#the thought of him grunting while lifting stuff and exercising…

[russadler]

headcanon: the reason adler is so ripped in bo6 is because of his time spent in relative isolation while on the run. exercise was a way to pass the time, especially while holed up in the rook.

[f0point5]

(I’m) charming and endearing, and (un)comfortable

Written companion piece to the Lando x fakegirlfriend!reader social media au

Set after Part 6, at the dinner with Lando’s dad that is mentioned.

A/N: So, those of you who were here for the Max fix know that I do long form writing exercises to get more of a feel for the characters for the smau. I didn’t share the Max ones while the fic was ongoing because my writing is not my favourite, but I do like providing more of an insight into the real life stuff that isn’t covered in the smau and especially the reader’s thoughts. And I like this is kind of needed for this smau especially. So, I’m not going to tag anyone in these so that if you’d rather just read the smau you don’t get caught up with these, but you can read them if you want more of an insight into the reader’s character. If you hate it…just pretend it never happened 🫠🫣

“You look fine,” you tell your reflection, staring at it right in the eyes.

Your gaze flits down to your simple black satin slip dress. Black Amina Muadi heels peek out from the hem. Single, but elegant, you think.

You look fine.

“You look fine.” You tell your reflection one more time, and she looks like she believes you.

Of course you look fine. You wouldn’t have a career if you didn’t. People have paid obscene amounts of money for your face and your body. You know exactly how much Lando Norris has paid. You put together something that accentuates your shape a bit but not so much that his dad would think you’re trying.

You haven’t met a parent in a while. Once you’d started shooting womenswear at 15, parents were rarely around, though occasionally you would run into an overbearing mother. You can’t remember ever meeting anyone’s father.

Your alarm rings, so it’s too late to change now. Steeling yourself with one last deep breath, you go over to the interconnecting door and knock.

On the other side of the door, something bangs, and then someone grunts, and you’re about to just give up on this whole idea before the door wings open to reveal a panting Lando Norris.

He’s dressed in beige chinos and a black polo shirt, showing off a golden tan. Okay, you’d let Twitter win this one; he’s beautiful.

“I thought you were going to-“ he starts, but then stops himself. You suppose he assumed you’d knock on the external door. “Never mind,”

“So,” you gesture to the space between you.

“Oh, yeah, come in,” he says, stepping aside to let you into his suite.

It’s huge. You survey the large living room. Several pairs of chinos sit in dry cleaning plastic on the couch. The remains of a fruit platter sits on the dining table. Two sets of golf clubs rest precariously on a wall in the corner. He’s a bit of a slob.

“What?” He asks you. You turn to him, surprised to find his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Nothing,” you shake your head and shrug, but he doesn’t stop studying you. He’s making an effort not to be obvious, but he’s assessing you from head to toe. It makes you squirm. “It’s okay? The look?”

His eyes widen. “The look’s incredible,” he says quickly, probably embarrassed you caught him looking. His cheeks turn even more red. “You’re-“

“Okay, we can go?” You cut him off, smoothing you already sleek up-do. He should turn the damn air conditioning on.

Lando motions for you to go ahead of him to the door and he trails behind you until he hurries past you to get the door. You head to the lift in silence, hair on the back of your neck prickling every time you feel his eyes linger on you.

You look fine. He would have told you if you didn’t.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he says, when you’re in the lift. You glance at him, finding him already looking at you with a shy smile that would have any woman on her knees right there.

You shrug. “It’s not a problem.”

“Probably not your idea of a fun evening,” he continues, and you wonder if he’s trying to convince you to call it off and go back upstairs.

“I was going to eat from the restaurant anyway.” You say, watching as he yawns. “You’re tired?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Two sessions today. And quali always take a lot out of me, you know,”

You hum in response.

“I, uh,” he stops himself, and then notices you’re looking at him, so he sighs before continuing. “I actually did pretty well. At quali. Better than I thought I would, anyway. It’s…” he trails off, scratching at the back of his neck.

He looks sort of embarrassed to have even mentioned it. You almost give in and tell him you watched the qualifying live while doing your post flight skincare, but you don’t. You’re not sure why exactly, it just feels like you’d be committing to something, and don’t want to do that.

“Congratulations,” is all you end up saying, and then it’s back to silence.

When you get downstairs, three separate groups of girls ask for pictures with him. You stand aside awkwardly, watching the way these strangers lean into him and eagerly put their arms around him and stand so close. It makes your skin crawl. Lando doesn’t react to it. But then, you never do, either.

He apologises for the interruption and you wave it off, embarrassed that he might have noticed your discomfort. It’s not your business.

Inside the restaurant, Lando gently directs you towards a table by the window where his dad is waiting. You’d googled him, so you knew what he liked like, but the photos didn’t do justice to the serenity that rolls off this man in waves.

He stands when he sees you, opening his arms to his son. Lando steps into his embrace with no hesitation, and you wonder if that’s why he’s not bothered so much by the closeness of strangers. Maybe you wouldn’t mind being touched if anyone had ever touched you like that.

When they part, you pull your lips into a smile and step forward.

“Good evening, Mr. Norris. I’m Y/N,”

Adam’s wide smile falters for a second. “Of course I know that,” he says with a chuckle, beckoning you over. You oblige, and he leans in to kiss you on both cheeks. “Who wouldn’t recognise his son’s girlfriend, eh? And please, call me Adam,”

“D’accord.” When both men raise an eyebrow, you explain, “it means okay,”

“Ah,” Adam says with a sage nod, sitting down.

You startle when Lando pulls your chair out for you, flashing him what you hope is a grateful look rather than a confused one.

“I learnt French all through school but I’ve forgotten it all, unfortunately,” Adam says.

“I got the duolingo for it, but it’s harder than you think,” Lando chips in.

“Surely Y/N could teach you,”

“I’m too strict for him,” you joke, forcing yourself not to react when you feel Lando rest his arm on the back of your chair.

“Is that so,” Adam says, catching your eye.

You know the looks he’s giving you. It’s the look a casting director gets when they meet you and you aren’t quite what they asked for. That look they get in their eyes as they decide if you’re a good enough compromise is the same one Adam Norris is giving you now.

He’s the worst kind of casting director - the type that will try to make small talk as if they don’t have your life in numbers printed out in front of them; the type to make you laugh so they can judge the shade and angle of your teeth. Not content with your time, they demand a performance.

So you perform.

You order pasta instead of salad because being thin is most appreciated when it’s effortless. You tease Lando endlessly because the brits like to make fun of each other. You pretend you’re duly nervous when Adam speaks to you and not nervous every time Lando does.

You’re not sure if Adam buys into it. He and Lando have an easy and intoxicating rapport that you’re powerless to replicate. Lando’s admiration of his dad is almost palpable, and Adam’s adoration is plain to see. He loves his son so much that you think it must be clear to him that you don’t.

But he’s clever, and funny, and more gracious than you deserve. He’s so guileless that you understand why Lando would want to shield him from the truth of your situation. You feel a little guilty, being part of the lie, and even more guilty for being part of the truth, but you push that all down, reminding yourself that these people have no more to do with you than a photographer or a designer on a shoot.

By the time dinner comes to an end, you’re exhausted. You can taste blood in your mouth from chewing the inside of your cheek, and you feel sick from the Chardonnay that Adam ordered that you had to pretend to like on an empty stomach.

The knot in your chest loosens with every step the three of you take towards the lifts. Lando and Adam joke about what they’re going to eat for dinner after the race and you almost burst into tears at the thought of doing this all again tomorrow.

“I’m so glad I finally got to meet you,” Adam says with what you’ve come to believe is a trademark wide smile. “Honestly I was starting to think he’d made it up, getting the most beautiful girl in the world to go out with him,”

Ha. Most beautiful. Maybe when you were six, all lithe and pouty and innocent. Maybe when you were seventeen, no curves or dark circles or opinions. Not now.

He’s teasing you, not laughing at you, but your body can’t tell the difference.

You think you feel the bile rising up your throat but thankfully Lando cuts in before you have to.

“Dad,” he chides through clenched teeth and a pained smile. When you turn to him the blush that has become quite familiar to you is back with a vengeance, and spreading all the way to his ears.

“What? It’s not bad to say your girlfriend is beautiful,” Adam teases, turning to you. “Is it, Y/N?”

“I would be worried if he didn’t. It’s how I stay employed, after all,” you say with a smile. Your response is effortless, well rehearsed, right down to the way you lift your hand to ghost over your collarbone.

“Must be a glamorous life, being a model,” Adam says thoughtfully. You may not have any experience meeting parents, but you know well enough what he’s getting at.

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “No more glamorous than being a formula one driver. And I’m sure you know from Lando that glamour doesn’t mean comfort. Very often the opposite, if my shoes are any indication,”

He’s taken aback by your answer, doesn’t even bother to hide his raised eyebrows. “No, that’s-“ he lets out a sigh. “That’s very true. You’ve got a wise one here, mate,”

“Yeah, she’s keeping me out of trouble,” Lando jokes, nudging you, and though it doesn’t hurt you feel a sting where his skin touched yours.

“I don’t doubt it,” Adam says, opening his arms to hug you again. “Go easy on him though, eh?” These words are half whispered as he pulls you close, squeezing you just once before he lets you go.

“I will,” you promise. It’s one you’ll try to keep.

He hugs Lando next, a tight one, cradling the back of his son’s head with a gentle tap.

“Well,” he says to both of you, “it’s been lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’m just going to check the front desk has organised my taxi to the airport on Monday, so I’ll see you both tomorrow,”

“Night, Dad,”

“Love you.”

Adam heads off to the desk just as the lift arrives and you dart into it. You’re too tired to even press the button for your floor but Lando takes care of it.

He lets out a heavy breath, looking over at you as though thinking you might do the same. He doesn’t realise your night isn’t over until he’s gone, too.

“I think that went well,” he says. It’s a confident statement said in an uncertain tone, and you can’t help but feel bad. It’s not as though he was the one who had to make a good impression.

“I’m sorry if I’m not-“ you stop yourself. It’s not your fault. “If he didn’t like me. I hope it won’t cause problems for you,”

Lando looks completely nonplussed by your comment. “Of course he liked you,” he says with reassuring scoff and a smile, as if anything else is unimaginable. “And he’s not really that kind of dad. He just cares that I like you,”

God, that smile. You’d hate yourself for the things you’d do to keep him smiling at you like that.

“I think you faked that well,” you say, smiling back at him.

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for doing this,” he clears his throat. “Still don’t know why you did,”

He’s expecting an answer and you struggle for something to tell him. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for.

You can feel the pressure building as he waits for you to say something. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears. Your skin bursts into flames and your palms get clammy.

Why is he even asking? He didn’t think twice about asking you for a favour and now he’s changing the rules. It was dinner, not a kidney. Does he have so many vampires around him that he thinks you need a reason to be nice? Is he so used to paying for kindness that he thinks he needs to buy you, too? Didn’t he already try?

Thankfully, mercifully, the lift stops at your floor and you waste no time stepping out even though you’re beginning to feel unsteady on your feet.

The air conditioning hits you, and you realise you don’t owe Lando an explanation.

“You can just say thank you, you know,” you tell him, striding towards your rooms with him half a step behind. “You don’t have to think so much about it.”

“I did say thank you,” he argues. You glance at him as you pull out your keycard. He’s bewildered. You’re breaking your promise to Adam already, but it’s his sanity or yours.

“De rien.” You place your key card against the censor and open the door. “Goodnight.”

Once you slip inside, the door clicks shut with no trouble, and you wait to hear Lando’s door open and shut before you make your way further into the room. You kick off your shoes and shed your dress on the way to your suitcase.

You can hear him moving around in his suite, more attuned to it now you know the layout of the room. As you rummage around for your sweatpants and hoodie, half of you wants to send an apology text. The stupid half of you. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. You can’t afford for it to matter. The weight of his judgement will crush you, you know it.

As you pull on the brown Quadrant hoodie, you tell yourself it’s better he doesn’t think of you at all.

[immedealwithit9855]

Steady Planning

This is my 3rd chapter of this story. I hope yinz like it. To those still in the dark about the origins and personalities of the girls, please read my recent post. This is gonna be a little spicy. It takes place 2 days after the banquet. The turtles will get a taste of who these girls are as a team, individuals, and a family. Also, the device Donnie placed on Kenzi is still in their possession.😏🤭

CHAPTER 3

Warning: bickering, fights, no foul language here(NOT SORRY), some smut

The girls have been on a prowl of New York City and Manhattan during the day, while the turtles took a big chunk of their patrols at night. A call hasn't come for the girls to begin their assignments. So, they've been training, conversing amongst each other, and making preparations for when the call does come. All the while, the turtles doing their thing yet also listening in on the talks and the girls listening right back. One thing remains with the turtles: What could this mean for all 8 of them if the girls aren't a threat?

Charlie finished her training with Dinah and walked over to Alopex. She just finished cleaning her shotgun when Charlie sat in her lap and asked,"We've made a lot a preparations and stuff and we still haven't got a call from Ma. What's the plan for tonight?" Alopex looked over at Kenzi and back at Charlie," I may have an idea. Dinah! Come here for a second!" Dinah finished her breathing exercises and came to Alopex and Charlie. "Whats up, sis?" Dinah says wiping the sweat off her forehead. "I think we should go out tonight and indulge in one of our guilty pleasures! You up for it?" Dinah gave a low growl and smirked. "I'm up for it. Only if Kenzi can find something. I'm not bringing the noise to an establishment without a good reason, aight?" Alopex nodded and looked at Charlie. "You know my answer, big sister!" Charlie coos as she stands up. "Alright, then." They all head to Kenzi's work area.

Kenzi had just finished updating the software, when her mind started wandering. Thoughts flooded with Donatello. She couldn't help imagining him snaking his arms around her midriff, lifting her up, and kissing her passionately. All while wrapping her legs around that trim waist and deepening the kiss. Him throwing her on the bed, watching her squirm with need for him. She looked over and saw the girls headed towards her and quickly (and quietly) letting them know the device is not muted. Before a word could get out, Dinah smelled something off and it was coming from Kenzi. She smirked and decided to have some fun.

Donnie was at his computer taking care of few things related to the hidden cameras he placed in the tunnels, when he heard the girl's voices on the device.

Dinah: Hey Kenzi, you wanna know the annoying part about having a strong sense of smell?

Kenzi raised a brow at her sister. Trying to straighten up from her most recent thoughts.

Kenzi: I'm sure I know. But, I also know you're gonna tell me anyway.

Donnie leaned forward and listened in.

Dinah: Is knowing how aroused your sister is!

Kenzi was shocked and agitated. Shocked that her sister would blurt that out and agitated knowing she just told Dinah the device is not muted. Donnie on the other hand heard the whole thing, smiled, and snorted. Earning a mental sigh of relief from Kenzi knowing it was Donnie but also surprised that he was still listening.

Kenzi: Alright. What is stopping me from strapping you to my lab table and dissecting you!?

Donnie was at a loss for words to what that girl just said. 'She's brutal, yet attractive.' He thought. Before he could begin to daydream, a loud slam echoed from the device, spreading throughout the computer area, alerting the other turtles. "Geez, Donnie what'd ya do now!?" Raph grunted as he pushed Donnie's shoulder. Leo came over with a look of concern. "Yeah, bro. What's up? How are our girls doing today?" Mikey chimed as he landed in the computer area from his board. Alopex and Charlie were on the side listening. Charlie chuckling, Alopex shakes her head, rolls her eyes, after pounding her fist against the train. Dinah was going in for the kill.

Alopex: Are we really gonna do this now!? We gotta.......

Dinah: What were you doing, sis? Better yet, what were you thinkin'?

Dinah completely ignoring Alopex to tease Kenzi a little bit more.

The guys were on the other side of the device mumbling some things. Leo finally asks,"What are they talking about Donnie?" Donnie didn't know how to properly answer that, knowing full well what they were talking about. It's only been a couple days getting to know their routines. Dinah taking the silence as an opportunity to tease some more.

Dinah: I bet you were imagining Donnie! Weren't you? Let me guess....

The silence felt like forever, then the turtles hear Dinah moaning, mockingly.

Dinah: Oh, Donnie. You're so amazing! I want you so badly! Please give it to me! Give it all to me! YES! YES!! YEEEEESSSSS!!!!

Bewilderment was upon all turtles as Kenzi and Dinah started cat fighting in the background. Mikey and Raph looked at Donnie and laughed," This girl has it bad for you, dude!" Mikey says wiping tears from his eyes. "Yeah, Donnie. Maybe you should share techno stuff or whateva. Maybe a numbuh." Donnie rolled his eyes, but was making a mental note to listen some more later. Leo couldn't believe the behavior of these girl's, wondering if they were to be taken serious or not. But, deep down, he was liking the sounds Dinah was making. He'd rather hear his name, instead of his brother's name on her tongue.

Alopex: Ya'll both need to stop this foolishness, NOW! We didn't come over here for this and you know that Dinah!

Dinah and Kenzi separated, straightened themselves up, took a breath, and focused. Leo was impressed with how the ladies ceased their altercation to focus on the matter at hand.

Kenzi: We ain't get no call from Ma yet, so what's up?

Alopex, pleased with the now calming atmosphere and began to speak.

Alopex: I was thinking we should indulge a bit tonight. Meaning Kenzi, I need you to look up all the clubs in New York. If you find something off about one of them, report back immediately and we will leave at 7:30PM tonight. Dig deep, girl. Get them hands dirty!

Leo was curious as to what the girls were planning. Why would they wanna 'dig deep' on clubs in New York? It's just a bunch of adults enjoying the nightlife. What are their intentions? Leo asked Donnie to turn up the volume. Donnie did as he was told and turned the volume up for all of them to hear. Leo was ready to hear the girl's plan, not knowing they were still listening to them.

😏😏😉

Kenzi: How dirty?

Alopex: Dirty enough to put us all behind bars!😉

Jail!? With that, the turtles began to prepare for tonight. "Alright guys, you heard em.' Tonight at 7:30PM, we scope out every club in New York and foil whatever plot they have planned." Alopex smiled and mouthed to the ladies,"Got Em,' and began setting things up for tonight. The turtles go to their respected areas. Leo starts sharpening his Katanas. Raph went to his weight room and started his workout with that punching bag. Mikey was too busy daydreaming about Charlie. Donnie went to the dojo to sharpen his skills with his bo staff. He connected a radio to the device and placed it on his hip so he can listen in on the girls and report whatever he hears back to Leo. As he was practicing his form, Kenzi was still listening.

As Donnie was groaning and grunting on the other side, Kenzi was getting turned on. The others have left to do some preparations for tonight's little prowl, so she was left alone in her computer area, digging into these clubs and see which one they should invade. She could tell he was training for tonight, knowing that they think the ladies are going out with ill-intentions.

She couldn't help the rush of pleasure overtaking her as she listened to Donnie's voice on the device. She immediately became hot and bothered, squirming in her chair for friction. She connected an earpiece to the device, making sure not to alert Donnie and started listening. She kept in mind they had to leave in 1 hour. She knew she shouldn't be engaging in such unladylike behavior, she was given an order, and Alopex would lecture her thoroughly on it. "Just a little bit, please?" She whispered.

As she listened to Donnie's training, she started imagining him again. Gazing into her eyes with hunger and want. Her imagination got the best of her as she started rolling her hips, gripping the arm rest of her chair, and began massaging her body and breasts. Would Donnie like her body? Tolerate her tail? What's he really like behind the warrior? She didn't even have to touch herself down there because she was already pooling with desire for him. She started letting out whimpers and moans. Not caring if he heard. She wanted him to hear her. And he DID!

He ended his training, upon hearing Kenzi's moans. She sounded so sweet, so aroused. His brain went elsewhere as her moaning intensified. Putting his staff in it's holster, he listened to her voice and started feeling himself get hard. He looked down, seen his erection, and started imagining her. Sliding his meat inside of her, while indulging in her sweet moans and cries. Touching every part of her body. Thrusting into her like theres no tomorrow. He squeezed himself, let out a hiss, earning a driven groan from Kenzi as she squeezed her breasts harder. "Oh Donnie, I like you so much, Baby!" Kenzi whimpers. Donnie couldn't believe what he heard, as he slowly started pumping himself. He whispered gently,"I like you too. My Kenzi." Moans and groans increased on both ends. Before they could reach their climax.......

Alopex: Kenzi, get ready! Did you get anything on the clubs for tonight?

They were both frozen in their bliss. Kenzi quickly got herself together and answered accordingly.

Kenzi: Um. Yes. I got one. I did some digging and found this one here. It's called "The Stranger." Get the others so I can fill you all in at once.

Donnie calmed himself enough to rush out of the dojo to inform Leo and the others. Upon seeing them all together, they turned and couldn't help but notice how out of breath Donnie was. "You good, bro?" Mikey asked with a snicker. "Yeah, Mikey. I was just sharpening my skills in the dojo when I heard Kenzi giving details on the club they're going to." Donnie says as he adjusts the radio on his belt. Raph smirked,"Ya sure that's all you wer doin,' Donnie?" Leo rolled his eyes,"We don't have time for that alright? We gotta leave soon. Did she mention which club Donnie?" Donnie nodded,"Yes. It's called "The Stranger."

As Donnie was briefing his brother's, the girls were already gathered around to get details on this club they're going to. "I suggest when we go in, keep it on the DL. Don't draw attention unless necessary. Charlie!" Dinah explained as she glared at Charlie. "Got it, sis. Next." Charlie scoffed. "Scan the perimeter, shut down the cameras, track down the owner, and we'll go from there." Alopex finishes off smiling at Dinah. Kenzi added,"the whole 'draw attention' should'nt be hard. Everyone dresses flashy. This club is high class. Top notch. High quality. We'll be "funky fresh, dressed to impress, ready to party," ya'll hearin' me?" Mikey nodding his head at Kenzi's remark,"Gotta say, your girl has class, Donnie." The girls quietly snicker at Mikey's comment and Kenzi's swag. "It shouldn't take too long to get dressed. Make sure you all have your gear because this is a once in a while thing, we clear on that!" Alopex announced. "Yes, Alopex. We got it. Don't worry, girl." Dinah says, placing an arm around Alopex's shoulders. "I ain't. Just cautious." She says as she instructs them to put on their best outfits for tonight's prowl.

The turtles were on the move to the club the girls mentioned. As they made their way to the location, Donnie's mind was going back to that brief tryst he shared with Kenzi. She really does like me. But she's also half human. Shouldn't she be more into a guy whose human? Raph's mind was also wondering. When Alopex gave the order to get ready for tonight by putting on the best outfits, he wonders to himself,"Wonder if she's gonna show some flesh. Betta yet, what she looks like without clothing." He almost starts drooling at the thought. Leo's idea is to intercept the girls and question them of their intentions with this particular club. He wanted to make sure they weren't a serious threat. Though they helped them at the banquet and have managed to be on good terms with April, he had to make sure things with them were legit before taking things further. For the sake of the city and his family. Mikey couldn't wait to see Charlie again. He couldn't help but wonder if being around her or thinking of her, is making him stronger. He had to see her again.

Everyone was ready and making their way to the club. Adrenaline pumping. Hearts racing. Anticipation at an all time high. However, the turtles are about to learn the truth behind certain shadows of New York. Shadows that The Muses are constantly venturing in.

