#today they were explaining something to me and said they trimmed down the information “because I'm worried about making you uncomfortable”

[learn-and-yearn]

Gosh I need a slow handsy make out session with him /nsx

[winchestershiresauce]

High on You

Summary: Smoking weed to relax after a rough day becomes a whole lot more when Daryl joins you.

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

3455 words

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, drug use (weed), almost public sex, fluff, mentions of the bible

A/N: Special thanks to @daryl-dixon-daydreams​ for suggestions/edits. This turned out way softer than I originally intended, but I love it. I hope you enjoy!

--

After the long day you’d had, all you wanted to do was decompress. You’d tried reading, you’d tried sleeping, but you realized you needed something just a little bit stronger. So, with a plan in place, you grabbed your trusty bible and snuck down the stairs. You had to admit, you felt a bit like a teenager sneaking out in the middle of the night to get up to trouble, despite the fact that you were a grown woman and the world as you’d known it had ended. 

You silently crept out the front door into the night, slowly pulling it closed behind you. It was about two in the morning as you tip-toed across the porch and sat down on the steps of the Alexandrian house you shared with other members of your group of survivors. Setting your leather-bound bible in your lap, you opened it and flipped through the well-loved pages to get to the good stuff inside, but froze when you heard a plank of the porch floor creak from around the corner. You turned around to see Daryl approaching, his crossbow in one hand. 

"Can't sleep?" he grunted in your direction, and you subtly closed the worn cover to your Bible as he sat on the step next to you. 

"Nah, not after today. You?" you replied, and he merely gave a little shrug. 

"Didn't know you was religious." He nodded toward the book in your lap, and you smiled sheepishly. 

"I'm, uh, not, actually." He raised his eyebrow at you, expecting you to elaborate or explain, so you opened the Bible and showed him the contents, chewing your lip. About an inch from the edges, the middle of the pages was cut out. In the space that remained was a baggie of weed, a lighter, and pieces of blank pages that had been cut out and trimmed to size for use as rolling papers. Daryl's eyes moved from you to the illicit stash, and he couldn't help but laugh. 

"Yer kidding," he chuckled. You loved the sound of a genuine laugh spilling from his lips: something you didn't hear nearly often enough. 

You shook your head and shrugged, "Not at all. The pages are the perfect thickness to roll joints with." 

"Yeah, guess I just didn't peg ya for a druggie." You feigned offense, pretending to clutch your pearls, but found yourself laughing as well. 

"I don't know if you've noticed, Dixon, but it's the end of the world. Hell if I'm gonna pretend I don't like pot because of the social stigma anymore." He shook his head as if he couldn't believe the conversation was happening, and began fiddling with the crossbow in his lap that you weren't sure you'd ever seen him without. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you got to work rolling a nice little joint for yourself and he went back to whatever it was that he was doing with his bolts. When you licked the paper to try to seal it closed, you glanced over to see that Daryl had been watching you. 

"Yer not doin' it right. That's gonna fall apart before ya can even smoke it," he critiqued, watching as you frustratedly attempted to turn the twist of weed and paper in your hand into something smokeable. 

"I know! I'm just tired and don't wanna waste the paper so I'm trying to fix it!" you retorted. 

"Give it 'ere." He reached his open hand out to you, and you rolled your eyes. 

"Fine. If you think you can do better, have at it." You felt a little irritated - you knew how to roll a joint, dammit - but placed what was definitely one of the saddest-looking joints you'd ever seen into his outstretched palm. He carefully unrolled it and adjusted the pile of dried cannabis to better resemble the innards of a cigarette. You watched intently, unsure which you were enjoying more: the way he expertly turned your sad mess into a work of art by comparison, or the way the muscles in his forearms tensed and rippled as he worked his large callused fingers at such a delicate task. When he raised the joint to his mouth and licked the paper to form the closest thing to a seal he could get without adhesive, you couldn’t help the quiet reactive groan that escaped from your throat. 

“What?” he asked as he continued to lick the paper to finish rolling the joint. You weren’t sure you wanted to answer, as it wasn’t exactly dignified the way that you were eyeballing him, but you did anyway.

“It’s just,” you started and bit your lip a little. “It’s hot when you do shit like that.”

“What?” He sounded incredulous.

You let out a small laugh, you couldn’t believe you were about to say this, “You’re so good with your hands and, I don’t know, the way you licked that just did things to me.” You shrugged, trying to play it off like you didn't just admit to ogling him. He didn’t even reply, just stared at you for a moment. His eyes narrowed a bit and you were pretty sure he thought you were fucking with him. He handed the now nicely-rolled joint to you and you took it, pleased. 

In silence, you held the blessed joint between your lips and lit it. Taking a long drag, you inhaled fresh air to push the smoke deeper into your lungs and offered the joint to Daryl. With a slight nod, he took it from you and took a hit himself. You leaned back, blowing the smoke up toward the black night sky, and couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. It was just what you’d needed. For a few minutes, you and Daryl passed the joint between the two of you without speaking. You both reveled in the way the smoke danced into your lungs and escaped from your lips, letting the quiet night and the drugs do their best to calm you.

“Why do ya say shit like that?” Daryl eventually asked. You had just taken a large hit, savoring the feeling as you watched the joint dwindle to almost nothing, and you turned to look at him. He stared off straight ahead, looking utterly entranced with the neighbor’s flower garden.

“Shit like what?” you questioned, letting him have the last hit or two left. You raised your eyebrow at him, confused, since you hadn’t said anything in a while.

“How it’s hot when I do somethin'.” He shrugged vaguely and murmured some sort of noise that sounded close to “I dunno.” He tilted his head slightly and looked at you cautiously. “What ya said before…” You leaned your head back in realization: he really didn’t believe you when you told him he was fucking attractive. 

“Because it’s true.”

“Nah.” 

“Whatever you say, Dixon. You don’t have to believe me.” You smiled over at him and he let out a noncommittal grunt. You redirected the conversation to something a little lighter, but found things naturally meandering back to a similar topic after only a short while.  

"So, how come ya couldn't sleep?" he asked, daring a glance into your eyes. 

"Honestly?" you responded, and he nodded. "Well, I needed to decompress after the run today, so I was reading this book and, uh…" You pressed your lips together and decided you were about to share a little too much information. 

"And what?" His question was genuine and you weren't sure if he could even pick up on your embarrassment. 

"Promise not to laugh?" He regarded you for a moment, but nodded. "Well, I was reading a romance novel," you paused to see if he'd break his promise and laugh, continuing when he didn't, "and it got me a little wound up and made me realize how much I miss sex. You know?" Daryl stared, a little wide-eyed and very unsure of how to respond. 

"A book made ya so horny ya couldn't fall asleep?" There was a slight laugh in his voice and you recognized that little twinkle in his eye when he lightly teased you. 

"Not exactly, Daryl." You gave him a pointed look. "It just made me think about how long it's been and maybe I kinda miss it. Don't you?" He shrugged. "I guess I just wish some things were easier in the apocalypse. I really wanna be fucked good and hard until I'm begging for mercy." You exhaled forcefully, something between a laugh and a sigh. 

"Why don't ya just ask somebody? I'm sure anybody here would help ya." You were honestly a bit surprised at the lack of reaction from him. Very personal conversations weren’t usually his forte, but the weed seemed to have mellowed him out a bit and he didn’t even blush.

"I don't know. That's not quite what I want, I guess. Tara and I fooled around some a while ago but it didn't feel right. I wanna feel something, and the only person I feel something for doesn't seem interested."

"Then they're an idiot." You tried your best to hide the smile that threatened to blossom on your face at his response. He was so genuine, and so sure. It was too bad he had no idea you were talking about him.

"Oh, so are you saying you'd be interested?" The relaxation from the weed had you feeling bolder than usual. You couldn't believe you'd asked, but there was no turning back. 

"Not sayin' I'd not be." You could see the pink flush up his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears, and it made you feel warm. 

"I see," you replied, biting back a grin. The two of you, again, sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments and you scooted closer to him. You set your hand on his where he'd had it resting on his thigh since he'd set aside his crossbow in favor of the weed. You slipped your fingers between his and you could feel the roughness of his pants beneath your fingertips. He looked up at you, uncertain, but didn't say anything. "This okay?" you asked. Again, he just nodded. He didn't want to risk his voice in case it gave away how nervous he was feeling. The quiet night enveloped you again, but it didn't bother you. You finally felt relaxed and maybe even a bit safe there with Daryl's hand in yours.

Daryl flipped over his hand under yours so you were palm-to-palm and he could wrap his fingers around yours. "Hey, Y/N?" he asked, and you looked up into his eyes. 

"Hmm?" you hummed in reply. 

"Can I kiss ya?" There was no holding back your grin anymore as the embodiment of strength, masculinity, and independence looked to you for an answer to a question you thought he'd never ask. You reached your hand up to cup his cheek, bit your lip, and nodded. 

With that confirmation that you wanted what he did as well, he crashed his lips into yours. At first it was clumsy, like you were just getting to know each other, but soon your mouths moved together in sweet harmony. For a few minutes, you just kissed each other's breath away. Then, almost as if a switch was flipped, suddenly the movements of your mouths and tongues together weren't enough. You swung your leg over his, straddling him, and he immediately slid his hands down to cup your ass and drag you into his lap. 

Before you knew it, you were grinding down on him, desperate for friction. With one hand, he pulled your hair behind your shoulder so he could place open-mouthed, hungry kisses across your jaw and throat. You could feel how hard he was beneath you and it only made you more desperate. Heat pooled between your legs, your pussy wet with anticipation as you kissed and groped each other like a couple of teenagers. You would've been glad the whole town was asleep if you'd had enough thought to care about how you looked at that moment. 

"Fuck, Daryl," you panted, trying to catch your breath as he took it away. One hand had moved from your ass and began to paw at your breasts through your shirt. Pressing your center down on him, he bit your bottom lip and you pulled him closer as if you were trying to meld your bodies together. He let out a low groan that rumbled through his chest, and you giggled. He cocked his head at you in confusion. 

"What?" 

"Sorry, sorry." You continued to giggle, "I just can't believe we're doing this." 

"Why's 'at?" You loved the way his words slid together like he was drunk on your touch (though, logically, you knew the weed likely had something to do with it). 

"I've wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon." You put a hand on either side of his face and looked right into his eyes. Goosebumps creeped up your skin as his rough fingers caressed your sides under your shirt, and you bit your lip before reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. You swore his eyes sparkled as he watched you pull the fabric up and over your head. 

"Yer so beautiful," he sighed before ducking forward to wrap his lips around your nipple. Your fingers tangled in his hair and a loud moan escaped your lips as he flicked his tongue over the hardening bud. You tugged his head back to make him look up at you and he melted at the soft smile on your face.

“Daryl,” you whispered and he quirked his eyebrow up at you. “Do you want to take this inside?” You weren’t exactly shy but if you were being honest, you didn’t want to share the moment with anyone who may also have trouble sleeping and happened upon the scene. He nodded and you pressed your lips to his again before moving off of his lap.

The two of you had barely made it in the door to his basement room when he had you backed up into the wall. The pressure of his mouth on yours was more delicious than you’d imagined and your knees grew weak as his scruff tickled the skin around your lips. You were surprised at the way he had taken the lead in this dance, but you were far from complaining about it. Loving the way he felt against you, you moved your hand to rub him through his jeans. He was rock hard and pressed against the seam of his pants, making him groan as you pressed into him.

You began to unbuckle his belt but stopped when you felt his breath hitch against your skin. You looked up at him to find his eyes closed and what you hoped was a look of bliss across his face. When he felt your movements stall, he opened his eyes and caught your soft look of uncertainty. 

“Wha’s ‘a matter?” He moved his hands so his thumbs rested at your temple.

“Just want to make sure you want this.”

“‘Course I want this.” The rough calluses of the pads of his thumbs brushed down the soft skin of your cheekbones and your lips surged up to meet his. Your fingers continued their delicate mission with his belt before unbuttoning his pants. His hips bucked up to meet your warm palm as you slid your hand between the cotton of his boxer briefs and the denim. Daryl’s hands slowly made their way down your body and found themselves at the button of your own jeans. As his fingers made quick work of the button, you slid your hand around to his hip so you could feel him pressing you heavily into the wall behind you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard length pressed against your center and the moan that left your lips as he rolled his hips into yours was downright sinful. His mouth quickly found yours again and he swallowed down your moans as his talented fingers found their way to your slick folds.

“Yes!” you cried as the tip of his middle finger circled your clit. Your breath eluded you as you felt something shift in his demeanor. Suddenly, Daryl was shoving your jeans and underwear to the floor as you frantically grabbed for the hem of his shirt, barely detaching your mouths long enough to pull it over his head. The feeling of your wetness against his skin was so perfect that he couldn’t even find the energy to be anxious or ashamed as your hands danced over the scars that littered his back. His clothes quickly joined yours on the floor and he thought he might lose it at the sigh that escaped your lips as his cock brushed against your core. You lifted one leg to drape over his hip so he could better access your excited pussy. With one hand, Daryl fisted himself and teased you as he slid his tip over your entrance and through your slick. His other hand moved to your ass to lift you up and give him a better angle.

