movement. He was good at this and he owned it. He owned Peter. “And your mouth? Your chest and your arms and your legs and your neck-“ Tony cut his own rambles short by biting into the skin right below Peter’s jaw, eliciting another loud moan from him. “Mr. Stark’s, his- his, yours!” “That’s it, good boy, it’s all mine. You’re all mine!” “F-fuck, I’m gonna come, Mr. Stark- Please, please-“ Peter’s gasps were erratic. The complete polar opposite of Tony’s near robotic movements. Along the way, he had added two more fingers into Peter’s sopping hole and he kept pumping mercilessly, curling his fingers at just the right moment. The young man was practically folded in two on the bed, taking everything Tony was giving him. He’d never felt this good in his entire life and he basked in the hot sheen covering his body. All his fantasies, all their sexts, were now reality. Tony stayed true to his word. Everything he had promised Peter, he was now giving- almost forcing- upon the young man and he loved it. They both did. “So close, my sweet, stay on that edge for me, don’t tip over just yet-“ Tony growled. “Make...” The young man found himself humping into Tony’s fist, moaning at the trademarked line that had started falling from the mob boss’s lips. “It…“ Peter whined as his body shook, trying to hold onto the last bit of sanity that he had left before he would lose it all and spill. “Last…“ Every part of Peter’s being writhed and convulsed at the scorching pleasure pumping through him. He had to make it last. He had to wait. Had to drag it out. Felt so good. Too good. Yes, yes- yes! “That’s it… Just a little longer,” Tony encouraged. Peter’s eyes rolled back and to his dismay, Tony sped up even more. “Haaa-,” Every muscle in Peter’s body shook with tension, ready for that blissful release. “Yeees, good boy, such a good boy, hold on…” Tony’s breath was hot on Peter’s lips. His deep voice vibrated through Peter’s body, sending even more surges of arousal through him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Peter’s jaw was locked as his eyes fluttered open. He stared straight into Tony’s and the sight had his toes curl. “Come.” Peter’s vision went white at the intense eruption bursting from him. If he screamed, he didn’t hear himself. All he could do was experience it. White streaks covered his abdomen and Tony’s hand and the overstimulating sensation of his orgasm seemed to last forever. After who-knows-how-long, Peter came down from his high, panting and twitching on the mattress, body completely limp. Tony was lying next to him, whispering sweet praise into his ear and slowly bringing Peter back to reality with his calming voice and caressing hands. Peter blinked a few times, his vision sharpening again until Tony was completely in focus. The man smiled. “Good morning, sunshine,” he repeated himself. Peter chuckled and cuddled up against Tony’s chest. Tony immediately embraced him, tangling their legs together. “Morning,” Peter laughed softly. It was quiet for a minute while Peter cleared his mind, basking in the afterglow of what was the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. “Thank you,” he whispered against Tony’s body. The man kissed the top of Peter’s head, humming softly. “No, my sweet, thank you.” After another hour of cuddling together Peter shuffled back so he could look Tony in the eye. “We should probably get out, don’t we?” Tony smiled kindly, pressing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Work can wait.” “I wasn’t talking about work…” There was a playful sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “I want to explore this place.” “Can’t we cuddle a little longer?” “I’ll stay naked,” Peter teased. “We’re alone anyways… And I’ll make you coffee?” “Are you trying to bribe me with coffee that requires pressing one button?” Tony teased right back. Peter moved to sit up straight and tossed the sheets on top of Tony. He jumped out of bed, his cock already hardening again and bouncing with every movement. Tony grinned and seemed to be enjoying this newfound confidence Peter had. “I don’t know, Mr. Stark, am I?” Peter sauntered towards the door and opened it swiftly, arching his back and showing off his toned body as he walked through. Tony’s cock, that had started softening up after not getting any attention last round, sprung back to life at the sight. “Could make the coffee last, but… I’m sure there are other rooms in this place where I could make it last?” Tony laughed positively wicked and crawled over the bed towards Peter. The young man squealed delighted and ran out into the hallway. Tony stepped out of the bed and started chasing his good boy through the mansion.

[amerrierworld]

Supposed To Be

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

request: the reader finds out what Tammy does at party with the girls and maybe gets angry at Tammy for not telling her and lying to her. Then hets angry at everyone else and they all fell guilty. And maybe tammy says something that’s losses the reader of more. Then the reader walking out. The next morning the reader is ignoring all the texts and calls from Tammy and the girls. Tammy going over to talk to her...

Summary: Tammy is planning something for you with the team, but can’t let you know about it.

Characters: Tammy x fem!reader, the Ocean’s girls, (divorced!Tammy)

Word Count: 2,550

Warnings: Angst angst angst angst angst angst!!!!!! Miscommunication!! Hurt & comfort! Eventual happy ending :)

You first started feeling uneasy when Tammy’s text responses went from excited paragraphs and emojis to one-word answers. It was such a simple thing, but you barely got to see her in person some weeks, and this was the only thing that kept you connected.

After an inevitable divorce, Tammy moved to the city to be closer with the entire group, sharing custody of her children every other week. It had been stressful, but you had been there for her every step of the way, and a fruitful, happy romance had blossomed.

But now, even after all those months, there was a sudden barrier you couldn’t seem to get through. Her phone calls were hasty, her texts short, and no one else in the group seemed concerned like you were. You got no updates on her kids, which usually she couldn’t stop taking about. Frankly, it felt like she had gotten tired of you.

So, you shut your phone off and went out for the rest of the day, window-shopping and wandering around the city to get your fuming mind off of things. 

-

On the other side of the city, in Lou’s spacious loft, Tammy had gathered the other ladies, vigorously typing lists on her phone as she paced back and forth.

“Really, Tam, you’re overthinking this! Why do you feel the need to go through all this?” Lou sighed, swirling her glass of rye. 

“Because it has to be just right,” Tammy snapped back. 

Everyone knew how detail-oriented and perfectionist Tammy was. It was a life-saver for criminal activity and ensured safety for the gang to get through undetected. But sometimes, in ordinary life, it was a bit overkill.

“I really don’t think Y/N needs all this, babe,” Nineball added, lounging in a large, velvety bean bag and a joint between her lips. “Lou’s right, you’re overthinking it.”

“Listen, she’s my girlfriend, and this is my plan. Can you please just be a little bit supportive of this?” Tammy threw her hands up, exasperated. 

“Her birthday isn’t for another month,” Debbie pointed out.

“Exactly, I’m already running behind!”

The remaining seven shared a few bemused glances before Daphne handed Tammy a glass of wine to calm down. Debbie sighed, pulled up a chair and reached for the snack bowl.

“Alright, what’s the plan, TamTam?”

-

You still had one of Lou’s door keys from the last heist, and figured it was the best time to return it. It was starting to get late, and it was a bit of a walk, but you didn’t mind. The fresh air did good for your nerves and bad mood. 

You hadn’t seen Lou in ages either, so you figured a quick catch-up was needed too. Not even thinking, you used the key to let yourself in, washed over by warm light coming from inside, and-

Laughter? Music?

You froze. The first person you saw, of course, was Tammy. Your eyes were drawn to her in any room, always. She was laughing, nursing a drink in her hand, chatting with Lou and Debbie, who looked equally as pleased.

There was popcorn popping in the microwave, and the TV was showing a movie. Your heart sank little by little, as you realized that yes, they really had gotten tired of you. You didn’t register the pile of paper and notes on the coffee table, at all.

Lou saw you first, and went a little pale. She registered the keys in your hands were hers, and it clicked in her brain why you were there. She nudged Debbie, who immediately turned off the music, as if they’d been caught doing something illegal.

Then Tammy turned her head and saw you, her beautiful smile fading away instantly. Her mouth hung open a little, as if she didn’t know what to make of you standing there, in the flesh.

Suddenly your confusion melted into anger, and your heart broke little by little as they stood there, staring at you, not even bothering to say anything.

You tossed the keys to the floor, turned around, and slammed the front door shut. 

-

No one was moving. Tammy’s brain was lagging, still trying to register why you  looked so distraught, so betrayed. The rest of the group eyed her shyly. Constance had a mouth full of popcorn that she was afraid to chew down on because of how loud it would be in the silence.

“You fucking idiot,” Rose was the first to speak up- Tammy was shocked to hear her swear. “What’re you doing jus’ standing there? Get out and go after her!”

“Yeah,” Amita said, “she didn’t look too happy when seeing all of us.”

“Did you tell her where you would be today, Tam?” Debbie questioned her, looking her squarely in the eye. Tammy bit her lip, and shook her head. Cue a collective frustrated groan. 

“Tammy, we love you, but you can be so stupid sometimes,” Lou said, grabbing her glass from her. “Go on!”

Tammy nearly stumbled over her heels as she hurried after you, fearing she wouldn’t be able to find you in the dark.

“Y/N?” she called out, frantically looking out as the door closed behind her. She  spun around, looking left and right. “Y/N!”

“Stop yelling,” you snapped. She turned and saw you leaning against a streetlamp, face washed in eerie light. 

“You’re still here,” she said, relieved.

“No, I’m just waiting for a cab,” you said, not meeting her gaze. “You should go back to your party.”

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked you, wringing her hands.

“No, thanks,” you said, shoving your hands deep in your pockets. “I wasn’t invited, so.”

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t mean to-,”

“No, no, you clearly did,” you shook your head, interrupting her. “It’s fine, really. But next time you get sick of me, have the fucking courtesy to actually break up with me, please?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re barely answering any of my texts, and every time we talk you’re miles away. And now you’re throwing a party with the whole team, except for me. What gives?”

“It’s not what you think!”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, then? Do you even realize what the past few weeks have been like for me? Jesus, Tammy, I’ve been worried sick.”

Tammy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lose you, she knew she couldn’t lose you, but to explain the plans and explain everything she’d prepared would ruin so, so much.

“Y/N, I love you with my entire heart. I can explain, I promise.”

“No, forget it,” a cab pulled up to the sidewalk and you yanked open the door. “Come back when you’ve made up your mind, I guess. Unless it’s something I don’t want to hear. Bye, Tammy.”

With that, the cab sped away, and you left a stunned Tammy standing on the sidewalk.

-

It was nearly two weeks later. You didn’t know how on earth you got this far without talking to Tammy at all, but you figured you made it clear where you stood. If she never talked to you again, you understood the message, and you were through.

A bit overdramatic, maybe, you wondered? If it was, you weren’t prepared to be the first one to cave. You wouldn’t go begging and crawling back to her. You were too stubborn and proud- even with the constant crying over the past few days.

You were sitting at a bar, drinking a sweet and fruity drink while watching some mindless sports game on the monitor when a familiar blonde slid into the seat next to you.

“Go away,” you said, not looking at Lou. She  waved her hand, and the bartender set to work on a drink for her.

“Good evening to you too, sweetheart,” she said. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. This is my bar after all,” she received her drink and took a big gulp, leaning forward on the bar and looking over at you.

“No it isn’t,” you frowned, trying to piece your memory together. “Your club is dozens of blocks from here.”

“Yeah, and then I bought almost every bar and club on this side of the city. You’re looking at one rich-ass owner, Y/N.” Lou grinned, but you couldn’t be bothered to return the smile.

“Well, congrats Lou. No need to rub it in. Some of us are meant to just be broke.”

“Since when did you become such a downer?”

“Uh, since my girlfriend decided her life was better off without me?” you scoffed.

“Is that really what she said to you?” Lou asked, blue eyes piercing. You shifted in your seat.

“Not exactly, but I know when people are tired of me,” you muttered. “Walking in on the whole team who went through hell together having a party without me kinda sends a clear message.��

Lou chewed her lip, and sighed. She pushed the empty glass away from her and took her time to unwrap a stick of gum. 

It was quiet between the two of you as she got up and straightened her jacket, flicking her bleach blonde hair away from her eyes.

“It wasn’t a party, Y/N,” she said. “Talk to Tammy. She’s been absolute shit the past week.”

You bristled, not wanting to think about Tammy again. But Lou left you to it, paying for your drink, and headed out the door. You rubbed your face, tired, and lonely, and cursing yourself for letting it get this far. 

Hesitantly, you took out your phone, reading the ‘six new voicemails’ notification, and lingering your finger over the green listening button. All from Tammy. 

“Hey, Y/N. Giving me a taste of my own medicine, huh?” A weak laugh. “I’m sorry for not responding or talking more with you.. you have every right to be angry.”

You got up and headed home slowly, going through each voicemail carefully, listening at least twice.

“God I don’t even know where to start. It’s been so... empty without you. Please call me soon? There’s so much I want to tell you.”

Turning multiple corners, you put on your sunglasses, hoping it would hide the tears threatening to spill over. 

“I feel terrible. And the girls are mad at me for letting you get away. Not-not like you ran away, but- but not fighting for you, you know? For such a stupid, stupid reason too. I, uh, hm... I miss you.”

I miss you. You stared at your front door, listening as the voicemail ended, frozen. You were mere steps from getting inside, but there was something in the way.

Tammy looked over her shoulder, standing on your doorstep, and you nearly burst into tears all over again. She was startled just like you were, surprised to see you there.