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Miles and Pavitr chat part 2!! Also, you know that feeling you get when you’ve been away from home for a bit and then you finally go back? That’s Miles right now, hahahahaha

@hobiesgender @royallydivinelesbian

Masterlist

Miles was facedown on his bed when the door opened behind him. He almost didn’t want to get up; he had only been gone a week, but that entire week was spent with more physical exercise than Miles had ever had in his life, and at least seven nights of sleeping in awkward places and positions all over the city. His mattress was the most comfortable thing he’d ever laid on in his entire life, and there wasn’t really a lot he was willing to get up for right at that moment.

“I come in peace?” Came the quiet voice, and he turned over quickly for one of the very few (he could not stress that enough, the mattress was so comfortable…) things that could grab his attention right now. Pavitr was standing inside the doorway, looking uncertain as to whether he’d be welcomed in or not, and Miles felt himself smile. As he sat up again, Pavitr smiled more fully and closed the door behind him before taking a running jump onto the bed. He slammed into Miles, laughing at the slightly pained grunt he let out at impact, and Miles was reminded again how long it had been since he’d been able to hang out with Pav. “You didn’t finish telling me about the city, earlier!”

“Pav, you don’t even know!” Miles sat up quickly, beaming at his friend. “It was great, honestly it was. I ran into Hobie and his group like, almost right away. I was practically set, put in the city, man.”

“So Hobie is a person?” Pavitr asked, and Miles lit up.

“Yeah, Hobie’s a person, he’s a really cool guy!” He said. Pavitr lifted an eyebrow at him, and Miles missed the warning sign as he barreled on. “He runs this group of, like, kids and stuff? There were two kids, younger ones I mean, Peni and Ham. And there was Gwen and Margo, too, and they just, like, roamed the city and stuff?”

“Roamed the city?”

“Yeah, but in a helpful way?” Miles frowned as he thought of how to explain to Pavitr without going into the more…illegal things he’d noticed them all doing while he was with them. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to Hobie, yet, or how the group was supposed to work now that he’d been taken into custody by Miguel. “Like, Hobie would have us divide and conquer the marketplace, and we’d pick up groceries for the elderly in the city. And he had us volunteer in shifts at a food bank!”

“What’s a food bank?” Pavitr asked, and Miles couldn’t help himself; he delved into the whole adventure, starting from when he left (though being careful not to mention how he’d made it out of the castle in the first place) and segueing into his week with the whole group. He even told Pavitr about the close call they’d had with the guards, when they’d had to split up because they’d almost gotten caught squatting in an abandon apartment complex, and he’d gotten stuck following Gwen and Peni over rooftops.

“That shit was scary, though,” he told Pavitr, who was staring at him with wide eyes, “but only because some of those buildings are so tall! And, like, Gwen and Peni had absolutely no qualms about it. I couldn’t get shown up by a twelve year old!”

“But across the roof?”

“I know!” Miles laughed. “But like, Hobie took forever to get back to their base, and like halfway through I started getting worried, cause like, what if he’d gotten caught then, you know? It was wild, man.”

“You really liked this guy, huh?” Pavitr asked softly, and Miles groaned as he covered his face in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much about someone before, Miles. You spent a whole week with one guy and you suddenly can’t stop talking about him?”

“There were other people there too!” Miles protested. Pavitr shrugged playfully, shaking his head to contradict Miles. “Didn’t you hear about Margo? Or Gwen? C’mon, man, I just finished telling you about a whole chase scene with Gwen and Peni, I’ve talked about the rest of the group!”

“Not as much as you’ve talked about Hobie.” Pavitr sang his name out teasingly, and Miles groaned even louder. He fell back against the bed again, covering his face with his hands while Pavitr laughed good-naturedly at him. “Come on, Miles. There were, like, eight people here, at the palace, for almost three weeks specifically to appeal to you for marriage, and absolutely none of them got you going on and on about them. You even ran away to get a moment’s peace!”

“That wasn’t exactly — ”

“And then!” Pavitr said loudly, as if to cover Miles’s attempt at defending himself with his own words. “And then! You come back, and your focus is not on meeting with your parents to discuss what you saw, no! You don’t want to talk about how you got out of the castle, or what you saw in the city, why would you? Your one and only trip out into the general population on your own, and you don’t even want to take two minutes to assure your best friend that you’re ok!” Miles protested that, sitting up so quickly a bone popped in his lower back, but Pavitr was on a roll; there was no stopping him. “Nope, your focus is on making sure that everything turned out ok for Hobie!” There was a pause, finally, as Pavitr took a breath and Miles stared at him.

“Are you done?” He asked, and Pavitr snorted. Miles did the same, the both of them collapsing into giggles together. “Like, was that it? Are you finished now? Got it all out of your system?”

“Shut up!” Pavitr whined, smacking him gently. “I’m just saying.” Their giggles died down, and they sat in silence for a moment before a though occurred to Miles.

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” He asked, and Pavitr hummed questioningly. “Hobie.” Pavitr rolled his eyes so hard that his head followed through with the motion, mouthing Hobie’s name as mockingly as he could; Miles ignored him completely to stare at the ceiling, brows furrowed in concern. “Do you think he’s mad, because I lied?”

“Did you lie though?” Pavitr asked. He titled his head back and forth as he thought about it, lips pursed together. Miles watched him from where he started laying down again, waiting for him to come to a verdict. “You just didn’t tell him you were royalty, right? Does that count as a lie?”

“I mean, I guess?” Miles shrugged. “Lie by omission, maybe. But, I mean, I did, sort of, maybe, possibly tell him my name was, uh…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his head and avoiding Pavitr’s intense look as he muttered, “I may have told him my name was Michael.”

“Oh, then yeah, probably.” Pavitr said. “He’s probably mad. Sorry, Miles.” Miles sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his head against the mattress.

He hoped, that if he saw Hobie again, he wouldn’t be too mad at him.

[angiezidler205]

Wrong Thoughts

Rockbert fanfic

Rocko came over to the Beaver's Dam, to help set up a large drawer in their room. Norbert practically begged him to help, since Daggett left to babysit their sisters. He made a large drawer that has a secret place to put Norbert's “personal” belongings there. Yet he forgot how heavy it was and how he couldn't put it up by himself. Rocko looked at the drawer then the stairs, “It's a good thing that Heffer and Filburt made me exercise by lifting them multiple times. If not then we probably have to call Barry and Big Rabbit.”. Norbert chuckled, “I actually called them first but they were busy with other stuff. So you're my only hope.”. Rocko rolled his eyes, “Wow I feel so special Norbert.”. Norbert laughed at this and playfully smacked his arm, “You're still special to me Rocko.”. Rocko rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed the drawer. Norbert went on the other side and grabbed it as well. They both lifted it and went up the stairs slowly. Rocko grunted, “Geez Norbert what did you make this out of? Stones?! This is heavier than Heffer himself!!”. Norbert tried not to laugh, “Rocko I'm going to drop this, if you keep on making me laugh.”.Rocko chuckled and continued to help him take it up there. “If you drop this, then I'm yelling Timber.”. Norbert snorted and nearly lost his grip, “Rocko I swear man, I'm going to drop this!”. Rocko laughed, “And I'm going to yell Timber! Should I move while you dance?”. Norbert laughed and he lost his grip. They both panicked but the drawer didn't go down the stairs. It just stayed there and they both looked at each other and laughed. After they calmed down, they got back to picking it up and took it up the stairs. Once they finished they both dropped it to take a break, then got back to work and pushed the drawer towards the beaver's room. All the clothes were folded on the bed, nice and neat. The other drawer was broken and tossed to the side. They pushed the drawer inside and took another small break. Norbert then showed him the wall that looked like a walk-in closet. “Ok so this is the place I wanted it at. It'll take a while but I'm sure we can do it.”, Norbert said confidently. Rocko looked at him confused, “Why not make this a walk in closet?”. Norbert thought about it but shook his head, “Knowing my brother, he usually goes through my clothes and teases me about it. Another thing is that we were pranked before by the gang and they put mashed potatoes in my underwear. It took weeks to make it stop smelling like that.”. Rocko nodded in understanding, “Fair enough.”. Norbert nodded and smiled, “I can also put your clothes in here in case you spend the night here!”. Rocko chuckled, “Even better. Well I'm in. Let's get this in there then!”. 

Daggett was dropped off by his mom and walked towards the dam. He noticed Rocko's car there and tilted his head confused, “What's he doing here??”. He got inside the dam and looked around, “Norb? Where are you?”. He then heard a loud bang and quickly went upstairs. He then heard a loud grunt, “Wait Rocko! Ahh! You're pushing it too fast!”. Rocko then spoke up, “Sorry! It's a really tight fit!”. Daggett furrowed his brow and went closer to the door and listened closely. On the other side Norbert noticed that the drawer is not fitting in the wall, “It's too big Rocko! Pull it out!”. Rocko grunted again, “I'm trying but it's stuck!”. Norbert groaned, “Well pull harder!”. They both tried to move the drawer out and once they did Norbert then aimed the drawer. “Ok Rocko I need you to push it in slowly ok?”, Norbert instructed. Rocko nodded and tried to push slowly, “I'm going in!”. Norbert noticed that it was slipping in perfectly, “Yeah that's it Rocko. Push it in more.”. Rocko nodded and shoved it fast. Norbert squeaked, “Ahh! Not too fast!”. Rocko apologized, “S-Sorry. Got too excited that it's finally going smoothly!”. Norbert chuckled and looked at the wall. It wasn't damaged or anything so he looked at Rocko smiling. “Ok. You can go harder now.”. Rocko nodded and began pushing it in rougher. Norbert joined and they both kept shoving the drawer in. The stuff around them rattled from the way they were pushing it in. Norbert then noticed it's almost all the way in, “Almost. T-There! Keep pushing!”. Rocko continued to shove it until it finally got in and Rocko groaned, “Oooh Cripes!”. They both panted and high fived each other. Daggett then barged in, “Keep it down you guys!! No one wants to hear you spootheads- ehh?”. Daggett noticed that they were sweating but no sign of them doing the dirty tango at all. Norbert looked at him confused, “Hear us doing what exactly?”. Daggett looked at him and stuttered, “Uh. I thought. I.. I..”. Rocko looked at him concerned, “You feeling alright Daggett? You look a bit red.”. Daggett shook his head and left, “Nope. Not gonna bring it up.”. Norbert and Rocko looked at each other confused. “What did he mean by keeping it down?”, Rocko asked. Norbert thought about it and gasped a bit, “Daggett!! You Spoothead!! We were pushing in the Drawer I built!! Not that!!!”. Rocko looked at him even more confused, “What are you talking about?!”. Norbert shook his head and patted his head, “You don't wanna know Rocko. You don't wanna know.”. 

Norbert has received a call from Rocko, a few days after fixing the drawer, about helping him find a new bed. Apparently Heffer and Filburt broke it by jumping on it. So there he was getting a ride from Stump, to Rocko's place. Rocko on the other hand was scornful at the boys. “This is why I always tell you not to fight in my room! Now I have to get a new bed!”, Rocko said as he crossed his arms at Heffer and Filburt. They both looked at him apologetically. “I'm sorry Rocko, we were just playing.”, Heffer said as he looked at the bed. It was broken in half. Filburt nodded, “Y-Yeah. I'm sorry that I egged him on.”. Rocko shook his head and sighed, “I should have Both of you pay for a new bed, but knowing you two you wouldn't and just buy food for yourselves.”. They soon heard a knock and Rocko rushed downstairs. Heffer and Filburt left from the back to throw away the bed and go out to eat. Of course. Rocko opened the door and saw Norbert on the other side smiling. “Hey Rocky Road! So explain everything to me about your bed.”, Norbert said and he pulled the box inside. Rocko helped him out and began to explain, “Well.. I just got back home, from taking Spunky outside, and I heard a huge commotion in my room. I went up there to witness Heffer and Filburt arguing about Heffer's sandwich. Filburt bet that it was so old, it could stick to the ceiling, and Heffer decided to throw it to the ceiling so see if it was true.”. Rocko sighed, “I told them to get that down, and Heffer jumped on my bed to get it then.. It broke in half.”. Norbert nodded, “Well you are in luck Rocko! I wanted to build a bed that has a secret shelf underneath it! It also had a better frame to where anyone could jump on it and not break!”. Rocko seemed excited and hugged him, “That's terrific! How much will that be?”. Norbert chuckled, “Completely free Rockamundo. You helped me through so many things, this will be a perfect gift for you!”. Rocko smiled warmly, “Norbert I could kiss you.”. Norbert turned red and smirked, “Pffft. It better be a good one then.”. 

“It’s a deal then.”, Rocko laughed as he walked towards the box. Norbert grabbed onto the handles, “It's best to take the whole thing upstairs. Lucky for us! It's not too heavy!”. Rocko sighed in relief, “Good. My arms were sore from lifting the drawers.”. Norbert smirked, “Gave you good muscles though.”. Rocko laughed and flexed his scrawny arms, “Yeah Norbert.”. They both laughed and lifted the box together. It took a few minutes to take it upstairs and inside the room. Once they get in they notice the sandwich pieces are still stuck on the ceiling. Rocko facepalmed and groaned, “I told Heffer and Filburt to use the mop to clean up there.”. Norbert smiled and comforted him, “Hey it's ok Rock. I honestly know how you feel. Let's clean that first then get started on the bed.”. Rocko smiled and they both got to work on the ceiling. By the time they finished they started putting the bed together. “I never knew that you can make secret stuff for any furniture. I only have one for the fridge.”, Rocko said as he built it with Norbert. Norbert looked at him surprised, “Really? You have a secret room in the fridge??”. Rocko nodded, “Barbecue is usually the main food I make, and there's this meat that tastes amazing when cooked properly. Heffer always comes over and goes through my fridge. If he finds it, he eats it raw. So to prevent that from happening, I had a secret room under the fridge. There I have a secret fridge that keeps the meat there. But sadly he always finds it and eats it.”. Norbert stared astoundingly and chuckled, “Wow that's amazing. If you want I can tweak it up a bit and make it to where no one can go through it. It can be to where only You have to unlock it and no one smarter than me can get through it.”. Rocko smiled, “Thank you but I think I rather have you hold onto my meat. Saves enough time and effort.”. Norbert nodded understandingly, “Fair enough.”. They both got back to work, not knowing that the two friends came back from the restaurant.

“Alright now that we got the food, we can relax here until Rocko's done with the room.”, Heffer said as he sat on the couch. Filburt nodded and sat with him and turned on the tv. They soon heard a small noise upstairs, “Easy there Norbert.”. The two looked at each other and went up the stairs quietly. “Sorry Rock, I just need to see if it stays up.”, Norbert said while panting. The two friends looked at each other and pressed their ears on the door. On the other side, Norbert jumped on the bed. “How's this Rocko? This good enough?”, Norbert asked while Rocko laid on the bed. Rocko nodded, “Keep bouncing like that.”. Norbert nodded and continued to bounce on the bed. He then panted and looked at the side of the bed that has a few screws missing, “Wow you're still up? I thought bouncing on you will make you wobbly.”. Rocko chuckled and got up, “Want me to hold you while you bounce on it?”. Norbert smirked, “Oh? Getting handsy already?”. Rocko laughed and grabbed onto his hands, “Helps keep you steady Norb.”. Norbert chuckled and continued to bounce on the bed. Heffer and Filburt on the other hand stared at each other shocked. They didn't know that those two were going at it on the new bed. “Should we stop them?”, Filburt whispered, to which Heffer answered with a shrug. All of a sudden they hear a small gasp from the beaver, “Oh you're already giving up? I'm just getting started, big boy.”. Rocko rolled his eyes, “This thing isn't giving up Norbert. It's still up and ready to take another bounce from you.”. The boys soon barged in, “Rocko can you please do that when we're not here?”. They both notice the beaver on the bed and Rocko on the floor looking at them confused. “Uhhh. What are you two talking about? Norbert was just testing to see if my new bed can stay up after missing a few screws.”. Norbert jumped on the bed once more then sat on it with glee, “Yup and this big boy is still intact. But to be safe I'll look for the last screws.”. Rocko thanked him again then looked at the others. Heffer and Filburt were red from the embarrassment. “Well I uhhh. We thought uhh.. We..”, Filburt stuttered. Rocko looked at him confused, “You thought what?”. Heffer then blurted it out, “We thought you two were going at it!”. A loud thud came from under the bed and Rocko stared at them shocked and red, “Heffer!! We weren't doing that!! Why would you think that?!”. Filburt then spoke up, “It's just the way you two sounded.”. Norbert was red and stuttered, “W-We uhh. We haven't even thought about doing that.”. Heffer and Filburt nodded and backed away. “Well uhh. Now that we know that you were just testing the bed. We can leave now.”, Filburt said as he and Heffer rushed out of the room 

Rocko and Norbert stared at the door then looked at each other. They turned away from the embarrassment and got back to looking for the screws. They both went under the bed and found the missing screws. They reached for it and their hands touched. Embarrassed, they got out from under it and went to the side where the screws were missing. As Norbert began to finish fixing the bed, Rocko spoke up, “I’m sorry about my friends, Norb.”. Norbert shook his head, “No no it's ok! Honestly uhhh. That's what Dag thought of when we were putting up the drawers.”. Rocko looked even more red and turned away, “Don't know why they would think that.”. Norbert nodded in agreement, “Right!”. It was quiet until they both began to laugh. They soon got up and sat on the bed while still laughing. It was funny yet embarrassing that they thought of that. They then looked at each other again and then their lips. Norbert smirked, “Well since they're actually gone, want to really test the bed?”. They both laughed at that even more. “Yeah Norb. Let's see if it's Sturdy enough to handle us.”, Rocko laughed. He then took Norbert's chin and leaned close, “I did say I could kiss you.”. Norbert felt his face turn red and stuttered, “R-Rocko! You! Ohhh you charmer!”. They both laughed but soon kissed, which ended with them laying on the new bed. 

[frenskcup]

guts x gn!reader

Warnings: oral sex mentions, suggestive content (Minors DNI) Reader is fem leaning (takes shirt off for tighter top and can be "eaten out")

Summary: Modern!AU oneshot based around reikuto's sfw Guts hcs.

AN: i miss the gym so i wanted to write about Guts going to the gym w his s/o

The gym was always a place for Guts to relax, as odd as that sounds. But for a man like Guts, one could believe that. Going through the motions of warming up his body and the familiarity of the burn of lactic acid was an addiction of sorts. His demeanor in the gym was that of bang out the sets and leave, not allowing himself to chat with any of the gym goers. The volume that he lifted did leave him with moments of just sitting and catching his breath, yet his aura about him and his R.B.F made him seem like he couldn’t be bothered for even a spot for the most experienced of lifters.

You can imagine the look of confusion on the regulars’ faces when they see him walk in with a significantly smaller person, dressed in a large shirt with yoga shorts and Converse. You can’t help but feel eyes on you when you go to warm up with Guts in an empty corner. While you do your dynamic stretches with him, you get your gym playlist ready for the session - a mix of metal and early 2000s sounding club bangers, something for Guts and yourself. You knew he didn’t mind your music taste even with how he reacted to you skipping his late 90s numetal for a song about grinding and back-alley sex. You knew he especially didn’t mind when you would do a little dance to accompany it.

You took a last sip of your preworkout and got your earbuds out for you and Guts. Placing an earbud into his large hand as he got out of a lunge, you put yours in your ear and start the playlist. The start of Rihanna’s S&M makes you roll your head to the beat as you and Guts walk to the empty squat rack.

Both of you put a few more plates on each side of the bar after your set, alternating from your working weight to his, which was a significant amount more than yours. As Guts unracks the weight, you watch him squat and nod your head to the music. Your work schedule doesn’t allow for you to go to the gym with your boyfriend very often, so you take any time you find to do so. There’s nothing you enjoy more than seeing your mountain of a man sweat while lifting heavy items and setting them back down. You enjoy working out, too, but the views you get when Guts is with you make it all the more enjoyable.

He reracks with a grunt and undoes the collar to take plates off for your next set, and you copy. You continue this for a few more sets between you two, and you bask in the confusion you see on onlookers faces every time you reset. Like, yeah, that’s your man. Yeah, he’s strong and powerful. Those thighs and triceps aren’t for looks only.

The next few exercises have you looking for your water bottle. Leg day with Guts is torture, but you indulge in public masochism every once in a while. Your toes tap to the heavy sound of SOAD as you drink your precious water, and as Guts approaches you, you lift the bottle to him to offer a sip. He takes it from you with a nod and a thanks. Smiling, you take off your shirt to reveal your tight underlayer because of the lack of ventilation from the shirt. You stuff the shirt in your bag and take back the bottle to also place in the bag. You giggle at a thought that comes into your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, already knowing you’re going to tell him the silliest shit imaginable like you always do.

“Ew, you just drank after me,” you sneer, not meaning it at all. “You just, like, kissed me technically. Gross.”

“I ate you out this morning,” he informs you, unphased and face stoic. “Grow up.”

“Shut up, asshole! We’re in public.” You push his arm hard, but even that’s not enough to make him budge.

“I’ll say worse if you keep stalling abs.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re lucky you’re so hot,” you say while poking him. He lets a small smile show.

The two of you work on core, all the while Doja Cat sings about getting naked. You mouth the words as you do hanging leg lifts. Guts keeps going when your grip fails and you have to jump down. The burn in your hamstrings and abs feels nice but awful at the same time. You’re getting bored of waiting and start to mess with him to get him to quit sooner.

“I know you’re tired. C’mon, your core couldn’t be more engaged right now. You two are practically taking a honeymoon. Ooh, I see your hand slipping there. You gotta listen to your body, babe. It’s telling you to stop.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What? I’m doing nothing. Literally. I’m bored.”

He ignores you and keeps at his set, determined to finish all the reps left. As you wait more, an idea pops into your head.

“Hey, babe,” you coo. “If you quit now, I’ll have enough time to make those shumai you like.”

You can see the gears in his head turning before his hands let go and he’s grabbing your hand to pull you to the corner you started at. You laugh and allow him to guide you, just like his stomach guided him to stretch. He seems to rush through the movements, not stretching as deeply as you know he can. Just to be a pain, you complain that Guts isn’t being truthful to the workout, rushing and sabotaging your gains. The next time you see his face is after returning from your downward dog - he has your bag over his shoulder and the next thing you know, he’s got you over his other shoulder. It’s humiliating to be seen like this, but you know you asked for it.

“I’d complain more about this being humiliating, but the view of your ass is too good to complain,” you tell him, smacking one of his cheeks to emphasize how much you like his ass.

[kazosa]

Summary: you and Jensen have been pen-pals and friends since you were kids. You were always attracted to your friend but were never able to act on it... After an incident occurs and Jensen spirals downward and eventually falls off the radar for a while, his mother enlists your help to find him and bring him back. Will your feelings for him come to light, or will you fall back into your old buddy routine?