As he thrust into your wet heat, he growled against the delicate skin of your throat. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt anything so perfect as when he buried himself in you. The way he filled you to the brim made you tremble, and Daryl paused to try to get himself together. The way your walls clenched around him would be the end of him, he was sure of it. 

“Daryl,” you whined, “I need you to move. Need to feel you.” That was enough to snap him out of his reverie and he pulled back just to slam himself into you again. You let out a cry and tightened your grasp around his shoulders and squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

“Ya feel so good,” he rasped in your ear as he pounded into you again and again. The way he slammed into that sweet spot with each thrust was divine and you couldn’t get enough. You felt the familiar warmth begin to bloom below your belly button as he dragged you toward your peak. 

“You feel incredible. Don’t stop!” Your voice was much higher pitched than usual as he pulled you closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your ass tightened and you wouldn’t have been surprised if there were bruises forming where his fingers pressed deep into your cheeks as he held you in place and fucked you like you’d only dreamed he would.

“Fuck,” you chanted and Daryl’s breaths became staccato as the friction built between you. You could feel his pace quicken and his rhythm stuttered as you tumbled over the edge of your climax. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder as you came, feeling your whole body shudder. Daryl fucked you through your peak as the waves of his own orgasm crashed over him. The feeling of him spilling hot inside of you made you dig your nails into his biceps as if you could cling to the sensation. He placed surprisingly soft kisses along the bottom of your jaw as his breathing began to even out.

“That was—holy shit—exactly what I fucking wanted,” you sighed and let yourself collapse into his chest as he set you down. 

“Good, now let’s get some sleep.” Daryl pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and moved to steer you toward his bed.

He lifted the blanket so you could crawl in and he followed right after. As you settled in, you couldn't help but curl up against his side, his warmth engulfing you as he tucked his arm around you. You turned to face him and placed a kiss on his chest when you felt him tense beneath you. 

"What?" you asked, and you felt him shake his head. 

"Mmm," he started, collecting his thoughts. "Jus' wonderin' if this is a one-time, we're high kinda thing or—" 

"I hope not." You wrapped your arm around his torso and craned your head to look up at him. "I meant what I said earlier about wanting you for a while, and not just 'cause you're sexy." He scoffed but you felt him relax again, and he pulled you closer in to his side. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home. There was nowhere you'd rather be than contentedly tucked into his side, his bare skin pressed softly against yours. 

[shmaptainwrites]

Chapter 4: Communiqué

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Words: 3K

Chapter Summary: After being particularly uncooperative, the team tries to get you to make a statement on your whereabouts during the murders

Warnings: some angst and sadness, fighting, frustrated Hotch

A/N: Just gonna apologize in advance for this one. [And a little side note! Whenever the chapter name comes from a song title or lyrics I'll add the link so you can listen to it, sometimes they inspired what I wrote for each chapter :)]

Communiqué | Dire Straits - Masterlist - Taglist - AO3 Link

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The next morning when you woke up you were dragged again to the interrogation room where someone was already waiting for you.

Expecting it to be Hotch your heart was put to ease, but as soon as you walked in you discovered that wasn't the case. Sitting on the other end of the table, although it was fuzzy, was a man who looked vaguely familiar, you couldn't really place from where at the moment.

His black hair with a few strands of grey here and there was combed back neatly and he had a well-trimmed goatee.

You sat down and Lorraine undid your cuffs and left the room so it was just the two of you. The other man didn't say a word, only looking intensely at you until you raised a brow at him. At least you were expecting some sort of introduction.

"SSA Dave Rossi," he said simply. "I'm with the FBI,"

"Another profiler," you nodded. "Trying to see if I'm psycho?" you joked, only attempting to lighten the mood for yourself.

"Where were you on the days of the murders,"

"You know I have the right to an attorney, can I call him?" you asked.

"He's currently being contacted, now where were you the night of the first murder,"

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were watching the scene unfold in front of them and noticed how immediately closed off you were with Rossi compared to Hotch.

"Maybe try a little harder to gain her trust," Morgan said through his earpiece.

"She knows Hotch, you can use that to your advantage,"

Good for them because you were just about to bring him up.

"Where's Aaron? He said he would be here today," you asked and Rossi shook his head.

"Not here yet, which is why I'm talking to you," he explained. "You've known him a while?" Rossi asked and you nodded. Any information not pertaining to the case you were open to giving. "How long?"

"Since the tenth grade," you said. "First day of the fall semester,"

"You kept in touch after he moved,"

You shook your head. "Not much of a letter writer, plus we were both in law school after we got our bachelors, doubt we would have had time for that,"

Rossi nodded, following your words, studying you carefully.

You were placed quite literally in front of him but you didn't lean away. Your arms rested on the table and you eyed him with the same curiosity he did you.

"What have you told the other people who have interrogated you?' Rossi asked.

"Isn't that in your files?" you asked, tilting your head and moving your hair out of your face.

"I got here late last night, humour me," he shrugged.

"I've only said that I'm not guilty," you said simply. Then you leaned in slightly, looking at him from across the table. "I did not kill those women. I did not kill my best friend. I did not kill my high school teacher and I did not kill my ex-fiance's wife," you said firmly.

"Then why aren't you telling me where the hell you were if you're oh so innocent, you know what that tells me?" he leaned in to meet you closer. "That tells me you're hiding something and you can be goddamned sure I'll find it,"

"Do your worst Dave,"

"Your relationships," he said. "With the victims, you're gonna tell me each one, in detail,"

"Now why would I do that?" you asked, now you were just being difficult, but you felt as if you had earned that right. The police had never been the type to help your family, not in this town at least.

"Because when Aaron gets here he's just going to ask the same questions and it's gonna save us a lot of time and we both know when Aaron asks you something it's hard not to tell him, no? You just fall into old habits and patterns,"

He got you there. It was quite true. If Aaron came in right that minute and asked you the same question you were more than likely to tell him the entire story, in detail.

So, just like he said, you got to telling him, to save some time.

"Who first," you said, settling into your seat, staring at the glass behind, wondering who was looking in on the scene.

"Start with the teacher," he said. "Did you have a good relationship with her,"

"After high school, I had no relationship with her," you said honestly. "But in school, it wasn't good. I was new to town, she always singled me out, bullied me in front of the class on multiple occasions,"

"So you had a reason to dislike her,"

"Yes but my mother raised me right so I respected her as a student should and the second I didn't have to interact with her I didn't,"

"What about this here," he said pointing to a report and pushing it in front of you. You recognized it as the time she had called you in to report you for allegedly stealing her purse which was never found.

"All those charges were dropped," you said flatly. "It happened in my junior year, she just got robbed and I was the first person to blame in her head,"

"And you have an alibi for that?" he asked and you nodded.

"I was looking after my younger siblings at home," you explained. "Maria was seven, Noah was ten, and Sophia was twelve,"

"You remember that in a lot of detail," he said.

"I've had to tell the story before," you shrugged.

"How about the one who married your ex-fiance you said?"

"Nessa?" you raised your brows in a knowing manner and nodded. "I'm not sure if friends is the right word for us, we travel in the same circles," you offered. "She and Matt-,"

"The ex-fiance?"

"Yeah, they were sleeping together behind my back ever since the engagement, Matt kept pushing the wedding and Caroline thought something might be up,"

"Caroline as in Caroline Davidson?"

You nodded again, "I found out shortly after and Matt and I broke off the engagement and now he's married to her," you paused a minute, frowning at your choice of words. "Was... he was married to her,"

"And the last one, Caroline,"

You thought you would be ready to speak about her, but it was still fresh. You had barely had any time to process her death let alone grieve the fact that she was gone, you wouldn't see her again. And the first thing that came from it? You were accused of killing her.

You must have been silent for a while because Rossi was staring at you curiously.

"Sorry," you whispered. "Caroline is," you cringed at the mistake once more. "Was my best friend,"

"Oh," Rossi seemed a little surprised. Given the fact that the other victims had been people you could have very well had a motive to kill, this was different. He could sense the genuineness of your grief.

"We had known each other since I moved here, she lived next door to Aaron," you explained. "We did everything together, even up until now, dinner once a week, we'd get lunches together on occasions, literally the works," you chuckled lightly to yourself. "There's not much to do in Manassas, but we made by with each other's company,"

"Do you miss her?"

What kind of question was that? Do you miss her? Of course, you did. More than you thought it was physically possible to miss her.

"Y-," your voice was caught in your throat as the tears started to build in your eyes, pouring down your face, you nodded, sobs wracking your body. "Y-Yes," you nodded again. "I m-miss her so much and i-it hasn't even been a d-day,"

Rossi nodded and stood up, stopping when she was next to you and offering you a gentle pat on the shoulder before leaving the room to see a very upset-looking Hotch giving Emily and Morgan a firm talking-to.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice that low frustrated gravel it could get when he was mad. "In case you've forgotten I'm the lead on this case and I didn't approve this," he motioned to the room. Quickly stepping inside to see what had happened through the glass, Hotch seemed to be even more furious, almost protective. "You made her cry? Dave, I was working to get her to tell me what happened!"

"She won't do that," Rossi shook his head. "I can guarantee she won't tell you what happened during the murders,"

"How can you be so sure?" it was Morgan to speak up now.

"A feeling," Rossi said simply.

"Well we can't just go off that," Emily sighed. "Hotch, why don't you let Morgan and I talk to her," she suggested. "Look I know you're upset, we went behind your back and you have every right to be mad, but just let us try. You can supervise the whole thing from in there and pull us out if you think it's too much,"

Hotch debated this for a moment, maybe it was a good idea. Emily and Morgan were younger, each had faced their own types of adversity, maybe they could relate in a way, maybe that would get you to open up.

"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath and waving his hand for them to go. "Where are Reid and JJ?"

"Talking to the families," Rossi answered. "Figured you would get them to do that anyway, they went with officer Barnes,"

Lorraine, that was a good choice.

"Okay," Hotch said. "Morgan, Prentiss, be gentle right now, maybe bring her a box of tissues," he suggested and they nodded while the Unit Chief went to grab himself a cup of coffee.

Once Hotch came into the back room with Rossi Emily and Morgan had just entered the room, placing a box of tissues in front of you.

Morgan took the seat while Emily sat on the side of the table.

"Is it worth even asking?" you asked after thanking them for the tissues. "BAU?"

"Yeah," Emily confirmed.

"Have I met everyone on your team yet? Or are there more?"

"Three more," Morgan said, "A communications and media coordinator, another profiler, and a tech analyst,"

You sniffed, blowing your nose and wiping away the remainder of your tears.

Hotch could tell what was going on in their heads, they were going to work around the explicit question before trying to get an answer for it, less head-on, developing trust first before going in.

"Can I ask for your names before we start whatever's coming?" you asked.

"Of course, I'm Emily,"

"And I'm Derek,"

"I'm guessing you already know mine," you said, quite nonchalantly.

"Yeah, Hotch told us,"

"Hotch," you chuckled to yourself. "That sounds so big and serious. But then again Aaron was always big and serious,"

"Really?" Emily asked and Morgan nudged her to try and stay on topic. "Right, sorry," she apologized with a faint laugh of her own.

"We were wondering if you might be able to tell us a bit more about what you might have thought happened,"

That was odd, normally that wasn't the route of questioning taken... at all, ever in the history of questioning. Unless it was sarcastic of course.

"R-Really?" you said, not entirely convinced.

"Well if you can't tell us what happened, or don't want to, could you at least share what you think happened?"

"Umm," you thought about it for a moment, "Well clearly this is causing me a lot of grief," you said. "Maybe someone is trying to frame me, to get back at me for something? I don't know,"

"Do you know of any enemies you might have?" Emily asked.

"In this town? I don't know about enemies," you said honestly. "Yes I didn't always get along with a decent amount of people, but that happens when you're an outsider in a smaller town and in a cliquey neighbourhood at that,"

"So no enemies?" Morgan confirmed.

"I'll have to think about it, it's not really something I choose to bring to the front of my mind,"

"Of course," Emily nodded in understanding.

"Can I ask you a question?"

The two looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't see why not," Morgan answered.

"Do you think I did this?"

That caught them off guard.

"I'm a lawyer in my thirties, I've lived in this town since I was thirteen, squeaky clean record, even after all the shit that's happened to me. Why would I pick now to kill these people? And why would I kill my best friend while I was at it? Does that make any sort of sense to you?"

You brought up a good point. Why would you have waited this long? And take the life of someone you loved in the process.

"No," Morgan finally said. "It doesn't make sense, but that's why we're here. We make sense of why people do these unspeakable things and if you're not the person who did it then-,"

"I should trust the system right?" you nodded almost in disbelief. "Here, the system is Captain Reilly and whatever he has led the other people in the town to think, so forgive me if I don't trust that,"

"But can you trust us to get to the truth?" Emily asked.