Your arm dropped limply to your side, voicemail forgotten, and you took a shaky breath,

“I miss you too.”

-

You sat across each other awkwardly. You offered her a cup of tea, she politely declined. Tammy was carrying a large tote bag with things inside, and you were intrigued, but didn’t make any effort to start the conversation. You would remain stoic, and not cave. No matter how beautiful she looked, how rosy her cheeks were, how done up her hair was. But there were giant bags under her eyes that you could not ignore, and something pulled at your heartstrings. 

“You look well,” Tammy said, smiling weakly.

“No I don't,” you replied. Her face fell. “Neither do you.” Ouch. 

“Crazy what only two weeks can do to a person, right?” she chuckled hoarsely.

She continued, “I realize that... that I didn’t handle things very well, with how it ended.. on the sidewalk that night.”

“Hmm.”

Her fingers were shaking, and your resolve nearly crumbled. She reached into the bag and grabbed a massive binder, nearly bursting with the amount of pages. Your name was written in thick letters on the front. 

“This is why I wasn’t talking to you,” she muttered, bashfully. “And I realized that keeping this a secret from you isn’t worth the risk of losing you.. like, actually losing you and never getting to have you in my life again.”

Your mouth fell open as you turned to the first page. It was one of those massive wedding planner books that some young girls like to have when dreaming of their future wedding. 

Only it was for your birthday. Lists and lists of your favourite music, your favourite foods, restaurants, colours and clothes. Plans for venues, DJs, special outings and reservations. Plans for each member of the team to take care of little things; drinks, dances, meals, performers...

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

“It was going to be your first birthday with the two of us really together. It was supposed to be a surprise... perfect and special. I guess I went a little over the top..” she rubbed her neck with her hand and blushed.

“Tammy... oh my god,” you kept saying, with every new page, and new intricate lists and ideas. “Oh my god.”

“This is incredible,” you breathed, tears falling freely now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No no, I should be the one apologizing,” Tammy replied firmly. “I should have told you.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise! Oh my god, I should have been more trusting in you,” you cried softly. “Tammy, oh, god. Tammy, I love you so much.”

Every detail was spot-on. She knew you inside and out, like no one else ever  knew you. No one had ever cared so deeply for you, to think so deeply for you. 

Now Tammy was crying too, and you were two blubbering messes, clasping hands across the table and spilling tears on the pages. Thankfully, they were laminated.

“I’ve scrapped it all,” Tammy confessed. 

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Well, when I say scrapped.. I rescheduled it for next year.. I didn’t think that you would want this anymore. Not after what I did.”

“Debbie thought it a good idea to just move it to next year, in case you still wanted it, and.. well, in case you and I are still...” she cleared her throat, face red, not wanting to finish her sentence for fear of jinxing it.

You pushed your chair back and walked over to her, cupping her face and kissing her sweetly. She melted in your touch.

“Of course I’ll still want it,” you said, brushing her mouth with your lips. “I want you.”

“So-, are- are we o-okay?”  Tammy’s breath hitched with increasing sobs and you kissed her, again and again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you laughed, kissing her tears away. “I don’t want anything except you.”

“Good,” Tammy giggled, “because I don’t think I had anymore energy to finish these plans.”

“When did you start making this?”

“About a month ago.”

“Oh, Tammy, my God,” you threw your head back, understanding why she had gotten so distanced now. “You can’t possibly think all of that-” gesturing to the thick book, “would be possible to plan in just a few weeks right? Not with your perfectionist habits, at least.”

“Hey,” Tammy warned, but her eyes were twinkling. 

“Plus, I love every single detail you put in there, I swear, but I don’t need anything except you and the people we love on my birthday. Seriously.”

“Good, because that’s exactly what Lou offered after she slapped some sense into me,” Tammy confessed. “A party at her loft or one of her clubs? And then.. cake?”

“Yes!” you clapped your hands. “Our friends, and cake.”

You slid forward to sit in Tammy’s lap and pressed your warm face in her neck, kissing her there and hugging her closely.

“That’s all I need,” you murmured. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Tammy let out another sob, wrapping her arms around you tightly and kissing the side of your head, nuzzling your hair without abandon. 

A/N: A bit longer than usual but I wanted to do the lovely request justice :D Miscommunication is such a bitch... especially when it doesn’t work out, but in this fiction land it does!! We love soft!Tammy~

[cafedanslanuit]

pairing: oikawa x reader

summary: oikawa’s first christmas in argentina is around the corner and you’re happy he has more free time to spend with you. nevertheless, a couple of innocent words spilled from the setter’s lips make you start to reevaluate your friendship. was there something else between you both?

words: 1.6k

The classic American Christmas decoration of the coffee shop was a sharp contrast with the heat that was forcing you to keep a frozen water bottle against your neck. Argentina was in the middle of summer after all. You thanked the air conditioning was turned on to the max, and heavily considered to stay there for a few hours just to avoid the heat wave on the street.

You left the bottle on the table and tied up your hair, trying to find additional relief. You thanked Oikawa had the idea of buying that water bottle to lower your temperature, because now you were suffering the consequences of asking him to accompany you while you tried to learn to rollerskate. Even if you knew summer was about to begin, you didn’t expect the sun to burn that brightly today. After seeing you pant in exhaustion, he had offered to go to the nearest Starbucks and buy you something cold to drink.

A Christmas carol played in the background, only disturbed by the sound of the baristas grinding fresh coffee beans. The smell drew a small smile on your face and you let your mind wander for a minute about your friend’s Christmas celebration. It hadn’t been long since Oikawa had arrived in Argentina, and he had already told you he wasn’t coming back home for the festivities as he had training both the day before and after Christmas.

Your eyes darted to him, who was checking his phone while waiting in line. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, a pair of jeans and his signature glasses he always wore outside of practice. You always loved whenever you got to see him wearing them. Oikawa always looked invincible on the court, eyes menacing and fierce when facing his opponents, but when those same brown eyes were behind those glasses, it was like you were seeing him for the very first time. And, at the same time, it felt like there was nothing else he was looking at but you.

Would he accept if you invited him over to your friends’ Christmas dinner? You pictured him sitting on the table with your friends by your side, laughing as you insisted he drank more wine with you. The idea of watching the midnight fireworks alongside him brought warmth to your heart.

You took out your phone and quickly typed a message.

“nerd”

The way his eyebrows raised and immediately furrowed made you giggle. He looked back at you and you grinned at him. He shook his head and started typing.

“bold of you to assume I won’t walk out and leave you here >:(”

Laughing, you kept the conversation going.

“but ur a cute nerd w your glasses <3”

The way his cheeks reddened made your smile grow wider. He was about to reply when the cashier called him over and he realized it was his turn. Putting his phone back in his pocket, you saw him order your drinks and take out his credit card. You had offered to pay for them both yourself, but he had insisted, saying since he had been so busy with practice lately, it was the least he could do.

Oikawa sat next to you on the sofa with a long sigh, passing a hand through his hair. You offered him the frozen water bottle but he shook his head. Determined to help him out, you pressed both your cold hands on his cheeks, making him hiss.

"Better, huh?" you smiled.

"Yes," he admitted, leaning into your touch.

"What did you order?"

"Your favourite and a strawberry lemonade for me," Oikawa answered, closing his eyes.

"My favourite?"

"Mocha frappuccino with soy milk but with whipped cream, two espresso shots and chocolate chips," he recited. If he had had his eyes open, he would have seen yours widening at the accuracy of his words. You pulled your left hand away and pressed a loud kiss on his cheek.

"You know my coffee order,” you sing-sang, happily. Oikawa rolled his eyes and poked your forehead.

"Of course I know your coffee order. It's disgusting, but--"

"Hey!"

The barista calling Oikawa's name interrupted your banter and he stood up to pick up your drinks. You watched him exchange words in his broken Spanish with the girl behind the bar. By the way she kept talking to him way after he had the drinks in his hands, you figured she had recognized him. The girl called her friend who smiled brightly when she saw him and immediately took out her phone.

You tried not to laugh when Oikawa did his usual peace sign after he agreed to a selfie with the girls. Shaking your head with a grin, you took out your phone again to check your Instagram while he had some time with his fans. Volleyball players were only known to devoted volleyball fans in Latinoamérica, so you figured those girls were fans themselves.

And even if they didn't really like volleyball, who wouldn't be a fan of a pretty boy like him?

"Thanks, but I have to go back to my girl now.”

The sound of your phone hitting the floor was muffled by the carpet, your best friend's words echoing inside your head as he made his way back. You quickly picked it up and then accepted the drink he handed to you with a small smile.

Oikawa was talking, you knew he was talking, but you couldn't comprehend a word he was saying. Your head felt dizzy, millions of thoughts and memories of your friendship since you two had met a few days after his arrival in Argentina roaming around your head. No matter how much you tried to piece them together, you couldn't find a moment where there had been any sort of indication he thought of you as his girlfriend. Was it a cultural thing? You had heard the question wasn't really asked in Europe, was it the same in Japan? Had you been in a relationship for the past four months with a star volleyball player without realizing it?

No. There had to be some sort of explanation. You hadn't even kissed before. Maybe he just said so to avoid talking with the baristas for much longer. But misleading his fans into thinking he was in a relationship could only end up in them spreading the information, which wouldn’t benefit at all if it was just a way out for him. You knew he had had girlfriends back in Japan, but you only knew so because he had told you, as he always tried to keep his dating life as private as he could.

Maybe you had heard wrong? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You looked over at the bar where two pairs of eyes looked back at you with curiosity. That was enough to answer your question.

“Tooru,” you interrupted him, your eyebrows slightly knit together. He raised his eyebrows and looked at you. “Are we dating?”

Oikawa put his drink back on the table, his eyebrows mimicking yours. He blinked in confusion and cocked his head slightly to the side.

“We're not?”

Your mouth fell open at his answer.

“What?”

"You didn't know?"

"When did you ask?!" you asked, your voice higher than usual.

"So you're saying you don't want to?" he inquired, raising his right eyebrow.

"I do!” you quickly assured him. “I do, I do, I just... wow," you breathed out. You put a strand of your hair behind your ear and took a sip of your drink. "I'm just… a bit surprised. I mean, I  guess I--” you paused and tried to order your thoughts. You could feel Oikawa’s intense gaze on you, not making it any easier. “Tooru, I have liked you for a while,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “But-- I didn't know you felt the same way. And now you’re saying we have been dating these past few months and I’m having a hard time getting my head around it”.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized how wrong you worded your thoughts out.

“Wait, no, no,” you said and put your drink back on the table. You straightened your back and faced him, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Tooru, I like you. I do, and honestly I’m all for this dating thing, it just feels…”

“Feels like what?”

“A bit anticlimactic if you ask me,” you chuckled. Before you could say anything else, you felt Oikawa’s hand behind your head, gently guiding you towards him. You closed your eyes the minute his lips touched yours. His movements were soft and tender, a lot different from what you had pictured your first kiss with Oikawa would be like. Your surroundings disappeared as the warmth of his mouth intoxicated you, the sweet aftertaste of lemon and strawberry on his lips making your head spin. You placed your hands on his chest, the realization of how long you had been wanting to do that hitting you with full strength. He grazed the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip in his characteristic teasing manner, but for once, you let him get away with it, shuddering at the contact. You felt him smile against your mouth and you couldn’t help but do the same, the grin still on your lips after he pulled away from your face, his hand on your neck keeping you close to him.

“You do look cute in your glasses,” you breathed out and he smirked at you.

“I always do,” he replied, and you rolled your eyes. Nevertheless, as soon as they met his again, you leaned in once more, planning on getting up to date with all the lost time you had refrained yourself from kissing your best friend.

Oikawa didn’t mind at all.

[cherrycocaineee]

3. Jeon Jungkook - First Meeting

       A single earbud blasted music into my ear as I rode my bike back home after school. Despite trying to pedal fast and get home before the storm hit hard, I was slowed down by overcrowded pedestrians walking at snail speed on the sidewalk. All I could do to make it less frustrating was listen to my music. Softly humming to the beat of the song, I navigated cautiously through the sea of people. My back felt heavy with my school bag draped over it and I groaned at all the homework I’d have to do once I got home.