Pairing: female reader x Jensen Ackles

Word count: 9200

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, sexual situations, skinny dipping, talk of abuse and exploitation

Author's note: please remember this is just fiction and not intended to be disrespectful to any real life people, this is merely how I want him to be in this situation

Big thanks to @coffee-obsessed-writer for creating the banner and helping me edit this monster

You had suspicions about where Jensen might be hiding out but you didn’t want to give up his location if he wasn’t actually there. Not to mention, you didn’t know if anyone else knew about his cabin. He must have kept it a secret from everyone if no one knew where to look for him to confirm if he was okay.

It surprised you to see he had a mailbox at the end of the road. All it had printed on it was “Wayne”. It gave you hope that you were in the right spot and he would be there. The postal carrier was the only person you could find who both knew of the cabin and would give you a lift up there. He was done with his route and you’d caught him at the local convenience store in your search for Jensen.

“You know the guy?” the carrier asked.

You nodded, putting your phone back in your pack.. You hadn’t seen him since before COVID, but you would still sometimes get texts from him and video calls, but those hadn’t been as regular as you would have liked. The last communication you’d gotten from Jensen had been over a month ago and it had only been an emoji, which was very unlike him. He always wrote out everything and didn’t even use abbreviations.

“Have you seen him?” you asked.

“No, but I deliver a lot of stuff here. Instructions say to just leave there,” he pointed to a cement pad with a small roof over it. “It’s always gone next time I come by.”

You thought about it for a moment. “That’s okay, I think he would prefer you didn’t. Thanks for the ride, Glen.” 

“Get a lot of traffic up here?”

“Not really,” he shook his head. “Just residents or people who get lost. You want me to drive you up there?”

Glen raised his hand in goodbye before slowly pulling away from the drive. You couldn’t see anything past 50 yards up the road that would indicate anyone even lived up there. The road disappeared around a curve, getting lost in the trees.

You looked down at your trail shoes and hoped they would stand the test they were about to endure.

“Of course he’s gotta pick a goddamned mountain,” you muttered as you began the hike into the unknown.

He only had a few more logs to chop before he would call it a day. Still not sure if he would spend the winter on the mountain, or not, he didn’t want to get caught without firewood. Either way, it was good exercise and he would rather be safe than sorry.

He moved a log onto the stump and swung a few times before he caught movement out the corner of his eye. He swung again with a grunt and the log gave a satisfying crack, splitting about halfway down. He pulled the axe out, slung it to his bare shoulder and took a few steps toward whomever was dumb enough to hike up this far.

No way was the figure walking toward you was the man you were looking for. He looked like an actual mountain man with long hair and beard. His body was thick with muscle and shiny with sweat. If it weren’t for those tell-tale bow legs, you would never have recognized him from that far away.

“Who the hell are you?” he bellowed, holding the axe in front of him with both hands.

“Jay? Is that you?” you called out. Jesus, he can be scary, you thought. The only time you ever heard that particular tone of voice was when he was mad, and it was rarely ever directed at you, if at all.

“What are you doing here? How did you find this place,” he was a little closer now, his voice still booming.

“Jesus, Jensen, it’s me, (Y|N), and you told me you were here!”

“(Y|N)?”

You nodded.

“I texted you that a month ago.”

“I know, but you left your phone in Texas and no one could get in touch with you, dumbass!”

“I told everyone who needed to know that I was taking some time for myself.”

“A fucking cabin emoji is pretty goddamned cryptic.”

His tough exterior deflated a little.

“Shit,” he rubbed his hand over his face. He’d been gone too long without contact.

You shrugged your pack off your shoulders and pulled out your phone. Somehow, out in the boonies, you had one bar. Finding the name you needed in the list, you hit ‘send’ and listened as it rang.

“Hi Donna,” you walked toward Jensen, “yeah, I have some good news… yep, I’m with him right now and he’s fine…” you were within arms reach now, “hold on, he’s right here.” You held out the phone, “Talk to your mother.”

Jensen took the phone from you and talked to his mom while you went to grab your pack. He walked behind you and took your pack before you could even heft it to your shoulder, easily putting the strap over one of his arms. He motioned for you to walk with him while his mom gave him the business.

“Mhm… yes, ma’am… mom… mom, I’m sorry… yes, ma’am… you’re right, I’m sorry… I don’t know… no, I’m not sure I’m ready yet… I promise…” he sighed, rolled his eyes and hit the speaker button.

“(Y|N)?”

“I’m here,” you answered.

“Thank you for finding him and letting me talk to him.”

“Of course, Donna.”

“Please let me know when you leave, okay?” she asked.

“I will.”

“Jensen, I love you. Don’t scare me like that again.”

“No, ma’am,” he answered.

Donna disconnected and Jensen handed your phone back to you. You walked in silence for a while. Only the sounds of nature and shoes on the ground. It was a really pretty and peaceful piece of land. The road took you toward his cabin and ran parallel to the stream nearby. There was a small dock over the water. The cabin was in line with the dock and partially went over the water, too.

“Took you long enough,” he broke the silence.

“Um, that was over a month ago. Second, we’ve gone longer without talking. Third, you left your phone in Texas. What was I supposed to use, telepathy? And four, once your mom said you were missing, I figured it out and came up here. Which, by the way, was not easy to do and hard as fuck to hike up to. Because, of course, you chose a fucking mountain to hide out on.”

“What?”

“I texted you a month ago.”

“I knew you’d figure it out,” he grinned.

He leaned the axe against the cabin wall, turned the door handle and pushed open the cabin door. He let you go in first, following you in and put your pack against the wall by the door. You did a quick look around and noted there were only two rooms, one being closed off with a door. The rest of the space was all one room including a kitchen, a living space and a small area to eat, all constructed of stone and wood. There was a large fireplace on the wall that was over the water with a chair and side table situated near it. The back corner of the cabin had the kitchen and the main space had a daybed that doubled as bedroom and living space.

“And now you’ve seen the whole place,” he said. “Make yourself at home, I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”

You expected him to go into the room with the door, which you assumed was the bathroom. Instead, he grabbed a towel and went outside with what looked like 2 bars of soap. Before you even registered what was going on, he was already outside and stripping by the stream. Unabashedly, you followed him out just in time to see his bare butt disappear into the water.

“Get a good look?” he asked when he caught you.

Over the years, you’d seen him in various states of attire, or lack thereof, but you’d never seen him fully undressed.

“No! Why don’t you do it again,” you called out.

You’d always been attracted to Jensen, and flirted with him, but it never went any further than that. You’d met him by accident in 1994 when you went on a family vacation to Dallas. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. You liked to think that fate had thrown you two together. After that summer in Texas, you became pen-pals. Every summer, you begged your parents to go back to Texas. Eventually, through letters and those trips, you’d gotten to know each other’s families and would still send letters. When you became adults, it was easier to meet up more often and exchange phone numbers.

You leaned on the porch railing and really looked at this god of a man and wondered how it was you’d gotten so lucky to have met him and to have kept him in your life for so long. His career had skyrocketed and he could have left behind the summer vacation friend, but he hadn’t. Why were you the one he’d chosen to let know where he was? What was he expecting?

“Earth to (Y|N)!”

Your focus snapped back to Jensen in the stream. He motioned for you to turn around.

“Prude!”

“I’m shy,” he was beginning to shiver. “Wanna make it even and show me yours?”

Countless times, you had thought of offering just that, but your own shyness had never let you… not to mention your body image. You sighed and went back inside the cabin. Not much time passed before a soaked Jensen came back into the cabin wearing the towel and a t-shirt you hadn’t seen him take outside. Quickly, he was dressed and back in the main room with you, this time with jeans and bare feet.

“I barely recognized you when you walked up, you’ve changed,” he said.

“Me?” you’d only cut your hair and walked a little more often. “Look at you mountain man. I’ve never seen your hair this long. Not even on Dawson’s Creek…and the beard!”

He nodded in resignation, “Fair point. You look good though.” A few beats ticked by, “It’s good to see you.”

You sat with him on the daybed. “You could have just called before disappearing. What’s with all the secrecy? Doesn’t anyone know you have this place? Also, how come I’ve never been here, it’s amazing!”

“Thank you. Honestly, I just wanted this place to be for me. Kind of reminds me of the summers we had. It’s a good place to get my head right, sort of reset…”

He didn’t answer your question.

“It’s good to see you, too. Even through all of that hair,” you gently pushed his hair away from his forehead.

“It’s been too long. Do you want a drink?” he asked, standing up quickly, like the feelings were hitting him too hard.

You supposed he did need a break from the onslaught. You knew his life could be overwhelming and it made sense that he needed the cabin to relieve the stress. The media could be extremely intrusive and you knew that things had happened to drive him out of the public eye, but this had been extreme.

“Sure,” you said, and pulled out a few things from your pack.

“How long can you stay,” he asked from the small kitchen.

Jensen was waiting to hear your answer. You stood back up and took a few short steps to cross the cabin to where he was waiting for your response. The look in his eyes broke your heart. What had happened was tearing him up. You touched his arm and he turned fully toward you. Not even thinking about it, you reached up and pulled him down into a hug. His beard scratched at your skin as he nuzzled into your neck. 

“I can stay as long as you can stand me,” you whispered, your hand stroking the back of his neck. He was giving you a bear hug and you tried to return the comfort.

You knew what had happened, but only after the fact. When Donna called you to find him, you knew it was serious and had done deeper research, including where to find him.

He never wanted her to leave. She always did that self-deprecating thing where she minimized herself and her importance, but he was always sad when their visits came to an end. He sent her that text hoping she would come. He needed his friend. She seemed like the only person he could trust and she always told him exactly what she thought about anything. It was all so overwhelming, the scandal, the shame, his feelings for his friend…

Eventually, he pulled away, but you wouldn’t let him go. You held his face in your hands forcing him to face you, but he was having a hard time making eye contact. His eyes were red and his face was a little damp. You used the palms of your hands to dry his eyes.

“Whatever it is you’re going through, you can tell me. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. Anytime you’re ready. I’ll follow your lead. What do you want to do? Work? Bullshit? Chill on the porch with our drinks?” you offered.

. “Yeah,” his voice was still a little emotional. “Let’s take these outside, it’s a great view.”

Because Jensen is who he is, he had his porch swing set up to overlook the most perfect view of the stream and woods surrounding his land. He held the swing for you so you could get in and get comfy. It wasn’t a typical swing. It was more like a bed inside a pod that could completely enclose two adults inside. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a blanket which he tossed to you. Somehow, he rolled into the swing like a cat and didn’t spill a drop of his drink.

“That’s some Jedi-ninja shit right there. Expert category drinker stuff,” you admired.

“I’ve practiced,” he said. The swing swayed a bit as he pulled in his long legs. “C’mere,” he patted his shoulder, “bring the blanket, it gets chilly at night.”

He was half sitting up against the wall of the pod. You thought for a moment about how you should rest against him. You wanted to cuddle into him, but he was your friend and didn’t want to do something unwanted. Instead, you scooted to sit next to him and he draped his arm around you.

“This is really nice,” you said. The two of you had known each other a long time and had even spent a lot of time together alone, but this time was different. He wanted you, maybe even needed you, to be near him. Nothing was pressing either of you to be somewhere else, or to do anything else. It was just the two of you and you had time to enjoy the company. Being in the pod with him was way more intimate, like maybe you weren’t just friends anymore.

You looked out at the landscape and were feeling very relaxed and happy with the help of the drink Jensen had made for you. The hike up the mountain had definitely helped your eyelids start to feel heavy.

“You sleep out here, don’t you?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Damn right I do,” he took a drink. “Gets hot in the house in summer.”

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not complaining, but why me? I’m sure there has to be someone else you’d rather have up here…”

“Why not you? Sometimes… Sometimes… I wish I weren’t this version of me.”

“If you weren’t an extremely handsome guy, the world at his feet, with the best pen-pal ever, who would you be?” you asked.

You could feel him shrug next to you, “I don’t know. I like who I am when you’re around… maybe a carpenter, or bartender who does karaoke on weekends and the best pen-pal ever visits whenever she can. I just want to be the guy I am when you’re around. I like him.”

You sat up and turned to look at him. Leaning over his legs you put your glass on the porch and took his drink to do the same before sitting back up.

“I think you’d be a great bartender,” you said. When you leaned back this time, you tucked into his side and wrapped your arm over his body, “Or a lumberjack,” you giggled, gripping his bicep. His strong body squeezed you tightly to him and you thought you might be in heaven.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.

“I missed you, too,” you said. “I wish I had the freedom to visit whenever, but… I could… it would take time, though.”

“What’d you say to get out of work this time?” he asked.

“Told ‘em the truth. I said, and this is a quote, ‘My idiot friend has fallen off the radar and he’s scaring the shit out of his mother, so I need to go find him, ‘cause if I don’t and his mom finds him, she will do to him what she fears has already happened to him’.”

He chuckled knowing the absolute truth of what she said, “And what did they say?”

“They were concerned that, not only do I have a friend, but that he’s also missing and asked for a picture to help spread the word. Naturally, I declined and said my friend is hideous and any hungry wildlife would be doing us a favor if they took him out, but they insisted on seeing your mug.”

Jensen was silently laughing, his chest shuddering with laughter.

“Did you show them?”

“Yeah, I did. No one ever believes I know you. They just rolled their eyes and asked me to be serious. I said no-can-do buckaroo and lit out of there.”

“You got the time off?” he wheezed.

“No idea. I needed to get my stuff together and figure out your one emoji text meaning with zero context. Your confidence in my sleuthing ability is flattering… one fucking clue…”

“There were two,” he was catching his breath now.

“Are you serious?! You are so lucky I have a good memory.”

“Bullshit. Your memory is garbage. I know you keep the letters.” he said.

“Listen here, fucker… my memory may be garbage, and, alright, I do keep them, but at least I knew where to look! Don’t act like you don’t keep mine, too,” you countered.

“I’m not a sentimental simp like you.”

“Yes, you are! Maybe you don’t keep the letters, but you do have them all locked away in that brain of yours. You love my letters… butthole.”

“They’re so eloquent,” he laughed.

The back and forth between you had gotten animated and the swing still swayed for a few more moments.

“God, I’m glad you’re here,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Well, it might be permanent after the shit I pulled, so, lucky you. You might owe me a job,” you warned.

“That can be arranged,” he spoke too soon. He didn’t know if he would even be going back to work acting. He didn’t know if he had destroyed his career, or if he would be accepted back into the fold. He would probably have to testify at some point.

“Hey, where’d you go?” you asked.

“Uh, just drifted off for a sec,” he said.

You wondered where he had drifted.

“Wanna go back inside? My drink is empty,” you asked.

He gave her a nod and watched her struggle to get out of the pod making it swing wildly back and forth.

“Got an ETA on that exit, hot shot?” he asked.

No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth than (Y|N) lost her balance and tumbled backward into him.

Jensen let out a little “oof” when you fell backward. The swing was going all over the place, making you feel more dizzy. You struggled to get your bearings and finally were able to get your hand placed to push yourself up only to see Jensen looking back at you. Only vaguely were you aware of his hand on your back.

“That drink was stronger than I thought,” you sputtered, staring at his mouth so close to your own.

“Lightweight,” a soft smile touched his lips.

“I think I need help getting out of this thing,” you conceded, still lying on his chest.

In one smooth movement, he had you lying on your back, looking up at him. His bodyweight pressed into you, heightening the intensity of the moment. Cautiously, your hands went to his back and shoulder. The gamut of emotion ran over his eyes. His mouth moved toward yours, but stopped. You moved your hand from his shoulder to cup his neck, your thumb on his jaw. Gently, you pulled him closer, letting him know you wanted him, too.

His mouth met yours, soft at first, quickly becoming more urgent. Your hands pulled up his shirt and Jensen pulled it off in one quick motion. Just as quickly, you pulled off yours. He kissed you again as he undid your pants. He laid you back and kissed you all over your body and down your belly. Your head was spinning from euphoria and barely noticed he had laid you completely bare for him. He removed his clothes before he moved between your legs, kissing up your thighs. His hands went under you, gripping your hips before he buried his face in your folds, devouring you. Your body responded to him in ways no one had ever brought forth in you. Sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making… you clutched one of his hands and his hair as he brought you to one of the hardest orgasms you’d ever had. He kept working your body until your orgasm finally subsided allowing you to relax.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

Jensen wasn’t done with you yet. He crept up your body, worshiping every inch. His large hands cupped your breasts, softly massaging them, his fingertips brushing over your nipples making them rise to a peak.

“Just call me Jensen,” he said, pulling your leg up to his hip. His hand caressing your leg, knee to thigh.

“Smartass,” you said, kissing him.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” he said, touching your hair. He paused, “Has no one ever made you…”

You laughed, “No, not like that. Gawd, not like that.”

He laid between both of your legs and looked at you before tracing lines on your chest. “What a shame.”

“Hey, come up here, let me look at you,” you told him.

He pushed himself up and over your leg so you could lie next to him and up on your elbow. You couldn’t help but keep kissing him, his chest, his neck, nibbling on his ears. He pulled and pushed you on top of him and you reveled in the feel of his body under yours. So warm and strong. Still wet from before, he easily slid into you as he sat up with you on him. You both groaned with pleasure as his cock filled you. He buried his face in your chest and leaned you back to suck and bite on your nipples. He was getting your blood to flow in all the right places and you were getting desperate for relief. You tried to move your hips a little, but Jensen wouldn’t let you, grasping you tightly around your waist, forcing you to hang onto his neck and shoulders, for dear life.

The things he could do with his tongue were driving you crazy. If you didn’t get some relief soon, you were going to scream. You were already making noises. He was doing things you didn’t know were possible. He was doing things that were both extremely pleasurable and agony at the same time. He finally let you wrap your legs around his waist. What had earlier felt like pure animal lust, turned into tender love-making. He let you touch and caress his body how you wanted, moving your body with him inside you. You couldn’t keep your lips away from his. You wrapped your arms and legs tightly around him and he rolled you onto your back, pushing all the way into you, making you groan loudly, arching your head back. He looked into your eyes as he began to move again, slowly. He took his time as he brought you both to ecstasy.

“Oh my god, Jensen,” you muttered as he made you cum again.

Jensen shuddered with a moan and collapsed onto you with his face in your neck, breathing heavily. After a moment, he gave you another sensual kiss and carefully rolled off of you.

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “My legs are gonna be so sore tomorrow,” you laughed.

“I’ll give you a massage,” he offered.

You looked for your clothes in the darkness but didn’t find them and not knowing where Jensen threw them, you pulled on the t-shirt he had been wearing before this out-of-the-blue release happened.

“Whaaaat just happened?” you wondered aloud.

“Greaaat sex,” he sighed.

“Oh my god, yeah, but…”

“I really needed that,” he put a hand on your thigh.

You really needed it, too, but you wondered if it were for the same reason of pent up lust for your friend of almost thirty years.

“The sex? You could have had that with anyone. I have literally seen women faint in your presence.”

He tensed up a little. You could hear him roll his eyes rather than see them. “Come here,” you heard him pat his chest. He pulled you into his side and you laid on his shoulder. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and flung it over both of you. He held you snugly to him as he talked drowsily.

“I didn’t want ‘anyone’,” he said. “I wanted you,” he kissed your forehead.

“Me? Really?” you’d thought for sure your desire had been one-sided all this time.

“Yeah, but you or I were always with someone. It just never worked out to give us a try.”

“This day keeps getting stranger and stranger,” you muttered.

“You mean in a good way, right?” he teased.

You nodded knowing he would feel your answer.

“How long have you felt like this?” you asked.

“Remember when we met up the 2nd or 3rd time? It was either right before or right after I got Days and we were in Texas, and you met my buddy, Kenny?”

“Yeah?” you barely remembered Kenny, but what you did remember was, “Oh yeah, that was the summer you were a dick.” It finally hit you, “You were a jealous dick! Oh my god!”

It felt like a revelation.

“You were loving all of that attention from him,” he grumbled.

The memories were coming back in force.

“I really don’t remember Kenny, I just remember you being a grouch,” you said.

“I know, I was a shit,” he admitted.

You clung to him, “I forgave you.” You were feeling sleepy and had no idea what time of night it was. A wave of sadness hit you. “I should have told you how I felt… when we said goodbye, I knew… when you…”

“When I kissed you before you got on the plane,” he finished.

“I knew way back then, you would always be the one that got away.”

Somehow he held you even tighter, “Can’t be the one that got away if I never let you go.”

You couldn’t remember a time you’d slept so soundly. Sleeping out on the porch almost felt like being on a boat and it lulled you into a deeper sleep.

When morning came and Jensen was gone, you briefly wondered if it had all been a dream. You were still in the swing with the blanket covering you and wearing Jensen’s shirt. Your movement to look for him caused the swing to turn and you saw him sitting on the porch in his jeans with his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees. The sun was just starting to come up and he was watching the horizon.

More graceful this time, you got out of the swing, taking the blanket with you. The man had the audacity to look good with a savage case of bedhead. You draped the heavy blanket over both of you as you sat down next to him. He took the blanket and held it in place while you put your arm around his waist and leaned into his side. The blanket was big enough to enclose you both and let you sit on a bit of it so your butt wouldn’t freeze.

“I see why you like it here. It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“It’s where I come to reset. Just taking longer this time,” he said quietly as he put his arm around you. “It helps having you here.”

“Did you sleep?” you asked.

He waggled his hand, so-so. “You’re like a furnace.”

“You’re welcome?”

He leaned in for a soft, good morning kiss.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Sore as hell, but happy. Not gonna lie, it’s been a while. Definitely not how I thought the night would end after hiking up a damned mountain,” you smiled and nudged him. “How are you? How’s your brain?”

He took a moment to think about it and what happened the night before. “Better than I was 24 hours ago.” He debated how much to tell her about why he needed to disappear and why this cabin and what it all meant to him.

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m starving.”

Inside the cabin, Jensen said he would get some breakfast going and you told him you were going to use his shower. He let you know the tank isn’t very big and takes a while to refill.

“Got it, turn it off when not needed,” you said. He tapped the side of his head with one finger then pointed at you and turned back to getting the food ready. You didn’t bother washing your hair, it didn’t need it yet, and you doubted you would be able to get it clean with the lack of water pressure. That was probably the reason why Jensen went to the stream to get cleaned up, you supposed. You went as quickly as you could since the delicious smell of breakfast was wafting into you.

When you emerged, Jensen had made pancakes, bacon and eggs for you both. He was drinking what you assumed was coffee while he waited for you. 

“You coulda told me to hurry up,” you said.

“Um,” he realized he was staring, “I just put it on the table.”

“Something wrong?” you asked

“No,” he said quietly and motioned for you to have a seat at the table.

“About last night,” you began. “What happens now? Do we pretend like it didn’t happen and carry on like usual? Or can this go somewhere?”

He wanted nothing more than to see where things could go together. Their timing had never been right. Even when they first met, he shouldn’t have even been there. He was supposed to have gone to a camp and had missed the bus. It had pissed off his parents enough to not let him stay home alone while the rest of the family went on vacation. While at the resort, (Y|N) had literally bumped into him and he was hooked.

They had become fast friends and when she’d suggested being pen-pals, he loved the idea. He’d told her things in those letters that he never told anyone. They’d bared their souls to each other in those letters. When he needed her, she was always there, no judgment. She never pulled punches with him and always gave her brutally honest opinion when he asked for it and sometimes when he didn’t, but those were the times when he needed to hear it most. He knew he could trust her with anything. He’d kept her away from the spotlight, fiercely protecting her privacy. The media could be so invasive and if they’d ever found out who she was to him, or asked her for a comment, she’d never told him about it.