"I don't know... we'll see,"

"And there's no way you're going to tell us what happened the day of the murders?"

"I've been trying to contact my attorney. I would like to consult him first," you repeated, but at this point, you weren't even sure what the point was. Even your lawyer was flaking on you.

"Look what could be so bad that you just don't wanna tell us?" Morgan asked. "You don't have to think the police out there are here to help you but we are," he pointed to himself and Emily. "If you didn't do it then where were you at the time of the murders?"

You leaned back in your chair. Silence echoed against the walls of the room.

Morgan threw up his hands, out of ideas and Emily tapped his shoulder motioning that they should leave.

The room was empty once again.

Back outside, Hotch was growing tired, he had never met someone so unwilling to tell the police their alibi, it made zero sense, but then again, neither did anything else apparently.

He sipped deeply from his coffee cup, the other agents chatting around him and exchanging information with some of the officers.

JJ and Reid had just returned and started a small brief on what they had learnt from the victims' families.

"I think I should go in there again," Hotch said finally after all was said and done.

"Hotch-,"

"No, I'm not taking any suggestions on this," he shook his head.

He wasn't sure why, but something in his gut told him that once he had his go at asking you, you would be ready to talk.

"What makes you think she'll open up?" Morgan asked. "Rossi went, well all Rossi on her, Em and I did the opposite, and we all came out with squat on what happened those three days,"

"That's the problem," he shook his head. "You're not me,"

They stared at him quizzically and he elaborated.

"I don't mean that as I'm a better profiler or could crack an unsub better," he confirmed. "Just in this particular case...she's waiting for me,"

"We'll be my guest," Morgan shrugged and Hotch nodded, placing his cup on the table and grabbing the keys to the interrogation room.

When he opened the door and you saw him come in, you finally relaxed a little, pulling the sleeves of your sweater and wrapping your arms around your legs that were curled up against you.

"Sleep well?" he asked, quick with the formalities as usual.

"I've had better nights," you admitted.

You were waiting for him to take a seat across from you but he didn't, standing in one of the back corners, leaning against the wall.

"Why are you being so secretive," he spat out finally. "You said so yourself there's nothing to fear and yet you keep moving away at every chance you get,"

"Aaron it's not that simple-,"

"Don't you think I know that?" he stressed.

Not we, I.

"It's murder (Y/N), this is the lives of three people that were taken from them, this is potentially your own life on the line why aren't you saying anything?"

Now it didn't seem like an agent was talking to you. This was your friend, your concerned friend and seemingly the only person in the whole world looking out for you to that extent.

With the way he spoke you wondered if he was putting his job on the line, sticking his neck out for you and adamantly believing your innocence.

"I already told you, Aaron, I want to speak to my lawyer," you said firmly. "That's my right,"

"Forget about a goddamn lawyer," he waved his hand, coming to the table and leaning across from you. "I'm a lawyer (Y/N), a prosecutor and a good one too, you know that," his voice was lower than before, almost like he didn't want anyone else to hear what he was saying. "You want legal advice? Tell me where the hell you were so I can get you out of here,"

"Aaron stop it,"

"No, you stop!" he shook his head. "Can you even hear yourself you sound ridiculous, if it was just you maybe I would let this charade go on, but you have people (N/N)," the nickname slipped so easily from his lips and your heart clenched at the sound of it. "You have a family who cares deeply about you and if you're innocent you need to go home to them,"

"Aaron I can't-,"

"(Y/N) please stop fighting with me!" he begged. "Just say it! Say where you were!"

"Alright!" you shot up out of your seat, hands slamming into the table. "You wanna know where I was? I don't know,"

If you enjoyed this fic please consider commenting or reblogging! It's the best way to give creators motivation and exposure!

criminal minds:

@wifenumberfour @hotchnerundercover @disgruntledchowchow @itsalonglongwaytobasingse @pachiibatt @calm-thy-breasts @g1nnyslove @jfklms @ijustwannaread2k19 @michelle9-433 @zheezs14 @obviousoasis @mintphoenix @penceyspells

aaron hothcner:

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love me in spite:

@ay0nha @harrypotteranna23-blog

[wonwooslibrary]

Stay Forever

pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader (told in third person)

genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage!au

word count: 2587

warnings: there are no warnings, but there is a small sword fighting scene - nothing graphic though!

author’s note: i have been planning this and stressing over this for so long, it feels great to finally post it! this is written for @ficscafe ’s royalty au drabble event! thank you @cha-lan for beta reading & editing (and writing the chan part towards the end) for me (ily lannie & this is for you!! <3), along with @minghaofilm for editing and @sanshiine​ for beta reading!! (thank you all so much!!) 

this is based heavily off of “17″ by Pink Sweat$ ft. Joshua & DK of SEVENTEEN. The title is also from that song. You can find the whole playlist for this drabble HERE. 

The throne room was large. The golden trim seemingly glowed around the ceilings, and the red velvet curtains blocked out the blinding sun from being too overbearing on one’s eyes. In the back of the room on a higher platform were two thrones: the one on the left was larger than the one on the right, and was adorned with more embellishments carved into its golden-stained wood. 

Sitting in the larger throne was an older man in his early nineties; a shiny crown sat lightly on his white hair, gleaming in the sun. Next to him on the smaller throne was a woman about the same age—her hair pulled back and out of her face, the crown on her head sparkling. Sitting in the woman’s lap were two small children, both slightly above the age of ten. 

The man beamed at the children, his smile bright and full of love. “Do you want to hear a story?”

The children giggled, their loud, high-pitched voices echoing off of the walls and throughout the room. “Yes, please, Grandpa! Tell us a story!” 

"Well, it all started when your Grandmother and I were very young," the man began. "Before your grandmother and I met, she was living in a faraway place with your Uncle Junnie." 

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The first thing Seokmin noticed about sitting at the round table in the conference room was the uncomfortable surface he was forced to perch on. You'd think as a prince living in a palace that he'd get to sit on something softer or more comfortable, but no, the King had to make him sit on the same uncomfortable wooden chairs for hours, pretending to listen to any of the information that was being said to him. 

"Seokmin? Are you even paying attention to what we are talking about?" 

Seokmin snapped out of his daydream and lifted his head off of his palm to look up at his father. 

“Oh! Um, yeah—yes. Of course, I’m paying attention.” 

The King rolled his eyes but continued to catch Seokmin up to speed with the conversation. 

“So, as you know, the Queen of Shenzhen—along with her son and daughter—are going to be visiting soon,” the King explained. “We are going to hold a ball when they get here. It will be used to announce a wedding.”

The Prince looked over at his father, tilted his head slightly to the left and raised his brow. “A wedding? For who?”

His father coughed slightly and glared at the younger boy, "You and the princess, of course." 

With that, the King stood up and walked out, leaving his middle son to sit in the still uncomfortable chair of the conference room, staring off into space.

Hours later, Seokmin was found in his older brother's bedroom. Most of Jihoon's belongings were not in the palace anymore but in the neighboring Kingdom's, leaving the room to look as if Jihoon didn’t live there for almost twenty years. 

As Jihoon was unpacking some of the clothes he brought for his stay, Seokmin and their youngest brother, Chan, sat on his bed. 

The youngest patted his hand on Seokmin’s knee, “When did father say you were getting married?”

“In, like, four days! I haven’t even met the princess yet!” 

Jihoon sighed, “I can’t believe he’s doing this again.” 

Seokmin rolled his eyes, “Tell me about it. It made sense for the eldest sibling to go through an arranged marriage, not that any of us liked putting you through that, but why me too?”

“It’s probably because Father wants someone to be in charge here after he’s gone, and it obviously can’t be hyung if he’s living in another kingdom,” Chan looked over at Seokmin. “And I am way too young to get married–”

“When do the prince and princess arrive?” Jihoon interrupted his youngest brother. 

“Tomorrow. The Queen is arriving the day before the wedding. Father says that gives us time to get acquainted with them.”

Jihoon turned around and moved his gaze from the closet he was putting clothes into and to his brothers’ faces. “It can’t be that bad to at least meet them, Seok.”  

“I just don’t want to get married, hyung. I don’t know this person, and I’m only nineteen!”

“It’ll get better, hyung,” Chan started. “I mean, they can’t force you to get married.”

Seokmin opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a knock on the large, wooden doors of the bedroom. 

“It must be time for dinner, let’s go,” Jihoon told his brothers, setting the clothes hanger that was in his hand down onto the bed, and walked towards the door.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

“So?” the youngest of the two kids questioned the older man. “Did the prince ever meet the princess?”

“Of course he did!” The man exaggerated his words for the children’s entertainment.

“Tell us that story, Grandma!”

“Okay, Okay. When the princess met the prince, she was very—how do I say this?—surprised.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

On the day the Queen’s children arrived, Seokmin was pleased to have met the prince, Junhui, before he met the princess. The two bonded fairly quickly over their enjoyment of sports: Seokmin with sword fighting and Junhui with martial arts. 

Seokmin had offered to show Junhui around the palace, their last stop being the training grounds where Junhui suggested that Seokmin teach him some sword fighting. 

Seokmin quickly agreed, taking Junhui to the armory to get proper protective equipment and swords. They spent most of their time outside on the battleground, swords in hand and padded gear covering their bodies. The blazing sun made Seokmin start to sweat the more he moved to practice attacking his dueling partner. 

He had easily disarmed Junhui, the elder’s inexperience in the sport evident; Seokmin took his sword and used it against his opponent. One sword in the prince's left hand, the blade behind Junhui’s neck, and the one in his right hand pointed towards his rival's chest; the edge only centimeters away from his protective gear. Seokmin smirked at Junhui's scared expression and lowered the weapons, holding his left hand out for his opponent to take his sword back. 

Suddenly, the sound of clapping echoed around him, forcing Seokmin to look around his surroundings. His eyes focussed on a woman, no older than nineteen, who was applauding almost sarcastically at the display of Seokmin’s skill.  

He slid his sword back into the sheath that was slung over his shoulder, the blade resting on his back. With long strides, he walked away from the battleground and towards the woman, only stopping when he was a few feet away from her, a dazzling smile on his face. 

Seokmin bowed, “What can I do for you, miss?” 

“Oh, today is my first day here. I was just exploring. The other people seem to gravitate towards you, you know.”

Seokmin chuckled. “Being a prince—specifically one who knows their way with a weapon—does that to you.”

The woman’s eyes widened a bit. “You wouldn’t happen to be Seokmin, would you, Your Highness?” 

“I am. Were you expecting one of my brothers instead?”

“Um, not exactly,” she began. “I’m Y/N. Princess Y/N, from Shenzhen.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The night following Y/N and Junhui’s arrival at the palace was a ball. His father had encouraged him to host some type of gathering to announce the wedding, and at this point, there was nothing Seokmin could really do besides agree. 

He had only spoken with the princess a few times; her calm and collected voice intimidated Seokmin a bit, not that he would admit to that. When introducing themselves at dinner later the night they met, she had expressed her love of sword fighting: it one of the main reasons that the battleground was the first place she explored when she arrived. Seokmin had wondered why he had never met the princess earlier in his life, especially since they both shared this hobby. 

Seokmin's mother made it clear—he was supposed to dance with Y/N for most of the night. The strict woman also made sure to make it very clear: 

"Do not, and I mean do not try to sneak out as your brother did. You know exactly how your father reacted to that, and we do not want to see that again." 

Of course, Seokmin rolled his eyes at that. He was not making any promises. 

Though, when it was time to get ready for the ball, Seokmin started to become impatient. He, surprisingly, was excited to see the princess again. He had never had someone that truly had the same love for sword fighting as he did, besides the generals and other soldiers—such as his close friend, Joshua. He couldn’t wait to talk to the princess about their mutual love of the sport. 

While Seokmin was getting ready for the ball in his bedroom—with the help of his best friends, Soonyoung and Seungkwan, of course—Y/N was on the other side of the castle, Seokmin’s mother helping her with her ball gown.

The dress was beautiful; the light reflected off the golden fabric and made the small sequins on the lace sleeves sparkle. The bodice of the gown was fairly plain, the off-the-shoulder neckline showing off the golden necklace that Y/N wore. The skirt of the dress, however, was the most beautiful part of the outfit. With a slim silhouette only going out a few inches around Y/N’s feet, the skirt's fabric floated slightly above the floor. 

When looking at herself in the mirror, Y/N had not failed to tell the Queen about how much she loved the dress her future mother-in-law had picked out for her. 

“Even the fabric shines in the sun,” Y/N had told the Queen. “It’s beautiful!”

The Queen was not going to argue with the princess.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The ballroom of the castle was similar to many of its other rooms. The golden trim near the ceilings glowed, and the red velvet curtains blocked the sun from reaching the room. The colorful mural on the ceiling encouraged guests to look up and admire all the small details. 