    Eventually, small water droplets started dropping from the sky and hitting my exposed skin, and soaking my white shirt. Huffing, I pulled my bike over to the nearest place with outdoor seating and something covering my head. Which so happened to be a small coffee shop that I sometimes went to on my way home. I pushed my bike against the brick wall and sat down to wait for the rain to subside, and to pass the time a lot quicker, I decided to get a head start on some of my homework. History was the first one that I took out of my bag.   A few minutes passed and the rain was only getting heavier, so I was kind of debating whether I should call a friend to pick me up. However, it wasn’t a good idea because I wouldn’t be able to bring my bike home at the same time. Suddenly, a hooded man ran underneath the coffee shop coverage. His clothes were damp from the rainfall, but he didn’t seem to care. Not wanting to seem like I staring creep, I looked back at my homework. But I couldn’t really help it. He was attractive. His skin was pale but had a sunkissed look to it, his lips were a peachy shade of pink, his jawline was sharp and could probably cut through anything if it were a knife, and his hair looked so soft and fluffy, as the deep brown darkened in the stormy weather. I had to force myself to not stare.  I forced myself to do my homework, avoiding making any type of eye contact with the beautiful stranger stands a few feet away from me.  “Excuse me.” His sweet, deep voice penetrated my one ear that wasn’t covered with an earbud. Looking up, I saw him standing in front of me, his phone in one hand and his other hand in his pocket. His smooth brown eyes were staring right at me.  “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his English choppy, “but my phone is dead and I was wondering if you could tell me what time it is?”  I picked my phone up from on top of my history textbook and clicked the middle button, making the screen turn on. My wallpaper was a photo of my best friend, Ophelia, and I at the beach in Los Angeles last summer with her parents. Ophelia was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that was pumpkin orange, and it complimented her mocha skin tone. I was wearing a firetruck red two-piece that had white polka dots all over it. The two of us were standing in the bright blue ocean, hugging one another, as her older brother took the photo. I read the time on the lock screen and looked up at him.  “It’s 3:40,” I answered, “almost four.” “Ah, thank you.”  He turned around and went to sit at an empty table. I bit my bottom lip softly before speaking again.  “If you’d like, you can use my phone charger and computer to charge your phone.”   The stranger looked over at me and smiled while nodding his head. Then he was out of his seat and in the seat next to me in a split second. I removed my white iPhone charger and my laptop from my backpack and handed them to him. After hooking the charger to the computer, he hooked his charger to his phone and watched as it turned on.    “I’m Jungkook,” he introduced.  “I’m Avery,” I smiled, holding out my hand to shake his. His large, calloused hand wrapped around my small, soft one. After greeting one another, we started discussing some random things like the type of music we listened to, family, books we’ve read. I even learned that Jungkook wasn’t from America, which I kind of already figured from his accent, and learned that he was from South Korea. Jungkook even started teaching me some small Korean words. It was a lot of fun, and it passed the time a lot better than sitting here and doing boring school assignments. Jungkook turned to the coffee shop and pointed at it.  “Is this place any good?” He questioned. “Yeah, they are,” I answered, “I come here pretty often.”  “Do you want to get some coffee with me?” “Sure.” The two of us stood up and went inside the small coffee shop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans, cinnamon, and vanilla filled my nose as we entered. The little chime of the bell above the door alerted the barista that he had some customers.   I helped Jungkook read the menu before ordering. While we waited for the drinks to be made, we continued talking. “So you still go to school?” He asked. “Yeah, it’s my senior year,” I replied, “how about you?” He shook his head just as the barista placed our drinks on the counter. The two of us picked them up and headed back outside, continuing the conversation along the way. “I graduated in 2017.” “Oh, so two years ago.” He nodded his head.   The rain was coming down hard. I was sipping on my cold brew while watching each drop hit the ground. There were few cars driving through the streets, but really most people stayed out during weather like this. The idea of the roads being too slick and causing an accident was enough to deter people from causing an accident. It was one of the few good things about living in Seattle. As I placed my coffee down, I shook my phone in front of Jungkook while smirking. “Wanna play some iPhone games?” I persuaded, “I bet I can beat ya.” A sneaky, mischief smile appeared on his face, “get ready to lose.” We exchanged numbers and started off by playing 8ball. Jungkook was extremely competitive and he was good too. Luckily for myself, I was competitive too. So for the next hour, we played as many imessage games trying to beat one another. We were tied and the last game we were playing was connect four. The game was hard to win considering neither one of us was stupid enough to let the other person connect four. This game lasted the longest out of all the ones we played.  However, as the rain started to slow down, I finally ended up beating Jungkook. I giggled as Jungkook started pouting, crossing his arms, and puffed out his bottom lip. This action caused me to laugh even harder. He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and began laughing too. Soon the rain stopped altogether, so it was time for me to head home. I packed up all of my things and grabbed my bike.   “It was fun hanging out with you, Jungkook,” I giggled, “hopefully we’ll see each other again before you head back to South Korea.”  Jungkook nodded, “I liked hanging out with you too, Avery. Since I have your number, I’ll give you a call so we can play some more games.”  “Sounds like a plan!” I hopped on my bike and waved to him goodbye as I rode off towards my home. I walked through my front door calling out to my family that I was home. Mom, Dad, Austin, and Jenna were all sitting on the couch when I walked into the living room. Austin looked up at me.  “What took you so long?” He asked. “It started raining,” I answered, plopping down next to Jenna, “so I waited for it to stop.”  “Good, because the last thing your father and I need is you getting hurt,” mom said, smiling. They were watching Wipeout on the television and soon I was immersed in it as well. That is until my phone dinged and I looked down to see if the message was from Ophelia. It wasn’t, it was from Jungkook. He had sent me a photo of him with the message reading: Can’t wait to see you again. Use this photo for the icon above my number.  I smiled and sent him a recent photo of me that Ophelia took telling him the same thing. I hadn’t noticed that Jenna was leaning over my shoulder reading my message until she screamed so loud I felt my eardrum almost burst. Quickly, I dropped my phone in my lap and covered my ear. Austin and I glared at her while our parents looked at her with questionable looks. Jenna picked my phone up.  “Ave,” she started, “did you meet this guy today?” “Well yeah,” I said, “he got caught in the rain too, so we chatted a bit, got some coffee, and played some iPhone games while we waited. Why?”  “You literally met my idol!” She squealed. “Idol?” “Yeah, those lame Korean boys that she has plastered all over her room,” Austin said, turning his attention back to his phone, “you know the one with seven members in it?”  “BTS,” Jenna answered, “you met the youngest member of the group, Jeon Jungkook. You have to give me his number, Ave!”  As quickly as she had picked up my phone, I snatched it away. “No way!” I snapped, “I can’t just give you his number, especially if he doesn’t even know who you are. What if he’s not cool with it, Jen?” I grabbed my backpack from next to my feet and went upstairs. I could hear Jenna pouting and crying to mom and dad about me not giving her the phone number. I closed the door behind me as I entered my room and sighed. That’s when my phone dinged again and I looked at it. It was a text from Jungkook. As I read the message, I felt my cheeks burn as they turned bright pink. I shot him a quick message to reply and then sat at my desk to finish up my homework. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last text Jungkook sent me and I knew I’d probably still be blushing by the time I went to bed. But I didn’t mind in the least.

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Paperwork

 Part 3 of the Reba au. Pat one and part two.

Summary: The weekend comes and Janus deals with paperwork, one-night stands, and meeting his ex-husband's new boyfriend. 

A/N: So I went on a vacation to see @forever-forgotten-angel and took a break from writing. But I'm back and writing! Special thanks as always to @amazon-me-bitches and my qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this fic! And now, without further ado, my fic.

~

When Janus woke up on Friday things seemed almost normal. He dropped Emile and Remy off at school, Patton agreed to pick them up. Virgil had ridden with Thomas, which meant that Janus didn’t have to worry about any pickups today. That was good, considering he was working late. He had a trial coming up in two weeks, a factory worker who’d been injured on the job due to company negligence of machinery. Janus had been happy to take the case. 

 Of course, it meant that he wasn’t leaving the office until 8 PM. Janus yawned as he left the office, ready to get home and sleep. It would be lovely. A full night’s worth of sleep and then the weekend. Not that he wouldn’t be working of course. But his home office was far superior to the one he had at work. Maybe he’d take the boys out for a picnic if he had time. That would be nice. Emile had been wanting to go to the park and see the ducks before it got too cold. They could feed the ducks.

Janus was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud clang. He reached for his pepper spray, better safe than sorry. There were clangs, seeming to come from a dumpster next to the parking lot. It was most likely a raccoon but Janus wasn’t taking any chances. He began quickly walking to his car, eyes trained on the dumpster the whole time. He was halfway to his car when the source of the noises showed itself.

 Janus prided himself on his eloquent speech but all he could find it in himself to say was, “What?”. Brilliant Janus, just brilliant. 

 It was a person, taller than Janus. They had dark curly hair from what Janus could see, and a mustache as well. They held a possum in their arms. Janus blinked, “What did I tell you about running off Tallulah? You’re not going to find any tasty treats in a law office’s dumpster. We have to go to taco bell for that. The only thing you’ll find in there is paper, office supplies, and-”, they looked up and made eye contact with Janus, “And the sexiest man alive.”

They’d ran up to Janus before he had a chance to react, “Hello sexy. Are you a lawyer? Because it’s illegal for someone to be as sexy as you are.”

 “Sorry about that. I tend to get over-excited.”, they offered a hand out to shake, “I’m Remus. He/him pronouns.”

“Janus.”, he found himself saying, “He/him pronouns. What exactly were you doing in the dumpster?”

“How dare you insinuate that Tallulah is merely a pet. She is my baby.” 

 “Oh! Tallulah here thought she could get snacks in that dumpster over there so I had to get her out.”, he held up the possum in his arms.

“Right. And Tallulah is your pet?”

 “Well, it appears your baby wants to eat office supplies.”, Janus reached out to pet the possum in question,  scritching her ears. He smiled as she leaned into the touch. He smiled at the sight.

 “Believe me she doesn’t want that. I’ll take her to taco bell. She enjoys their burritos. You’re more than welcome to join if you want?”, it was a stupid idea. They’d just met, Remus was a total stranger. He could be a serial killer for all Jan knew.

 Message sent to Patton at 8:23 PM.

 “Hey Pat, don’t wait up for me. I’m gonna get take out on the way home. Make sure Remy’s homework is done before he plays on the Switch.”

 ~

Taco Bell, Janus thought, was best enjoyed at night. They’d gotten fast food and now sat out in the parking lot, a feast of fast food laid out before them. He watched as Tallulah happily ate her promised bean burrito. It was nice, relaxing even. Janus smiled as he watched, “So how does one end up with a pet possum?”

Remus grinned, “I birthed her from my womb.”, seeing Janus’ unamused expression he turned serious, “I rescue animals. She was rescued from an exotic pet dealer. She can’t be rehabilitated into the wild, unfortunately.”

“I see. She’s very sweet.”, Janus continued petting the possum in question, “So what do you do with your time? Besides rescue possums and climb into dumpsters of course." 

 “I’m a midwife actually.”, Remus grinned. Janus looked over to where he had unhinged his jaw to deepthroat his burrito like a snake. He waited for Remus to finish before speaking. 

 “A midwife?”

 Remus nodded, “Yeah. I make bank. Which is nice cause it means I can foster lots of animals.”, he continued deepthroating the burrito.

 Well, that was unexpected. Janus stared at the man in front of him delivering babies and truthfully he couldn’t picture it. Remus seemed more like the type of person to go into a job that didn’t involve babies. He seemed more likely to own a demolition derby, “You don’t seem like the type. Can I ask a dumb question?”

 “Sure.”

 “Well, it’s not a question. I just didn’t know men could be midwives.”

 “It shocks a lot of people actually. Most people don’t think women would be comfortable working with me.”

“I’m guessing that’s not true.”

 “I work with trans men mostly. Having a trans midwife is reassuring. I know what they’re going through. And sometimes cis midwives can be judgy.”

“You’re trans?”

 “Is he?”

 “Yep.”

“Well then.”, Janus took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully, “My son’s pregnant.”

 “Yeah. It’s been super stressful because he’s 17.”, Janus sighed, “How much would it cost for you to work with us? Any resources would be helpful.”

 “For you? I’ll do it for free. I know all too well what it’s like to be a pregnant teen. And I think you’re cute.”, he winked and Janus felt his face warm in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

 “You- you got pregnant as a teen?”, he forced himself to get out. Remus nodded and for a brief second Janus thought he saw a tear in his eye. 

 “Yeah but I miscarried. Lack of resources and all. So now I make sure that no one else has to go through what I went through.”

 Message sent to Patton at 11 PM

 “That’s amazing. You have to let me pay you though.”

“I told you, helping a cutie like you out is payment enough.”, he leaned forward, “I wouldn’t mind a kiss though. That is, if you’re agreeable?”, Remus leaned forward and Janus could smell his cologne. The warm, spicy, citrus scent drove him wild. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the abyss below. And Janus was happy to fall.

 Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.

 ~

Patton Picani-Hart had never been a morning person. Sure, he wanted to be; but late nights at the restaurant and his sleep schedule meant that he had trouble pulling himself out of bed in the morning. It also meant he could barely function without at least three cups of coffee. He was currently standing in front of the coffee maker, staring at it as if he could will the coffee to brew faster. 

 It had been a long night. Janus had to work late, which meant it was up to Patton to pick up Emile and Remy from school and drive them home. Luckily Virgil and Thomas had agreed to watch them because then he had to rush back to the restaurant for the dinner shift. He got back by 11 to all of the kids asleep and leftover greek food waiting for him. He’d been so tired that he’d eaten the food and fallen asleep immediately, never seeing the message he had from Janus.