Any time he had seen her, he’d think about asking her out, but she was always in a relationship, or he was. They would meet up and it was just easy to fall into the familiar “buddy” routine that they had going so well.

Last night had been completely different. A little liquid courage had gone a long way for them both. Maybe it had been the fatalist attitude he’d adopted of late, but he’d wanted to see if it would happen naturally and it had, much to his delight.

“Hold on,” he said, “I need you to read something.”

He got up from the table and went to the daybed. He pulled out a box from underneath and brought it to the table. (Y|N) was watching him closely and she didn’t miss much.

“‘Nova Stuff’, huh?” she noticed her codename on the box. “I thought I was the sentimental simp?”

She saw him digging through the box.

“Alright,” he admonished, “don’t get all cocky.”

“That’s all you,” she snickered, taking another bite of her food.

“Enough from the peanut gallery,” he said. She was trying to make him laugh and he loved her for it.

“Elephants like peanuts…” she was almost crying trying to hold in how amused she was with herself.

“Is that all you think about?” he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It is now!” she had to wipe her eyes. “Oh man, I really needed that laugh!”

“Happy to help,” he tried to sound miffed.

“Don’t be mad,” she chuckled, “I tease you out of love and I only tease the people I love most.”

“You love me?” He held the letter he was looking for in his hand. It had all of the sordid details in it and some things TMZ hadn’t dredged up. If he didn’t give it to her, maybe she wouldn’t find out about what he’d done and why he’d been stowed away in the cabin for over a month. He put the box on the floor and held the letter in between his hands. Finally, he laid it down and pushed it across the table to her. “You might change your mind after reading that. Everything is in there, all of it.” He said it like he had to force the words out. He pushed his chair back from the table, clasped his hands on top of his head, and looked up at the ceiling.

  You took the envelope and flipped it over to see his familiar scrawl addressing the letter to you.

“Let me tell you a little something, Jensen Ross Ackles. When my friend’s mom calls me up and says her oldest child has gone on a trip, no one’s heard from him in a month, and asks me to help her find him… If you think I’m not going to Dean Winchester the shit out of the situation, do you even know me?”

You got up from your chair and left behind the letter to sit on his lap. You put one arm around his shoulders and raised your hand to touch his face, “You saw some scary shit. It fucked you up, as it would for any normal person. You’ve been working so hard and traveling all over the world. You dealt with it in a way that maybe you didn’t realize was destructive in the moment. It happens. That skank was arrested for filing a false report. Everyone stuck up for you, everyone. No one believed her. It was clear she was just trying to drag you down. Your parents released a statement saying you were taking some time off and now, it’s just been a waiting game until I found you.”

You looked at his sad eyes and read the question he couldn’t ask.

“No, my sweet boy, I didn’t believe a word of it,” you brushed the hair away from his face. “How could I ever believe it?” You kissed his exposed skin. “Aside from my mom, you are the only other person who has been consistently in my life for so long. I know you, Jensen.” You kissed his lips. “And if I had known you would become such a good kisser, I would have upped my flirting game.”

“Your game was pretty good,” he said.

“It didn’t work, though.”

“One or both of us was always with someone else. What was I supposed to do with that?” he asked.

“You were supposed to realize your unending love for me and ditch whomever you were with and run away with me. Or fight the person I was with for my hand. But you were a ‘gentleman’.” you changed your voice and used air-quotes for emphasis.

He seemed to consider your words for a moment before sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bed.

His skin felt warm and smooth under your touch. You couldn’t help but want to get to know every part of his body. He was in fantastic shape and you felt dumpy as hell next to him. Unconsciously, you pulled a blanket over you.

“Are you cold?” he sounded sleepy.

“No, just self-conscious,” you admitted.

“Stop it, you’re perfect.”

“I jiggle.”

“Don’t do that. There isn’t a single bit of you that isn’t perfect. You are exactly who I want,” he tried to assure you.

“Do you know I love you?” you asked, your hand resting over his heart.

“I know,” he paused. “I love you back.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up that something was wrong earlier. I should have known as soon as you sent that stupid emoji.” you said. “You know what’s weird about you? Your complete lack of chest hair. I always thought you shaved.”

“You know what’s weird about you? Your inability to not say exactly what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, you’re so preppy… I thought it was a thing you did… but you really are dolphin-smooth.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he tackled you.

After a little power nap, you decided to let Jensen sleep while you made yourself useful outside. Seriously under-equiped for cabin life, you made do with leggings, t-shirt, and trail shoes. You slipped your phone into your pocket and quietly went outside. There was a wood carrier near the door, which you grabbed and started for where you had seen Jensen the day before to gather the wood.

When he woke up (Y|N) was gone and her spot on the bed next to him was cold. A wave of panic hit him and he pulled on his pants to look for her. He dashed onto the porch and checked the swing.

(Y|N)!” he yelled.

A noise behind the house alerted him and (Y|N) popped out from around the corner. 

“I’m right here!” she said, hand on her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Where were you?”

She held out the wood sling. “I was just bringing over the wood from yesterday. You seemed like you needed the sleep, so I didn’t wake you.”

That look was on his face again. The sadness that he’d been carrying around like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“You’re not going to get rid of me, Jensen.” you said.

“Let me get dressed, I’ll help you.” 

It only took a little while for the two of you to haul over the loose pieces and for Jensen to finish the other logs he had. Even though it was somewhat quick work, it was strenuous and you were both sweating.

“If all of your fangirls could see you now… they would lose their ever lovin’ shit,” you said marveling at him, too.

Jensen looked at himself, covered in dirt, wood chips and sweat, “Seriously?”

You nodded. “You’re checking a lot of boxes.”

“Well I feel disgusting,” he said, flipping the axe into the stump with force. He looked over at you after you made a strange sound and saw you make a checkmark with your finger and a mischievous grin. “Y’all are dirty.”

The two of you collected the last bits and carried them to the cabin. If you weren’t filthy before, you definitely were now.

“Speaking of dirty,” you began, “what do we do about this?”

He waved you over to follow him down to the stream and dock where you both kicked off your shoes. You should have seen it coming, but you didn’t. Jensen grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you with him into the water. You barely got your feet under you and stood up in the water, Jensen emerging right next to you.

“It’s a lot quicker than the shower,” he grinned. “Sometimes the fish get curious, though.”

You jumped on him, clinging to his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He laughed, throwing his head back and for a moment, he looked like the boy you had known so long ago. 

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just weird when they brush against you,” he explained.

“That’s not comforting,” you argued.

He just laughed and slowly spun you in the water, eventually dipping down til your shoulders were almost submerged.

Eventually she began to relax a little and could enjoy the water with him. It was cool and felt good after a day of hard work. She even got brave enough to put her feet down, but not enough to let go of his hand. Every moment he spent with her, he felt a little bit better. He should never have let her get on that airplane all those years ago. He just felt like a better person when he was with her.

“Human again?” he asked.

“Mm, yes, much better,” she agreed. “Also, can we talk about all of the hair?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he stroked his bushy beard.

“It’s definitely a look,” she said. She seemed to be doing something under the water. “And I’m not mad at it at all, it’s really working for you.” She held up her leggings and threw them at the dock landing with a wet plop and a soft ‘thump’. He became very intrigued by what she was doing. “My cha-cha, however, IS mad.”

“Excuse me? Your ‘cha-cha’?” he asked.

“Mhm. My downstairs kitty, vulva, specifically.”

“Any other notes?” he asked, amused.

“Oh no, we were quite pleased with the performance. We’re not asking for it to go away, just maybe a trim?”

She stood up straight in the water and pulled off her shirt, throwing it aside as she moved closer to him. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her. Her hands went to his jeans while he worked on his shirt. He quickly removed them when she threw his shirt on the dock next to hers. When he turned back to her, her bra was gone and she took his breath away…

You liked the way Jensen looked at you. It made you feel like you were queen of the world. He looked like he was ready to either devour you whole, or love on your body for hours. Either way, you would be happy. Never would you have guessed that your search would have led you here. Not just to the mountain and Jensen, but to this new chapter of your lives together.

You stood on your toes and pressed against his chest to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back, seeming to relish in you.

“I think you better take me inside, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We should have done this a long time ago,” you said.

“I’m about to get dehydrated,” he said.

You gave him a playful swat on his butt. “No, I mean, you and me.”

“The things that happened before needed to happen so we could be here now. We did what was right for us at the time,” he said.

“I just feel like we missed out on a life together,” you said. 

“I don’t feel like I missed out on anything with you. There are people I have known just as long, but none are as important to me as you. You are the person I always wanted to talk to first. I loved it whenever we could get together. This last couple years sucked, but we had video calls, at least.”

“Speaking of that, you owe me a new phone, too. Your mom is gonna be so pissed,” you teased.

A few weeks passed and Jensen ordered a phone for you, adding you to his plan. The two of you were enjoying every moment together. Eventually, you needed to go to the local store for supplies and managed to run into Glen while you were there.

“Oh, hello there, young lady. Did you find your guy?” he asked.

“I did,” you answered, “that’s him back there.” You turned to see Jensen looming behind you, almost glowering at Glen from under a trucker hat. “Be nice,” you mouthed to him.

“Got you a good, strong one there,” he said, still wary.

“Not much of a people person right now,” you explained.

“‘Least he’s got you to soften him up a bit.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s really very sweet and he treats me right,” you said. 

“You folks plannin’ on staying the winter?” he asked.

“We actually need to talk about that yet,” you realized aloud.

“Best get on it. Winter comes early up here. You need to be prepared in case you get stuck,” Glen warned.

“Thanks, Glen,” you said with a smile.

“Thanks, Glen,” you heard Jensen mutter in a mocking tone from behind you.

Glen returned your smile and left you with a tip of his hat, so you and Jensen could finish your shopping.

You ignored Jensen for the moment, but things needed to be talked about whether he liked it or not.

The store you were in was, technically, a convenience store, but it had a very large grocery section since most of the locals didn’t want to go to the nearest large town with a proper grocery. Jensen gave you his keys so you could go out to the truck while he took the cart to the checkout and paid for everything.

When he came out, you tried to help, but he shoo’d you away. He loaded everything in the back and brought the cart back inside the store, before finally getting back in the truck with you. After starting the truck and putting it in gear, he slowly pulled away from the little store and headed toward the road that led to the cabin. Jensen was a little quiet, but that wasn’t too unusual for him. You were just happy to look out at the scenery.

“Oh, um,” he fidgeted in his pocket, “I got you this in the store.”

He held out a cellophane package to you. You took the package and read the label, RingPop. Quickly, you hid your smirk before you spoke. It was a cute gesture, but you couldn’t resist.

“Is this a proposal?” you asked.

“What?! No! It’s just a RingPop,” he said.

“But it’s my favorite flavor,” you went on. “Ooo, who would I be? Mrs. Wayne or Mrs. Ackles?”

“Whatever, it’s just a RingPop,” he said again, trying to look annoyed, but you knew better.

“Don’t try to deny it. One day, you’re going to ask me to marry you, Jensen Ackles.”

“Uh-huh,” he gave you side-eye, and half-mockingly said, “that would make you Mrs. Ackles then.”

“I thought it was just a RingPop,” you teased.

“Alright, enough,” he grinned.

Late one afternoon, you and Jensen were sitting on the daybed playing cards and having snacks. Since he didn’t have any, not one, single electronic device, it forced you to talk or get creative with how to entertain yourselves. At first, it had all been great fun and felt like old times, except the old times didn’t have great sex. But as each day ticked by, it felt more and more like you were hiding with him.

You drew a card, “Jay?”

“Hmm?” he was studying his hand.

You chose your discard and laid it in the pile, “As much as I love spending time with you, and I do, it’s been a great summer vacation…” Jensen drew a card and immediately discarded it. “Vacations end and people go back to their lives.” You picked up the card he discarded, rearranged your hand, then laid it down. “Gin.”

“Again? I swear, you cheat,” he said, reaching for the cards to shuffle for a new game, but you stopped him by grasping his hands.

“I’m fine here,” he said, blandly.

“Jensen… at some point, you have to face what happened.”

“I don’t know if…”

“You won’t be able to move past it if you don’t face it, and you know it.”

He stopped and started a few times before speaking, “I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

“Why?! Because it’s easy?! That is some serious, cop-out bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. You need to make a fucking choice. Are you going to lay down and let this one bad thing dictate your life and throw away 25 years of hard work? Or are you gonna stand up, set the record straight, and take back your fucking career and name?!” you couldn’t be silent any longer.

Jensen ditched the cards and went to the kitchen to fix himself some coffee. You would not be dismissed so easily and were hot on his heels.

“Goddamnit, Jensen, you may be able to shut out the world, but I will not let you shut me out. You need to quit hiding out up here and get your head out of your ass. The Jensen I know is a fighter, so fucking fight!”

You stormed out of the cabin, shoving the door open and walked down to the dock area where you collected some rocks to throw as hard as you could. You kept it up until you ran out of frustration and rocks to throw, finally sitting on the end of the dock with your feet in the water.

You sat there for a while, rehashing every word said and adding things here and there to strengthen your argument. Just when you thought maybe he wasn’t going to come out to talk, you felt footsteps on the dock. He nudged your shoulder with a mug. At first you didn’t want to take it, but its glorious smelling contents forced you to grudgingly accept the mug.

Jensen stood on one foot and lowered himself to sit next to you on the dock. For a few moments, he sat in silence, sipping from his own mug, not looking at you, just looking out at the water.

“You’re right,” he said, softly.

I know, you thought.

“I have been hiding. I don’t want to give up my career. I’ve worked too hard. I just…lost my head for a while. I know better…” he said.

“She took advantage of you when you were in a bad way and exploited the shit out of you for 15 minutes of fame. That is not your fault, it’s hers and that makes her a shitty human being, not you,” you took his hand and held it tightly on your lap.

“I don’t want to do anything else. I want to be in this industry. I haven’t just been sitting here. I have ideas for new shows, and I was writing songs. I’d at least like to give them a shot… I do need to stand up and fight. I’m not the guy that lets the bad guy win.”

“There he is… there’s my guy,” you smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

You leaned over for a kiss and he met you half-way. You felt a whole lot better about him and where he was mentally. He’d been sitting at the cabin in a sort of limbo and you’d helped kick his ass out of it. The weather was going to turn soon, you could tell, even the water in the stream felt colder. Your summer vacation was about to end and the familiar pangs of sadness hit you.

When you were a little kid, you used to cry when you had to go home. Not because you didn’t want to go home, but because you didn’t want to leave all of your new friends. By the time you met Jensen, you had your more childish emotions under control and were old enough to be serious about being pen-pals. What didn’t change was the crushing sadness you felt whenever you had to leave Jensen.

“You ever see that movie, ‘Same Time Next Year’?'' you asked.

Jensen finished off his coffee, “Mhm.”

“I don’t want that anymore,” you said.

“Nova… that’s not us,” he said. “We see each other whenever we can. We make time… That’s not us.”

“Well, what are ‘we’ then?” you wanted to know where he saw your relationship going.

“You are the only woman I want by my side. I’ll take you home, but only to pack it up, ‘cause I’m not letting you spend one more night without me next to you. It should always have been you, but things happened the way they did so we can be together now. And now that I have you… I’m not letting you go.”

You couldn’t help but get a little misty. It was nice to be wanted, especially by Jensen. We are so gonna get married, you thought.

“You could have said “girlfriend,” you joked, wiping your eyes.

“That’s such an empty word. You are so much more to me,” he said. “What did you want? How do you want things for us?”

“I just know that I want to be with you. I don’t really have anything holding me to my apartment. My friends are all over the country, so I’m not leaving any friends behind… I can go anywhere…”

“So how does Texas grab you?”

“Hot as actual hell, but acceptable,” you answered.

Jensen grinned, “Yeah, true. You better come with me on jobs. You’ll love it. Freeze your ass off. So, do we have it settled?”

You nodded. You both sat in silence for a while processing everything that just happened. Nearly a month on the mountain with Jensen had been amazing in so many ways. You swung your feet in the water and even though you wished you could stay, it was very important to get back to reality.

“So…” you began, “what do we do now?”

“We get off the mountain as soon as we can.”

“Okay,” you said, “but not tonight.”

You pulled your feet out of the water, got up and started back to the cabin. You looked back over your shoulder to see Jensen quickly catching up.

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[arrowflier]

Arrow write the mickey spotting ian and kev fic challenge!

Had to do this while it was still topical lol, so here goes.

The first time was an accident.  Well, sort of. 

"Ian can help with that," Mickey offered, watching Kev struggle to shift kegs and pour drinks at the same time.

"Thanks man," Kev grunted, hoisting another keg.  He waddled with it along the length of the bar, body hidden behind the counter, and set it down with a heavy thunk.

"Not easy though," he added as he straightened.  "Don't wanna make him strain somethin' before your wedding."

He waggled his eyebrows at Mickey, tongue stuck out, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

He knew exactly what would come next.

"You think I can't lift a keg?" Ian asked from the stool next him.  His voice almost broke on the last word with sheer disbelief.  "I'm not some skinny kid anymore, Kev, I just got out of prison for fuck's sake!"

"Cause there were plenty of kegs there to lift," Mickey muttered into his beer, and almost sent it splashing over the old stained countertop when Ian shoved his shoulder too hard.

"Just point me where you need me," Ian told Kev, puffing out his chest.

Kev eyed Ian, then Mickey, then Ian again.  But ultimately, he shrugged, and tapped the top of the keg he had just put down.

"Uh, this guy here needs to go out back," he said.  "Brought in the wrong one."

"On it," Ian said, and made his way to it.  He bent over at the waist, his hands reaching for the handles, ass stuck out in his too-tight jeans.

Mickey tilted his head, and sipped his drink, admiring the view.

"Whoa, whoa, not like that!" Kev said from behind the bar, arms out.  "You're gonna hurt yourself, man."

"Then how," Ian forced out between gritted teeth, still leaning over, "would you suggest I do this?"

Kev came around, whacked Ian in the back until he let go and straightened with a huff.  Then he took up position at another keg alongside the first.

"Lift with your legs, kid," he said, and dropped into a half squat right in front of Mickey's face.

Oh.

"Like this?" Ian relented, assuming position next to Kev, broad back stretched and straight over bent legs and strong thighs.

Oh.

Kev and Ian each hoisted their kegs, beginning their awkward walk away toward the back, and Mickey leaned so far back on his stool he almost fell off.

Well, he thought as he downed the last of his drink, eyes following two ridiculously built sets of shoulders strain their way across the room.

He could get used to seeing that.

---

The second time, it was definitely on purpose.  He had talked Ian into trying out KevFit after his own misadventure--he was not eager to keep working out on his own, but Ian kept wanting to do new shit together.

They were only one round in at the keg lift station, Ian already grunting and heaving and sweaty next to him, when Kev came by.

"Good form, Ian," he congratulated, clapping a hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him drop the half-filled keg with a clatter.  "Way better than last time."

"Gee, thanks," Ian answered dryly, wiping his forehead with the hem of his thin workout tank, and Mickey had an epiphany.

"Hey, Kev," he said slowly, like the idea was just occurring to him, "You got all this equipment rigged up, but how are you on basics?"

Kev's brow furrowed, his muscled arms going slack at his sides.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like, pushups and jogging and shit," Mickey answered.  "You know, the kind of stuff they do in the military."

He let his eyes widen, and turned them on Ian. 

"Oh wait," he said, "that's kinda your thing, ain't it?"

Ian shrugged, looking confused.

"Uh, I guess?"

"Why don't you show Kev one of your old workouts?" Mickey suggested innocently.  "He could add some things to the whole KevFit routine, maybe bring in more clients."

Kev perked up at that.

"Yeah, why not?" he said.  "C'mon Ian, show me what you've got."

Five minutes later, Mickey was leaning against the "spring water" station, sipping from the flask he had snuck in from next door, watching two ridiculously tall, ridiculously strong fuckers take up half the open floor space doing increasingly impressive pushups.  Right then, Ian had one arm behind his sweat-slicked back, Kev mirroring his form, and Mickey's eyes followed the rise and fall of their bodies with total focus.

"Excuse me," a wimpy, hipster-sounding dude said hesitantly from behind him, " but do you know when they're bringing out more waters?"

Mickey didn't even bother to look.

"Get lost," he answered, waving a hand in the guy's general direction.  "Go drink outa the bathroom sink like a normal fucking person and let me watch my show."

---

The third time, he was pretty sure Ian was catching on.

Not that he cared, honestly--the view was fucking worth it.

"You call that a bench press?" He goaded his husband from behind the bench.  "Kev's kickin' your ass, man, that's just embarassing."

Ian glowered, breath hissing out between his teeth as he pushed up again.

"I'm pretty much pressing you right now," he gritted out, "so I'm feeling pretty good about it, actually."

Mickey hid his grin behind a hand, feigning disinterest even as his eyes followed Ian's bulging arms up and down, lingering on the tight plane of his chest.

"Well he's pressing like two of me," Mickey countered, letting his eyes wander, "so you might wanna step it up, tough guy."

Sure enough, Kev's current weights were at least half again what Ian had, and he was doing an admirable job of lifting them considering that his gigantic self was too big for the bench.  Mickey hadn't considered that when he invited Kev to check out the gym at their new place; it was designed for recreational exercise, not fucking seven foot tall body builders.  The man's legs stretched out awkwardly off the bottom of the bench, knees bent but stuck up far too high for proper form.  His broad shoulders dwarfed the other end, making it look like his upper body was just suspended there.

Mickey licked his lips, watching the shift of muscles under Kev's tanned skin--thank the lord the man shared his aversion to sleeves--and almost got chinned when he leaned too far over Ian's station.

The bar slotted into place without his help, Ian sitting up and wiping his face with a hand.

"Why don't you spot him for a while, then," Ian said. "While I go hit the shower."

He stood, making his way to the door, and Mickey paused, torn.

"Or I could give you a practical demonstration of my ability to lift you," Ian added over his shoulder, and Mickey was making his excuses to their guest and chasing after him before Kev could even finish another rep.

---

Ian never brought it up, after that, but Mickey still decided to cool it, just a little. Ian had seemed a little jealous, at the gym, although you'd never have known it by the things he said later--bet you like it when people look like they can throw you around, Mick--and Mickey did not need to throw a wrench into their marriage just for a little extra eye candy.

But then they were all at the pool together, the Gallaghers plus Mickey, plus Tami, plus Kev and Vee, and he really couldn't help it.

"Damn our men are hot," Tami had commented, sitting in a white plastic chair next to Mickey.

Mickey leaned back with a grin, taking a swig of lukewarm beer, and said, "You think that's hot?" nodding to where Ian and Lip were splashing each other over Franny's head in the shallow end.

"Watch this," he finished, and cupped a hand over his mouth to help his voice carry.

"Hey Ian," he shouted. "Bet Kev could beat you in a race."

"Hell yeah!" Kev called back from where he was manning the grill. "Name the time, man!"