Along the middle of the ceiling were three large crystal chandeliers, illuminating the room with a glow. Towards the left side of the room was a grand staircase, comparable to something out of a fairytale. The marble flooring matched the marble stairs; the steps led to a balcony that circled above the main level of the room. On the right side of the room on the platform were three thrones. They were smaller compared to the ones found in the throne room but just as elegant. Connected to the stairs was a hallway leading deeper into the castle on the next floor. 

The room was crowding up fast; different people from all over the kingdom arrived at the ball to hear the surprise that the prince had planned to announce. Everywhere Seokmin looked, he saw fancy gowns and hands holding champagne flutes. 

For the next while, Seokmin continued to stand at the side of the room close to the exit, greeting people as they walked in. He recognized some of the people as council members with which he and the King would have meetings. Others he recognized as villagers from the many outings he had taken to the outdoor markets deeper in the kingdom. 

As he was greeting people, he began to wonder, “Where is the princess?” 

Though, all of a sudden—

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

“Did the prince see the princess wearing her big ball gown and—oh! Was the princess wearing glass slippers? Was she, Grandpa? Was she? Was she?!” the older of the two children began to tug on the man’s sleeve, demanding an answer that was enough to satisfy the child’s ever-growing imagination. 

“Yes, sweetheart. The prince did, in fact, see the princess standing at the top of those marble stairs. I don’t know about the glass slippers, though.”

“I can promise you I would never wear glass slippers to a ball. It may have worked in fairytales, but I would have tripped over that dress so quickly,” the woman sat next to the white-haired Seokmin spoke up, patting his arm to interrupt him from continuing the story. 

“What about the rest of the ball?” the other child asked. “Did the prince dance with the princess?”

“Oh, of course, he did. The prince couldn’t leave someone as beautiful as the princess waiting.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

As Y/N walked closer to Seokmin, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When she was only a few feet away from him, she smiled. Seokmin held his hand out to her, and she took it, coming closer to him. He moved his hands to Y/N’s waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, careful to not accidentally hit his crown. 

“Good evening, Princess,” Seokmin’s eyes morphed into crescents as the sides of his mouth lifted. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Y/N laughed, “Thank you, Your Highness. Her Majesty helped me with it.” 

“Mother. What can’t that woman do?”

As the music started to get heavier, Prince Chan yelped out from across the room. Seokmin and Y/N glanced in his direction, only to see the youngest brother hopping with his foot in his hand, face morphed with pain.

“I’m sorry!” another young guest exclaimed, her hands held out to try to stabilize the boy.

“Have I ever mentioned how glad I am that you don’t step on my feet while we dance?”

“Don’t push your luck, Your Highness," Y/N giggled, a sudden sly smirk upon her lips. "You never know what could happen.” 

Seokmin and Y/N proceeded to glide  across the marble floors; their conversation continued all while the prince's heart raced. 

"So, how do you feel about your first dance here in the palace?" Seokmin questioned. 

"Hm," Y/N began. "I think it's going pretty great. I didn't know you could dance.”

"It's mandatory for royals to learn here," he hummed. "I've known how to dance since I was seven."

Y/N's eyes widened, and silence ensued. Suddenly, Y/N leaned forward and rested her head on Seokmin's chest, his heart beating loudly into her ear. The two stayed like this for a while until the next song played, and Seokmin spoke up once again. 

"My father wants me to use this to announce the wedding," Seokmin looked down at Y/N. "Do you want that?" 

Y/N hummed. "I don't see why I can't learn to love someone like you, Your Highness."

Seokmin's heartbeat sped up as he moved his hand from Y/N's waist to her chin, making her face him. He bent down, his lips centimeters from hers and—

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

"Ew! Cooties!" 

The two elders laughed at their grandchildren's exclamation. 

"Yes, kids. Cooties. Now, don't you think about doing that until you are much, much, much older, you hear?"

"Yes, Grandpa!" the eldest giggled. 

"But did the prince and the princess ever get their happily ever after?" the younger questioned, pouting at her Grandparents. 

"Of course they did!" Y/N told the child, running her hand through their hair. 

“The end?” 

“The end.”

“Oh! I guess I showed up at a wonderful time! C’mon kiddos, time for bed!”

The kids turned their heads to face the doorway. 

“Uncle Jun!” They bolted towards the door to greet their Uncle, throwing quick goodnights and goodbyes before exiting the room. Junhui waved to the married couple and followed after the children.

Seokmin glanced over at his wife, shot her a wink and said, "Please, princess, forever stay with me like this."

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 21: Body Talk

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder’s thirty years past kindergarten, but the anticipation he’s feeling in his body is reminiscent of the excitement he felt as a child over bringing his new model airplane to school for show-and-tell. Except the context is very, very different.

He’s got an envelope tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and he’s highly aware of every crinkle it makes as he strides through the halls, making his way down to the basement.

He’d expected to receive a clean bill of health, so the contents of the envelope weren’t a surprise. Even so… he’s fuckin’ thrilled.

“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, waltzing into the office and peeling off his jacket. “Another hot one out there, huh?”

“Mhm,” she responds, already elbow deep in paperwork. She’s always got her nose in some pile of documents, his Scully. God, she’s so cute, it’s unbearable. He thinks of when they first met, how rosy and round her cheeks were. He regrets not having done something earlier; he missed out on kissing her adorable baby face.

He really wants to kiss her now, but they’re at work, and she’s made it abundantly clear that At Work Scully is not open to the physical demonstrations enjoyed by Off Duty Scully. Instead he sidles up beside her, holding out the envelope in front of her.

She takes it, clearly noticing that it’s already been opened. “What’s this?” she asks.

“Just a little something, from me to you,” Mulder replies, going around the desk and plopping into his chair. He clasps his hands behind his head casually, grinning at her as she slides the folded paper out of the envelope.

Scully unfolds the page and scans it, nodding to herself. “Congratulations,” she says, glancing up at him. “This is… welcome news. But you didn’t need to bring me the physical test results, Mulder. Your word is enough.”

“Oh, but I know how much you enjoy solid evidence,” he says with a wink. “So, uh… do you have your results back yet?”

“This is definitely not an office-appropriate conversation,” she warns him, slipping the page back into the envelope.

“Sorry,” he says, lowering his voice. “But…”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “Last week. I’m in the clear.”

He smiles even wider at her. “So, given this new information, what do you suggest we do, Agent Scully?”

She holds the envelope out to him across the desk. “Right now, our jobs.”

He licks his lips, nods. “Of course.”

Ten minutes later, she gets up to put a file in the filing cabinet. As she closes the drawer, she lets out a soft cough.

“Friday,” she says in a low tone. “My place.”

Mulder feels a thrill roll through his stomach. “Now how am I going to get a single thing done around here ’til then?” Mulder asks. “All I can think about is-”

She gives him a warning look.

“-You,” he finishes. “Every moment, Scully.”

Scully gives him a little pout. “I’m sorry, Mulder. That must be very difficult for you. You know what you need?”

“What?”

She picks up a stack of folders out of their in-basket and drops it in front of him on the desk. “A case.”

Mulder doesn’t find them an actual case, but he does manage to annoy Scully with conjecture and conspiracy for two whole days until it’s closing time on Friday night.

This could be the most important romantic encounter of his life, and he wants to make sure he’s adequately prepared. He takes a cold shower when he gets home, scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin tingles. He clips and files his nails, plucks some stray hairs, trims a few scraggly ones down south. He almost shaves his face before deciding to leave it be. He suspects Scully likes a little stubble, after all.

It’s a warm evening, so he throws on a gray t-shirt and jeans and bounds out the door with damp hair and crisp, soap-fresh skin.

As a rule, he doesn’t sing while driving; but today, he’s humming just a little.

He knocks on her door at quarter to seven, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to shake out a little anxious energy. This isn’t a prom date, he chides himself. Calm down and be an adult.

The lock is turning and the door is swinging open and there Scully is, looking soft and inviting and dangerous all at once. “Hi,” she says, giving him a little smile.

“Hi,” he says softly, eyes drawn immediately to the low neckline of her simple wrap dress. He snaps his gaze back up to her face again. “Hi, sorry, I’m-”

“A little distracted?” she asks slyly. She opens the door wider. “Come in,” she says, beckoning.

“I, uh, didn’t bring anything,” he says awkwardly, following her into the apartment. “And now that I’m here that feels kinda thoughtless.”

“What would you have brought?” Scully asks.

He shrugs. “Flowers, wine, something that says ‘I want to get laid but I also respect you’,” he says.

“Well, that’s unnecessary,” she says, going into the kitchen and opening her junk drawer. “I already know that.” She pulls out a small stack of takeout menus. “I’m assuming you haven’t had dinner yet?”

I was kind of planning on having you for dinner. “I have not,” he replies.

She hands him the menus. “Pick a place, we can call something in,” she says. She takes a box of matches out of the drawer and walks over to the fireplace.

Mulder glances over the menus, but he’s mostly watching Scully. She seems relaxed and comfortable, lighting a few candles atop the mantlepiece.

“You want a little music?” she asks, blowing out the match.

“Sure,” he replies. “Surprise me.”

“Promise you won’t tease me for this,” she says, flipping through a stack of CDs.

“Any of those restaurants sound appealing?”

“The Italian place sounds good, but I don’t want my garlic breath to put you off,” he admits sheepishly.

She glances over her shoulder at him, giving him a little smile. “That restaurant usually sends a few mints in the bag; and you have a toothbrush here, if it’s that big of a problem.” She puts a CD into the stereo.

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he says. “You want me to call it in?”

“Sure,” she replies. “You can order me a chopped salad and some of their spinach ravioli. And get garlic bread,” she adds.

When he hangs up the phone, he sees her standing by her stereo, nodding her head in time to the music. The song is slow and sensual, and somehow familiar. He goes to her, places a hand on her lower back. His spot.

“Marvin Gaye?” he guesses.

“Mm, no. Al Green,” she replies.

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “Never took you for a Motown fan, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her in by the waist. “You always keep me guessing.”

She closes her eyes, sways in his arms. “I save this one for very specific moods,” she admits.

“And what moods are those?” he asks, running a hand up her back.

She opens her eyes. “I’ll show you later,” she whispers.

She’s looking at him with so much heat and adoration, and her lips are so full and soft, he can’t speak; only lean down and kiss her.

They drift together, interlocking shapes moving through space, rearranging patterns of hands and lips.

“We’re going to get interrupted by a delivery guy again,” Scully says against his cheek.

“Mm… kinky,” Mulder whispers, lips brushing her ear. “This is gonna become a pattern for us. Are you an exhibitionist, Scully?”

“Baby steps,” she says, patting his chest as she pulls away. “I need to leave a few mysteries for you to discover later, right?”

They sit cross-legged on the floor next to her coffee table, knees touching companionably as they eat their dinner.

“You know,” Scully says around a bite of garlic bread, “This makes me think we should go on another picnic. Since the weather is more appropriate.”

“What, sitting on the frozen ground at night in February wasn’t your idea of a good time?” Mulder jokes, tangling his fork in linguini.

“I didn’t say that,” Scully points out. “In fact, that was one of my better birthdays in recent years.”

“Really,” Mulder says, surprised. “Why?”

She absently toys with a hole in his sock. “Because… because I’d had a rough year,” she explains, “And you put thought and care into doing something special for me. And it was perfect, in all its perceived imperfections. It made me feel that for once… you were finally paying attention. You saw me.”

“Saw you?” he asks softly, turning his head to look at her.

Her eyes shine into his. “Yes. You were there for me through my cancer, with Emily… you were becoming more attentive. And I felt like you were considering me, caring for me, knowing what I needed. Seeing.”

“I-I think that’s called love, Scully,” he says, chewing pensively. Part of him is surprised this is even happening; them sitting on the floor in her apartment, eating pasta out of styrofoam boxes, talking about their feelings. Hell, he just said the ‘L’ word without breaking a sweat.

“You’re right,” she says, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “It is.”

Supper completed, containers emptied, candles burning down to stubs on the mantle, Scully sitting across his thighs as they kiss slowly. She was right about the mints, it turns out.

“Mulder, I’m a coward,” she sighs, running her fingers down his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you for years and I still haven’t said the words.” She presses a kiss to his lower lip. “Even though I know you reciprocate.”

“Take your time,” he replies, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “I already know. And you technically did just say them,” he adds. “Besides, there’s more than one way to have a conversation.” He smoothes a hand over her kneecap, inching a finger beneath the hem of her dress.

“Mulder,” she murmurs into his neck, his name sweet in her mouth. “I’m ready. I want to be with you tonight. Completely.”

He can feel his pulse throbbing beneath her lips. “I… God, Scully, I want you so badly,” he sighs. “I can’t think of any other words. I'm all out.”

She kisses his nose, untangles herself from him to stand. “Come on,” she says softly, holding out a hand. “I think it’s time for a different kind of conversation.”

[dakarimainink]

Dancing Under The Stars

WARNING: Fluff, friendly, slight angst, cute

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x You (Reader)

Wordcount: 2.5K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

This was a request by anon:

"If possible could you do a sequel to “Happy New Year” I really liked it and thought it was so cute!!"