 He hadn’t seen it until the morning when he awoke to Emile sitting on his chest asking for food. A quick check of his phone revealed it was 9 am and Janus had stayed out all night. So Patton did the only thing he could do; he got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast.  Six breakfast burritos later, and he was beginning to wonder where Janus was. Clearly, he’d had a good night if he was gone for this long. At least he hoped it was good. Regardless, it was good for Janus to start exploring romance again if he was ready. Hopefully, the relationship would be good for him. He couldn’t wait to hear the details. 

 Patton was considering calling him when there was a jingle of keys at the front door. Janus walked through the door. His hair stuck out in multiple directions, his suit was unkempt, and Patton could see multiple hickeys on his chest. It had been a good night after all. He handed him a cup of coffee, “Good morning. Looks like you had a good night.”

 Janus blushed and Patton knew exactly how good of a night he’d had. He grinned as he watched the man in question try to come up with an excuse, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”, his ex may have had a silver tongue, but that all went away when he was flustered. 

 “I’m not mad. You seem to forget that we’re separated, soon to be divorced. Going out is healthy.”, Patton handed him a plate of food with a smile, “So who is he?”

 “His name is Remus and we met last night. He’s nice. I invited him over for dinner Tuesday night.”, Patton frowned. Having a one-night stand was one thing, heck dating was fine. But bringing this guy around the kids after one date didn’t seem like the best idea. 

 “I support you dating Jan, but don’t think you should date a little bit longer before bringing him home. Virgil won’t mind but it might confuse Emile and Remy.”, it was the truth. The boys would be confused if Janus introduced them to a new boyfriend and then it didn’t work out. Best to wait until it was serious. That was what Patton had done.

 Janus blinked as if it was a new idea to him. “Pat, I’m not introducing him as my boyfriend. He’s a midwife. I invited him over to meet Virge. I thought it might be a good idea to have a midwife as well as an OBGYN.” 

 Patton sighed in relief; he didn’t want to sound like a jealous ex, especially when he’d been the one to ask for the divorce. This Remus coming over as a midwife was different though. And it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry if the kids would be confused. Speaking of the kids, Emile ran in at that moment, practically bouncing in his shoes, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

 ~

 Janus smiled at their youngest, picking him up and balancing him on his hip, “Yep. How about you go get your brothers and then we can eat.”, Emile nodded and ran off as fast as he could. Janus nodded and went to leave the kitchen, “I should go change.”

Pat nodded, a thought coming to him, “Virgil wanted to come to help me prep for lunch rush today at the restaurant. Could you pick him up before the dinner rush? I don’t want to stress him.”, Janus nodded before leaving, leaving Patton alone to wonder what this Remus was like.

Janus hummed as he drove to Pat’s. He’d spent most of the day in the office today, getting caught up on his paperwork. He’d promised to take the boys to the park tomorrow for a picnic, which meant he had to get it all done today. Thomas had luckily agreed to watch Remy and Emile once Pat and Virgil left to prep for the day, giving Janus ample time to work. 

 Soon 5 o’clock came around and Janus was leaving to go pick up Virgil. He was sure that Virgil would be ready to go home. Janus had seen just how busy the restaurant could get during the dinner rush. Virgil may have wanted to be a chef, but he wasn’t ready for that. Especially right now.

 He pulled up behind the restaurant, parking in the employee parking lot. Inside he could see the kitchen was a flurry of work, prepping as much as possible before it got truly busy. Waving to the kitchen staff, Janus headed to the back office where he knew Patton would be finishing paperwork before he went to go work in the kitchen. Virgil would most likely be in there with him. Only he didn’t see Virgil when he entered the office. 

 Patton stood in front of his desk, kissing an unfamiliar man as if his life depended on it. Janus blinked before realizing this must be the Logan he’d heard about. He quickly realized he was staring and, unsure of what to do, coughed to announce his presence. Patton jumped and turned around, Logan blushing and looking down. 

 “Janus, hey, what are you doing here?”, Patton looked flustered, like they weren’t divorced, “This is Logan, I told you about him.”, behind him, Logan nodded, still blushing too much to properly speak.

 “Nice to meet you, I’m here to pick up Virgil. I said I’d be here at 5, remember?”

 Pat’s eyes went wide, “Is it 5 already? I need to go get started in the kitchen.”, he moved away from Logan and ran to put on his chef’s coat, “Virgil was taking inventory in the fridge. Janus nodded and left the office, hearing Logan saying he should get going as he left.

 He did in fact find Virgil in the freezer, stocking ingredients and taking note of what was low. Upon seeing his dad he handed the list to a cook before standing up to leave. They got to the car, Virgil getting in, and Janus was about to when he heard someone call his name.

 Logan stood in front of him, looking made together and not at all how he looked when Janus had seen him earlier, “Yes?” 

 Logan took a deep breath before speaking, “I just wanted to apologize that we had to meet like that. I wanted to meet you and the kids properly, not having you walk in on me kissing Patton goodbye.”, Janus nodded in understanding.

 “It’s fine. Patton and I were separated before you two started dating. Just treat him right. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about him. He has a good heart and I don’t want to see that heart broken.”

 “I never want to hurt him.”

 “Then we’ll have no issue. Goodbye then.”, Janus got in the car, giving the man a wave before driving off. He turned to Virgil, who was listening to music next to him, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

 Virgil looked up at him, taking off his headphones before speaking, “What’s up?”

 “How does Indian sound for dinner?”, Virgil nodded and Janus set off to get take out. There was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, “Virgil, you don’t mind if your father and I date again, right? I mean date people that aren’t each other.”

 Virgil shrugged, “It doesn’t bother me. You two are getting a divorce, dating seems to make sense. And I know you’ll both always be here for me and Remy and Emile.”, Janus nodded, comfortable in the fact that he knew at least one of his kids was ok with him dating.

~

A/N: We finally meet Remus and Logan. All that's left is Roman, who will be in the next part.

 Disclaimer: Possums are not pets, they are wild animals. Furthermore, I do not know their diet but I'm taco bell isn't part of it. Tallulah is a magical possum and real-life rules do not apply to her. Do not inbox me saying possums don't eat bean burritos. 

Besides that, I'm taking prompts for this verse, so if you have prompts send them in! I'd love to see your hcs for this au. And as always, if you like this fic, leave a comment. Thank you for reading!

[sweetestlamb]

No Tears Left To Cry

Summary: The hormones rage on as our favorite angsty couple tries to navigate this new layer of their relationship. 

Author's note: It’s been a while but there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of these twos and their mishaps. Summer break is getting closer for me and I truly want to continue this story for as long as possible, into their college years and adulthood and maybe even babies and all that jazz. Anyway thank you soooo much for my fighters in that sacred chat who give me nothing but positive energy and support, but special thanks to @serxeins​ who is always the first to comment and shower me with support. It means a lot, I can’t believe people are still reading this honestly, it feels like True Beauty ended forever ago but y’all are still here rocking with me. Now, without further ado I give you Junjin in lust and pain. 

"You're in a good mood today." He tries very hard to stop the spread of the smile on his face from growing wider but it's futile completely useless, as soon as that pretty smile and those hypnotic eyes flash in his mind he's a goner. Love drunk on the mere memory of Sujin. Her lips on his own still swimming in his thoughts and shoving all other inklings to the side, there is nothing but her and her body pressed tightly against his as they devour each other. It was messy and uncoordinated but it was without a doubt the best kiss he had ever received.

He was probably her first and he can’t stop the pride that surges at that thought. 

I’ll be the first and the last. 

"I had a good day." He answers the new worker simply sharing none of the thoughts flooding his head, the owner of the café had finally given in and hired someone to replace Jukyeong after she had quit to pursue makeup full time. It was weird to have someone new there, but at the same time he was extremely proud of her for going after what she wanted. It was about time, he was tired of catching her watching videos on YouTube in the break room and even more tired of her trying to practice the perfect cat eye winged liner on him. Her cries of his eyes being the perfect shape falling on deaf ears. There was no way he was allowing that, he still had a reputation to uphold. 

"Girlfriend?" He glances over at the younger boy, they had spoken cordially here and there since he started working here but this was deeper than they had ever gone and he wasn't sure if he was ready to share that much with someone he barely knew. Knew firsthand how damaging gossip could be. 

This is between him and Sujin and nobody else.

And this thought makes him start to think critically about their relationship- how complicated and confusing it is and then he realizes with terrifying clarity that he's never officially asked her out. He's hers and he desperately wants her to be his, but beyond the kiss there has been nothing concrete, no words to turn this dream into a reality.

Will you go out with me?

Do people still ask that question or is that considered old fashioned? Does their kiss mean that they're together now? He has no idea how to bring this topic up without painfully embarrassing himself in front of Sujin and it takes a long minute for him to shake from his reprieve and notice that Dosan is still waiting for his reply.

"There's someone special." He leaves it at that and gratefully the other boy doesn't pry, humming as if he understands and cheerfully greeting a customer leaving him to zone out before he hears a familiar voice, a sneer turns the corner of his lip down completely eradicating the smile that was once there.

"I don't need coffee. I'm here to talk to him."

Without pause he tugs the apron over his head, shaking his hair back into place before folding the thick cotton and shoving it in a cubby.

He nods to Dosan briskly, "I'm taking lunch I'll be back in 20," the other boy watches him with wide curious eyes but nods in reply and he walks out of the café certain that he's being followed. He walks further turning a corner until the café is no longer in sight, then he spins around and his teeth clench from the greasy smirk he sees on that scumbag's face.

He shoves his fists in his pocket to prevent himself from driving them into that smeary face.

"You don't look happy to see me. That hurts." Baekyung tuts mockingly, his smile growing wider until he’s looking almost overjoyed and he has to hold on the thin reigns of his control.

"Why are you here?" He has an idea but he wants to confirm his suspicions, Sujin's rejection and another failed attempt to push him away fresh in his mind. The sting still bruising his heart.

"To see this. Your face after losing the thing you want most. It was only a matter of time, she's min-"

He feels when it snaps and he's brutally shoving the other boy into a wall in the alley, his arm tight across the other boys chest. 

Thing. 

That was what he used to refer to Sujin, as she was just a toy for them to fight over and it makes him reel with pure unaltered hatred for the boy in front of him. 

After recovering from having the wind knocked out of him, Baekyung is all smiles again. He desperately wants to knock it off his face. 

"Are you going to hit me?" There it is. The tone of the other boy's voice sends a chill down his back. It's enough to force him to let go, retreating far from the other boy. Baekyung sounds elated at the prospect, even rising his chin in a move that's too eager and accepting. He stares at the other boy in unbridled shock finally understanding what's going on.

He had suspected all along, that there was more to the other boy’s story. 

His unexplained anger, his entitlement and almost obsessively claim on Sujin. All the times he claimed that Seojun would never understand them, the puzzle unblurs and he knows what he’s looking at now. It looked like a monster, acted like one and hurt others like one, but he can finally see clearly now. The other boy was just another victim, who had decided to hurt others instead of hurt himself. It makes the anger inside him simmer away into a vapid nothingness. 

"You want me to hit you. That's why you're here." The smile finally slides off Baekyung's face, but he doesn't stop there raising his voice, "You feel bad don't you? Sujin's she's different from you and you hated that. She's ready to fight and it makes you sick because you're not that strong. You wanted her to stay complacent because it would make you feel better. She told me everything. Your words did nothing but bring us closer, she trusts me and knows she's not alone. Ever. I'm not going to hit you. This is what you deserve, I won't give you an easy way out."

The taller boy flinches at his carefully chosen words, and he nods in confirmation knowing everything he said was true.

He starts to walk away. This isn't worth his time, he already knows where Sujin wants to be and has seen that she's willing to fight for what she wants. This is beneath their bond, what they have is stronger than all obstacles they might encounter.

He's unprepared for the loud cracking cry behind him, it momentarily stops him in his tracks.

"You'll never understand! You're not like us at all you have everything, your life is perfect! You'll never understand Sujin like I do! You have a mom that loves you. What do we have?"

He can't help the rush of sympathy that swells up at the other boy's inadvertent confession. Sujin hadn't told him that, not so plainly but he had figured it out on his own. Noting all the different things the other teen had cried that he would never understand Sujin.

It's another reason why he was unable to strike the other boy. He couldn't bring himself to be anything like those cowards who bullied and tormented others.

He turns back with a sigh, "I know I'll never understand Sujin completely, I don't need that she is her own person. But have you ever asked yourself why you're trying so hard to keep her caged when you know exactly what she's going through? Why does her wanting more make you so angry? Do you even care about her happiness or do you just want someone to suffer with?"

Cold droplets drop on his forehead and by the time he's peering up a heavy sheet of rain is pouring down on them without any warning.

When he looks back Baekyung's face is wet. He chooses to believe it's from the rain but the agony on his face makes it hard to pretend. It feels wrong to be witnessing this, so without another word he turns around, walking away for good.

The café is empty when he gets back but he's not surprised, they only get a few regulars on a good day and rain is known to keep people inside.

Dosan doesn't ask any prying questions but he does shoot him a inquisitive look, he pretends not to see him once again not in the mood to bare his inner thoughts to a stranger.

Instead it drives him to do something stupid.