Mickey could see Ian roll his eyes, and worried for the briefest of moments that his husband was done humoring him. But after a brief, hushed word with his brother, Ian was swimming to the side of the pool nearest Kev, saying "right now, backstroke, three laps," and Mickey was falling in love all over again.

"You do this a lot?" Tami asked, amused, as Kev stripped off his shirt and jumped in to take his place at the wall of the pool.

Mickey waited until they were off, arms wheeling wildly through the water and sending the sparkling spray onto sculpted, heaving chests, to answer.

"Define a lot," he said, not looking away from the spectacle as Ian and Kev hit the wall and turned, their swimsuits flashing through the water.

Tami snickered.

"Got it," she said, then, "thanks for sharing the wealth."

The race finished, Ian and Kev lifting themselves out of the pool, water running down their bodies as they clasped hands and went in for a shoulder-slapping bro hug. Ian looked back to where Mickey sat, and smirked.

"No problem," Mickey murmured, watching closely.

Ian leaned up to say something into Kev's ear, and Mickey squinted, like that would somehow help him hear it.

"Ogling the competition, Milkovich?" Lip's voice came from behind, and Mickey nearly fell out of his chair.

"The fuck are you talkin about?" he demanded, twisting around in his chair to look at Lip's knowing smirk.

"Nothing," Lip answered innocently. "Just noticed you've been watching Kev a lot lately."

Mickey scowled.

"And what's it to you?" he challenged. "Nothing at all," Lip said. "Just an observation." His grin widened. "And a distraction."

Mickey's eyes narrowed.

"A distraction from wha--argh!"

He cut off as he was lifted by two pairs of string arms, familiar ones wrapped under his own and different, strong hands holding his feet. He flailed, barely registering the flash of green eyes and a mostly bald head, before he hit the water with a splash.

By the time he surfaced, snorting chlorinated pool water out of his nose, it was to see two grinning faces looking down at him.

"Thought you might need to cool off after watching us," Ian said with a grin, laughing when Mickey tried to splash water into his face.

"Next time you want a show," Kev added, "just ask, man." He waggled his eyebrows. "I learned a few things when I worked that gay club."

Ian laughed again at Mickey's shocked expression.

"You need to work on your poker face, Mick," he said. "But it's okay, we don't mind."

He winked, then turned to walk away, leaving Mickey floating in the pool. Kev left with him, hips swaying slightly, and Mickey bit his lip and watched them go.

"Really?" Lip asked from the side of the pool, sounding disgusted, and Mickey just shrugged without looking back.

After all, if they didn't mind...

[lalainajanes]

For klarosummerbingo, my “mango lassi” square! Did I order Indian food for dinner? Yes, yes I did.

Masks Off

When she notices the goon tailing her – shaved head, seasonally inappropriate leather jacket, neck tattoos – Caroline’s pissed off.

And exhausted.

She’d spent all day cooped up in the boardroom at Forbes Industries, listening to men twice her age complain about dividends and try to suggest that workers didn’t really need a raise subtly.

It had been a tedious and pointless exercise, one she suffers quarterly. Caroline holds 51% of the company’s shares and can easily wrangle another block of shareholders into voting with her. Her parent’s wills, read out fourteen years ago, had bequeathed a stake in FI to several loyal employees. People they’d loved, who’d stepped in to help raise Caroline after they’d passed.

The board knows she has the final say, and it kills them. They think she’s an idiot, that she’d bought her degrees and can’t comprehend the financial statements. They try to ply her with compliments and flattery, attempt unsubtle fibs – Caroline plays dumb and tolerates the bullshit because she knows she can control them. Another board might not be so easy to manipulate.

She’d had a headache by the time the meeting had wrapped, had been so grateful to see Enzo waiting at the curb. She’d practically dived into the backseat of the town car, had rolled the partition down, and enjoyed a satisfying debrief and bitch session on the drive back to her apartment. Enzo had offered to grab her dinner before he went off the clock, but Caroline knew he had a date night planned. She’d shoed him away, told him she’d order in.

Once safely tucked away in her place Caroline had gotten restless.

She’d changed out of her boring suit, pulled out the pins in her hair, and loosely braided it back. After changing into a pale blue cotton dress and pair of oversized sunglasses, then selecting a few Forbes Industries prototypes, Caroline had headed out for sustenance.

She hadn’t bothered to let her security detail know. She’s adept at sneaking away under their noses. The detail is mostly for show, to make sure no one connects Caroline Forbes, wild child heiress, to the vigilante who’s working on tidying up the city streets.

She’ll slip into the leather ensemble she’d commissioned once night falls and load up with weapons. Then she’ll head to the garage where she keeps her armored vehicles and larger toys.

There’s a new villain who’s been popping up more and more frequently on her patrols. She hasn’t caught him doing anything untoward just yet, and he’s yet to make the papers and have a ridiculous name bestowed upon him. She’s scoured papers from England, then the rest of Europe, checking to see if there was a reputation that preceded him. So far, she’s found nothing, but  Caroline knows he must be working on something big.

Why else would he be so determined to attract her attention? He must have some kind of plan cooking up, wants her looking in another direction when he enacts it.

The walk to the restaurant had been uneventful. Caroline had to wait a few minutes for her order to be ready, but passing the time on a bench outside, unnoticed, her people-watching undisturbed, had been a nice change from how she’d spent the rest of the day.

It promised to be a hot evening, even though the sun would be setting shortly. Sweat had begun gathering near her hairline, forcing curls out of her braid. Caroline had added a mango lassi to her order and collected her dinner, inhaled appreciatively at the warm, spicy scent emanating from the paper bag.

She’d begun her walk home, sipping her drink contentedly, weaving through the growing number of pedestrians who were venturing out for the evening.

She’d noted the guy shadowing her about three blocks from her building, had heaved a dramatic sigh that had the guy waiting for the walk light with her edging away.

She’d just wanted to stuff herself with naan, biryani, and saag paneer and become one with her couch for a few hours before she went out to take out her frustrations on some bad guys. Was that too much to ask?

Caroline takes a turn, heading east to where there should be fewer people, reaching into her bag to slide her fingers into the modified brass knuckles (not actually brass but a proprietary FI compound) and grasping the extendable baton.

She takes another turn to check that she’s not paranoid, but the goon mirrors it.

As does another person.

Caroline pretends to adjust the strap of her dress, twisting her head to get a better look at her second pursuer. It’s an impressively muscular woman, her considerable height only enhanced by her spiked hair, dressed in skin-tight shorts and a mesh crop top.

She doesn’t seem to mind that Caroline’s spotted her, wiggling her fingers and offering a challenging smile.

There are two possibilities. Either the people following her are cocky and stupid – really the ideal scenario – or they’re cocky because they’ve got a solid plan and some big guns.

When a hand grabs her upper arm and yanks her into an alley, spilling the mango lassi and staining her dress, Caroline suspects it might be the latter. She’s thrown against a wall, just managing to get her hands up to save her face from being smashed into the brick.

She hears footsteps pounding against concrete, and the two pursuers she’s noticed join the man who’d yanked her into the alley. Regretfully, Caroline drops her takeout and her bag and backs away, hiding her weapons in the folds out of the skirt. She forces a quaver into her voice, “What do you want?”

It’s unlikely that three people who seem to have stepped right out of the goon for hire catalog have just decided to rob her. Caroline doesn’t want to assume there’s a larger plot. She’s hoping this won’t turn into a big thing, and she’s out of luck if people are planning to kidnap Caroline Forbes for ransom.

But it’ll be even messier if a bad guy’s clocked her extracurricular activities.

The spiky-haired woman takes the lead, stalking towards Caroline. She’s got a knife in her hand now, “What do I want? Twenty million dollars, to start with.”

Oh good. It’s just a kidnapping.

Honestly, kind of an insulting one. She won’t even have to liquate any assets to come up with the twenty million. Caroline stops moving, straightens her spine. “Done!” she chirps brightly. “Wire transfer, or cheque? I can do cash too, but that’s like ten briefcases. What are you going to do with them after?”

She’s been hoping to catch her attempted kidnapper off guard, but the woman doesn’t falter. She snorts, “You’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot. I’m chock full of surprises.”

Spike lunges forward, and Caroline dodges, stepping past her and whipping her arm out, until her weapon lengthens fully. She crouches, extending her leg and spinning while slashing with her baton. Caroline lands a brutal strike on Spike’s kidneys. Spikes grunts, stumbles forward, arm banding over her stomach protectively. Caroline completes her spin and rises, catching Spike with a punch before she pauses, poised on the balls of her feet, back to a wall.

Her would-be kidnappers no longer look as confident. Spikes spits blood, expression enraged. The other two watch Caroline with calculative gazes.

“Girls gotta keep in shape, right? The tabloids are brutal. It turns out the elliptical is super boring, so I had to find something a little more fun.” Caroline leaps forward, tucking into a roll, snagging a brick from the ground and using her momentum to throw it into Leather Jacket’s face.

The brick makes contact with a gross crunch of blood, bone, tissue, and teeth. Leather Jacket howls, his hand coming up to cover his head. She jumps again, thighs locking around his neck, spinning to bring him to the ground. She digs her knee into his spine, gripping his head and slamming it into the ground for good measure until he goes limp underneath her.

Caroline stands, wiping her hand on her already ruined dress. “One down,” she says.

Only to instantly regret the proclamation. Bonnie says she needs to lay off on the monologuing, and maybe she’s got a point.

She senses movement behind her, near the mouth of the alley. Caroline turns warily, head swiveling between her two attackers and the men who are now freaking rappelling from the rooftops. Six of them. In black tactical gear, strapped with weapons and wearing black ski masks.

Well, crap.

If she’d been on patrol, with her protective suit and gadgets, she might have been able to take them. Now, in flats and a sundress, with two flimsy weapons and no backup, she doesn’t like her odds.

Caroline tosses the baton aside, pastes on the smile she uses when she has to ignore paparazzi shouting rude questions about her sex life at her. She lifts her hands slowly, palms open. “So, I’m guessing you don’t only want cash, huh?”

“Funny and smart,” Spikes says spitefully, coming up behind Caroline and yanking her hair. “What a rosy life you must lead.”

She feels a sharp sting in the side of her neck, then a flood of wooziness. Brief pain when she collapses.

She’s vaguely aware of being heaved up and over someone’s shoulder, of being alarmed by how her limbs won’t cooperate when she tries to fight back. She’s tossed in a trunk, encased in blackness.

Caroline fights it, the tiredness, her thoughts growing meandering and disorganized. When the engine rumbles to life underneath her, Caroline loses consciousness.

* * * * *

Caroline realizes she’s tied to a chair as soon as awareness returns.

She can hear voices murmuring, too soft for her to make out any words even when she strains. Caroline’s slumped over, pulling against the ropes. She’s definitely going to have some fun bruises tomorrow. Her head’s resting limply against her chest, and she stays as still as she can, barely opening her eyes while trying to get a good look at her surroundings.

Unfortunately, she seems to be in a pretty generic warehouse—grimy, smelly, cavernous, decorated with random overlapping graffiti.

She spots a tray of shiny, sharp medical instruments to her right.

Which is not ideal.

Caroline tests her bonds slowly, checking for any give or weakness. Any kind of opportunity. One of her captors has eagle eyes and notices her movements. She flinches when his voice booms out, “Sleeping beauty awakes!”

Damn it.

Caroline lifts her head, rolling her neck to work out the cramp that’s developed. “I prefer the modern Disney princesses, thank you.” She’s not the type to wait around for a handsome prince to come to her rescue.

She studies the guy who’d spoken. He’s got steel-grey hair and tanned skin, thick biceps. His face doesn’t show even a hint of emotion, and he doesn’t acknowledge she’d spoken. She’d guess he’s a pro, probably some variety of ex-military, likely expensive. Caroline hears the clomp of heavy boots and twists her head to see some familiar faces joining the party.

Moderately damaged familiar faces, but she’s not sorry about that.

“So about that ransom,” Caroline begins hopefully. “Twenty-five million, was it?”

The guy who’d taken a brick to the face grunts, “Thirty now. For our trouble.”

Caroline can admit that’s fair.

“I get it. Plastic surgery’s not cheap. Not that I’ve had any work done, despite what the tabloids might claim. I’m only twenty-seven. Of course my boobs look fantastic in a bikini.”

No one even cracks a smile.

“Okay, so you’re not interested in jokes. We could discuss the fact that it’s super gross that people follow me around the world and stalk me with long-lens cameras. Am I not entitled to take a vacation?”

No response.

Caroline sighs, shifting in her chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Tough crowd.”

Spike drags a second chair over, sitting down and resting a booted foot on her opposite knee. “Thirty million dollars. I have a list of six prisoners that I need to be released from the Super Max. And I want something from the Forbes Industries Vault. The subterranean one that most of your employees don’t know about.”

Caroline tips her head back, considering. Thirty million dollars, no big deal. The prisoners might be hard to arrange, but she’s got connections. She knows exactly who she’d need to bribe. She can always scoop them up later, wrap ‘em in a pretty little bow and leave them on the steps of city hall.

The Vault though? That’s not happening. She’s going to have to figure out how they even know about it, who else might have bought the info, but that’s a problem for later.

“How about fifty million dollars and a couple of extra prisoners? Maybe someone from the asylum?”

Spike leans over, her hand drifting over the tray of instruments. She plucks up one with a serrated edge, twirling it through her fingers. “I know you’re used to snapping your fingers and getting everything your little heart desires, but this isn’t a negotiation.”

She leans forward, resting the blade against the dip between Caroline’s collarbones. She taps it against Caroline’s skin with each carefully enunciated word, “Money. Prisoners. Vault.” She pulls back, gives the instrument another spin. “That’s my only offer. You can say yes, and we’ll give you a phone, so you’re servants can start arranging things. Or, we can do this the hard way.”

She doesn’t insult Caroline’s intelligence by spelling out what the hard way would entail.

Caroline swallows, straightens her spine. “No one gets in my vault.”

Spike sighs in faux disappointment, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “The hard way it is, then.”

Caroline closes her eyes, holds her breath, waits for the first cut to come.

It doesn’t come from where she’d expected.

Glass shatters from high above, showering down, leaving dozens of tiny nicks across her bare shoulders. She feels a rush of air before a body landing in front of her, knees bent.

A familiar man, one who’s been taking up way too much of Caroline’s free time, smirks at her, “Hello, love.”

Caroline gapes at him, and he pivots, backing up until her bent knees brush the back of his calves. She sees few bright flashes, but his back obscures her view of what’s happening. Whatever he’s doing, it’s painfully loud. Popping sounds interrupt shouts and screams of pain, and heavy thuds ring out. Caroline cringes, tucking her ear against her shoulder in an attempt to muffle the cacophony.

Silence, when it comes, scant moments after the chaos began, is jarring. Caroline leans as far to the side as she can, eyes widening when she spots the pile of bodies. She watches as the man, who she doesn’t know if she can call her rescuer since at this point he might also be planning on ransoming her, yanks a handful of zip cuffs from his pocket.

He moves swiftly and with grace, seemingly very at home his body and aware of its capabilities. Caroline’s eyes narrow, mind whirling as he secures her attackers, and she tries to assimilate this new information. He pulls off his leather gloves when he’s done, returning to her side. His expression grows regretful, and his fingertips brush her shoulders, skimming over the cuts and scrapes there. “Sorry about these. The skylight was the best entry point. Make sure you clean them up, hmm?”

He steps passed her, and Caroline feels him make quick work of her handcuffs. She hears the snick of a knife unsheathing and stiffens, but he only uses it on the ropes that bind her legs and torso. Caroline shakes them off, stands hesitantly.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms and turning until they’re once more face to face, separated by the metal chair. “What exactly is happening here? Who are you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not yet ready for you to know my identity. In due time, I promise.”

Caroline sucks in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding together. “Um, how about no?”

He blinks, and Caroline steps a little closer. They’ve always met in the dark, and he’d purposely stuck to the shadows as he’d teased and tossed questions at her. She’s never been this close to him. His eyes are blue, his lashes annoyingly long in a way men never appropriately appreciate. He wears a black mask, covering from the top of his forehead to his upper lip. His hair is slicked back, but she thinks it might be on the lighter side, given the shade of his stubble.

He clears his throat and shifts his weight, but he doesn’t step back or shy away. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“I have had a garbage day. It was long, it was boring, I had to argue over things I know I’m right about, with people who think I’m a bimbo and spend way too much time trying to look down my tops. My dinner got tossed aside when goons r us scooped me up. I love this dress, and it’s ruined. I’m bleeding. I don’t know where my shoes are. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I want to go home!” she’s shouting when she’s done ranting, out of breath.

“Right.” Her rescuer, she’s decided on the term now, shoves the chair aside. He steps forward until his feet bracket hers, wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline grips his biceps, too shocked to admonish this rude invasion of her space. “Hold on. Step up onto my feet.”

She throws her hands up in frustration, “Hello? Did anything I just said sink in?”

His lips, which she’s now noticing are very nice, full and soft looking, compress. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to swallow a laugh. “I heard every word. I’m trying to assist in getting you home. In service of that, if you could please step up onto my feet and hold on.”

His right arm rises, and Caroline recognizes the device in his hand. She’s about to ask him if he’s seriously rescuing her with a device he’d stolen from her but thinks better of it.

He’d stolen the grappling hook from a vigilante who rocks a rose pink leather catsuit, not from Caroline Forbes. It would have been a monster slip, a true testament to how rattled she is from the day’s events that she’d almost blurted out her secret identity to a guy with questionable motives and an unknown name.

Instead, she smiles tightly, loops her arms around his neck, and gingerly steps onto his heavy boots. “For future reference,” she says sweetly, “I generally only like following orders in the bedroom.”

The strangled choking noise he makes as they hurtle upward is immensely satisfying.

* * * * *

Two days later, Caroline’s on her couch watching news footage of a gala she’d been supposed to attend. She’d had a great dress, red and scandalous, all ready to go, but trying to cover her scabby shoulders with makeup had made her look like she’d contracted some kind of infectious skin issue.

She’d sent her regrets and a fat check, resigned herself to a solo evening in her comfy sweats. On her TV, a society reporter’s chattering away about the guest she’d just finished talking to, a lech who’s at least smart enough to hire a publicist good enough to hide his dealings with loan sharks. She trails off in the middle of a sentence, fingertips coming up to press at her earpiece.

The reporter looks right at the camera, excitement on her face. “I’ve just been given some breaking news! A surprise guest has arrived, all the way from the UK. Klaus Mikaelson has shied away from public life since his messy exit from his father’s corporation five years ago. He’s built his own tech firm from the ground up. Buzz had been building since they announced their intention to go public. Let’s see if we can get a few words.”

Bored with the fawning, Caroline’s just about to switch channels. She knows all about Klaus’ Mikaelson’s company. Blurbs about it have been showing up in the intelligence reports she has complied since he’d lured a pair of promising engineers from FI’s Paris offices.

She’s planning on investing in his IPO because he might have scummy HR policies, but his business is sound.

There haven’t been many pictures of him available; apparently, he’d hardly been a social butterfly even when he’d been welcome in the family fold. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so in the ones Caroline’s seen, in which he’d been gangly and angular and sporting a terrible haircut.

The image changes, swinging to the red carpet before Caroline can grab the remote. She pauses, impressed because Klaus Mikaelson has grown up nicely. She might be distracted by the flawless fit of his tux, which Caroline knows can cover a world of sins, so she leans closer as the camera pans up to his face.

And promptly drops her wine class.

The blue eyes. That smile, the dimple it carves into his stubbled cheek. She’d brushed her lips over that cheek barely more than forty-eight hours ago when she’d thanked him for what he’d done for her.

Klaus Mikaelson had accompanied her home the other night, had neatly deflected her probing questions, his amusement never turning to exasperation at Caroline’s dogged persistence.

She’d seriously considered inviting him into her home. She’d told herself it was only in search of more information, but a tiny part of her, the one that was unfailingly honest and sometimes gets her in trouble, had admitted her rescuer intrigued her, even without a name.

Well. Now she has one. A plan forms rapidly, and Caroline scrambles for her phone, digging it out of her couch cushions. She taps the screen, connecting a call to Bonnie. “Bon? Sorry to bug you when you’re off the clock. But I need you to find someone for me.”

She stands, walking into her bedroom as she explains what she needs.

Bonnie’s a genius, well worth the exorbitant salary Caroline pays her. She gets the address within an hour.

* * * * *

Caroline drops a rope onto the terrace of Klaus’ apartment, slips down with barely a whisper of sound, landing lightly. She hugs the side of the building, inching over to the open French doors. She’s fully suited up, hair tightly controlled, and mask on. She eases her foot over the threshold, eyes darting around.

Ugh, of course, he has excellent taste.

Caroline likes light and airy, fun patterns and textures. But she can appreciate the sumptuousness of Klaus’ living room. It’s done up in burgundies and neutrals, hints of gold. There’s a buttery leather sofa facing a fireplace, thick carpets that muffle the sounds of her boots as she walks further in. She can imagine a pleasant night in front of a crackling fire, curled up on the couch when the weather turns cold.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

Her nose twitches, picking up the smell of curry, cardamom, and turmeric.

She hears a door click shut, whirls to find Klaus, barefoot and still dressed up from The Gala, though he’s ditched the jacket and tie. He leans against the now-closed doors to the terrace. He smiles at her warmly, “Hello, Caroline.”

Which answers one of her most pressing questions.

Caroline yanks her mask off, tossing it aside. “I realize this is going to give you déjà vu, but what exactly is happening here?”

Klaus pushes off from the door, ambles towards her, studying her reaction carefully. Caroline doesn’t flinch away or retreat. “I have a proposition for you. And I have dinner. Takeaway from that place you visited the other day when your evening plans were… interrupted. I even got the mango lassi.”

Caroline narrows her eyes, “I have weapons, you know. Way more than you’d think, given how tight this outfit is.”

He laughs, a low husky sound that Caroline knows would be easy to get addicted to. “I’m sure you do. I’m not worried about you using them on me. I only want you to hear out my proposal. You can leave anytime you wish.”

She wonders if it’s stupid to believe him, but she does. He’d had the upper hand two days ago, had no trouble dispatching the group that had taken her. If he had nefarious intentions, he could have picked up right where they left off with the torture.

Caroline’s learned to trust her instincts. They’re telling her she’s safe.

She tugs her hair out of its elastic, loosens her collar slightly, pulling the zipper down a few inches. “Mind lending me something to wear? This totally isn’t designed for sitting for long periods.”

Klaus directs her to a guestroom, gathers a few things of his for her to wear. When she gets to the dining room, she finds he’s arranged the food on gleaming platters and lit candles. Her mango lassi, in its plastic cup, looks wildly out of place.

Caroline refuses to find it endearing.

At least until she’s confirmed that her instincts are correct.