Thank you, anon 🥰 Here is part 2 to "Happy New Year". This was fun to write. I hope you all will enjoy.

💛 Every reblog is highly appreciated and help out writers a lot! 💛

Masterlist

You had met Pedro twice now. The first time was at the coffee shop right after New Year. You had stumbled out of bed, freshened up and found him standing outside, keeping an eye out with his hat resting atop of his head. Once he had seen you, he had instantly embraced you and wished you once again, a happy new year. He had taken you in to the coffee shop where he bought you something warm to drink and you sat down in a quiet corner where he actually told you the somewhat thrilling story of his hat.

Between your first and second time meeting up, you had been exchanging some texts here and there, but Pedro being the person he was, he rather wanted to call you if you texted him. You didn’t mind at all, as it would usually turn into a facetime call and he would make some funny faces to make you smile, especially if you had a tough day.

The second time you had met up, almost four months had passed since the first meet up. You had opted for a nice walk in the park, as it was all you had time to, due to him having a tight schedule. He had been open about his career and you respected it by not poking your nose too deep. You took what he gave of information and usually spoke of everything else than his current projects. He was more interested in your life and what you were up to every day.

Today was the third time to meet up with him. You were nervous as you hadn’t seen him in a very long time and exactly five texts were exchanged during that time. He hadn’t called you and you hadn’t called him.

You were surprised when he suddenly called you late one Wednesday to ask to meet up with you. He had apologised profusely as he had woken you up with his call, not realising the difference in time zones from where he was and where you were. That was a month ago and you had finally found a timeslot appropriate for the both of you, even though it was Pedro who mostly never had time. You didn’t blame him though.

You had dressed up for the occasion and you stood in front of your mirror, looking over your form to make sure everything was perfect. You snapped your head to the side as you heard your doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath to calm you nerves, you walked to the entrance to answer.

You met a bright smile and warm brown eyes as you opened the door.

“Hey.” Pedro chimed as he met your gaze.

You opened the door wide and stepped into his open arms, feeling the warmth envelop you immediately. You inhaled deeply and slowly, sensing his earthy musk and spices of his perfume. Reluctantly letting go, you took a step back and gave him a once-over.

He looked amazing as always, with his trimmed beard, slightly rough hairstyle, black trousers and a black shirt with the two top buttons open. He had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and were wearing a silver watch.

“You look amazing.” He smiled and gestured to your clothes.

You blushed. “Thank you. So do you.” You admitted, your cheeks ablaze as you couldn’t stop staring at his arms. The shirt was perfectly hugging his form and you couldn’t help but note the slight outline of veins up his hands and arms.

You grabbed your coat and purse, before locking the door behind you and following Pedro over to his car. He held the passenger door open for you and assisted you in getting in. He went around the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“So, where are we going?” You asked as you clicked in the seatbelt.

He chuckled at your question as he secured his seatbelt and put the car in drive. “It’s a surprise.” He answered and you drove off.

You had no idea what his plans were for you, all you knew was that you had to dress up, not ballroom style, but date night style. Wait, was this a date? No, it would be strange if it was a date and he didn’t say anything about it. Right? You hadn’t seen each other in so long and Pedro didn’t seem like the man who would suddenly take you out on date without a warning.

You shifted in your seat and leaned your knees towards his side. You noted the lit up display in the middle of you with small icons of different apps covering the screen. You recognised most of them, but your eyes widened at the text message icon.

“Uhm…” You pointed at the screen with an amused smile.

“I can explain.” He chuckled as his eyes were filled with panic.

“Please do, because to me it looks like you’re ignoring people.” You laughed.

“It’s just that people text me and instead of me texting back, I call them.” He explained hurriedly. “I’m not ignoring people, but for some reason the texts won’t appear as read.”

You supressed a laugh. “Sure, sure, sure, if you say so.”

“It’s true!”

You both laughed, him trying hard not to drive off the road as you begun to drive out of town. You watched as the buildings became smaller and fewer, the amounts of cars and people grew scarcer.

When you had finally managed to get out of town, he drove uphill. Thoughts flew through your head. Is he gonna kill me? Oh god, what if he’s a murderer. No, don’t be foolish, he’s too kind to be a killer. Shake it off!

Without thinking you shook your head. In the corner of your eye, you noticed him glancing at you and a flush of red crept up to your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asked, shifting his grip on the gearstick. You watched his fingers caress it and it was almost like a trance.

“Uhm, no. I mean, yes. I am okay.” You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from his hand and out the window. “Where are we going?”

“We’re there soon.” He smiled reassuringly, and that’s everything you needed to know.

~

He finally stopped the car and you looked out. It was dark, very dark and you turned to him anxiously.

He just smiled at your worried look. “Come.” He simply said and got out of the car.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door behind you. He held out a hand to you and you grabbed it, feeling the heat envelop you immediately.

“I remember you told me, one of the items on your bucket-list was to dance under the stars.” He begun explaining as you walked towards a bushy area. “Well, I saw there would be a meteor shower today, which would hopefully make it a little more special than what this day already is.”

You suddenly noticed the sound of music in front of you. Leading the way, still holding your hand, he pushed aside some branches and revealed an open spot decorated with candles and a speaker playing soft piano music. But it was the view that made you gasp as you stepped closer.

“It was Y/F/N who helped me set it up. I hope you like it.” He smiled and let you step ahead of him, your hand covering your mouth as you looked out on the city you lived in. You turned around to look at him. “Happy birthday.”

Your eyes widened. It was your birthday? Last time you had even noted the time was New Year’s Eve. You blushed at the fact that you had forgotten your own birthday.

A confused but amused expression spread across his face. “You know it’s your birthday, right?” He almost chuckled at the sentence he just spoke.

You cleared your throat and looked down in embarrassment.

He laughed and took a step closer to you. “Oh, Y/N…” He cupped your face and tilted it back, meeting his eyes. You were both smiling at this point, amused about the situation. “Lost in time, huh?” He mumbled, more to himself. He let go of your face, took one step back and held out his hand to you. “May I have this dance?”

You nodded and placed your hand in his. He pulled you to him, placing his other hand on your hip while you raised your own free hand to his shoulder. The soft piano music hummed through the speaker and you began to move slowly.

He spun you around once, before pulling you to him again and feeling the heat radiate from him.

“Thank you.” You beamed up at him. “No one has ever done this before. I am actually surprised you even remembered my bucket-list. Especially how briefly we talked about it.”

He chuckled. “I believe it’s safe to say, I remember most, if not all, we talk about.” He seemed proud and confident in his statement. “Mostly because I have good memory, but also because I enjoy your company.”

“Really?”

He scoffed. “You sound surprised.”

You cast down your eyes to his chest. “Well, I suppose a little.” You caught your lower lip with your teeth, slightly chewing on it.

He stopped for a moment and held your chin between his thumb and finger, lifting your head to meet his gaze. He hooked your lip loose from your own grasp, softly tracing it with his thumb before saying: “I mean it, I enjoy your company greatly.” He let go of your chin and grabbed your hand again to continue your slow dance.

A slight blush crept up your cheeks, feeling almost short for breath. Without another word, you continued to slowly move in silence together, listening to the soft hymns from the speaker and the very distant sounds of the city.

~

“You’ve danced before?” He asked with a warm smile.

You looked up at him, holding his gaze. “Very little.” You admitted. You scanned his face, he seemed calm, except for a small strain in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

The smile faded from his lips for just a moment as he assessed your question. “I just feel bad for not being more in touch.” His fingers twitched once against your body. “I have had you on my mind quite often since we last met.”

Your lips parted at his honesty.

“And I wanted to apologise for last time we met up. A short stroll wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was-”

You shook your head with a giggle, stopping him in his tracks. Your movements stopped, but you held the position and you looked up at him. “Pedro, you don’t have to apologise. I understand you are a busy man with a hectic career.” You began and you could see his shoulders fell down. “And I know you have a family and friends you would prioritise spending time with than some random woman you met at a party.”

His eyes darted back and forth, not quite sure what to say next, so – you continued.

“Besides, the little walk in the park meant a lot to me and I really enjoyed myself. It is always nice to do something that doesn’t involve a lot of… everything. Just two people walking, talking and enjoying the scenery around them is what I prefer. In fact, I rather sit down in a park and have a lunch than go to some fancy restaurant, all dressed up and pretending that everything is perfect.”

A contempt smile had widened on his lips as you had spoken. You continued your slow dance to the soft music. Sometimes your eyes catching each other and sometimes staring out on the glittering city.

A warmth spread out across your chest as you actually realised what he had done for you tonight. You couldn’t remember last time someone did something like this for you, with no expectation to reciprocate.

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” He suddenly said. “I did too.”

You beamed up at him and he pulled you just a little closer to him.

~

Pedro escorted you up to your front door. You unlocked it and opened it, before turning to him.

“Thank you for an amazing evening and the lovely birthday-gift.” You smiled and walked into his open arms, hugging him tightly and taking in his deliciously spicy musk.

“It was a pleasure to spend the evening with you.” He emphasized as he let go of you. He fished in his trouser pockets with a smirk on his face. “But I have another gift for you.” He pulled out a small black box and your eyes widened. He noticed your change and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I am not about to propose.”

You rubbed the back of your neck and chortled nervously. You didn’t actually believe he would do it, but a small sting did shoot through your mind when you first saw the box.

He handed you the case and you darted your eyes up to him in question. A nod of confirmation let you know to open it and so you did.

A smile widened on your lips as you looked down at a long silver necklace with a pendant of a hat.

You couldn’t help the supressed giggle escape your lips. “A hat?”

He grinned widely at you as a small flashback of New Year’s Eve popped into your mind.

You shook your head with a smile, closed the box and pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

He pressed you tightly against him. “I promise it won’t be long until next time.”

“I am already looking forward to it.” You said with a low voice.

You let go of each other and gave one last smile and wave before he walked back to his car. You locked the door behind you and leaned back on the door, breathing out slowly. You rose the black box up to your chest and pressed it against yourself. Closing your eyes, you slowly sank down onto the floor.

Your chest felt somewhat heavy as you saw Pedro in your mind. It was painful to know he was the only one who had wished you a happy birthday. Not even your family had reached out to you, not that you completely blamed them, you had even forgotten yourself.

You opened the black box and looked down at the small brown hat handing on the necklace. A wide smile stretched across your lips and the warmth you had felt earlier, came back and spread out across your body. You were truly looking forward to seeing him again.

Suddenly, three knocks on your door made you shoot up to your feet. You straightened your clothes before opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Your friends and family stood huddled outside with wrapped gifts and cakes. They were all dressed up and wide smiles across their faces.

You gaped at them in surprise. One by one, they hugged you, stepped inside and made themselves at home, preparing for a celebration of your day.

You went to bed that night, filled with warmth and happiness, and with a necklace hanging around your neck.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44, @stevie75, @mswarriorbabe80

[war--lords]

sorry i’ve been gone for so long i have a full-time job and other hobbies that i am deeply obsessed with... here have some fluff

Female pronouns for Reader

Fact one: In the past three days, Nobunaga can’t find you in the places you frequent around the castle, and at the end of the day, finds the tenshu empty. By dusk you are usually in his room, but these nights he finds you coming back after him. “Oh, just taking care of some stuff,” you would say.

Fact two: He misses you.

Perhaps it isn’t in his character to admit that so openly to you, what with his moniker being the “Devil King” and all, but he knows you know better—honesty has always been a key in your relationship, and it was the fact that he knew you were from 500 years in the future that drew him closer to you. Yes, he’ll tell you he misses you, but not before dealing out the proper punishment for failing to pay attention to him.

(Maybe he’s not being entirely honest after all, because he calls it punishment even when the both of you enjoy it. And as much as you’d squirm and reprimand him for teasing you so...)

Enough, he chides himself mentally. The lack of quality time with you has driven his mind to rely on fantasy, but that needs to change today. Today, he declares independence from the stack of paperwork on his desk and dedicates his working hours to looking for you—within the castle grounds or in town, if he must. He can already hear Hideyoshi scolding him at the back of his mind and scoffs.

As if that could stop him.

Nobunaga’s first stop is the hall where the seamstresses usually work.

“She left but moments ago, my lord,” says one of the elderly, working to get her thread in the eye of the needle. “To the kitchen, said she needed help to procure some food items.” 

“Speaking of, she did the same yesterday. And the day before, if I remember correctly,” another seamstress chimes in. “And it’s around this time too.”

“I wonder if she’s also helping out there. Our lady has always been so eager to assist!”

Thanking the ladies for the information, Nobunaga exits the hall to make his way to the kitchen, leaving the staff giggling and cooing at how sweet the two of them are together.

At an hour so close to lunch, the castle kitchen is teeming with life. Nobunaga’s face is hit with the aromatic smells of various dishes—it seems they’re about to be served mushroom and meat stew, a season-appropriate dish—as well as smoke and the sounds of commanding voices and hurried footsteps carrying the orders out. A cooking battlefield.