He sends it before he can second guess himself and then hides his phone from himself and gets back to work, wiping down takes no one will use and wondering what Sujin of doing right now and if she'll smile that cute shy smile when she gets his message.

I miss you babe.

"Mom! I'm home!" Gowoon yells out tugging her wet boots off and tumbling into her house, the smell of bean paste stew wafting through the air and making her stomach grumble in anticipation.

She makes a beeline for the kitchen, looking left and right before sneakily getting a spoon and quietly opening the steaming pot. But just as she's about to bring the spoon to her eagerly waiting lips she hears a voice, "No wonder your mom told me to watch the soup."

She almost jumps before turning around to see who is behind her.

"Unnie!" She cries flying across the kitchen to hug the other girl, smiling when her embrace is readily accepted. She only remembers after that she's wet afterwards and pulls away with apologies on her tongue, but Sujin waves them off smiling gently at her.

Sujin-unnie is so pretty, breathtakingly so. There are countless boys who like her but she never sees the girl around any of her admirers, seemingly oblivious to all the attention she's garnering. She would be jealous of the other girl's effortless beauty if she wasn't beautiful inside too. Always willing to stand up for someone and fearlessly charging into danger to protect those she seemed worthy. For some reason she was lucky enough to be on that list of people although she was a nobody. It still feels surreal that she's allowed to call the other girl by such a familiar name.

"Gowoon ah? You look a million miles away, what are you thinking about?"

Without hesitation she responds honestly, "How beautiful you are."

It's the first time she's ever seen Sujin blush and it's so cute she can't contain her squeal, smiling brightly at the older girl.

"Unnie, what are you doing here though?"

Sujin looks like a deer caught in the headlights at her innocuous question and immediately she regrets it but it's her mother's voice that answers her question in the end.

"I dragged her here after finding her in the rain. Bean paste stew tastes better when you eat it with a lot of people. Enough questions now, go wash up so we can all eat when your brother gets home." It's only then that she realizes that Sujin is wearing one her brother's old sweaters, one from the donation box that they hadn't yet got around to delivering to the local shelter. The huge sweater is paired with her skirt from school, forming an outfit that only Kang Sujin could make fashionable. 

Her unnie really is the coolest. 

She nods at her mom's order, bouncing off to her bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. Minutes later when she hears the front door open, she knows that it has to be Seojun, so she races out to greet him first.

"Oppa! You're finally home!" He looks taken back by her greeting, lifting an eyebrow at her in question.

"Why are you being so nice? What do you want?"

She cries in fake offense, pouting and hitting him in the chest.

He recoils in pain screaming in a most unmanly fashion, "Hey! Watch the goods, this is what keeps the girls coming back you know."

She grimaces in disgust, sticking out her tongue ready to make a rebuttal but Seojun is no longer looking at her, eyes locked over her shoulder and his face contorting through a slideshow of emotions from shock to regret all in a blink of an eye. She looks over her shoulder in confusion, catching Sujin's eyes narrowed in an unreadable emotion before it washes away.

"Your mom said to tell you both to come eat."

She expects her brother to react similarly to her, and ask the other girl what she's doing here. That question never comes  thought instead he throws up his arms and starts stuttering out, "I-I was just joking! There are no girls, there are definitely no girls!"

"What?" She replies having no idea what's wrong with him but he's paying no attention to her now, trailing after Sujin who's walking back to the kitchen looking like she belongs here, with them.

Watching their retreating back she wonders if she's missing something.

Something huge.

With a nonchalant shrug she follows them into the kitchen, too hungry to play detective.

She blacked out.

That's the only way she can describe it, after running out of Suho's place her mind went blank and when she resurfaced she was outside of his apartment. With no memory of going there, her body operating on autopilot.

She hadn't even realized it was raining until suddenly the drops weren't hitting her anymore.

"You're getting wet. Come inside dear."

It was Seojun's mom. 

Instantly her body was warmed at the voice and once again her body was moving without her permission, up the elevator, through the door, into a change of clothes and now sitting at the table and eating dinner with them. 

She's too numb to feel the full brunt of her embarrassment.

So she slurps at the delicious soup instead, not ready to face the swirling whirlpool of her emotions at least not yet. 

His eyes are heavy on her skin, had been since he followed her into the room. Her annoyance at his earlier statement had already faded away, it was hard to be jealous of some imaginary girls when she was the one here in his sweater eating with his family, with his eyes burning through her skin.

With the memory of his text message making her insides squirm. 

Another nickname and she had none for him, was too awkward to get the affectionate names to even wrap around her tongue. What would she even sound like calling him baby or honey? She was too embarrassed to find out so she hadn’t replied, just took the butterflies that fluttered in her belly at his brazen message. 

Then more memories assault her. 

It was only hours ago that they were outside tangled and panting against the wall, his hands hot on her waist and her neck, his tongue hot in her mouth. 

Stop it.

She screams at herself, scared of her own thoughts. The shock and anger of seeing her mother hasn't worn off, not the slightest. But seeing him lights a different flame and she has no clue how to deal with the warring emotions in her body.

So she drinks more soup.

Absently listening to their conversation, it's sweet and domestic and makes her ache like there's a gaping hole in her chest.

"Do you like the soup?"

She waits for someone to answer, but it's silent and only then does she lift her head and realize that the inquiry was directed at her.

Oh.

She always forgot that she was allowed to be a part of this. She wasn't just an outsider looking in.

"It's delicious." She answers, voice small. 

The older woman smiles appreciatively at her before turning to her daughter and she's off the hook, or so she thinks but then she feels a hand on her naked leg and it's only years of repressing herself that stop her from jumping out of her chair.

"What are you doing?" She hisses at him, too quiet to be overhead and continuing to eat to dissuade further suspicion.

"You were trembling. I wanted to warm you up." He whispers back just as discreetly and her whole body heats up at his words, wordless at his bold declaration.

She has no reply. Nothing besides beating fire with fire.

Finding courage she wasn't aware she had, she places her own hand on his thigh higher than he dared to explore. Preening when he actually does jump and pushes away from the table, admitting defeat earlier than she had expected.

She had barely even touched him, why was he so jumpy? 

Both his mother and sister look at him with large eyes and she has to stifle a giggle when he lies about forgetting to do his homework and disappears into his room.

She sips innocently at her soup. Enjoying the warmth and the savory broth.

Before she knows it, the meal is done and Gowoon is traipsing to the living room most likely to watch whatever drama has captured her attention this time.

"It's time for The Noona Next Door Who Buys Me Grilled Steak!” The girl answers her accidentally happily skipping off. 

She doesn't follow the other girl, shaking her head at yet another ridiculously specific title that tells her everything she needs to know about the show.

Wordlessly she starts to clean up the table, but almost instantly a small hand halts her action.

"Don't worry about that dear, you're the guest. Junnie will take care of that when he's done ‘doing his homework.’ " She says the last part with air quotes and she tries her hardest not to react, but a bubble of laughter escapes.

The older woman smiles easily back, suddenly looking tired and reminding her that the woman was just in a hospital bed only weeks ago. Feeling selfish she implores, "Are you feeling better now?"

"I'm doing great. Thank you for asking, you don't need to worry about me."

It's already too late, she can't turn off the worrying she has for this entire family.

"I'm happy you're okay." She stills at the warm hand on her cold fingers and suddenly the day comes crushing back.

She feels exhausted.

And she has nowhere to go.

"Of course you'll stay here. It's a storm outside. You'll stay in Seojun's room."

She freezes at the offer, had she said those words out loud? She hadn't meant to.

Then she crystallizes further at the scandalous offer, heat rising under her collar until she's certain that her face is as red as a tomato.

Stay in Seojun's room.

The war rages on and suddenly images of them on his bed fill her head and she can feel his pillow beneath her head as he peers down at her, bracketing her in and slowly leaning down to kiss her, pushing his tongue into her--

"And he will sleep here on the couch."

She feels as if she's going to burst from the torrential emotional hurricane ravaging her body and instead of declining she feels her head nodding in agreement.

I'm such an idiot.

The apartment is eerily quiet, Gowoon had hugged her good night easily accepting that she was sleeping over, and then her mother had patted her on the back making her eyes water when she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She'd barely heard the goodnight that followed.

She doesn't know what to do now. Seojun never came back after their moment at the table, she has no clue what that means and if she should be worried. Had she done something wrong? 

Leaning down onto to couch she rolls herself into a ball, tugging off the throw that hung over the back of the couch and using it to cover her, thankful that it’s big enough to sufficiently cover her body.

Fatigue finds her as soon as her head hits the cushion and this is the reason that she misses the creaking of a door opening and soft footsteps crossing the room. She almost jumps out of her skin when she feels a sudden weight on the couch right beside her feet.

"Are you staying over?" Her skin pebbles at the deep timber of his voice, the lowing sound cutting through the splatter of rain landing on the window outside.

"I can't go back to Suho's." Her mother's pathetic face stains her eyelids and force her to open her eyes. She isn't expecting him to be so close, sitting on the floor with his face right beside her own.

She wants to kiss him.

The idea is so immediate that she doesn't even know how to deal with it.

So she just decides to accept it. She needs a distraction, an escape from her reality. 

She starts to lean forward, eyes locked on his lips inching closer and closer and when they're only centimeters apart she closes her eyes again.

Expecting to feel electricity shooting up and down her body. To feel the current when his lips touch hers and everything in the universe finally makes sense. 

But she feels nothing. Just air. Peeling her eyes open, this time she's eye level with his knee and before she can ask him what he's doing, beg him to kiss her until her mind shuts off he's bending over, slipping his hands under her body and lifting. She's too stunned to do anything but let herself be lifted and then carried, her arms instinctively curling around his neck.

His beautiful tempting neck that's dangerously close.

She presses one hot kiss against it, inhaling deeply when he groans at the peck.

"Stop." He sounds breathless and she's tempted to do it again but she reigns herself in, feeling weightless in his strong arms as he carries her to his room, the door clicking resolutely behind them.

He hadn't meant to stay in his room for that long. Her touching him back took him to their kiss in the hallway and if he stayed any longer everybody would know that he was having impure thoughts, thus he had run like a dog with it’s tail between its legs. Once alone he'd taken a cold shower but it did nothing to stop his thoughts, images of her in his sweater and her hand on his thigh gripping him as he stood naked under the onslaught on the water pouring from the shower head.

The urge coiling in his blood. An urge he had been finding it harder and harder to resist lately. 

He wanted to. So damn badly it made his head spin but he couldn't, not with her right outside.

There was no way he would be able to look her in the eyes after doing that so close to her, so he forced himself to only shower ignoring his bodily desires..

But after the shower he'd been too scared to go back out. He didn't have control of himself yet, it was too soon. Everything she did egged him on and fueled his fantasies so he decided to stay hidden, she would be gone soon enough. She had never slept over before.

Then Suho's messages shocked him into action.

Is Sujin with you?

Is she okay?

Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't think she would react that way. It's my fault. I wasn't thinking.

He didn't bother to text back instead calling the other boy to hear exactly what he'd done and what he was sorry for.

Suho was as frantic as he'd ever heard him but eventually he got the truth out of him and suddenly he felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. While he'd been perving on her and hiding away like a coward she'd been suffering all night and he had no idea.

He didn't even deserve to be her boyfriend.

So he goes to her and he knows what she's trying to do when she tries to kiss him and he's so tempted to just let her, maybe they both need this...

But in the end he stands up, he can't let his hormones take control. This isn't what she needs, and he refuses to be a distraction, not now when he knows he wants to be her everything.

Carrying her to his bedroom is a spur of the moment decision and he expects more of a fight, it's Sujin after all. But he's shocked when she folds into him like she's starved for his touch and is further flabbergasted when she presses a mind numbing kiss to his throat.

It takes Herculean strength to tell her to stop when his body especially one particular organ is screaming, go go go.

He eases her down onto his bed and groans because he knows he'll never get that torturous image of of his mind. Her hair spills across his pillow and he wants desperately to bury his face in it and breathe her in,  he draws away before he succumbs and does just that.

"Kiss me."

She looks like sin, squirming on his sheets in his sweater her bare legs peeking out from the short skirt and he retreats quickly, but not fast enough because she's latching onto his shoulders and dragging him back to her. He tries to fight it but she's so strong and he can feel his own strength melting under her seductive stare. She tugs him down powerfully and he feels his arms collapsing but at the last moment he juts his head to the side, her lips landing on his cheeks instead.

She lets out a long suffering and impatient sigh before hissing out, "Why won't you kiss me? Why are you fighting this?"

He can detect the frustration in her voice but deeper down he can hear her fear too, the fear that he doesn't want her. Irrational and stupid. He twists out of her hold, laying beside her eyes pinned to the side of her face.

"Because I know this isn't about me. Or us. I want you. So badly. All the time."

She blushes prettily. He wants to taste it. 

"Then why are you--"

"But not like this. Not when you're hurting and you just want a distraction. You know how I feel about you. Don't use that as a weapon against me okay?"

With a gasp she's turning to face him, he hides nothing and he watches as the frustration that was once there fades away and only hurt is left in its abandon.