[jostepherjoestar]

Drawing inspiration to this request —> [Hi dear 🖤 La Squadra's reaction to their fem reader's rough and low voice. She is a La Squadra member] May I please request what would La Squadra's reaction be to a member that never speaks who finally speaks for the first time and she has the sweetest and cutest voice ever despite looking very intimidating and cold? Turns out, she's a total shy sweetheart that just looks cold and intimidating since she's part of la squadra

Quiet and intimidating La Squadra member who actually has the cutest voice (fem reader)

Before we start, I’ve reached 100 followers!!! Thank you all so much, I wanna squish all of ur lovely faces!!! Now onto the fun stuff! Made these a bit longer in celebration :))) they’re more like little scenarios

Risotto

Risotto liked the fact that you were more quiet than the rest of his team. It’s not that he hates the noise, it’s just a nice change to have someone who rarely even speaks... now that he thinks of it you’ve actually never spoken around them. He liked that the two of you had the same aura surrounding you, intimidating and perhaps a bit cold.

He’d grown curious to what your voice may sound like, his ears like that of an alert cat whenever he heard an unfamiliar voice around him. Always disappointed to see that it wasn’t you.

What he didn’t know is that you were just horribly shy and never thought you had anything useful to add to the wild conversations. (your own thoughts were wrong ofc)

When you finally spoke for the first time it was to ask about details of a mission, Risotto and you were going on a mission together, alone, for the first time and he hadn’t provided that much details. Which unbeknownst to you was his plan all along. He can be a sly bastard.

You quietly asked him what the plan was after you got his attention when stepping into his office. He couldn’t believe his own ears when he heard the sweetest little voice coming from you. Of course he asked you to repeat yourself and when you did, louder than before, he had to try his hardest to cover up the massive smile growing on his lips.

On the mission itself, you talked more and more to him, warming up to conversation. Risotto felt his heart skip a beat every time you did. He never knew how much he’d appreciate such a cute one like you. 

Formaggio

Formaggio had been trying his hardest to make you talk or even produce any sound at all. Telling joke after joke, calling your name out in the middle of a different conversation so you’d perhaps even just say “Yes, what?”. He’d even tried scaring you, using his stand to shrink himself and hiding behind the coffee machine.

Of course his prank didn’t work, you almost threw him in the trash with an unamused look. But whenever Formaggio truly did his best you walked away from him with a cold look. When you were in a different room you’d silently laugh or let out a big sigh, if only he knew how shy you were and that you’d love to talk to him, but it was yourself stopping you from it.

He liked you, he knew that, you knew that. But when it came to your opinion on him, he actually wasn’t so sure and it gnawed at him. He’d grown a bit insecure, to calm his own thoughts he decided he’d ask you tonight.

He came into your room with a quiet knock while he opened the door, seeing you at your little desk reading a book. Greeting you, he sounded a bit off which worried you, you doing your best to stay stoic. “Do you like me? You know, as a person? Cause I get the feeling you don’t.” the question visibly surprised you. You put down the book and walked over to him, he wasn’t sure what you were planning by the sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Of course I like you Formaggio.” you said in earnest, holding the side of his arm.

That’s it, the man is now a mere puddle on the floor. Your soft, sweet voice mixed with the utter shock has made him melt. He excused himself with a smile and ran out of your room yelling in the hallway that you liked him. He wanted all of Italy to know.

Illuso

Illuso had been intrigued by your cold and quiet nature. Every chance he got he studied your behaviour, trying to figure you out. He didn’t really find out much, only being able to study your habits. In his mirror world he tried his best to observe you, trying to even include a few new extra mirrors in your room.

But after finding weird new mirrors you’d grown suspicious of him and threw them all out. Your room would be a mirror free zone to Illuso’s chagrin. You didn’t dislike him, it was just that his sneaking and investigating bothered you. At least the others made an attempt to talk to you.

He grew tired of waiting, frustrated even that you never talked and he was having a hard time figuring you out. He was good assassin, confident in his own skills. He had to think outside of the box to get you to talk or just catch you doing it.

After much thought he decided on a plan. No plan. He accepted that everything he would concoct would just push you away, a top notch assassin like you knew when they were being played with.

When you woke up today, you felt light and the soft sunshine made you feel positively energised. Everything around you was quiet, no conversations downstairs, no clattering in the kitchen, no showers running. You hummed along to a song while brushing your hair in the bathroom, for a moment feeling completely at ease.

The door was open, not having bothered to close it since no one seemed to be home. But Illuso was. He stood in the doorway, a smile on his face, it finally worked. The soft melodic hums putting him on fluffy pink clouds, wanting the cute voice to soothe him to sleep tonight. Content with what he’d heard, he silently walked away. You knew he was there and honestly relieved that he didn’t approached you, you’d have turned bright red  from embarrassment if he did.

Prosciutto

Prosciutto sighed after realising he’d have another Risotto to look out for. Don’t get him wrong he had great respect and love towards his capo and good friend, but he worried about him. Perhaps too much. So he did what he did to Risotto before. Give you space.

He know’s that pushing you or forcing you to talk would only have the opposite effect. The silent communication you had of nods was enough for now.

The way you were around him made him softer, to his own surprise and chagrin. Of course he cared for his teammates and capo, but don’t let them know all the time and so openly. They’ll get cocky.

It comforted you knowing the space he was giving you, thankful that he hadn’t pushed you. In the beginning you were a little intimidated by him, his stern looks really chilled you to the bone. But his deep voice and (weirdly aggressive) pep talks showed you his more approachable side.

You had tried multiple times to talk to him, you’d built up your courage and were so close to opening your mouth to talk when someone always came and interrupted. Sometimes you even felt a little relieved when they did.

On a quiet afternoon Prosciutto invited you to the empty sitting room, small espresso cups in hand. You felt a little nervous since it was just the two of you, hand shaking a little as you grabbed your cup. The shaking causing you to spill coffee on your knee, the hot liquid burning a red spot on the exposed skin of your leg. You sighed out a ‘Merda!’ as you patted you leg dry.

A sly smile growing on Prosciutto’s face, finally your little facade had cracked a little. You could hear him chuckle in front of you. “Who knew such a sweet voice could produce such nasty words.”

Pesci

This man was quite intimidated by you and your cold exterior. It made you laugh in private since you were shy and sweet just like Pesci. Because you could see your reflection in him, you hung out around him a lot. Just silently watching tv together, sitting next to him at meetings, cooly handing him your leftovers at dinner when he still had room left for more.

It made Pesci blush, your sweet gestures not matching the cold expressions. But on the inside you felt so comfortable and perhaps a bit jealous that Pesci wasn’t as shy as you and expressed himself so honestly.

But the cold expression and the limited eye contact during you friendly offerings were not because you didn’t like him, it was because if your eyes met you’d also be blushing at the sweet man in front of you.

Still, after all your silent offerings he was not assured to approach you by himself. He was cautious and also didn’t want to push you out of your comfort if you didn’t feel like talking. He’d create awkward silences that didn’t even need to be uncomfortable, he just couldn’t help himself.

Whenever there was time, between the jobs that offered enough physical training, you’d all train together. On one of these days, everyone was working hard, sparring, lifting and running to built up stamina. You were done with your exercises, muscles tired, body sweaty but feeling the rush of the after workout bliss. Pesci was on his last set of arm lifts when you walked over.

His arms were shaking and it looked like he was on his last straw. The bar resting on his chest as he took deep breaths. You stood behind him, signalling you’d spot him for safety. His strong arms shaking under the weights, struggling to do the last lift. “Come on Pesci, I know you can do it.” Your sweet encouragement was loud enough for him to hear but not so loud that the others noticed.

With one last grunt he pushed up the weights, an excited sound ringing out loudly as he puts the weights back on the rests. His face seemed red from the strain but the goofy smile betrayed him, it was you that did that to him.

Melone

Oh little melon man figured you out so fast. He was of course polite and friendly to you, always the gentleman (you’d be surprised at how nice and considerate he could be) but behind all this he was waiting patiently.

He knew as soon as he noticed your cold facade and silent nature that you were hiding a sweetness behind it. But he was excruciatingly patient, to a degree that he didn’t even care anymore about hearing your voice or seeing you smile for once. Just the excitement of waiting for you to crack is what invigorated him.  

His behaviour worried you, you’d known from seeing him interact with the others what he was like and it was blatantly obvious that he treated you different. He left you alone, didn’t push of prod, didn’t joke around to extract a reaction.

You were already shy but the way he was acting made you even more nervous. Maybe perhaps a little angry since you knew the game he was playing and you felt yourself losing. The way he acted actually making you want to talk to him, wanting him to give you the attention he gave to others so teasingly.

You decided you were going to play along, while also working against him. At least trying to reverse the effect of his game. You’d dress a little more provocatively, bending and pushing your best assets forwards whenever he was near, knowing that was an easy way to get his attention.

You weren’t even sure you wanted him in that way, pining over your body. But you had to play dirty if that’s the way he did things. But nothing worked, every attempt failed. He didn’t budge, his sly smiles only lasting longer, he knew he was winning.

Melone was sitting comfortably on his legs on the couch, he looked lost in thought when you approached. You made sure no one was around. Defeated and not even sure why you were even going to reward him. “You win, Melone.” You plopped down next to him with a deep sigh. Your sweet voice like heavenly harps at the gates of heaven to Melone’s ears. “Well played, kitten. You almost got me, maybe if you kept going you’d have actually won.” he purred while winking. Oh you could kill him right now...maybe you will. Just a little.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio didn’t mind your quietness at all. But he made you nervous and, afraid to set him off if you did something wrong or looked at him the wrong way. He’d notice your shoulders tense up every time he yelled, he wasn’t yelling at you though, probably at Melone.

It got him a little fired up that he made you tense, perhaps more at himself since never actually wants to be mad, it just happens. He’s been avoiding you for a while now.

You’d noticed him acting cold to you and avoiding even the slightest contact between each other. It made you wonder if it was your fault. If only there was a way to help this problem out of the way. Oh wait there is, it’s called communication. But you just couldn’t do it, not yet.

Both too stubborn or scared of talking to each other, it continued. Your teammates also noticing the air in the room get colder once Ghiaccio and you entered. Risotto and Prosciutto weren’t really sure what to do, no idea what the actual problem was, and you weren’t talking. Ghiaccio wasn’t either.

The idea sprung to Prosciutto to get you in the same room together and not let you out until you’d talked about it. And as dumb as it sounds, his plan proceeded, Ghiaccio was already in Risotto’s office, the capo also part of the plan. Luring you in was easy enough, since you didn’t know that Ghiaccio was in there already.

By god they ‘Parent Trapped’ you. You sat in the chair next to Ghiaccio who had slowly begun calming down. His tirade of insults at the closed door had already come and gone. It felt like an hour had passed, it actually did, before he began talking. “Why do you get so tense around me? I know I get angry but it’s rightfully so. There’s just so many stupid people. I’d never actually hurt you or the others. Not that much...” he sighed, finally saying what’s been on his mind.

“You’ve talked to everyone but me. Am I that horrible?” he sounded so sad when he talked, almost a whisper. You couldn’t handle your own silence anymore. “You’re not horrible, I- I just don’t know how to-.” you couldn’t string the right words together but Ghiaccio understood. Your sweet voice softening the emotions. The two of you actually hugged it out, but you’d never let Risotto or Prosciutto get the satisfaction of knowing that.

[syilcawrites]

a/n: hi I’m alive and I wrote this bc of a prompt that @zelink-prompts​ put out!! I thought it’d be a fun little exercise for tonight! It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so I’ve been wanting to get something out ehe. Here’s to posting at 2 AM (I apologize in advance for any typos)! Hope you enjoy!

summary: [Pre-Calamity] It’s Zelda’s 16th birthday and King Rhoam decides to throw a lavish masquerade ball in celebration. Zelda is not happy (when is she ever happy pre-calamity ;-;)

ao3

a party of floating eyes

“I just simply—” Zelda grunts and winces as Impa tightens the corset around her waist, “—simply do not understand why this is such a necessary tradition!” Her fingers dig into the fabric of her vanity chair with enough force to chip her nails.

“Your Highness,” Impa starts, tying the lace, “if we start straying from such traditions, the people will begin to worry.”

Her frown deepens—she knows Impa is right, but every second she spends lolling around with trivial palace affairs, she can feel her precious time slipping away from her.

“Besides,” Impa continues, pulling Zelda’s hair back and smoothing it out, “you’ll be turning sixteen—your birthday has always been a big celebration.” 

Zelda straightens her back out, squirming uncomfortably under the tightness constricting her waist. “Well, if people cared so much about me, I wish they’d let me spend my birthday as I please,” Zelda grumbles, picking up the black, lacy mask that sits on her chair before plopping down onto the cushion. She crosses her arms, staring at her reflection with tinged annoyance.

“I know, I know.” Impa laughs softly. “Just try to focus on all the possibilities that will open up to you once you do hit sixteen though,” she encourages. “Besides, doing this will let the people know that we have everything under control. The less worried they are, the less chaotic the future will be.”

“But everything’s not okay,” Zelda sighs out, rubbing her temples. “I have yet to unlock—”

“You still have the Spring of Wisdom to go to next year. Don’t jump to conclusions, Your Highness,” Impa rebukes quickly. Her fingers work quickly through Zelda’s hair as she begins braiding down her back. “And we shouldn’t give up on the Shrine of Power and Courage, no?”

 Zelda remains quiet.

Of all the things she could be doing to prevent a catastrophe, she has to attend another cursed ball. A celebration for her birthday is far from something she wants.

“Only one night,” Zelda mutters, lightly slapping her cheeks. If she dutifully plays along with her father’s antics, perhaps he will ease his expressions of disappointment toward her.

“A little bit of hair here…” Impa tugs out strands of Zelda’s hair to frame her face. “There! You look lovely,” she says with satisfaction as she places her hands on her hips. Zelda flits her gaze away from her reflection against the mirror to her ajar bedroom window. She can already hear the sound of carriages bumping along the roads and the neighs of the horses resounding through the dark night.

“He’ll be there, won’t he?” The corset feels even more constricting when she thinks about him. That boy . She has to keep up—she cannot afford to fall behind any further than she already has.

“The young knight?” Impa inquires, squinting her eyes in thought as she maneuvers around Zelda to look inside her jewelry box. “I believe he’ll be patrolling the castle grounds.” Zelda relaxes her shoulders as she stares at Impa’s back. “Zelda. You shouldn’t avoid him. You know that you will have to cooperate with him in the future.”

“I’m not.” The lie feels sharper against her tongue than Impa’s gaze. “I’m not avoiding him. I was just… curious.” A half-truth is better than none. Zelda toys with the black ribbon straps of her mask, picking at an unraveling thread. She lifts the mask up to her eyes and tilts the corners of her mouth up.

Zelda has many masks, and adding another one is harmless.

  ——————————————————————

Be graceful. Be elegant. Be poised.

-

Don’t blink too often. Don’t eat too much. Don’t laugh too loudly and never laugh without a hand over your mouth.

 -

Zelda sneakily picks at the piece of bread that Impa had snuck to her earlier, nibbling on it in between greetings and returning plastic smiles—but the music. The music is irritating Zelda. There’s an instrument out of tune—a violin, maybe—and every time the bow strokes the A string it lets out a glaringly out-of-tune high-pitched squeal.

The only good it does is mask the growls of her stomach. She is starving, but starving is something that she has grown familiar with. Starving for food, starving for affection, starving for power, starving for—

“Your Highness?”

Zelda immediately hides the piece of bread behind her back and glances up at the soft voice. A Zoran who resembles that of a Fuschia flower—Princess Mipha, wasn’t it? If she recalls correctly, Mipha is one of the candidates for the Divine Beasts.

“A-A gift,” she continues, her cheeks tinted pink. “For your 16th birthday.” She holds a palm-sized box out to Zelda—baby blue with a white ribbon.

Zelda blinks at it for a moment, a bit dazed. No one has ever really handed her a gift-wrapped present before. Most of the guests have been handing them to her father—extravagant gifts that were mostly catered to him anyway—and now there is a gift for her here, directly being handed to her. They’ve only spoken to each other once, during Zelda’s mother’s funeral. Aside from that, whenever they had the pleasure of being in one another’s company, they acknowledged each other.

“Thank you,” Zelda says stiffly, accepting it with her free hand as she stares down at it. She brushes a thumb over the smooth surface of the box. Zelda sneaks a glance at her father, who is busy talking to another guest. She stuffs the bread in her mouth—earning a wide-eyed look from Mipha. “Pardon me, I haven’t eaten all day,” she admits sheepishly, gulping it down quickly. 

“Oh dear, you haven’t eaten at all?” Mipha almost gasps, her expression strung up in worry. Zelda waves her hand at her and shakes her head.

“I’m sure the last guests will arrive soon.” She holds the box with both hands now. “Is it alright if I open it up now?” Zelda asks, lowering her voice a little. A warm smile spreads across her face. She nods.

Zelda tugs the ends of the ribbon—it slips out of the knot easily—and lifts the lid. The object sits comfortably against a red velvet cushion: a stained glass flower. Zelda lifts it up slightly up in the air—an array of colors dance across Mipha’s face as she views her through the glass.

“I’ve recently taken up glass welding,” Mipha says quickly, fidgeting with her fingers. “I’ve heard that you’re currently researching an endangered species of flora. Although this won’t particularly aid in your research… I apologize…” she trails off, sounding faint.

“It’s beautiful!” Zelda clasps her hands over Mipha’s. “This is the best gift I’ve received today, there’s no need to apologize.” A smile breaks across Zelda’s face. A handmade gift? For her? A recreation of the Silent Princess at that! She tries her best to keep the excitement from brimming out of her voice. “It’s lovely, Princess Mipha. Thank you.” She clears her throat as she catches her father staring at her from the corner of her eyes.

“I’m grateful that you like it, Princess Zelda.” Mipha beams happiness, with a look of relief. She glances at the entrance—and does a double-take.

“Oh, please, enjoy the celebration and the food.” Zelda gestures to the ballroom, sitting back down. “We’ve cooked our finest dishes.” Food that she wishes she could eat herself, but she has to stand at the entrance with her father because he won’t let her get up until everyone has come through the door.

Mipha curtseys—she has always been so elegant—as she wishes Zelda a year of happiness, before quickly hurrying to the door. 

Zelda follows her trail, and watches her happily clasp the hands of—Zelda involuntarily scrunches her nose at the sight that she sees before her. Impa had told her he was patrolling outside on the castle grounds. Why in Hylia’s name is he inside the ballroom?

“Zelda, I would advise against raising your voice like that. People are watching.” Her father’s voice isn’t unkind, but chastising. She hates it.

She looks down at her dress, to straighten out the wrinkles of the dark blue ballgown. The sheer fabric has been irritating her the entire night, and she’s almost positive that she’s lost a diamond droplet or two that had been sewn onto the dress. “Father,” Zelda whispers, glancing at him. “This feels like a waste—”

“It is important to remain friendly with our diplomats. You know this. Especially with the prophecy—we must remain united with the others.”

Well, it wouldn’t matter if they were united or not if she couldn’t unlock her sacred power. She’d rather spend her birthday standing in the water of a Spring than next to her father.

“Just do as I say tonight for once, Zelda. For my sake.”

She balls her hands into a fist, scrunching up the skirt of her dress as she does so. “All I ever do—”

“Your Majesty!”

Her voice gets drowned out by the incoming guests, and she is soon tossed into the shadow of her father once more.

  ——————————————————————

Zelda makes sure to stay across the ballroom from Link—it’s easy to do so, considering how much he sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s easy enough to avoid a stranger—the lack of familiarity makes the task simple.

“A drink, Your Highness?” a passing maid asks, lowering the metal tray for her.

“So much for a masquerade, you can recognize me from a mile away can’t you?” Zelda murmurs lightly, grabbing a strawberry pink drink.

“Your beauty is unmatched. It’s hard not to notice you,” the maid says kindly as she bows her head.

Zelda lets out an uneasy laugh—compliments never sit comfortably with her. “Well, thank—”

“His Majesty would like to formally introduce a faithful knight of the Hyrule Kingdom, who has proven his worth and skill at the young age of ten,” the Court Poet announces, ceasing side conversations down to a murmur.

Her father—looking rosy-cheeked and kind, as he always is in front of guests—ushers the knight out of the crowd, and into the middle of the room with him. “This young man has risen through the ranks and proved his devotion in keeping peace within our lands at a very young age, and even the Goddess Hylia has blessed him—Link, the Knight who has drawn the Sword that Seals Darkness.” Her father’s voice is nothing short of impressive. He’s able to cease conversations within seconds, by the strength of his voice and presence. Zelda quirks an eyebrow up as she stands on her tiptoes to see above the sea of heads—a very stiff-looking boy standing next to a large, bulky man who is taller by half his height is quite a scene to see. “He will fight alongside my dear beloved daughter Zelda, to maintain this peaceful, prosperous time.” 

Eyes shift to her—black and beady behind the masks they adorn. Zelda grits her teeth as she bows into a deep curtsey.

 -

One… two… three…

 -

She straightens her posture and clasps her hands in front of her gingerly. As long as she doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, she’ll be fine. Just smile.

Zelda tilts the corners of her mouth up.

Coos of oh’s and ah’s reverberate off the walls of the ballroom, shaking her to her bones as they clap.

“To commemorate, the Hero and the Goddess-blood Princess will offer the first formal dance of the night,” the Court Poet announces loudly, spotting her almost immediately.

Her smile drops from her face, and she methodically shifts her narrowed eyes to Link.

He stands as stiff as a board.

She takes long, brisk steps to the center of the room.

 -

Be graceful, elegant, poised.

 -

Do not look into their restless eyes, because they will worm their way through the black of her irises and find out she is a Goddess-blood Princess who has been abandoned by their savior.

 -

Zelda stares at the creases between his eyebrows as she approaches him—they’re one step away from bumping noses.

He places a hand on her waist, but it mostly hovers over her, like he’s afraid he’ll burn himself if he gets closer. Zelda places one hand on his shoulder. His other hand floats in the air, unsure. She grabs it hesitantly, and settles to look at his lips instead: pressed into a thin line. He doesn’t want to be here, either.

The music starts jarringly, like the morning bell that rings at six in the morning. The violin is still a pitch to high—why hasn’t anyone noticed it yet? Not even the conductor?

Zelda digs her nails into his shoulder as they move—the brush of wind that follows their movements eases the anger that has risen in her.

“Just do as I say tonight, for once, Zelda. For my sake.”

And dancing with the boy who has fulfilled his part of prophecy will help complete hers?

They miss a beat—he steps in at the same time she does, and her forehead almost smacks against his. Zelda almost trips over the skirt of her dress as he accidentally steps on her foot.

She glances up at him—his mask is simple, but it’s as light as starlight and makes her squint a little. Her eyebrows furrow together. It doesn’t last long once she remembers the hundreds of eyes that watch their every movement.

But then he does it again.

Zelda sucks in a sharp breath. “You do know that there is plenty of space for you to step upon aside from my feet, right?” she murmurs between her teeth, making sure her smile is still plastered on her face. The edge of his ears flushes red.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers with a brief, apologetic smile. There’s a finality to his voice that makes her tilt her head in curiosity.

He steps on her toes again.

Zelda’s mouth twitches—she bites her tongue to distract herself from the pain shooting up her foot. “You don’t know how to dance, do you?”

His ears turn a shade darker.

A small sigh escapes between her lips. She straightens her back and tightens her grip on his hand. “Keep your eyes down and follow my feet.” She repositions her other hand to rest more securely on his shoulder. She would prefer not to have a mouthful from her father for messing up the first formal dance of the ball.