Blue enters his peripheral and he turns to look at a corner. Masamune is taste-testing something out of an iron pot simmering atop a fire, offering some of his comments to the chef standing next to him before sprinkling in some other ingredients into the pot.

“Lord Nobunaga,” Masamune says, grinning at the Oda patriarch’s approach. The chef standing next to him looks surprised at the very least, echoing the greeting with a deep bow. Masamune swiftly swipes a sample of the brewing broth of a wooden spoon and offers it to him with a “careful, it’s hot”. 

Nobunaga holds the spoon in his hand and sips, nodding his approval. “I was told I could find ___________ here.”

“The lass? Right, she was here.”

Nobunaga clicks his tongue at the use of past tense.

“Was she helping out with lunch preparations?”

Masamune shakes his head, adding what seems to be a pinch more salt into the pot. “Asked for some leftovers, actually—last night’s steamed fish. Put it in a neat little box and was gone as quickly as she arrived.”

“She asked for her food to be packed, as well.” The chef next to Masamune supplies.

Was she going somewhere? Nobunaga muses, deep in thought. His lover might be perplexing, but sharp as he is, he has some sort of clue as to what is happening. 

“I see. Did anyone see which way she was heading?”

Another young man chopping up some scallions in his work station put his knife down and pointed to the right of the kitchen entrance. “To the garden thereabouts, perhaps, my lord,” he answers, before he dutifully goes back to his job. 

“Thank you. In that case I shall have my food to go as well.”

“Right away, my lord!”

Masamune chuckles. “Didn’t know you guys like playing cat and mouse.”

Something clicks in Nobunaga’s mind. That had to be it.

“Yes, well, I didn’t know either,” comes his offhanded response, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. 

When he finally finds you, you are sitting under a maple tree in the freshly trimmed garden, the red of autumn forming a beautiful canopy above you. He sees a lacquered lunchbox in your hand, and in front of you, just at arm’s length, is another box...

...being devoured wholeheartedly by three kittens of varying coats.

“There you are,” he says as he approaches. You look startled for a split second, perhaps associating the gardens with a place that nobody ever frequents, before the expression melts into the very smile he’s smitten with.

“Nobunaga!” You look pleased with a tinge of confusion. “How rare of you to dine outside.”

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he confesses as he sits down next to you, not minding the grass on his kimono and haori, “and upon finding out that you’ve decided to eat out, I decided to join you.”

“I’m sorry, did you come look for me in the kitchen?”

“And the seamstresses’ hall before that.”

You look extremely apologetic he almost feels bad. He leans forward. You get the message and peck him on the lips. 

“Sorry.”

“One more, and then you’re forgiven.”

“Mm, okay,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss, your lunchbox forgotten despite holding it in your hands. This one lasts longer, what with your lover’s hand at the back of your head, ordering you to stay, and when he swipes his tongue on your bottom lip you feel the beginnings of a moan bubbling at the top of your throat—oh, you’re in public—

He’s the first to pull away, a devious smirk on his face. “Your food will grow cold.”

Pouting, you begrudgingly start eating again.

“So this is where you’ve been the past few days?” He asks, unraveling the cloth that wraps his food container while staring at three fuzzy rumps an arm’s length away. The kittens, all of which are variants of white, orange, and black, look ravenous, not even caring that another person has entered the vicinity. He spots the remnants of steamed fish in the box.

“Yes,” you answer, all smiles as you look at the kittens, and then once more that expression morphs into a realization that you’ve been spending less time with him, which perfectly explains him seeking you out. “Oh, Nobu, I didn’t mean to.”

He begins eating his meal. “You could have told me.”

“Well, yes, but I felt like that would’ve finalized my attachment to them,” you say, finishing your meal (you started earlier, after all). “I’ve been watching them and waiting for their mother to perhaps come back, but it’s been three days...”

One of the kittens, the one with orange and black on the tips of its ears, comes hobbling at you with little legs, meowing in thanks. Your smile turns to a chuckle when it climbs into your lap, insistently pawing and leaning its head into your palm when you reach to pet it.

He watches as you pet it gently, the kitten seemingly wanting more scratches and strokes each time that you have to concede. A wry smile takes over his face as he continues with his meal. “Perhaps its mother left them here knowing they will be well cared for.”

You blink in surprise. “Nobunaga, are you saying we can—”

“No.”

“Why?” you whine.

“I’m smart enough not to invite any competition for your attention within my quarters.”

Understanding dawns upon you and you find your arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck repeatedly so as to not disturb his meal. The poor man... getting jealous over some kittens because you’ve been looking after them for the last few days. When you’ve administered the last kiss on his throat, hoping to appease him, you look up to see his eyes boring into yours, a planning smile on his face. You catch on, and smile back, hoping to look at least half as alluring as he.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Good,” he replies curtly. “When that happens... I’ll make sure it’ll be impossible for you to think about anything else.”

The incessant meowing, cute as they are, dissolves the sexual tension between the two of you, as another kitten makes its way bravely on top of Nobunaga’s calf, its beady eyes making it look like it’s pleading. Good sir? Have you come to feed us, too?

You see a softness in Nobunaga’s eyes that indicates he’s finally understood what you felt. The man uses his chopsticks to fish out a piece of meat and hovers it right in front of the kitten’s face, allowing the tiny feline to snatch it out of the utensil’s grasp and straight into its mouth.

“The staff will be informed of these little ones and help take care of them,” he declares, “of course you are free to do so as well.” Just don’t neglect me again, you can hear that last unspoken bit through the way he gazes at you. You smile at him gratefully and sigh, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. When else do you get to see Nobunaga acting all soft and playing with kittens?

Leaning forward again, you kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

He brushes your lip with his thumb and you suppress a shiver down your spine—now is hardly the time to think of that. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Shall we name them?”

(Haguro flies in the scene five minutes later, scaring the kittens initially, but it’s clear that much like his owner, he’s just jealous and wants some pets.)

[tired0artist]

not enough (part one)

>part two<

paring: female!V x Johnny Silverhand

warnings: angst, coma, alcoholism, drug use, amnesia (there will be a happy-ish ending so don’t worry too much)

summary: after the whole shit show in mikoshi, V got out with her body and mind. but also an engram of the one and only Johnny fucking Silverhand and some good information. after months of planning she finally did what she promised to do.

note: okay so. I will be describing V as how my V looks like. but I will try to keep it to a minimum and you can just switch things up in your head as you read <3

————<•>————

Music was blasting just few rooms away and V could even feel the floor vibrating a bit. But it didn’t matter to her, as she held a warm hand in hers.

V looked up and smiled at the face of the man who only months ago was a parasite in her brain. A parasite turned friend. And later...

Her mind continued to replay their last conversation over and over again, during all this time without him.

“You will have to leave now, if you want to go back to your body” said Alt. Or rather what was left of her.

“But what about Johnny?! Can you get him back on the chip?” V asked, feeling desperate to know.

“V no. You leave this shit hole and live your fucking life. Don’t you even dare to try to put me into some fuckers head” Johnny said, arms crossed as he for a millionth time tried to tell V to just go on. But of course. When did the young nomad ever listen to him.

“Shut up Johnny! I was talking to Alt!” she yelled not even glancing at him as her eyes stayed trained on the woman.

“I can do it. During your useless banter I got inside Arasaka’s network. It seems they still have the body of Robert Johnathan Linden”

V was confused for a second why the guy mattered, when suddenly she got a flash of an very old memory from Johnny. Along with some embarrassment and anger.

Before she could question him, he pointed his finger at her saying “Don’t you even dare. Not a word, got it?”

She smirked but turned back to Alt “Okay where is it?”

“Outside the city. Nomad’s territory. It’s an old, private lab” Alt said.

“Okay I’ll find it”

“V—“

She turned towards Johnny saying “Not a fucking word got it? You promised to save my life and I said that I would take a bullet for you. This is the bullet Johnny”

He simply stared at her, before nodding “Alright, you fucking stubborn nomad. Just don’t kill yourself in the process, or we’ll be having words here. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Now Alt, do I simply put the chip in his body?”

“Yes. But I have to warn you. During his time on your head, the chip got damaged. I fixed what I could but there are still some cracks”

“The fuck does that mean?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing too important. Slight memory loss or complete memory whipe of the time inside V”

“What...?” V asked, her heart dropping quite a bit. She wanted him to remember her. Remember them.

“Shit... okay I can live with that” Johnny said and walked over to V.

“But—“

“Shut up for a hot minute, kid. Now. I want to remember this time with you as well, no matter how boring it really was in the beginning. But if I won’t, then you’ll just have to tell me. And charm my pants off, again”

She laughed “Did I really charm your pants off? I don’t recall seeing you without them”

Johnny didn’t laugh, instead he leaned in and kissed her. It felt weird as they were technically data, but still it was perfect to them.

When he finally pulled away he just whispered “You sure did, sweetheart...”

“Johnny... I—“

“Shh... I know. Tell me up there in the world”

V nodded and said “I’ll help you remember. I promise, Johnny”

He smirked and touched her hand with his “I know, you stubborn nomad. Just know that... I’m sorry for how I might be when I wake up. Don’t be afraid to slap me if I really go overboard okay?”

“I handled a dick version of you who was trying to kill me once. I think that I’ll manage”

He laughed and nodded “You sure did... just V... I don’t want to be like that anymore. I don’t want to be in a room full of my friends who can’t stand me. I don’t want to be in a room with you and see you hate me...”

“I’ll never hate you Johnny. I’ll be there for you at all times no matter how much of a dick you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I trust you, sweetheart”

“Your time is up. You need to leave, take the chip with you” said Alt and before V could react she was back in her body.

V was staring at his hand again, her thumb drawing circles on it just as the door opened.

“Alright. That’s enough kid, you’re going out”

With a deep sigh V turned to see both Rouge and Kerry standing in the door.

“No. I’m waiting for him to wake up”

Kerry took a few steps towards the merc and put his hand on her shoulder “Rouge is right, V. You need to get out a bit, you’ve been here for two weeks”

She was silent as her grip over Johnny’s hand tightened.

“Please, honey. Let’s go for a walk at least. Or a ride to get something to eat” Kerry tried again, the worry on his face clearly visible.

“You won’t help Johnny if he wakes up to you looking like a corpse, at his bedside. So get your shit together, V” Rouge said. Even through her words here cutting, there was clear worry in her eyes.

V finally nodded and put Johnny’s hand back on the bed, as she stood up. Well tried to stand up. Because as soon as she moved, her head spun and Kerry had to catch her, before she smashed her head.

“Are you alright?” Kerry asked in pure worry as the nomad’s violet eyes almost rolled into her head.

“No she’s not. Come on, you we need to get her something to eat. I’m driving” Rouge said as she walked out the door, with Kerry picking up V and following her.

After that incident, both Kerry and Rouge were taking V out to eat and sleep out side the room in Afterlife where Johnny was.

Kerry basically moved V into his villa, along with her’s and Johnny’s cat. And Rouge was constantly getting V to sit beside her for at least few hours at Afterlife, as she was dealing with some mercs. Just to get her out of that room.

Judy and Panam also were constantly calling and messaging V, after Kerry and Rouge contacted them and told them what’s going on with the merc.

Panam came to sit around with V in the Afterlife. The bad blood between her and Rouge was quickly forgotten after the older woman saw how Panam was caring for the other nomad.

Judy preferred to visit V at Kerry’s villa whenever he was leaving. She didn’t even let the merc go to the bathroom alone, instead staying out side the door and getting V to keep the conversation going through the door.

One evening V and Kerry were sitting on one of his couches, with him playing and humming the same relaxing song that he did on the yacht.

“Hey, Kerry?” V asked as she stared at the way his fingers moved on the guitar.

“Yes, honey?” he asked immediately his eyes were on her.

She looked up and asked “Can you... uh... teach me how to play? I was thinking that maybe... Johnny would enjoy some music aside from the muffled banging at the Afterlife”

He smiled and his eyes got brighter as he nodded and moved closer to the young woman, saying “Of course! Okay so for now you’ll watch, then we’ll get you to try”

A week later, the nomad was already playing the one song that she learned on the guitar that she got from Kerry. She was even humming along as she sat in Johnny’s room, her long black nails now short and her fingers covered by bandaids from how hard she was learning.

She grinned and said to him, while playing “I know that I’m shitty. But you told me that it was all about the feeling or whatever”

V looked down at the guitar and started playing once again, when suddenly she saw Johnny’s fingers twitch. She immediately stopped and put the guitar aside, rushing to his side and taking his organic hand in hers.

“Johnny? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand”

There was nothing for a while, but then she saw him frown a bit.

Immediately she called Victor and told him to come, the same thing with Rogue and Kerry. She stayed by Johnny’s side, telling him to squeeze her hand and that he’s safe, that his friends will be there soon. That she’s with him.

Rouge was the first one to arrive, as she was already in Afterlife. She walked over to V asking.

“Did anything happen?”