When she opens her mouth and he can see the apologies in her eyes, he places a single digit against her lips.

"Don't say sorry. If you want to apologize let me hold you." 

She stares at him like she's never seen him before, eyes wide and moist and for the first time he doesn't wait for her consent. He can't stand that lonely devastated look on her face, not when she's not alone because he will always be here beside her if she needs him. 

Gentle as the wind, he wraps his arms around her pushing himself into her in lieu of dragging her to him.

I'm yours.

The move says and he hopes she can hear it too.

He starts to pat her back and lightly stroke her head, pressing his neck into her face and wrapping an arm around her waist and that's all it takes for her to start shaking in his arms. There are no tears but he can feel her sorrow in every harrowing inhale and exhale, in her fingers tightly gripping his night shirt. He rocks them back and forth, wishing he could drain all the pain from her body and absorb it into his own.

"Why can't she just disappear? Why appear in front of me when I've accepted that I don't have a mother. I have no one, I'm an orphan." Her voice is crushed ice and he wants to kiss her all over and tell her that she has him, will always have him and he loves her, loves her much that it frightens him because he's never loved anyone this much except his mother and sister but he doesn't say any of this. He can't.

This isn't about him. Or them.

This is about a girl who needs a mother and doesn't know if she'll ever have one.

He can't fix this and he won't try.

He simply holds her tight and lets her grieve.

Holding her until she falls asleep in his arms, her head on his chest. So close to that heart that already belongs to her. That is beating for her. 

That is broken for her. 

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part two

pairing: eventual bucky x reader

warnings: some violence, trigger warning of sedation (it isn’t in there for a long time and the description of it isn’t super good BUT it’s still there), mentions of kidnapping, i think that’s it. 

word count: just a bit over 3k 

a/n: okay! here’s part two, i’m experimenting with the longer parts, so let me know what y’all think of it. bucky does make an appearance soon, i swear y’all :) just be patience with me babes. also, i know this isn’t like the typical fan fic because it isn’t in the second person but we’re powering through together. i hope y’all enjoy babes <3

p.s.: if y’all want to be added to a tag list for this series, shoot me a message and we’ll get it worked out 

series m.list

ray’s m.list

*****************

I shot up from my bed, eyes wild and frantic searching for anything to ground me to my current surroundings. It was just a dream, just a dream. It was just a dream. Except it didn’t feel like a dream. Everything was too detailed, too crisp for it to have really been just a dream. I swung my legs off my bed and grabbed a hold of the fluffy white comforter. Groaning, I pushed my feet to touch the cold hardwood of my apartment. I made my way towards my kitchen and my coffee maker. I popped a breakfast blend K-cup into the slot and dumped a mug full of water into the side of the machine. Pressing the button, I turned while listening to the coffee machine force the water through the coffee grounds and filter and into my cup.

Looking out into my living room, I eyed my couch. It was intact with no bullet holes riddling the cushions. It was still the pristine white that I’ve spent many nights curled on watching movies. The dark stained wood coffee table in front of it brought memories of long study sessions with books and loose papers strewn across it. A faint smile graced my lips as I was reminiscing. The black coffee maker spit the last of the dark substance into my mug, so I reached into my cabinets and pulled out the essentials. I’ve never been one for pure black coffee, tastes like tar in my opinion. The aftertaste isn’t something that I want to deal with for as long as it’ll last.

I dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the cup and then poured a dash of liquid creamer in along with it. Stirring the now light brown liquid, I raised the mug to my mouth and took a much needed sip. Sighing as I swallowed, I walked around to the couch in the living. Plopping down, I kicked my feet to rest on top of the coffee table. Leaning back against the cushions, I tried to process what my dream was about.

It was just too real to be a dream, right? It was awfully specific to be a dream. Squinting my eyes, I nodded my head and set my mug on the table. Reaching for my laptop and opening the first browser I could, I searched ‘dream analysis.’ Maybe they’ll have something that can give me an answer as to why it was so clear. Scrolling down the first website, my eyes scanning the bolded letters. Nine Common Dreams and What They Could Mean, oh perfect. Flying, being naked in public, teeth falling out, cheating, none of these are like my dream. I shook my head and swiped out of the website and back to the search engine.

It was late in the morning and the sun was rising to its peak when I finally gave up. It’s obvious what happened though, I’ve gone mental. Absolutely insane, just plain certifiable. No, no, that’s not what it is. My coffee now gone cold, I placed my closed laptop on the coffee table next to the discarded coffee mug. I stood and my head started throbbing. Deciding I would have a better outlook on things without a pounding head, I took a shower. The water was a pleasant, scalding temperature. Leaving the bathroom with my hair in a towel and another wrapped around my body, I changed into a simple pair of ripped mom jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Hanging my towels on the rack in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and then turned out the light as I left.

Today was my one day off of work this week and I was going to savor it. Slipping on a pair of ratty sneakers and grabbing my purse from the hook next to the door, I left my cozy apartment. I locked the door and shoved my keys all the way to the bottom of my purse. I left my building with the intention of trying to shake off the nightmare that I had. To do so, I went into the coffee shop at the end of the block. I pushed the doors open and was greeted with a warm and inviting atmosphere. Dark floors gave way to twinkling lights illuminating the charcoal gray walls. Behind the counter, I make eye contact with the barista and receive a tight-lipped smile from him. “Hi, welcome to Beniot’s Beans. What can I get started for you today?”

I glanced at the chalkboard menu and ran my eyes over it quickly. I already knew what I wanted, but I needed to prepare myself to say it out loud. “Hello, can I get a medium caramel iced coffee to go, please?” I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as he scribbled my order onto the clear plastic cup. He told me my total as I looted in my wallet for my bills. After placing the money in the register, he explained that they would call my order when it was ready. I nodded and walked off to find somewhere to sit that was out of the way. After situating myself on one of the comfortable armchairs, I pulled my phone out in an effort to discourage human interaction. After retrieving my order from the counter, I sat back down in the armchair, trying to decide what to do next. The hour was just rolling over to being almost lunchtime, which made me realize that I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Shrugging my purse back onto my shoulder and shoving my phone into it, I left the store throwing a small wave to the barista behind the counter.

Sighing contentedly, I made the trek back to my apartment while steadily drinking the iced coffee. Some people say coffee shouldn’t be cold, and then there’s people who have sense. Giggling to myself, I took in my surroundings. Brick buildings lined the small two-way road. The donut shop on the opposite side of the street had two cop cruisers sitting in front of it. The contrasting black and white paint with black lettering outlined in yellow was intimidating. There was no reason for it to be, but there was just an aura of discomfort encapsulating the cars. By this time, I had stopped, slurping on my almost empty iced coffee. Breaking out of my trance with a ring of a bell, four officers exited the donut shop. Two of the officers held off-white cardboard boxes, they were all laughing at something. I tilted my head and scrunched my brows, guess the stereotype about cops is true, they love their donuts. Sensing a stare, one of the officers looked around for the source. Eventually, our gazes locked and he winked. Uh, ew. Making a face, I shook my head and went about my way back to my apartment.

Despite that experience, it was nice to be able to have no specific agenda, just relaxing and going with the flow. My inner monologue stopped when I got to my kitchen and started deciding what to prepare for lunch. Finally landing on a box of macaroni and cheese to satisfy my hunger, I set to work. The pot of water now on the stove, I tossed my empty plastic cup from the coffee shop into the garbage bin. I went around to my living room and grabbed my coffee mug from earlier and placed it in the sink, after rinsing it out. I’ll wash that and the stuff I use for lunch after I finish eating. I dumped the box of uncooked noodles into the now boiling water. Soon, the macaroni was ready to be eaten, so I poured the cheesy noodles into a bowl. Hoisting myself onto the granite countertop, I began to inhale the food. Wow, okay I was hungrier than I thought. It didn’t take long to finish off the noodles. As I was washing the dirty dishes, the intercom system of the apartment went off. Weird, I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?” I inquired into the speaker box. “Hi, I’m looking for the inhabitant of this flat.”

My brows furrowing, I asked again, “Who is this?”

“Ma’am, please don’t waste my time or yours. Is this the woman who lives in this apartment, yes or no?” They sounded exhausted. “I need to speak with the woman who lives here.” I was shocked, this didn’t seem right. Alright, I’m a woman living alone in an apartment building. Some stranger comes to my building, asking to speak to me, so what do I do?

“Uh, yeah they’re not here. You’ll have to come back later.” The lie was easy. Safety first and all, right? There was no reply after waiting a few minutes, so I went back to doing my dishes. After drying and putting them away, I kicked my shoes off and settled into my couch with a fluffy blue throw. Flicking the TV on, I picked the home improvement channel. I stretched out on the couch while wondering how realtor Bessie May was going to find this couple the perfect home. Snuggling further into the pillows, I was able to drift off into a dreamless slumber.

*********************************

It was loud banging that eventually roused me. Untangling myself from the fluff that wrapped around my legs, I toppled onto the floor. “I’m coming, hold your horses!” I shouted at the door. Who the hell? I swear if it’s my crazy neighbor again. “Marge! If this is you, we are going to have a problem!” I huffed my way to the door and yanked it open to reveal a group of men in what looked like dark tactical gear. Confusion overtook my facial features. I took a step back and tightened my grip on my door knob.

“Um… hi? Can I help you?” I questioned the group at large.

“Ma’am, we’re looking for the permanent resident of this apartment.” The man to my left said. He was short and stocky, he was also the only man wearing a dark gray suit. “Are you the permanent resident of this unit?” He continued while trying to see over my shoulders and into the living room.

“No, they’re not here right now.” I repeated the lie from earlier. I had an inkling this had to do with that, what else could it be?

“Well, do you know when she’ll be back?” He pressed, still stealing glances into my abode.

“No, she didn’t say. You’ll have to come back later. Goodbye.” I stated while closing the door. I was almost home free until a combat boot clad foot was stuck into the door frame.

“You see ma’am, this really isn’t the time to be lying to me.” The suited man explained. I took a deep breath and continued trying to close the door.

“Well, I’ve already told you all I know. The person who owns this place isn’t here right now.” The door was stopped yet again by the same foot.

“Ma’am, you need to invite us inside. We have things to discuss.” Suits ordered.

My brows raised, “Or what?” I scoffed, “Look you need to leave before I call the police. Good day to you gentlemen.” Another attempt to close the door was once again defeated, but this time the door swung in. Allowing entrance into my apartment. My eyes widened and I rushed away from the door, putting as much distance between the group of men and myself.

“What the hell are you doing! I’m calling the police.” I reached for my phone that was laying on the coffee table. It was snatched away from me by a man in tactical gear. His hair was cropped and dark, he slipped my phone into one of the many pockets of his vest. I raised my eyebrows at the man, and began demanding my phone from him.

“Listen ma’am, we’re going to need you to come with us.” Suits insisted. My gaze darted to him, if looks could kill man. “We’re allowing you the privilege of getting a bag of your necessities.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my ever rising nerves. I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to clear the fogginess of sleep to process what Suits was saying. “We don’t have all day. Get your stuff now.” I shook my head and started refusing.

“Yeah, that won’t be happening. I’m asking you one last time to leave my apartment before I start screaming.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective stance. They’ve got five seconds before I raise hell. Suits made a face that looked like he was disappointed.

“Grab her.” The man who took my phone advanced at me. His whole hand covered my upper arm, lifting it and beginning to drag me to the door. I started kicking out, clawing, trying to make contact with anything that I could hurt. Damage, don’t stop fighting. Don’t give in. Whipping my upper body around, I managed to scratch the man's cheek. He cried out in pain and his grip loosened for just a moment. Long enough for me to wrench my arm away from him and run towards the front door. My path was interrupted by a wall of a man. Towering over me, he wrapped both of his arms around my torso. Effectively stopping all of my movement while he turned me in his grasp to face Suits once again.

“Help! Someone help me! Help me!” This was a quiet enough building, shouts like that would surely gain someone’s attention, right? “Help! Someone help me, please!” I was screaming my throat sore. Not stopping until there was a large hand placed over my mouth. Even then, there were muffled cries that could be heard throughout my otherwise silent apartment unit. Stifled sobs were leaving my lungs in heaves. Suits approached me and shook his head,

“It really didn’t have to be like this but, of course.” He turned to one of his goons and nodded his head towards me. I began screaming again as the final goon stepped forward. His hair was slicked back and I could smell the hair gel that he must have just dipped his head into. Hair Gel reached into his pocket and brought out a small white case.

He unzipped the case and gestured to the mass of a man behind me. My head was moved to expose my neck, I struggled against Mass while Hair Gel approached. Screaming and thrashing trying to disrupt what I thought was about to happen. Hair Gel assembled a syringe, outfitting it with a blue capped needle. Hair Gel extracted a clear liquid into the syringe, he got closer to my jolting body, glaring at Mass.

“Hold her still, you buffoon.” He grunted at Mass. The grip around me began cutting off my circulation to the lower half of my body. Not deterring me in any way, I still made it as hard as I could for Hair Gel. There was a pinch on the side of my neck, and then a warm feeling passed through my body. Mass’s hand was still covering my mouth and his arms around my torso, if it weren’t for that I probably would’ve fallen straight to the ground. Oh hell man, what am I going to do now?