Their eyes catch—vibrantly blue and innocent. He nods. 

Even though he concentrates on the pattern of her feet lilting across the marble floor, he still brushes against her heels. She glances up at him—beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he concentrates on their feet, with the tip of his tongue sticking out ever so slightly.

Zelda swallows back the giggle bubbling up her throat.

“Hm, think of it as… sword fighting practice, maybe? There’s formation in that is there not?” Zelda inquires. A good knight must be efficient at their footwork, or else they’d stumble over during a fight and fall. “Try to be light on your feet like when you’re fighting.”

“Like fighting,” he echoes, his face lighting up at her suggestion—she feels the tension chip away from his shoulders as they make their rounds, passing by the ambassadors and royalty encircling them. 

Zelda keeps her voice low: “Left, back, right…” she instructs him quietly, as her own shoulders relax at his slight improvement. At least he isn’t stepping on her anymore. The music becomes tolerable, once she decides to focus on their own two pairs of feet sliding across the floor and the sound of his breathing.

The loud, booming round of applause drags her back to reality—she releases her hands from him immediately and takes a step back to do a quick curtsey.

“Thank you.”

The sound of his words catches the tail end of the wind—quiet, almost inaudible. She raises her head, but by the time she does so, the crowd greedily surges toward them to fill the empty space that used to belong to them.

[sestra-inestro]

Part of the Team (1/?)

Miniseries for @mushyjellybeans writing challenge. Hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had just listened to me!”

Pairings: fem!reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader is part of a private investigation that is kept secret from the Avengers. Instead, they believe she took a bribe. Isolated for two years as the investigation comes to an end, reader is awarded a Medal of Honor and the team realises their mistake, but it might just be too late.

Warnings: Angst, violence, isolation and harsh treatment. Re-uploading because I don’t know what tumblr did to the original one.

Series Masterlist

You stood in the small room you had been moved to in your moment of exile. The team hadn’t shown up to the award ceremony, much expected. They had been bitter towards you for a whole two years now, you didn’t expect them to suddenly change their minds.

The empty shelves and the and the stripped bare bed showed no signs of you living inside anymore.

You clutched the medal you had been granted in your hand, the cold of the metal screaming at you that you had done the right thing and that they were wrong, but now you felt lonely as ever.

What had turned into you witnessing an event with an undercover agent, had looked to the team like you were accepting a bribe and turning a blind eye. Since then you were stuck in an investigation that had to stay secret from the team, so you had to take their nastiness in the chin. The worst was when Nat broke up with you. The disgust on her face when she saw you turn away from that agent in the middle of a fight had stained your memory.

Now that was the only look she gave you when she acknowledged you.

But your secrecy was to keep the team safe. It was for the best.

~

Fury had forced you to keep your mouth shut. Reading the file on the agent had given you some insight into what exactly was being investigated and now you were hyper-aware.

Walking into the common kitchen, eyes followed you.

“He didn’t kick you off?” Tony asked incredulously.

You looked to him and took in the looks you were being given.

“No, only a warning.” You said lowly as you opened the fridge.

Clint scoffed at your answer. “If I had my way, you’d be off and shipped right now.”

“But you don’t.” Steve butted in. He disapproved and was cold, but he didn’t act out like the rest. “So we just had to soldier on and make the best of the situation.”

You looked down at his words. Great, now you were a situation.

You snatched water from the fridge and quickly made your way out of the room, they watched you exit with shame.

You wanted to tell Natasha. You had to.

Making your way up to her room, you racked your brain of ways to deal with this whole situation. As soon as you got to her door, it swung open.

Her eyes looked at you with disgust and disbelief.

“What do you want?” Venom laced her voice.

“I need to talk to you.” You tried to sound like you weren’t begging.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

“Yes, there is Natasha. Please just listen to me-“ You begged but she cut you off.

“No! I don’t want to listen to you.” She raised her voice to yell at you. “I can’t believe you would do something like that.”

“It’s not what you think Nat!”

“I watched you shake his hand and let him go, June! You can’t tell me that you didn’t let the enemy go and screwed up our whole mission.” You could, in fact, tell her that. But it was going to be hard.

“You disgust me.” Her words cut you deeply. The look in her eyes salted your wounds.

“Nat...” You tried.

“No. This,” She gestured between you and herself. “Whatever we had is over.”

~

Their resentment wasn’t the worst of it. They destroyed you in training, and eventually, you stopped training with them together. They had turned into a team of bullies, you thought it was childish, but you couldn’t blame them because of the unknown.

~

You had been trying to be nice to every member in the building. Going out of your way to getting stuff, smiling if they looked in your direction, helping them if they struggled or just trying to start a conversation. But nothing was working.

Walking down the corridor of the tower you had your nose buried into the StarkPad in your hands. Hearing another set of footsteps, you looked up to see a sweaty Bucky coming but from the gym. Making eye contact you pulled your lips into the sweetest smile you could muster, he was never one to be bluntly rude to someone since joining the team. But as you kept your smile and got closer to him, he passed you with a glare and a hard thump of the shoulder, causing you to grunt, stagger and drop the StarkPad. Steadying yourself, you looked down at the broken device. Great, another reason for Stark to hate you. You looked back at Bucky as he walked away from you, not a second glance in your direction. That was when you really started to feel unwanted and disconnected.

-

The training was the worst. They either excluded you altogether or targeted you. Each blow they gave, you took with pride. One day they would know the truth and everything would be okay.

“June, you’re up.” Steve’s voice picked your attention away from the exercise you were doing. Seeing Natasha on the sparring mat, sweaty and flustered gave you a wave of anxiety.

“June, let’s go!” Steve hurried you.

You left your stuff at that end of the room and you slowly made your way to where Nat was standing and waiting.

You were good at hand-to-hand combat, but you definitely weren’t the best. You did better with weapons and guns. There was no way you could beat anyone on the hand during a sparring session. Especially Nat.

You eyed her carefully as she watched your approach.

“What? Think you’re too good to train with the rest of us now?”

You didn’t answer her back. You stepped onto the mat and got into position. Hopefully, this would be quick.

“Go easy and be fair,” Steve warned both of you before stepping off the mat.

Nat gave no time for Steve to say go before she lunged at you. She was a blur before your eyes but you managed to dodge her. Stumbling back a bit, she took that chance to swipe your legs out from under you. You hit the mat with a grunt and a clap sounded through the gym.

Nat stepped back to her place at the mat and you groaned as you lifted yourself up. Steve watched you as you repositioned yourself.

You were starting to regret training with them, but you had to show them that you weren’t going to let them down anymore.

Nat huffed as she watched you get into a defensive stance and rolled her eyes. You had gotten used to that reaction from her, but it still hurt.

“Alright, go again.” Steve said.

He clapped again and this time, she didn’t lunge. She kept her glare trained on you as she shuffled towards you on her toes.

She took a jab at your face and you deflected but as you did, she went for your ribs, which you weren’t fast enough to dodge. While it caused you to struggle as you crunched forward and groaned, Nat kicked back one of your legs and wrapped her arm around yours. She pushed you to the mat face down her arm pulling yours back between your shoulder blades, you straining against her grip.

“Nat,” You struggled in the position she had you in. One sudden movement and your elbow was done for.

“Tap out.” She spat.

Fuck this, this was not worth it. You twisted your arm and flipped yourself up, causing her to roll backward. You felt a burn run up your arm as your muscles strained at the odd movement but you fought against it.

Expecting her to lunge at you, you lifted your arms in defense to suddenly feel a sharp piercing pain in your upper arm. Yelping out, you jumped back and away from her. Your yelp was followed by a silence throughout the gym as you looked down at your arm to see a tiny knife had been lodged into you.

Blood slowly started to seep through the wound and a tiny drop of blood trailed down your arm.

Shakily, your hand grasped the handle of the knife and you gently pull it out of your arm. You look back in at Nat with shaky breaths. She looked uncertain like she was deciding if she regretted throwing her knife at you, or if you were going to throw it back at her.

You understood now. They hated you. The hint was finally taken. She actually threw her knife at you, made you bleed.

You looked around the gym to see the same look on the rest of the teams’ faces.

“That’s enough.” Fury’s voice came from the entrance of the gym. “June.” He called to you.

Staring into Nat’s eyes, you dropped the knife to the floor where you stood. You turned, walking to where you had left your stuff, gathered it in your arms and headed out of the gym, Fury stepping aside to let you out before following you.

That was the last time you trained with them or spoke to them.

-

“You’re leaving?” Nat’s voice pulled you from your memories. You turned to the door, seeing her standing just inside the doorway.

“Yes.” Your reply was short.

Nat took a deep breath. She had only just received a notification of the award ceremony and missed it by an hour.

“You don’t have to go.” Her voice was small like she didn’t want to crack the calm exterior you were putting on.

“I handed in my resignation letter two weeks ago.” You say to her, turning back to the medal that sat in your hand. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

Nat sighed. “June, please.” She stepped forward to you. A couple of years ago, the roles were reversed. “We didn’t know.”

“But you would have.” You turned to completely face her. “I tried to tell you the minute Fury finished telling me. But you wouldn’t listen, you just slammed the door in my face.”

Nat looked at you with sad eyes. Her chest caved in with the heavy guilt as she watched you. “For years the whole team has treated me like shit. You had no lesser part in that. I tried my hardest. In fact, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you had just listened.”

“I’m sorry.” Nat’s voice was almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” You tossed the metal onto the bed. “I’m sorry too.”

You reached for your bag and pushed passed her. She watched as you walked away from her, all the harsh memories of the past two years flooding her brain and the pain in her chest expanded with every step you took.

~

You packed up your stuff into your car and made a rest stop at the bar. Sitting solemnly at the bar all by yourself with a bourbon in your hand.

This is where you were meant to celebrate with people after the ceremony. But you chose to come later when you expected no one to be there and you were right. No one you knew had shown their face and you were glad in a way. Though, you had never felt more lonely.

“Congratulations.” Fury’s voice came from beside you as he took a seat.

Without looking at him, you have a quick upturn of your lips before it was gone again. “Thanks.” You said, looking down at your drink.

“I know that this doesn’t feel like a whole lot, but you save a lot of people and helped in a major investigation that you weren’t even meant to be a part of.” He nudged your shoulder with his. “You did good. You deserve that medal.”

You didn’t know how to respond to him. You knew that this how the situation would turn the team against you. You just didn’t count on them being as mean as they were. You couldn’t blame them, but you would never feel truly a part of the team again. And the medal didn’t make it feel worth it.

“I’m not forcing you to stay, I could never. All I am saying is that they will understand now, and you will always be welcome back.” He finished his talk and got up from his seat, fishing through his pocket for some cash and placing it in front of you. “Free drinks for the hero.” Fury patter your shoulder before leaving you to your thoughts.

Tears sprang to your eyes as the emotions swirled in your chest. Hero. If you were a hero now, then why didn’t you feel like one? After two whole years, you now felt the bitterness. Bitterness towards the team, towards the investigation, towards that stupid undercover agent who was dumb enough to get himself caught and forced to reveal himself, and towards the medal that burned in your hand the first time you touched it and you were glad you’d left it behind.

“Fuck this.” You mumbled. You downed the rest of your drink and set the glass down. Getting up from your seat at the bar you made your way and fished in your pocket for your keys. You were done with this place and wanted to move on.

As if more things could hold you back, when you pushed open the bar door, you came face-to-face with the rest of the team. They were making their way into the bar to congratulate you. Steve and Bucky held bouquets of flowers and Tony and Wanda held what seemed to be gift bags.

You took their image in, a lump in your throat forming again and tears made their way to your eyes.

“We heard that you were leaving?” Tony asked you.

“You heard right.” You cleared your throat. “Please don’t try to convince me otherwise, this is already hard enough.”

“We’re sorry.” Steve said, his eyes sad.

“I know.” You looked down to the ground. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Of course it matters, June.” Clint said sternly. “We didn’t know anything but-“

“So let it be then! It’s not your guys’ fault that you didn’t know.” You cut him off and raised your voice. “This was all just a big misunderstanding and nothing can change that.”

The team fell silent. You didn’t want their apologies, you hated the fact that they had to give them to you. You knew it was cowardly but you just wanted to run away.

A crack of thunder rose in the sky and lightning beamed down, signally Thor’s arrival.

Great, you inwardly rolled your eyes.

“June!” The God bellowed cheerfully. “I’ve heard of your success and have come to celebrate in a feast and drinks!” He patted you on the back.

He had been gone for the last two years, of course he wouldn’t know anything about what went down.

Thor’s words were met with silence and tension, which confused him. “I’ve missed something...” He said in a soft voice.

You finally turned to face him and sighed. “Yeah, a bit.”

You glanced back at the team and then back to Thor and gave him the best smile you could. “Thank you, so much. But I’m leaving, I’m being transferred to another agency.”

Thor’s frown deepened as you patted his shoulder and pushed passed him.

You looked over your shoulder to them. “See you around.”

They watched as you climbed into your car and drove out of the bar parking lot. Thor turned to the team and saw the stuff they were holding.

“What has happened?”

[hermannsthumb]

Can I get something where Newt barges in on Hermann doing some yoga in the most scantily clad yoga gear ever...

ok this is for like 3 people and wholly inspired by the hermann tank top renaissance on side twitter this past week. 18+ under cut!!!

----------------------

The good thing about living on what used to a pretty bustling base—Newt considers—is that the average athletic hopeful has their pick of at least three different gyms at any given time. And the good thing about that—Newt further considers, as he half-jogs down to the gym closest to the k-science lab—is that the rangers don’t bother with any gym besides the one directly off of their quarters, because it’s got the sparring mats and the nice equipment and all that shit. Look, Newt’s not exactly the most ripped guy in the world. Or even really very fit. When he feels the rare urge to hit the gym, he doesn’t want to be struggling over some push-ups while rangers with muscles as big as his head lift 300 pound barbells and bust open punching bags or whatever. It’s...degrading.

Lately Newt’s been hitting the gym more frequently than usual, on account of a something that passed between him and Hermann at lunch in the mess a few weeks back. Hermann had caught eye contact with one of the muscled rangers across the room, looked down at his little bowl of soup, and said—calmly—“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”

Anyway, that’s why Newt has to get all buff now. 

It’s disappointing to see that the gym lights are on, but maybe no one will take any notice of Newt if he sticks to a deserted, badly-lit corner or something. He’s so set on creeping inside undetected that he doesn’t even realize who it is that’s beaten him there that morning, until he hears a small, surprised “Newton?”

Newt looks up sharply. Hermann is on a yoga mat in the middle of the gym floor, his left leg stretched out far to the side, and bent halfway over to touching one socked foot. But that’s not what stops Newt dead in his tracks and sends a fiery jolt of arousal rocketing straight down to his stomach, and it’s not even the little grunting noises Hermann’s making as he goes: that’d be Hermann’s outfit. He’s forgone his usually twenty wrinkled old layers for a pair of baggy grey yoga pants and the absolute thinnest white tank top of all time, a tank top which shows off shapely, toned arms, a thin layer of sweat over each, and collarbones, and clings to a shapely set of pecs, which has ridden up just enough to show off a patch of pale stomach, with a small trail of light-colored hair leading down, and... “Newton!” Hermann repeats, shooting up in alarm. 

“Wha?” Newt says, and then he trips over a weight bench.

It’s one of their more uncomfortable trips to medical.

"Don’t tip your head back,” Hermann says.

“Thanks,” Newt says, except Hermann’s handkerchief is pinched to his nose, so it sounds a great deal more nasal. “I know, dude. Not my first rodeo.” He’s gotten his ass kicked for mouthing off in bars to jackasses more times than he cares to admit. He pulls away the handkerchief and scowls at the blooming scarlet stain, as if doing so might stop the source of it. It doesn’t; another splotch of blood lands on his hand, and he quickly shoves the handkerchief back into place. “Unbelievable. I’m gonna look so fuckin’ gnarly tomorrow.”

“Well, I suppose it’s an lucky thing you haven’t broken it,” Hermann says. “Or anything else, for that matter. How on Earth did you manage to do that, anyway?”

“I was thinking about,” Newt casts about for a suitable lie, “...kaiju. You know me. Haha.”

Newt had landed pretty flat on his face. The way Hermann had sprung into action would be admirable, really, and Newt would feel grateful enough to treat Hermann to takeout coffee for at least a week, if the act that necessitated fast action hadn’t been so completely and utterly mortifying. Hermann is still in his little yoga pants and tank top; he didn’t even remember to grab his shoes from the gym before he escorted Newt out. The knotted drawstring of the yoga pants is hanging well down his thighs. Skinny motherfucker. Since when has Hermann had pecs? “Aren’t you cold?” Newt blurts out.

“Cold?” Hermann says.

With a great deal of difficulty, Newt forces his eyes up from the swinging drawstring of Hermann’s yoga pants to his torso. His half-bare torso. With his shapely arms, and his shapely pecs, and his elegant collarbones. If Newt squints hard enough, he could probably see Hermann’s nipples through the white fabric. Especially now—the Shatterdome really is always so cold, with the A/C blasting, and Hermann is usually so sensitive to it... Oh, God, someone help Newt. “Because you’re in,” he says, and then swallows a few times, “th—that. Tank top.”

Hermann looks down at himself, like he’s forgotten what he’s wearing—like it’s inconsequential what he’s wearing—and hums. “I hadn’t really noticed—I was a bit overheated, I suppose, from my exercises.”

“Your exercises,” Newt says.

“Yes, my stretches,” Hermann says. “They do wonders for keeping my leg limber.”

Limber; Hermann is limber. Hermann, in his little yoga pants and tank top, grunting away while he stretches out, is limber. “I didn’t know,” Newt says. He’s started to feel a bit light-headed again, and hopes Hermann doesn’t notice the funny way he’s walking. He’ll be grateful when they get back to the lab and he can sit down a little, or maybe run back to his bunk and take care of his...problem.

They walk under one of the larger A/C vents; Hermann gives a little shiver. Newt forces his eyes all the way down to Hermann’s socked feet to avoid catching sight of any potential physiological responses in Hermann’s pectoral region. “Maybe you should put on a sweater,” Newt says, helpfully. He watches Hermann’s cane move up and down with each step. He’s never seen Hermann not wearing a sweater before. Not even at Shatterdome parties. Up until today, Newt would’ve thought that Hermann wore sweaters to the beach, some sort of special waterproof wool. Maybe he wears tank tops to the beach.

Hermann says something.

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. He thinks about the small beads of sweat that had been dotting Hermann’s exposed collarbones.

“Were you listening?” Hermann says.

Newt looks up. “No,” he says.

“I said we ought to go to the gym together, in the mornings,” Hermann says. He gives Newt one of his rare, blinding smiles, his funny mouth going lopsided. “It’s too bloody quiet in there. I’d appreciate even your company.”

Unlimited access to Hermann’s bare arms, his bare shoulders, his collarbones. Grunting. Stretching every which way. It sounds like a fucking nightmare, or maybe a hellish wet dream. Besides—Newt doesn’t go to the gym. Not like Hermann. Apparently. “Sounds cool,” Newt says.

Hermann looks pleased. Stupid, stupid Newt.

He jerks off furiously in the empty communal showers that night, thinking—extensively—about what it would be like if he was jerking off on Hermann’s stupid tank top instead.

They make plans to meet at the gym the next morning at six, with a trip to the mess hall for breakfast at seven after. Hermann, it turns out, has an extensive workout routine, but not quite an extensive workout wardrobe, and so—as Newt attempts a few puny sit-ups in his oldest pair of MIT sweatpants—he’s treated to another view of Hermann’s weirdly gorgeous arms straining and sweating in that stupid tank-top. He watches Hermann stretch and bend each leg and lift some of the smaller weights for ten minutes before he realizes that he hasn’t actually moved a single inch since sit-up number three. Hopefully Hermann hasn’t noticed. “You’re not tired out, are you?” Hermann says, having apparently noticed. He groans as he arches his back. He has a small birthmark on his left shoulder. “I don’t mind finishing a bit—”

“No!” Newt says. “Not tired. Just, uh—” Hermann shuts his eyes and groans again, a little louder. “Just—” Hermann’s tank top has ridden up, giving Newt a glimpse of that little dusting of hair, the elegant vee of his hips... Newt bites his lip to keep himself from saying something stupid. “I. Uh.”

Hermann, bent half-over, looks up at Newt through his pretty dark eyelashes. Newt cracks.

“Holy shit, dude,” he whines.

Hermann straightens up languidly. “Mm?”

He doesn’t even look surprised when Newt reaches out a fumbling hand towards his knee, nor when—a moment later—Newt surges forward to kiss him clumsily. Hermann’s mouth merely curves up in a smirk against his, and he fists the back of Newt’s ratty old t-shirt to draw their bodies tighter. “I’ve been wondering when you would do that,” he says, and his voice hitches up in a small gasp when Newt presses his kisses onward across his jaw. “You’re the least subtle man I know.”

“Don’t even care,” Newt mumbles. He nips some of the soft skin at Hermann’s throat and lifts his hands up to squeeze his biceps. They’re nice and sturdy under his fingers. Is this moving into new territory with Hermann way too fast? Maybe. Sort of. They’ve made out a few times at parties before, and once Newt gave him a discreet (fully-clothed) handjob in a kinda nasty alleyway outside a bar on his birthday, but nothing, like, serious. Though it’s not like this is serious. Lab partner stuff. “Holy shit, dude, I didn’t know you were so strong.”

“Strong?” Hermann snorts. He goes easily when Newt urges him onto his back against his dumb little yoga mat; his pupils are wide and dark, and a pink flush has started creeping down his neck. He drapes his arms over Newt’s shoulders. “I didn’t know you cared about those sorts of things.”

“I don’t,” Newt says. “I didn’t.” He tracks more kisses down the dips of Hermann’s collarbones, following that blush. “I guess it’s just you?”

He doesn’t wait for an invitation before rucking up Hermann’s tank top. He hasn’t got a six-pack, or anything like that, but Newt doesn’t really care, because Hermann’s pecs rock even more when they’re bare. He squeezes at one just to see Hermann make a face, and—laughing—ducks down to graze his teeth across the left one, taking care to catch at his nipple. Hermann hisses sharply and grabs at his hair. He looks a little silly with his top bunched under his armpits, but it’s kind of cute too. Newt trails his tongue across Hermann’s sternum and tries his luck at the other side, too, and is pleased when Hermann gives a full-body shudder after each. “Ah, Newton,” he moans. “I’m—sensitive—there.”

Newt kisses over the spot instead as way of apology. Then he starts to trail his kisses lower, down Hermann’s slightly concave abdomen, where the skin is luminously pale. Newt amends his earlier assumption that Hermann wears tank tops to the beach; he’s not sure if Hermann has ever even stepped foot on a beach. “Newton,” Hermann moans again. He gives Newt’s hair a little tug when Newt takes the drawstring of his yoga pants between his teeth. If he goes down on Hermann good enough, maybe Hermann will let him test out last night’s fantasy... “Mm. Be quick about it. We haven’t got all—”

The door to the gym swings open; two rangers, chatting away happily, step inside, and stop in their tracks when they catch sight of Newt and Hermann. Newt flings himself off of Hermann, but it’s too little too late. It’s pretty obvious what Newt and Hermann had been doing. “Oops!” one of the rangers says, turning their back to them. Their friend turns away, too, and laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Gottlieb. We didn’t realize this was—uh. Occupied.”