“His fingers are twitching every now and then, he’s also frowning whenever I tell him to squeeze my hand” V explained as she moved to caress Johnny’s hair, that she kept trimmed the same way it was when he was in her head. Same goes for the beard.

As her hand moved to to tuck a stray hair behind his ear, he let out a sigh and stopped frowning, his whole body relaxing.

“Well damn... it’s like he’s responding to your touch, kid” Rouge said, while sitting on the couch in the room observing the still unconscious man.

V’s eyes went wide as Rouge smirked, the nomad looked back to the rocker boy and whispered “I’m here Johnny, just come back to me. I still need to kick your ass for making me wait so goddamn long, and for that time when you smashed my head against the window. And no. Just because you were nice later, doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook old man”

Victor arrived soon with Kerry following. As the ripperdoc worked, the others waited. V and Kerry were both pacing, being the “impatient assholes” as Rouge called them. But the Queen of the Afterlife was also getting a bit impatient, which caused her to lit up a cigarette.

“The fuck is this...?”

Everyone in the room stopped and looked at the blinking and confused rocker-boy in the room. He raised a bit to take in his surroundings.

“Johnny...” V said and came forward with Kerry following.

For a moment Johnny stared at V in silence, then he looked down at him organic hand and back at her saying.

“I know you... you’re V”

Just as V was ready to let out a breath of relief, Johnny added.

“You’re the chick who was here with me the whole time. The one who played that shitty music today... or was it yesterday? I don’t fucking know... so what you’re a fan or some shit? Or did we fuck once?”

Everyone went still in the room, even Kerry stopped smiling as he looked at V with worry. The merc’s face was neutral as she just turned towards Kerry saying to Johnny.

“How about Kerry and Rouge ease you into most of it. I need to go out for a bit” with that she stepped away and glanced at Victor “Check him and the chip, once more okay? Call me if anything will be wrong, or need to buy anything”

V then smiled shakily at the confused Johnny and left the room, ignoring Rouge and Kerry who moved to follow or stop her.

Around two hours passed with V drinking in the bar with Claire keeping her company. She didn’t call Panam or Judy cause she knew that they would freak out and act as if V couldn’t handle shit.

Of course it fucking hurt to see Johnny like that. And to just not recognise her. Of course it’s not like she didn’t know that it would happen, but that stupid ass brain of hers was hoping that Alt was wrong.

“Maybe I’ll get you some water?” Claire asked, the angel she was.

V looked up and said “Another Jackie Wells”

Claire smiled tightly and made the drink, sliding it towards V.

Looking down at the glass V smiled bitterly. The only way she could be around her best friend was to drink his stupid drink, that he made her so many times and the way he fucking knew that she didn’t like it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see Victor standing beside her stool.

“Is he alright? His arm working? I have another model ordered for him, but—“

“He’s fine physically. His arm will need replacing but for now it should be fine” Victor said, while sitting beside her on a stool.

“And how is he handling being in the future?” V asked, her mind clearing immediately from all the alcohol.

Victor sighed “Not well... but it seems like Rouge and Kerry know how to talk to him. But I want to know how are you? We know that there’s a small chance that he would remember but still. How are you holding kid?”

V laughed bitterly saying “You’re all acting as if he was my husband and not ex parasite turned friend...”

“V...”

“What do you want me to say Victor? Yeah it’s shitty, but I’m still gonna help him out and he beside him. I don’t care what he has to say about that. But I’m fucking staying!” she said and finished her drink, standing up “I promised him that I wouldn’t leave him. I promised him that I wouldn’t hate him...”

With that she patted Victor on the back and walked back to the back room where Johnny was. She walked in and everyone was looking at her immediately.

“Honey—“

“Kid—“

Both Kerry and Rogue started, but V spoke over them.

“How the star of the show?”

Johnny snorted and looked at her in interest “My fucking head hurts and I’m staring at the chick who was my incubator for weeks”

“Johnny” Kerry scolded, not being pleased with the choice of words.

“Basically. Here, have one” V said as she handed Johnny a cigarette. He looked up at her with a frown, as she shrugged “Near the end, when were connected my head hurt without a cigarette. You told me that it’s because of the lack of nicotine, that you had the same thing”

Johnny took the cigarette and lit it up, sighing in relief “Fuck... maybe there is some truth to what these two are saying”

“We told the truth, Johnny. Now it’s up to you to live up to where you were inside her head” Rouge said.

Johnny snorted and glanced at V saying “Please. Some nomad kid couldn’t change me that much. I was probably playing nice so that she wouldn’t off me”

“Fuck, Johnny” Kerry sighned.

“What Kerry? That’s what I would do!”

V sighed and counted to 10 inside her head, already knowing that dealing with Johnny is going to be tough.

And she was right.

For weeks V was helping Johnny get accustomed to the year 2078. She got him a job, while he was living in the room back in the Afterlife. He refused to live with Kerry and V in the huge mansion, instead preferred to be close to the party. She got him a new arm and gave him his clothes, weapon and car back, while sticking around trying to get through to him.

Even after V told him everything. Johnny only claimed that it was bullshit and continued on being an asshole.

Of course the merc left out all about the kiss and the nights they spend cuddled in her apartment, after learning that they could touch.

Johnny went through many stages with V.

First he was aggressive and pushed her around, telling her to fuck off and find a life. She annoyed him with the way she would fight back but never left him alone. Never hated him.

Second was ignoring. He would treat her as if she wasn’t there and even fucked another girl with her not far away in the bar. Still she kept being around. Didn’t hate him.

Third was trying to annoying and trying to fuck her constantly. He would filirt and be a sarcastic dick at the same time. He would touch her and tell her all about his impressive dick. Once against she was still around, without any reaction to his actions. Not hating him.

The fourth and current stage was using her. He would call her in the middle of the night for her to came and get his drugged or drunk ass from some chicks apartment, street or bar. Every call. Every time. Every hour. She was there and got him home safely. Without hating him.

Until now.

It was 3AM and V was looking around the alleyway where Johnny said he was in. And there he was. With a girl keeling between his legs, smirking at her.

Even when V thought that her heart didn’t shatter anymore. It was broken beyond repair during all these times with Johnny. She felt it shatter once again as she flinched in pain. Still she simply turned and went to the car to wait for him.

Few minutes later he was in her car, grinning. Some time into the drive he said something that triggered her for the first time.

“Sorry sweetheart. You were getting late and she was so so lovely. Blonde all that, exactly my type”

V flinched as she stared down at her dark skinned hands, and the thick black hair that reached her breasts. The exact opposite of the blonde woman.

Also the word he called her for the first time since...

I trust you, sweetheart...

Sweetheart.

She stopped the car near Afterlife, saying “Go. Afterlife is near maybe you’ll sober up a bit after a walk”

“Ahhh getting tired of me sweetheart?”

She doesn’t know how she even did it, but in a second she turned and slapped him harshly. Screaming at him for the first time since he came back.

“Fuck you Johnny! I know what you’re doing! You’re pissed that I don’t hate you like your friends did back in the day! How I’m not leaving like Alt did, when you got too difficult to fix up! Do you know how I fucking know?! Because you were inside my mind. I saw all that pain and loneliness you felt! I know it! You even told me about it although you knew that I knew!”

“You don’t know shit!” he yelled, only to get slapped again.

“Quite the opposite, Johnny! I know all of your shit! And I’m not leaving! Or hating you!”

“Why?! Why?! Why won’t you leave?!”

“Because I love you!” she screamed tears escaping her violet eyes “And you just keep on hurting me... I throught that I can handle it... but maybe I was wrong...” she added quietly, looking away from him.

Then she raised her hand and took off his glasses, to look into his dark eyes as she whispered “I’m sorry Johnny... I tried so hard... I’m sorry that I failed you... sorry that I wasn’t enough... I hope that maybe you will remember some day and stop being what you’re now... I love you, always”

Johnny was so stunned by what happened that he didn’t react to V kissing him gently behind the ear, where the chip was and whispering.

“I’m so sorry, my love...”

Then she pulled away and got out of the car, walking away with stunned Johnny still inside her car.

•there will be part two so follow me or just check the tag “Johnny Silverhand x V”

•also English isn’t my first language so sorry for any errors.

[helenarlett-rex]

So for a while now I’ve had a problem with the landlord of the two duplexes next door to my house. You see, When I bought the house I’m living in, the two duplexes next to me were empty and abandoned. Then a year later some rich prick bought them and started renting them out. And as soon as he did he started harassing Violet and myself about our yard. Specifically, about our grass not being cut. Only here’s the thing... We do cut our grass. But this guy is a psychopath who hires a lawn maintenance crew to come out and cut the grass on his properties twice a week! He’s even sent them out to cut the grass at night! I don’t know what his fucking obsession is with grass but it’s far beyond the norms of lawn maintenance. And he doesn’t seem to like the fact that my yard isn’t being obsessed over and cut as frequently as his is.

We first started having problems with him a while back when he approached Violet one day as she was leaving to go to work. He walked up to her and started complaining about how our yard looked horrible and we needed to mow it. At the time the yard was NOT that bad. It hadn’t been cut in a week but that was all. Just one week since the last time we mowed it. Violet informed him that she was leaving for work, but she would mow the law as soon as she had the opportunity to do so. Violet did not inform me of this encounter.

Cut to a week later... It has rained all week so there has not been any opportunity to cut the grass. This puts my yard at only two weeks since it was last mowed. It’s getting kind of long at this point, but it’s not HORRIBLE yet. I’m fully aware that it needs to be cut but I have to wait for the yard to dry because my mower doesn’t work under water. And yeah... when it rains enough, we have puddles of standing water in the yard. So does he, by the way... I hear a knock on the door and I go to check. It’s the same guy. Who at this point I have never met and am still unaware of his conversation with my wife. As soon as I open the door he just looks at me and says, “I’m here to check the status of the yard.”

Naturally I’m just kind of like, “What...? Who are you?”

And he instantly starts getting aggravated and aggressive, telling me that he’s already talked to me about this and he wants to know why I haven’t cut the grass yet. And I actually have to explain to this man that this is the first time I’ve ever met him before and I have no clue who he is or what he’s talking about. Apparently he had me mistaken for Violet, which is really something considering Violet is about a foot and a half taller than me, twice my weight, and has a head full of thick, curly hair while I have a super short buzz-cut. He starts to calm down slightly when he realizes his mistake but I’m already standing there thinking, how full of yourself do you have to be to first come barging onto my property, announcing you’re there to check the status of the yard as if you own the place, and then you can’t even be bothered to realize I’m not the same person you talked to before when me and that other person look nothing alike? And then instead of trying to make things better he tells me, “Well I talked to whoever drives... this... thing...” gesturing to my car (which Violet and I were sharing at the time) and I’m like, now you’re insulting my car too? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my car. I’m sorry it’s not the oversized, gas guzzling, I’m compensating for the size of my penis pickup truck you’re driving, but it’s a perfectly fine car in good condition. But after insulting my car he goes on to start yelling at me about how my yard looks horrible and it’s bringing down the value of his property and if I don’t cut the grass he’s going to call the city and report me, and I’m just like... what the fuck, dude?! It’s rained all week! You can still see the water in the yard! I’ll cut it as soon as I am able to.

That was the first and last time I ever spoke to the man. I saw him occasionally here and there after that. Usually when I was leaving for work and he was in the drive way of the duplexes doing... I don’t even know what... And every time that happened he would just stand there giving me dirty looks as he watched me drive away. But I didn’t really care because I cut my grass. I don’t cut it twice a week like some kind of insane person, but I keep it at a reasonable length.

Then lawn maintenance people started knocking on my door asking me if I would like to hire them to take care of my lawn. And I’m like, what...? No... Thank you, but I take care of it myself. And at first I wasn’t sure why all of these random lawn crews kept knocking on my door, but then I remembered when I talked to the neighbor’s landlord one of the things he yelled at me was that if I couldn’t keep on top of it myself I should just hire his lawn crew. So I’m pretty sure he was sending them over because I’ve never had this happen before. First of all... Fuck you. I’m not paying someone just to keep my grass the exact same length as yours just to keep you happy. And second of all... I can’t afford that anyways. Take a look at where your duplexes are located. You’re in the poor neighborhood my man. You are the only person here who can afford a lawn crew. I have a feeling if you can’t keep people in your duplexes (which he can’t, by the way) it’s not because the neighbor’s grass is too tall... It’s probably because you bought a pair of run down duplexes in the slums and are trying to charge people like they are renting in a nice neighborhood. Everyone who moves into your duplexes moves back out in less than six months. I’m pretty sure that’s not because I only mow my lawn once a week instead of twice a week...

But as annoying as it was having people knocking on my door asking if I wanted to hire them, I didn’t worry too much about it... And then one day as I was looking out the window, wondering why his lawn crew was out there cutting the grass only a day after they had just cut it... I noticed one of the guys pull out his phone and take a picture of the line between his yard and mine. And I thought... Hmm... That’s suspicious... He sent them back out here to re-cut what they had just cut the day before and then take pictures of the difference between the lengths of our grass? Okay... what are you planning to do?