My body went limp in Mass’s hold, and my mind was starting to become fuzzy. Looking around at the three men in front of me, I worried what was going to happen. I’ve seen Taken. I know what happens to girls who travel alone. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people like me. Suits sighed yet again, looking disinterested in the whole affair. Suits looked to the man who I scratched and shook his head at him.

“You seriously let her get her hands on you?” Suits mocked, “That’s pathetic, Gomez.”

“Pathetic? She was clawing me, man!” The man, Gomez, defended.

“It doesn’t matter, you idiot. You still aren’t supposed to let it happen.” Suits berated Gomez and then waved him off, “Go get the stuff. And don’t mess it up this time, ya got that?” Gomez rolled his eyes at Suits, but nodded anyway. He left the room towards my bedroom. My eyelids started drooping, I willed them to stay open a bit longer.

“How long’s it gonna take that stuff to kick in?” Suits asked Hair Gel.

“Oh, it starts working immediately.” Hair Gel finished replacing everything in his white case, turning to me, he continued, “The body reacts to the compound right away, inducing temporary paralysis. It’s really quite remarkable to watch it in action.”

Suits glanced at Hair Gel, “You mean to tell me it doesn’t make them unconscious? What the hell did I bring you along for?”

“Of course it makes the victim unconscious, what do you think I’m stupid or something? It just takes a couple of minutes for the enzyme to break down for the brain.” Hair Gel tilted his head while looking at me. He gave me a once over and if I had any kind of control over my body, there would’ve been an unmistakable shiver that passed through my body. Gomez emerged with a duffle in tow and dumped the closed bag on the couch.

“Don’t forget the laptop, Gomez.” Suits reminded him while his attention was on the kitchen of my apartment. “Alright, let’s go.” With the effort it takes to lift a feather, Mass carried me bridal style out of my unit. My eyelids were becoming even more heavy and I screamed and shouted in my head, but my mouth just wouldn’t move. The four men made their way out, passing my crazy neighbor Marge.

“Can I help you boys with something?” Marge’s door was open, and she leaned up against the frame, watching this scene go down.

“Nothing to be worried about ma’am. This is official government business.” Suits reported, simply shrugging off Marge.

“Government business?” Marge shrieked, and a glimmer of hope flashed in my head. Marge won’t fall for your bullshit Suits. She’s going to save me. “I always knew there was something off about that one.” What the hell, Marge?

“Like I said ma’am, nothing to worry about. Now if you would, just go back inside. We’re done here.” Suits advised. Marge, who was none the wiser, bounced her shoulders and turned back into her own unit. She could be heard through the door explaining to her guests that her next door neighbor was always strange and never really sat right with her.

“Doesn’t surprise me they’re taking her away. I always knew something was off about that girl. I told you so.” Marge howled with laughter after her statement. My last hope dashed by my crazy neighbor’s complete ignorance and lack of acknowledgement for her surroundings. Mass began his descent of the stairs with a steady pace. The constant rocking back and forth of his body weight served to lull my eyelids the rest of the way closed.

[blxetsi]

peach scone - levi ackerman (modern au)

levi ackerman x gn!reader, levi ackerman x erwin smith

warnings: ooc levi, angst, songfic,  lowercase intended !

reposted due to errors   

you’re a peach scone. 

it used to be a term of endearment. something that he would say to make your tummy fill with little creatures. the butterflies would bump into your sides, causing you to feel sort of ticklish in your abdomen, while the little caterpillars and slugs would crawl around your torso, sending shivers down your spine. levi would always say it after you did something he enjoyed, like if you helped him on his assignment, or if you gave him really good advice. he would always utter those four words to you as gratitude. never loud enough for others to hear, because those words were always meant for you. 

you shook those thoughts from your head, you couldn’t be thinking about such bittersweet memories minutes before you were set to perform. currently, you’re preparing to perform in front of you music teacher, it’s your final assignment before your exam and it counts for 15% of your mark. you’ve entrusted your two friends, derek and kate, to assist you, derek playing guitar and kate on drums, both performing the melody you created for your song. you stand behind the curtains of the auditorium, behind stage, kate is already out there, sitting perfectly still in front of a single drum, one drumstick in each hand. she’s more prepared than you are, which should worry you because this is your project, but you can’t really feel your fingers if you’re being honest. derek stays behind with you, almost protecting you from your teacher who sits in the audience waiting. your eyes run over the lyrics you wrote, that you wrote, over and over again, worried you’ll forget them. if you weren’t so anxious you’d find it funny, forgetting the words to your own song. a song you wrote of a horrible situation you can never escape. you know the predicament you’re in all too well, yet you’re standing behind the curtains next to the fire escape, the lanky boy beside you tuning his instrument at the last minute. 

you couldn't remember the last time you played something in front of him. you could remember different memories, like from christmas or halloween, but when was the most recent time ? when was the last time you saw him anyways ? blurs of different memories, all similar in some ways. you with a guitar, your friends gathered around. sometimes they'd be sober, others not. but the constant was always levi. he was always there beside you. every time you felt nervous to play something, even if it was a silly song that hange recommended just for laughs, levi would always tell you the same thing. four words that made your irrational fears melt away. "c'mon y/n, do it for me. you're my peach scone."

you remember telling moblit about the project, who then passed the comment off to hange, who so begged you to let the two come and watch. you knew the biology major meant well, but you also knew that they had a tendency to be very inclusive. if you had written about absolutely anything else, other than your feelings for a man that you knew didn’t love you back, you’d let your entire friend group come. your teacher was a kind man, and old, but you knew he’d be fine with some friend’s watching. you were nervous not because you had to tell a man who was way too old to be getting into a college student’s messy love life about your own problems, but because the cause of your messiness could possibly be attending. 

hange’s last message to you was nerve wracking. the “just got finished at the coffee bean with levi and erwin, heading your way now !” could allude to the idea that hange had invited erwin and levi to see you perform a song you wrote about how you love levi but he’s dating erwin. your multiple text messages of “hange don't let them come.” and “hange please just let it be you and moblit like we agreed.” hadn't been opened.

you heard the auditorium doors open, before hearing the shuffle of feet and hushed voices. your paper with the lyrics fell out of your hands, and you merely gave a frightening look to the boy beside you, before your teacher broke the silence. 

“y/n, if you were waiting for your friends they’re here now. old bob isn’t getting any younger so let’s speed this up.” 

you’d chuckle at the man’s humor if you weren’t so afraid. 

the lights blinded you as you walked out on stage, derek trailing behind you. you three were positioned near the edge of the stage, so the practically nonexistent audience could have a good look at you. you stood in the middle, making sure your mic was working before making sure the mic positioned near derek’s guitar was on. the three of you chatted for a couple of seconds while derek started playing, and as you looked up, you could clearly see the silhouettes of your friends as they sat in the back. from left to right it was levi, erwin, hange and moblit. you threw your head back with an “oh no !” into the mic, while kate slapped you on your back for confidence. 

“what’s up bob ? god man, i’m y/n, this is derek and kate, and we’re just kids who like to make a little bit of love, make a little bit of music, look at this we’re on a desk, just kidding its a stage, i don’t care about the rules.” 

there was no going back now. you were going to potentially ruin your relationships with not just levi and erwin but with everyone else. 

it was time for you to begin the introduction to your story. 

hi, what’s your name ? how are you ? how’s your life ?

you remember when you first met levi. it was your first year of high school, just four months after your beloved grandmother had passed, and he had just moved into your apartment building along with his mother and uncle. you had heard them moving back and forth down the hall all morning, and you were curious because, who would be making so much noise at 6:30am on a friday morning ? the school year had just begun, with you only having a month of the high school experience under your belt. you remember your mother making you leave a bit early, wanting to meet the new tenants moving in across the hall. you remember standing in the blank room of a living space, the whole apartment was a mirror image of your own, just empty and bland. everything that your mom said to a woman named kuchel bounced off the walls, echoing and travelling to different parts of the home.

then you saw him. he was about your height, and looked similar to the nice lady kuchel. you remember him just staring at you with the most passive look on his face, while you extended your hand to him, asking for his name. 

he shook it, of course, his mother didn’t raise him to be rude, and while you wanted to learn more about him, to be friendly, your mother had quickly gasped before trying to usher you out of the new home, saying how you two would be late for the city bus. 

as goodbyes were exchanged between the two mothers, your own invited the family over for dinner on the weekend. and while your mother pulled you out of the threshold, you made eye contact with levi, promising to make him some peach scones.  

oh, you got a man ? are you in love ? if so, what type ?

you remember this day very clearly. it was the very last day of the holidays, a sunday before school went back into session. levi had asked you to accompany him to the coffee bean, which was a cafe near campus. it was usually always busy, with students meeting there to hang out or study. they had a selection of scones too, and levi would always refuse your suggestion to get one, saying that “they’ll never be as good as yours.” 

today was a weird day. usually he would get so pissy if you asked him to pay for your order, yet he wordlessly did with no protests, even going as far to shush you when you asked him why he did that. so you two sat in the cafe, your coats and hats resting over the back of your chairs, as you sat across from one another watching the snowfall. 

he was the first to bring it up. “y/n i have something to tell you.”

and then he went onto explain how he and erwin have been getting closer these past few weeks, oh you remember erwin right ? from my business class ? then he explained how hange had given him a push of encouragement to shoot his shot with the blond. levi was a stoic man, but you’d known him long enough to understand that the grip on his mug wasn’t normal, nor was the furrow in his brow that seemed just a little too hard for his flawless face. “so uh, we’re together now, i guess.” he finished off. 

you couldn’t do anything but nod, bringing your own mug up to your lips, sipping the almost scalding hot beverage without care. why couldn’t hange given you a little more time ? well hange never knew of your crush on levi, dipshit. 

it was as if levi could sense your uneasiness with the situation, before he sighed. “look, i’m not looking for your approval, and quite frankly i don’t even know why i felt the need to tell you so... intimately. but i thought you’d want to know first, and i’ve known you long enough to be at the point where i want you to be the first to know these things.” 

that made your heart ache more. you felt good knowing levi trusted you so much to tell you, but you felt sad knowing he saw you as a friend in this situation, although it’s your fault for waiting so long. 

you looked up at him with a smile, you felt like your eyes were a bit more moist than usual, but if levi noticed the glossy tone to your eyes, and how they looked just a bit more red, he didn’t comment on it. so you grabbed his hand, squeezed it, and told him how happy you were for him and erwin. 

and after that, you two went on business as usual, before levi walked you back to your home, holding onto your arm to keep you from slipping on the ice. 

you had never felt so protected yet so selfishly betrayed in your life.

“we should go get a cup of coffee,” at the coffee bean .

“and i’ll act friendly,” even though you’re falling apart.

you kept going with the song, trying your best to look at the man staring directly at you, who was grading this. yet you couldn’t help but flick your eyes up to the group sitting a couple rows higher, to levi. by now everyone should’ve noticed how watery your eyes were becoming, as well as how your voice would crack every so often. you were breaking, you were stressed out and scared, but the show must go on. 

“and i won’t pull any stunts but i’m a fucking stunt puller from birth.” your mother had said that way too many times to you for levi not to know what it meant. your song was filled with memories, inside jokes, emotions and love and heartbreak, too much of all of it for levi to not figure out it’s about him, and if he doesn’t he’s lying to himself. 

you looked up at levi, his back was straight against the seat he occupied, his left hand holding erwin’s right. “so i don’t know what to tell you, if i try to confess my love for...” you saw levi lean in just the slightest. “scones !” 

he knew. he knew, and you knew that he knew and he just told you he knew that he knows what your song is about when he let go of erwin’s hand, in favor of leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “i just want to say something real quick please shh,” your eyes never left levi’s and he stared at you with a look in his eyes that said “go ahead, say it.” so you did. “i love... these scones.” he pulled back abruptly, almost like he was pissed that you said you loved scones instead of him. 

your eyes flicked back to bob as he jotted something down on a piece of paper. “just the diversity between the selection they have here, the blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, pumpkin.” 

which is basically a fucking squash, how are you gonna make a scone out of a fucking squash ?

you, along with a drunk levi and hange sat in the coffee bean with moblit, who was the only sober one tonight. you four had gone out drinking with your other friends, but split up for the night after you and hange had forced the two men to come with you two to the cafe, claiming that caffeine would help sober you up. 

it was a rare thing seeing levi drunk, and hange made sure to take as many pictures and videos without getting caught by the raven haired man. some students were sitting in the establishment, textbooks and papers strewn around them as they studied and researched at 2:47am. 

hange had pulled out their camera beside you, the two of you watching levi has he ranted about how shitty the scones were here. “how are you gonna make a scone out of a fucking squash ?” he asked, shoving his face into his hands moments later. hange stopped the recording in fear of getting caught, before sending it to the groupchat with all of your friends, showing the 23 second long video of levi’s rage for scones. 