Hermann yanks down his tank top. 

“No worries,” Newt squeaks. “We’re. Uh. Just about done.”

The door clicks back shut; Newt hears laughter. Hermann is covering his face. “Hand me my bloody sweater,” he says. “We’ll finish this later.”

[leftonraed]

The Night We Met - Episode 2

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count :  2.5k summary — You witness Taehyung and his niece’s relationship evolve and meet Hwiin.

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7 

The sun shines brightly this morning, even birds can be heard in the quiet apartment. Taehyung rolls over in his sleep and suddenly crashes on the floor in a heavy thud.

“Ow… What the-” He grumbles loudly, squinting an eye open to make sense of his surroundings right after the brutal awakening.

He slowly lifts himself on his hands and knees to look at the bed and notices Hina had invaded his already quite small part, they had agreed on, in her sleep.

“What even is that position?” He mumbles, now able to make her out in the dark room. Her tiny feet facing him as they twitch a little. Surely the way used to get rid of me, he thinks.

Taehyung stands up cautiously like an old person, massaging his hurting shoulder. His limbs are stiff and heavy with slumber but he resists the temptation of the warm sheets to get breakfast ready.

After a quick passage in the bathroom to freshen up, he walks in the kitchen and has the water in the kettle heating first. Music’s playing very softly from his phone while he prepares food consisting of soups, cooked rice, strawberries and other side dishes.

He’s busy setting the table when he hears noise coming from the dark corridor.

He looks up and stills, feeling his heartbeat picking up. The chopsticks slip from his hand at the scary sight before him.

A weird looking shape is carefully walking his way, wrapped in what he guesses as a thick blanket rendering the strange creature menacingly imposing.

Taehyung blinks his daze away as it comes to light.

“Oh,_____. Good morning,” he smiles lightheartedly. “I didn’t recognize you.”

You mutter something back, walking by him like he isn’t even there and head to the kitchen counter. He watches you reach for his cup.

“Wait, this i-”

You spit out the bittersweet drink, disgusted. “That’s not coffee,” you grunts confused.

“That’s a tea I make for my voice-” He trails, looking at the mess you’ve just made. He smiles again, “don’t worry I’ll clean that.”

“Bkjhn- coffee- skjvnjf- wait here.” You go sit on the nearest couch.

He stops mid-mopping to object but indirectly meets the threatening look of the scary blanket creature and simply nods.

Hina shows up a little after, hair sticking everywhere, and observes for a long time the interesting sight you offer.

When Taehyung eventually puts the lovingly prepared breakfast on the coffee table, he realises another blanket creature has made its appearance, looking quite adorable he must say.

_____________________________

Taehyung goes to answer the door when the doorbell rings.

Hwiin instantly meets his eyes, noticing right away how good-looking his complexion is. He looks rested and not so despondent anymore.

He smiles softly, “come in, don’t stay out there.”

She’s glad and for a second, she feels her heart warming up at his familiar appeal.

She snaps out of it and walks inside. It’s only been a week or so since her latest visit but his apartment looks nothing like before apart from the loud T.V.

Although the least that had to be shared had been summed up in an official announcement by the agency to explain Taehyung’s temporary retirement, they had all agreed on not wanting any media to share anything concerning directly or indirectly his brother’s death and keep a very low profile regarding Taehyung having Hina’s custody for as long as possible. This meant not to be seen out together, not to tempt any ill-intentioned stranger.

She trips on one of the toys laying around and catches herself by grabbing hold of his arm.

He doesn’t note the effect the sudden closeness has on her and bends down to take the toy away. He grunts, “sorry ‘bout the mess.”

She smiles awkwardly to herself while taking off her beanie and scarf when you eventually catch her eye.

“Who’s that?”

Taehyung glances your way in the living-room where you’re busy doing your fitness routine with Hina gazing at you closely and it pulls a grin from him.

“_______. Seojun’s replacement… Your savior.”

Hwiin stares at you too long for her own liking before turning around to frown at him. “What happened to him?”

“Family stuff.” He walks around the counter and takes a cup to pour some tea for her as he always does when she visits.

“And she lives here? With you?”

“I thought it’d be practical because I don’t really know what my schedule is these days. And she’s just moved to the city.”

She drops her handbag on the counter and sits on one of the stools. She lets the warmth of the cup heat her cold palms and waits for him to look away to get another glimpse at you that unintentionally turns into a subtle glare.

She can’t help but start to make assumptions about you while you’re stretching your fit body.

“She’s really into exercising,” she gets startled by his voice and can hear his grin and it makes her eyes roll. She turns back again. “I don’t know how she keeps doing that every morning.”

“Is that even… appropriate?” She trails, seeing a mental image of your revealing outfit. “I mean her living here doesn’t allow her to be unprofessional.”

He frowns a little at her, amused. If only she knew, he thinks. “I don’t really mind. Plus, if she can help keep Hina from turning into a couch potato...”

She remains silent and sips on her hot beverage as he tries to quickly change the subject.

“I’m almost done with the custody papers by the way. So we should get back to work in a short while.”

“It’s good to hear. The agency shared a couple of things about your activity for the next few weeks but nothing’s final.” She hesitates, “but are you… ready-ready?”

“I think I am. M’definitely in a better place. I think  _____ helps a lot. She’s a breath of fresh air. And I think work will help me get out of my head.”

“Good.” Hwiin smiles half hearted.

“Oh, I think she’s done. Come, I’ll do the introductions.”

______________________________

The next day, Hwiin is back at the apartment with work papers and her laptop in her arms — now that Taehyung’s comeback is around the corner, she doesn’t want to waste any time. She frowns when she doesn’t recognize his voice behind the door.

“What was it again…” She hears mumbling followed by numerous electronic bips. The door unlocks and reveals yourself when you pull it back.

You stare blankly at her, a lollipop wedged against your cheek. “Yes?”

Hwiin doesn’t know what to say and frowns when you’re still not moving an inch. “Can I come in?”

“Who are you?” You ask right after.

“What do you mean “who am I”? We met yesterday.” She complains dumbfounded. “It’s me. Hwiin.”

She hears footsteps coming her way and you slam the door right before she gets to see anything.

“No, Hina. Go back,” she hears you order. “This is probably an intruder or a dangerous person.”

“What?” She exclaims to herself, an angry look directed at the door. “Let me in.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s out.”

“What in the-” She mumbles to herself, fetching her phone in her purse very annoyed. She thumbs on his phone. “Taehyung, yes. Can you please tell your bodyguard that I’m not a threat and to let me in? Stop laughing!”

“Yes?” You answer again when she knocks.

“I have your boss on the phone, maybe he’ll convince you if you agree to speak to him.”

You open the door wide enough to take the device from her and close it again. Hwiin is tapping her foot impatiently. You eventually let her in and she snatches her phone from you while you stare at her with an unbothered look, still sucking your candy.

_______________________________

Later that day, dinner’s served.

“You shouldn’t force her,” you comment from your position at the end of the dining table.

Taehyung hasn’t had a moment to himself the second he’s come back from his running errands, from the long hours he’s spent with his manager to get updated to preparing dinner, and it didn’t take long for you to understand cooking isn’t his forte. You’re now witnessing his struggle to have Hina eat any of the food to no avail.

The little girl seems intent on draining him from the last remnant of energy left in his being. Taehyung wonders how he’d be able to put up with her when he goes back to working.

She refuses each of his attempts, twisting her neck one side or the other. This time around, he’s made sure not to have the plate too close to her so she wouldn't dirty him.

“She has to eat,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes on his niece. “Come on, open your mouth.”

She kicks her legs the whinier his voice gets. When the spoon isn’t prodding her lips, she stretches her arms towards the plate in his hand.

“No hands.” He warns and moves the plate closer to him which has her writhing in her seat out of irritation.

The bubble gum bursts softly and shrivels on your lips. Face prompted in your palms, a thought crosses your mind. “Why don’t you let her use her hands?”

“I don’t want her to pick up some bad habits.”

You blink blankly at his profile. It’s obvious he’s getting tired but he only gets himself to blame.

“Just let her this one time,” you encourage.

Defeated, Taehyung unwillingly listens to you, positioning the plate on the table of the baby chair and her whimpers immediately stop.

“See? She just wants to feed herself, silly.”

Hina looks up to frown at him, points a tiny finger in his direction and repeats with a pout, “siwy!”

A silence falls right after, during which he stares at her, dumbfounded.

The spoon slips from his fingers. She uses her hand to grab the square-cutted vegetables from her plate. A glint of amusement wrinkles your eyes the longer you watch him.

“Hina! You just said your first word!” Taehyung exclaims at the little girl looking up with big round eyes, confused, and busy stuffing her small mouth.

You pinch your lips to stop yourself from smiling.

He flinches the next second and frowns at her, “wait, you shouldn’t call me that.”

He looks at you when he hears you giggle and falters a quick second. Taken aback by the pleasant sound, he realizes it’s his first time he sees you laugh. He likes hearing it.

He quickly goes back to scolding mode, “what are you laughing at? It’s your fault she did that.”

“I did nothing,” you trail, calming down and not feeling a bit regretful.

“Siwy!”

He whines flustered, “Hina, stop calling me that!”

________________________

You knew nothing about their relationship, except that he was her uncle and she lost her father. Right after Taehyung welcomed you in his home, you didn’t talk if you weren’t spoken to and simply lingered around when needed. You preferred to keep to yourself and not meddle but Taehyung seemed to lack when it comes to raising children or even just one.

He acts like he wants to succeed in everything and would feel miserable every time he’d think he failed. You have been hired to protect Hina if she needs to be out in his company but you also naturally want to assist and support him in your own way. After all, no one’s around to help and it’s not like Hwiin and Hina share affectionate bonds.

Taehyung’s watching T.V when you walk back in the living-room with his niece after her shower. Her refusal when he suggested he’d take care of it surprised him but he trusted you enough to let her have it her way. The little victorious smile you offered him left him flustered right after you’d closed the door in his face not to give him any time to react. He had no choice but to go rest and wait.

His eyes carefully rake your figure dressed in short shorts and a tight-fitted tank top from head to toe. He notices your hair’s wet and your braless breast and he blushes when mental pictures suddenly flood his mind.

Hina breaks his trail of embarrassing thought as she bounces her way and lunges on his lap, the flowery scent coming from her envelops him. She seems a lot more open around him already.

“You not tired, you?” He smiles lazily while she tries to climb in his lap. She shakes her head.

You go sit on the couch perpendicular to the one he’s sat on.

“Ow, ow,” his whimpers have you looking back at him. “You’re hurting me, Hina. Why are you so hyped right now? You're supposed to be in bed at this hour.”

He can’t help but feel a little confused having to put up with Hina’s unfamiliar behavior and your arousing presence.

Amused, you gaze at her pulling on his shirt to help herself stand up on his thighs and pinch his face as she whines her objection. You look away before he realizes you’re watching them.

It takes no more than ten minutes for her to show the first signs of somnolence. He lays her in his arms and stands up.

“Let’s put you to bed.”  

She knuckles her eyes, “no- daddy…”

He looks panicked for a second and dares a quick glance your way but it seems like you haven’t heard her so he keeps walking to his bedroom.

Hina falls asleep a couple of minutes after he’s tucked her in. Taehyung isn’t sure about returning to the living-room. He’s come to enjoy being in your company but is afraid about you noticing the effect you have on him.

The lights and T.V are still on when he comes back and you’re still there but you’ve moved closer to his seat and laid on one side. He walks around the couch to sit near the armchair. He’s barely returned that he starts tapping the tips of his fingernails, thinking of a way to make conversation.

“She already asleep?” You yawn.

“Like a log,” he smiles and then there’s silence. “I’m happy, she is more comfortable but-”

“But?”

“I don’t know about her... calling me-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut him off sleepily and he looks at you. “Let her if she feels like doing so. Do you mind her doing it?”

“I don’t really know. I mean she’s like a daughter to me but I don't want her to forget about her dad.”

“She won’t. When she starts asking you, tell her. But for now, I think it’s best you just bring the love and comfort she needs. She needs familiarity in these times. She’ll make her own decision when she’s older. Much older. Give yourselves time. You’ll get even closer.”

“But my job will keep me from her.”

“Then make some time. From what I understood, you don’t want anyone to babysit and you’ll never get the life you had before. You have to find time if you want her to get close to you.” You meet his eyes. “And you should enjoy your moments together. Not torture yourself about the- “right” thing to do… because it doesn’t exist. You’re doing good.”  

Taehyung thinks about your words but hasn’t quite the time to process them as you stand up and stretch.

“I feel sleepy…” You yawn. “Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight.”

/////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback is much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Snowed In

Y'all, the quarantine hit hard. This fic is 100% self serving but I'm posting it in case it makes anyone else feel better? To add some spicy self loathing to my day? who knows. 

No legit pairings, a tiny bit of hinting angstiness, for the sake of form, Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: defs big warning for anxiety and depression. I don't think there's anything else? Lmk if there is and I'll edit this.

__________

“Snowed in?” you repeated, having just packed everything up and saddled both Roach and your horse Beau. 

Geralt nodded grimly, “We’ll just have to hope Jaskier hears of the weather before he tries to make it here. The mail carrier is refusing to ride the pass.”

You heaved your saddlebags down with a slightly over dramatic grunt before turning to face him, “Is it a passing storm or do they think it’s headed for us?”

He shrugged and began untacking Roach, “You’ll have to ask the innkeeper. I just heard from someone who was turned back.” 

You both finished putting the horses back in their stalls, throwing a little extra hay over the side in case you didn’t want to face the cold after dinner. The innkeeper looked frantic, attempting to deal with about five angry customers, so you headed for the connected tavern instead. In your experience, bartenders knew more scuttlebutt anyway. 

Surprisingly you two were the only ones in the bar. The pretty blonde poured the two of you a beer and slapped a loaf of bread down between you before you could utter a word of request. Something rather unusual since traveling with Geralt. 

“How long do you think this will last?” you asked, handing the woman a couple of gold coins. 

She shrugged, “Last year it was mild. Just a week I think? But the year before that the town was stuck for almost a month.”

“Hm- huh? What day is it?” you mumbled as Geralt shook you awake. 

“Twenty-three. Get up.” He ordered. The process had become routine. The two of you were stuck in a rather small room together due to overcrowding and you weren’t handling the idle time very well. 

Geralt seemed completely content to meditate by the fire and meticulously repair his armor for the rest of eternity. While you had quickly become catatonic. 

You sat up only because you knew he would lift you out of the bed completely if you didn’t do it yourself, “Ah yes, what a beautiful day to feed the horses and drink our weight in ale.” 

The sarcasm dripping from your voice only earned a stern look from your roommate. The inn had run out of the drinkable stuff last week and they were rationing little the piss water they had left.

You scratched at your hair, your hand recoiling at the feel of grease. There was nothing to do, the floor space between the bed and the fire was barely big enough for Geralt to sit cross-legged, let alone for you to do any sort of exercise to keep your mood up. Not that you would if you could anyway. Any motivation to keep some sort of normalcy had left your body around day ten. The innkeeper had let some guests spar in the lobby around day six but everyone scattered when you had attempted to join. Something about ‘the witcher’s girl’ and how ‘she might gut you out of habit’. People could be stupid, you weren’t a witcher any more than they were and even so, Geralt was calmer and more restrained than all of them combined.  

So, embracing the numbness, you stayed in bed well into the afternoon and long after Geralt had left his side of the bed.

“Did I miss breakfast again?” you asked, not making a move to get any farther from your warm blankets.

Geralt nodded, pointing to the small table near the door where some bread,  cheese, and dried meat sat waiting. 

You picked at it for his benefit, though you hadn’t really been hungry for a few days now. The storm raging outside was just about as strong as the one raging through your hollow insides. This inaction, the unknowing, the vulnerability was killing you. 

“Y/N, you need to eat more than the crumbs.” Geralt urged, moving to sit in the chair opposite to you. 

“I tried.” You sighed, “Can’t I just lay back down?”

He shook his head, “No. You’re letting this consume you. You’re tougher than this.”

You scowled at him, wanting to throw the bread in his face, “Fuck you. Nothing bothers you.”

“Your behavior is bothering me.” he countered, staring at you with a mix of worry and annoyance.

“Well isn’t that touching.” You sighed in mock flattery. Abandoning any idea of food, you got up to sit by the fire,  poking at it aggressively with an iron rod and making a point to face away from him. 

“What in the spheres is your problem?” He growled.

“Being stuck here with nothing to do?” you offered, your tone reminiscent of the young spoiled princess the two of you had saved from a wraith a few months back. 

“That’s not it. I know when you’re lying Y/N”

Your limbs felt like they might float away into the air if you didn’t curl up into a ball, “I don’t want to talk about it Geralt. I’m sorry for snapping. I just need a couple of minutes.”

“You’ve needed ‘a couple of minutes’ for the past two weeks. Time to talk.” he argued. 

You snorted, “That’s rich coming from you. You didn’t tell me you’d been stabbed until right before you passed out in Temeria.”

“I’ve tried learning from my mistakes.” his tone was one of convincing the both of you, “What's bothering you? Really.”

“I don’t fucking know Geralt.” you hissed, getting very tired of his prying.

You heard him sit back and cross his arms, “Not good enough.”

You felt the words leave your throat before you could think of their meaning, spewing out with vitriol and fire, “I’m fucking tired. I’m tired of you telling me what to do. I’m tired of watching snow pile up out the damn window. I’m tired of the stupid couple that fucks all night next door. I’m tired of this worry that feels like it will rip me apart at any fucking moment from just not fucking knowing. I’m tired of worrying about Jaskier. I’m tired of worrying about the horses getting stocked up when there’s nothing I can do to help them. I’m tired of the glares from the other guests. I’m tired of feeling powerless. I’m tired of having no decent outlet for this anxious energy I’m stuck with. I’m tired of not knowing when this feeling will go away. And I’m absolutely fucking exhausted by the thought that it’s only been twenty-fucking-three days yet I feel I’ve been trapped here for a god-damned-eternity.” 

The last sentence broke your resolve to stay angry. Upon pushing the last words from your lungs, you heaved a deep breath and let the sobs tear your chest apart, giving in to the hopelessness that had been building for weeks now. 

You heard a shuffling that registered in the back of your mind as Geralt sitting behind you, but even so, you flinched when a hand rested on your shoulders. He scooped one hand under your knees and pulled you onto his lap, pulling a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around the two of you. He let you sob until the sobs turned to whimpers.

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry Y/N” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your hair, sending a flood of warmth to your cheeks.

“You don’t need to be.” you croaked, leaning into his affection.

“I didn’t need to pry either.” He argued.

You just hummed in reply, too much of your energy spent on purging your system of those hideous sobs. You did make a noise of protest when he lifted you from his lap and set you beside him on the floor. 

“Stay by the fire, I’ll be back.” He instructed, the tenderness of his voice surprising you. 

Minutes later, as you were beginning to pull yourself back together, he returned with a terry cloth robe and what smelled like fresh jasmine soap. Without a word, he hoisted you into his arms and carried you across the room to the bathroom. He set you on your feet and handed you the robe and soap before turning his attention to the lever pump hanging over the ceramic tub. 

“A bath?” You tried to bring your usual playful tone back to life and failed miserably.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head, “I’m just…” slightly disoriented? you finished the sentence in your head, not sure how to phrase it.

“Not used to anyone accommodating your emotions.” he finished, a knowing look in his eyes reminding you just how much he knew of isolation and pain. 

As you nodded you had to mentally remind yourself you have to let people help you, that it’s okay to let people help you.

You didn’t bother waiting for him to leave before you peeled off your riding breeches. Melitele only knows how long you’d gone without changing them. You had more trouble unlacing the cinched waist blouse you’d been wearing the last four days. The restless tossing and turning you’d done instead of sleeping had it knotted four times over. When you’d finally rid yourself of every last thread the tub was full. 

Geralt traced a sign in the water, sending ripples over the surface and steam up in the air, “Shouldn’t be too hot, but test it first.” He mumbled, making an effort not to stare at you too long. 

It was rather hot but you had exposed yourself enough for one day. You took the hand he offered for balance and sank into the nearly scalding water without hesitation.

He knelt next to you, “If you wish to be alone-”

“No.” You interrupted, not having the courage to look up at him, “Please don’t go.” The words barely escaped your mouth, but Geralt heard them perfectly fine.

He wet a washcloth and lathered it with soap before handing it off to you. With the rest of the bar, he began washing your hair. At first, his hands were hesitant, as if he was afraid to hurt you. He paused when you gave up scrubbing the sweat and dirt from behind your knees, but only for a moment. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. His nails scratched at the base of your skull, coaxing a sigh from your lips. As he massaged the soap through the tangled mess he took his time with the tension in your temples, then the pressure points behind your ears, even working out the knots in your neck. You did your best not to moan, but a couple of gasps and pleased grunts may have slipped out.  He rested a hand between your shoulders and guided you back, dipping your hair into the water to rid it of the froth he’d created. 

You peeked up at him through your lashes. If he noticed he didn’t show it. His face was relaxed, almost serene, as he raked his fingers through your hair, gently tugging on the bigger tangles. You hadn’t ever taken the time to look at his eyes before, he seemed uncomfortable over them when you’d met so you left him alone about it. Looking at them now, you regretted it. They were a beautiful mix of honey, sunflowers, and glittering gold. And they were so kind. The idea that people spat at him when they recognized his eyes made your heart ache. 

With a slight nudge from him, you sat back up, all the tension in your body having melted in the hot water or under his touch. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your arms across them and your chin on your arms. The events of the day had you feeling like a child who’d gone too long without a nap being soothed back to sleep. If you were being honest with yourself you missed the feeling of safety that came with someone taking care of you. 

Geralt brushed your favorite oils through your hair, doing his best not to pull through knots too roughly, but it was in the same bun for about four days. 

You let your tired mind wander as you watched snow fall out the small port window above the tub. The comb had failed to detect any knots in your hair for some time but it seemed Geralt was just as lost in thought as you.

Eventually the water grew cold and you had to accept this couldn’t go on forever. 

“I think I might need to get out soon.” you mumbled, inspecting your pruney fingers. Everything in you was telling you to stay. Stay in this safe place with your gentle guardian. But you knew if you didn’t get out soon you’d never warm up, fire or not. Not to mention you knew you were taking Geralt’s actions more to heart than they were meant. He simply felt guilty for pushing you too far. 

That didn’t mean you wanted him gone though. You were more than happy to live the lie for a little while longer.

"I'll go check the horses." He offered, placing a towel and the robe within your reach. 

"Thank you, Geralt. For not… I don't know? Laughing at me?" You refused to look at him, being vulnerable enough as you already were. 

"Y/N…" he said your name like it meant something but you couldn't figure out what, "You never have to thank me. I owe you so much more than a hot bath and kind words." 

You turned your head to argue but when you saw his expression the words died on your tongue. All you could offer in response was a small smile.

It seemed to be enough for him and he nodded before disappearing through the door, leaving you to ponder what he'd meant. 

_________

Part 2 here!