“what’s wrong with the scones levi ?” you teased, leaning into him from across the table. 

he only muttered one thing. “they aren’t like your scones, y/n.” before he played footsies with you underneath the table. 

you whispered a promise to make more for him, but now as you stand on that stage, you can’t remember if you had kept it. the squash thing was an inside joke between your friend group, hange and moblit are smart enough to be catching on now, and you suspect that the only person that might not know is erwin. no, you’d be lucky if he was oblivious, if you staring at levi had given anything away (which it most certainly has) the blond should be catching up soon. 

you turned to your left, derek playing your “levi” as you sang to him “oh yeah you boyfriend made you mad the other day ? what was he saying what was he talking about ?” you sighed dramatically and rolled your eyes, never once turning your body or head away from derek. “oh what do i think ? let me think about it hm.” 

you sat in hange’s living room, levi squished in between the biology major and yourself, while he ranted about a fight he got into with erwin about something as silly as dish placements. 

you and the brunette laughed it off, while levi grumbled about how you shouldn’t be laughing even if it doesn’t seem that big of a deal. you reminded yourself that this was levi’s first relationship and quickly felt a bit of sympathy. you placed a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch slightly, before saying some words of encouragement. “oh levi, i’m sure he’s gonna turn around at some point.” 

after the second chorus, you looked to your right, kate playing your erwin. the difference in this was that your body stayed forward, you wanted to portray to the audience that you were less engaged in your conversation with kate compared to derek. you didn’t want to listen to erwin, but you would willingly put all your attention into what levi would say, no matter what it was. 

“yeah he told me a lot about you, yeah, uh huh.” you couldn’t help your voice breaking as tears finally streamed down your face. you were honestly surprised you could keep yourself composed for this long. you wouldn’t be able to stop the tears, and you were in too deep now to quit. you were jeopardizing everything, and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it. kate looked at you with worry in your eyes as you let out a sob away from the mic, before continuing. 

“it’s so great that you’re doing all of those things, and you should keep doing them... i think.” you immediately turned your head back to your instructor, who started to look at you with worry too. 

“yeah my name is y/n l/n ! i’m a writer i’m actually not a writer i like to call myself a musician,” you smiled through your tears as you tried to keep it together, but even you knew that you were way past that now. “i play guitar sometimes just not as good as derek.” before going back into your script of your memories with erwin smith. 

you looked back at kate while you said your next lines, tears streaming down your face while she gave you a pitiful stare. before finally, looking back up to the man who had looked down on you this entire performance, and confessing your love for him in the way you knew he’d understand. 

“but he, y’know he's just so sweet and he cared about me a lot when no one else did.” 

“hey y/n, why do you make those peach scones so often ?” levi sat on your bed in front of you, identical textbooks sat in front of you both as you studied. it had been over a year since you’d met him, and you knew that he was your closest friend. 

“because my grandma used to make them for me, and she gave me her recipe before she died. i just love her and her scones so much, and they make me happy, so i guess i make them to share with others so they can be happy too.”

the young boy who sat criss crossed in front of you merely rotated his head slightly, before nodding. “okay y/n. you’re my peach scone then.” 

you were too dense to understand what he had meant by that, until your senior year of high school when you finally realized that the feelings you had for levi weren’t strictly platonic anymore. in that seemingly miniscule confession he made to you, he admitted his love for you, and that you made him happy. 

“and i think that’s really nice because he’s a peach.” levi’s eyes widened, he knew what you were going to say. “he’s a peach scone.”

“he’s my peach scone.” 

you broke down before you could finish the song, and before you knew it your legs were carrying you out of the auditorium and down to the gender neutral restroom, the closest to the stage. kate followed you, knowing you’d need some comfort, while derek stayed, trying to play it off to your professor like that was the end of the song, and that you’re just a fantastic performer. 

and while hange and moblit discussed whether they should wait for you outside or just give you space, levi felt a part of his world crumble down. he got your message clearly, you loved him, and he did too, but he also liked erwin, and now levi sat in the dark theater, listening to his own boyfriend worry about you, while the raven haired man silently contemplated the pros and cons of leaving the blond for you. 

but you both knew he would never do that. 

[vanillann]

pancakes for dinner ii (spencer reid x reader)

part i

warning: swearing 

word count: 1.9k

“Spencer?”

Spencer turned around quickly. He stood in the middle of my kitchen with batter sticking to his cheek.

“Pancakes?”

The tone in his voice sparked up, causing it to crack. The roller bag was long forgotten in the hallway, my feet not stopping until I stood in front of him.

“You got my message,” I spoke mostly to myself but the comment itself brought a smile to Spencer's face.

“I did.”

Not another second was wasted, my lips crashing onto his. I felt like I was floating, like I was on cloud 9. The way his teeth ran over my bottom lip made shivers run up my spine, I felt completely helpless in the best way possible.

His hands grabbed both sides of my face, slowly bringing me farther away from his own.

“Wake up.”

Huh?

“Wake up (Y/N).”

The sight of Spencer was gone in seconds, the overhead light of the plane taken over my vision.

“Hiya sleepy head.”

I turned back to my right, Lizzie's smiling face was a nice sight, but I was so mad it wasn't Spencer leaning in for another kiss.

Well, dream Spencer.

God, dream Spencer was just as hot as real Spencer.

“We are about to land,” Lizzie said as she grabbed my phone from my hands.

“What are you doing now, calling my boss?”

“Nope, putting my number in your phone.”

I smiled to myself, watching as my new found friend typed her number quickly into my phone.

*

Spencer fell back into his seat, a sigh leaving his lips as he looked at the loads of paperwork on everyone's desk.

“I need to call Savannah,” Morgan spoke quickly, stepping off to his office, his phone in his hand before he rounded the corner.

The talk of a phone call bought Spencer mine back to the voicemail (Y/N) had left him, sitting in whatever inbox the stupid thing had.

He looked through the glass door, the sight of the BatCave door was enough to have Spencer standing from his chair.

He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, knocking on the BatCave door because it was always nice to respect people's private space.

“Enter.”

Spencer pushed the phone open, trying to figure out how to work this weird tech box.

“What’s up Boy Wonder?”

Garcia's voice was smooth, as always.

“(Y/N) left me a voicemail but I can't get to the inbox.”

Without another word Garcia pulled the phone from his hands and typed away quickly.

“Speaker or handheld?”

Garcia looked up through the frames of her thick purple glasses, reminding Spencer of his old art teacher from college.

“Speaker is fine.”

Spencer didn't want to hold that stupid tech box with thousands, 17,000 to be exact, to his face if he didn't have to.

Garcia did her classic dramatic tape, the sound of (Y/N) voice made it all worth it.

“Hi Spencer, it’s me (Y/N).”

The first thing Spencer picked up on was the edge of (Y/N) voice, did something happen?

Are they kidnapped?

God not again.

“I have a feeling you and the team are on a case or something so you probably aren't going to get this until Pen teaches you how.”

“Burn,” Garcia said, making a fist and fist bumping the phone screen.

Spencer rolled his eyes, the sound of a faint laugh sounded through the phone, a note (Y/N).

No.

Just no.

“Okay, um here goes everything.”

Garcia and Spencer made eye contact at the same time, both confused looks burned into their brow.

“I wanna eat pancakes for dinner with you, I know that doesn't make sense to you and all but-um.”

Okay, something was definitely wrong, someone had to have a gun to your head if you were talking in code or something.

“A stranger on the plane told me a crazy story about the love of her life-”

Love?

“-dying in a plane crash and eating pancakes for dinner and I realized that I can't keep acting like I don't want you.”

Garcia dropped the phone, quickly jumping from her chair to pick it back up and hold it in front of both their faces, The bright screen lit up both their faces, both sided eyes and full of awe.

“And right now I’m horrified that this will end horribly but right now I’m stuck on this plane and if it crashes or I disappear or some serial killer finds me-”

Please don't bring up a serial killer killing you, not again.

“-I need you to know.”

Both FBI agents were bundled together in the middle of the room, both faces glued to the phone.

Hotch opened the door to the BatCave, opening his mouth to speak but Garcia hushed him quickly.

Oh god, In front of Hotch!

“I love you Spencer Reid-”

Hotch even took as small a gasp of air, not as big as Garcia but still louder than Spencer.

“-I always have and I can't help it that I wanna eat pancakes for dinner with you.”

Hotch closed the door, walking deeper into the room. He stood beside Spencer,  his face still stern but the hit of a smile playing across his face, his dimples almost on full display.

“I can't help it that you might be the love of my life and I might die today-”

“No,” Spencer yelped out, Garcia quickly held a finger up this mouth and gave him a Hotch look.

“-so if you don't feel the same it's okay but I just need you to know, um yeah bye.”

The sound of a harsh click ended the call, but no one in the room spoke.

“Oh god, if you don’t marry her I will, you can be the best man if you want,” Garcia spoke at lighting speed.

“She called me the love of her life.”

Spencer couldn't focus on anything in the room except the tech box that (Y/N) perfect voice was just flowing out of.

“How about I take your stack and divide them through the team?”

Hotch laid a shoulder on his shoulder, breaking him from the daze he had fallen into.

“Here take my car,” Garcia jumped from her seat, handing Spencer here keys with a Minecraft character, maybe, hanging for the side.

Spencer grabbed the keys and left the BatCave within seconds.

*

I placed the key into my apartment, a small voice in the back of my head telling me Spencer would be on the other side of that door with pancake batter on his face.

I pushed the door open, keeping my head focus to keep my disappointment at bay. I clicked the lights on, finally looking up to see my kitchen completely empty.

I felt the sigh pass my lips, dragging the roller bag, which felt extra heavy now, to the side of my couch.

I looked over my shoulder, the clock on my wall making me want to cry.

2:35am

The time zone was off now and I couldn't sleep, the thought of work in the morning was what made a few single tears roll down my cheeks.

“I hate being old.”

My phone buzzed, my hopes that it was Spencer were gone when I saw Lizzie name pop across my screen.

Lizzie: home yet?

I typed a quick yes, shoving the phone back into my pocket, walking straight to the coffee machine.

If I was going to be stuck watching stupid movies until work might as well have some liquid energy.

The closer I got to the pot the sooner I realized that I had no more coffee beans.

Did the universe hate me, like really hate me?

I played with my keys between my fingers, the thought of running to the small supermarket down the street couldn't hurt.

I didn't think twice, walking back through the front door and closing it behind me.

*

I wandered down the coffee aisle, looking through the many selves of beautiful coffee beans. I grabbed my normal brand and turned left.

I saw the crowd of people standing around the exit, the thought of pushing through them right now made me cringe. I instead turned right, making my way to the other end of the aisle.

My phone buzzed again, I smiled to myself just knowing it had to be Lizzie since it was going crazy.

Lizzie: i think i should paint a picture of you

Lizzie: like with fruits on top of your head

Lizzie: looking like the hot ass human you are

I started to laugh until my head hit a hard surface, but definitely not wall hard. I reached out to the nearest thing to me. the feeling of soft yarn could be felt on my finger tips.

“I’m so sorry-”

I looked up, the sight of Spencer Reid's flusher face had my hand moving off his arm in seconds.

“S-spencer-”

“(Y/N)-”

The way his voice jumped three octaves made the nerves float from my body, just like his voice always did.

Suddenly the memory of the plane was crashing against the side of my brain.

Oh no, it’s weird it’s weird.

“You’re home!”

I watched Spencer's eyes dart around my face, his smile full of nerves.

I shook my head, my eyes going to focus on the white floor of the supermarket floor before something caught my eyes.

A box of pancake mix was held firmly in Spencer's hands.

Pancake mix, oh jumping Jehoshaphat pancake mix!

“Spence-”

“I’m more of a waffle guy but I’m willing to settle!”

The words came out rushed and for some reason his hands flew above his head, like he was going to get arrested or something along those lines.

The blush that was creeping up my neck was making my body feel hot, I nearly forgot there were people all around us in the supermarket.

“I’ll give up waffles completely if that's what you want-”

“How about waffles for breakfast and pancakes for dinners?”

I didn't know how the hell I said that so calmly, I felt like my body was going to explode.

The feeling from the plane came back when he slowly started to smile, the feeling of the clouds passing by at a slow pace.

“Yeah, good compromise. You’ve always been good with compromises-”

I watched his lips move at rapid speed, wanting to actually kiss him.

I wonder if it would be as good as dream Spencer?

His mouth didn't stop, I could even focus on what he was saying anymore.

Only one way to find out.

I grabbed his tie, crashing his lip onto mine, his lips sinking into my bottom lip from where he was talking.

I felt my eyes flutter close, the way his hand ran up from my shoulder to the side of my neck.

His tongue ran across my teeth before a loud cough echoed from behind me. We broke away from the kiss, I looked over my shoulder to see an older couple watching us, both giggle to each other.

“May we get around you both?”

I shook my hand, sliding to the side. Spencer's hand didn't leave the side of my face, my hand wrapped around his tie.

Both smiled, the women stopping themselves and smiling.

“Might want to clean that up.”

She pointed to the floor, the sight of a broken box of pancake mix laid messy across the floor.

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pancakes for dinner tag list:

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