And I found out today, when while I was at work I get a text from Violet saying that a city property inspector showed up to inspect our property because he got a complaint.

But you know the funny thing about it...? My yard hasn’t been mowed since last Saturday and the first thing the property inspector did was look at it and say, “Well your grass is okay.” Yeah... It’s been a week since I cut it and it’s still within city codes. Next he inspected the trees growing by the power lines (which I’m assuming was also a complaint he received) and said, “Well those are getting a little too close to the power lines but that’s not your responsibility and I see the city has already marked them to be trimmed down, so that’s all good.” The only thing he saw that was even the slightest bit of a problem was that the fence in our backyard was leaning a bit and he asked us to fix it. Violet fixed it within the hour and had him come back out to take pictures. (Which impressed him because he’s never had anyone comply with anything that fast before.) So in the end the property inspector was like, yeah, you’re all fine here. I see no problems at all. Which means the neighbor’s landlord wasted Violet’s time, and the property inspector’s time, by sending the guy out here to harass us for no reason.

This was kind of the last straw for Violet though. She was already pissed off when the guy came over here onto our property and started yelling at me. (She’s very protective of me.) And pissed off again when I caught the lawn crew taking pictures of our yard. But after having a property inspector show up at our door when there was no problem...? She has decided if this guy wants to complain about our yard then she’s going to give him a reason to complain. And checked with the property inspector to make sure there were no city codes against her new plan.

She ordered 50 of them... This is going to be my yard in a few weeks... And I... kind of love it...

[buckysnumberonegirl]

HBCS Week of Love day 2 First date

Three cheers for Iron and Thunder Part 1

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of Himbos, more fluff

Parings: Bucky x reader

Hello loves it’s me Alex! A little note for today’s episode of two love struck idiots, it’s technically the second part of a series! If you’re interested in reading the first part you can find it on my blog titled Midnight Missions!

Or click down below

Prequel

That’s all💕 enjoy and as always reblogs and comments are welcome

Part 2

You honestly weren’t sure what to expect. After 9 months undercover you finally had been back for about a week now and man did it feel good. You were walking down to the compound gym when you spotted Bucky, currently being assaulted with information as Peter Parker followed him around trying to explain what I himbo was.

“No you see Mr.Barnes sir, a good example is like Captain Rogers, he’s strong, respectful and handsome. But on the other hand he’s also not the brightest”

Bucky's eyes met yours and pleaded for help. You laughed at the thought that the 16 year old had this 100 something year old super soldier needing to be rescued.

Peter continued not even noticing you standing there “that’s why he gets all of that fan mail from girls… not that you shouldn’t Mr. Barnes sir I’m sure that you uh any woman would be lucky to have you if you like women um” Peters rambles became more or less incoherent rambling as he realized what he was saying.

You decided to finally step in and save your friend ‘hey Buck you ready for our date tonight?’

Both Peter and Bucky shot you a look, Bucky smiled playing along “Uh yeah Doll, did you have a time in mind I meant to ask you that”

Just as the words left his mouth Tony walked in.

“Well if you’re interested I have a standing reservation at that little Italian restaurant near Strange’s place”

Before even thinking you Blurted out ‘I’ve always wanted to go there! They have a 5 year long wait list!’

Tony smirked “well then it’s yours if that’s okay Mr.Robot.. you’ll have to dress up of course”

Bucky looked at you “I know how to dress when going out with a beautiful woman Tony, and yeah we’ll take it, thank you”

You blushed, he called you beautiful. Of course he may just be saying it so your cover wasn’t blown but you like to imagine that deep down maybe he felt a sliver of what you felt for him.

Bucky came over to you winked “come on Doll, let’s get out of here”

You thanked Tony once again and walked out with Bucky stopping once you were out of earshot.

‘Well James I think you owe me one’ you smiled at your best friend, feeling a touch of sadness creep into you as you thought about the imaginary date.

Bucky smiled looking into your eyes “well, how about a date?”

A hopeful look washed over his face as he asked you. Finally asking you after months of waiting for the right moment.

‘Yeah, I think that would work’

He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled again “pick you up at 7:30 Y/N” he walked away and you turned. Unbeknownst to both of you, the two of you silently celebrated getting what you had both wanted for months now.

—————

7:25, that’s what your clock said. Each second ticking by painfully slow as you waited for a knock on the door. You looked amazing, your hair fell perfectly and your outfit fit exactly as you had hoped, despite borrowing it from Natasha.

Another minute clicked by when you heard steps outside your door followed by knocking.

When you opened it you were speechless. Bucky cleaned up really well. His black suit brought out the blue in his eyes and the large Bouquet or roses covered nearly half his torso.

“I wasn’t sure if you were a flowers kind of girl” he handed them to you and put his hand behind his neck. Was the winter soldier nervous about tonight?

‘I love them Buck they’re beautiful’ you trimmed the ends and placed them in a vase leaving one out which you stuck in your hair. You turned to find him staring.

“So are you Doll”

Heat rushed to your cheeks ‘we should probably get going we don’t want to be late for our first date’

Bucky laughed “first date? Are you implying that there will be a second one?”

Looking him up and down you responded ‘ I suppose that depends on how tonight goes soldier’

You fixed his tie as the two of you left.

Dinner went by quickly conversation carrying the night and filling it with laughter. Bucky payed saying something about chivalry not being dead and the two of you decided to walk around Central Park not wanting the night to end.

Somehow you two managed to find the only remaining ice cream stand and bought 2 cones. Giggling like little kids as you walked around under the stars.

Finally stopping on a bridge looking at the reflection of the moon over the small pond. You couldn’t help but lean your head on his shoulder.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner Y/N/N” Bucky asked quietly almost as if he thought if he spoke too loud the moment would end.

‘Well because I didn’t know what you’d say if I asked’

Bucky chuckled “that was my reason”

You smiled as you looked up at the sky. The smile faded as the moon covered in dark clouds.

‘Hey Buck?”

Bucky mused “yeah doll”

‘Did you check the weather at all today’

He looked at you “no why?”

Before he finished lightning cracked and the sky broke open. The rain poured down.

You both groaned and cursed the god of thunder who was probably laughing to himself at the compound.

Bucky grabbed your hand “if we run we can make it to the car before we get to wet”

You looked at him wide eyed and then at your heels, maybe Natasha could run in them but you certainly couldn’t.

Bucky followed your gaze and then a wicked grin spread across his face. He scooped you up as if you weighed nothing, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Ready doll?”

‘Ready as I’ll ever be’ you laughed and with that buck was running to the car, the both of you laughing like idiots.

A smile came to your face once again, you couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend a first date. You silently thanked Thor, changing your mind about the storm and hugged Bucky. Yeah, it was a really good first date.

[delightfully-difficult-pirate]

Kittens for Quarantine (1/2) (CSJJ Day 16)

A/N: I originally came up with this idea during lockdown in 2020, when YouTube channels like Kitten Academy and Kitten Lady were essential to my sanity (what little of it there is).  I hoped to have it finished in time for today, but it turned into more of a beast that I anticipated, so I’m afraid I’ll have to post it in two parts.  Part 2 will come in Feb, as to not distract from any of the wonderful CSJJ pieces scheduled for the second half of January.  

Thank you @csjanuaryjoy​ for all your hard work organizing this event!!!

Trigger warning: Pandemic. 

Summary: During a storm, a stray cat runs into Emma’s home. Killian, Storybrooke’s new shelter manager, comes to help her out but some more unexpected arrivals mean Emma and her son are going to need a crash course on cat and kitten care.  

AO3

                                                           ~*~

Arms laden with bags of groceries and rain pelting her face, Emma Swan struggled to get the key into the lock of her front door.  Wet strands of her blonde hair stuck to her face, obscuring her vision even more.

Just as she was about to give up and call her 12 year-old son, Henry, to come open the door for her, the key slipped into the lock.  Emma shouldered open the door before dropping the bags onto the floor so they held it open.

"Henry, come start putting the groceries away," She yelled into the large house.

Too large of a house for just the two of them, honestly, but Emma had fallen in love with the blue Queen Anne Revival-style home when her realtor first gave them a tour, even though it was a little of a fixer-upper.  At over 100-years-old, that was to be expected.  It had been a little out of her price range until the City of Storybrooke helped her secure a better mortgage deal, as long as she agreed to restore the home to its former glory.  

The arrival of her help was preceded by loud thumps as Henry ran down the stairs.  He flashed her a grin as he grabbed a couple of bags and hauled them to the kitchen.

With a shake, Emma prepared herself to brave the raging storm once again to retrieve the remaining bags.  She'd hoped to be home before it started, but Leroy's van broke down in the middle of Main Street and she'd needed to help divert traffic until the tow truck could get there. She was lucky, she reminded herself as she loaded her arms up with bags, that Storybrooke was such a calm town and rarely needed its Sheriff for anything serious enough to keep her from getting home on time.  A far cry from her years working as a bail bonds agent in Boston.

A streak of lightning blinded Emma for a moment as she made her way toward her house, followed shortly after by a large crash of thunder.  She hoped that the storm wouldn't damage any powerlines.  She'd just bought two pints of ice-cream... which were sitting on the kitchen counter, melting, with no Henry in sight.

With a frown, Emma kicked the door shut.  It wasn't like Henry to abandon a job half done, nor to abuse ice-cream in such away.  After dropping the bags on the kitchen floor and her reusable fabric mask in the basket marked "Dirty", she washed her hands before going in search of her son.

"Kid, where’d you go?" she called out.

Emma almost missed his reply thanks to another crash of thunder but she was just able to hear enough to determine he was upstairs, and she found him in her bedroom on the top floor.  He was crouched on the floor and looking underneath her bed.  Henry looked up when she entered and told her, "I saw something small run into the house while you were outside and followed it in here. I think it’s a cat."

Emma blinked in shock. A cat?

She joined Henry on the floor and peered under her bed.  A pair of yellow eyes set in a colorful face stared back at her.

Wide-eyed, she sat back on her heels.  There was definitely a cat under her bed.  Not an ideal situation but it was a hundred times better than the other likely hood, a raccoon.

"Umm... I guess we should call David?"

Henry nodded in agreement.  Emma's good friend and Deputy was the head volunteer for the local animal shelter and would be able to arrange for someone to come and get their interloper. After she shooed Henry back downstairs to finish putting away the groceries, Emma called David.

He answered with a cheerful "Emma!"

“A cat ran into the house and is hiding under my bed," she blurted out.

There was a pause before David let out a boisterous laugh. "Sorry, sorry," he said, sounding breathless, "that was not what I was expecting."

"Neither was I," she replied.

David chuckled at her sardonic tone. "I'll give Killian a call. He'll be able to coordinate someone to come help you out."

"Who?"

"Killian Jones, the new Shelter Manager the City hired. He started about six weeks ago, not long before lockdown started."

Emma vaguely remembered a discussion during a City Council meeting last year about a grant from the state to expand the shelter, which also allowed for more full-time staff to be hired.  But she didn't recall anything on the topic after that.  Of course, she could barely remember what happened last week since 2020 was so chaotic.  

"I don't think I've met him yet," she admitted.  Normally, Emma made a point to introduce herself to new people who moved to town.  But with social interaction outside your household being discouraged due to the pandemic, she wasn't doing so.

"He used to help run a not-for-profit rescue group in NYC," David told her. “Grew tired of city life, though, and wanted a change."

Given the current situation in NYC, he was lucky to have moved to Maine when he did, Emma mused.

"Anyways, I'll give him your number so he can reach out."

After a quick thanks, Emma ended the call.  With a sigh, she stretched out on her stomach and eyed her unexpected guest.  The cat hadn't moved and continued to stare back at her.  Its face was a mix of black, orange and white. The pupils of its eyes looked fully dilated and its ears were flat and sticking out sideways, which worried Emma until a quick internet search informed her that the cat was probably anxious or afraid and unlikely to become aggressive unless they began to feel threatened.  Which would probably be the case if Emma tried to remove the cat from its current hiding spot on her own.  As much as she didn't want to invite a possible stranger into her home, much less her bedroom, she also didn't want to risk getting bit and/or scratched, and having to make a visit to the hospital as a result.

Resigned to waiting for the animal expert, Emma heaved herself up off the floor.  She left the cat trapped in her bedroom and made her way downstairs.  Henry already had most of the groceries away, except those that needed to go in places he couldn't reach.  Though with the way he was growing, it wouldn't be long before she would need to find a new hiding spot for her secret stash of chocolate.

Her phone rang around 10 minutes later, vibrating loudly on the kitchen table.  Since it was a number she didn't recognize, she hoped it was Killian Jones or another shelter volunteer who could help her out.

"Is this Emma Swan?" A surprisingly accented voice replied to her casual greeting.  At her affirmative, her caller continued, "this is Killian; David told me you have a bit of a problem with a stray cat.''

"You could say that. It ran inside and has taken up residence under my bed."

A deep chuckle reverberated across the line. "Probably seeking shelter from the storm.”

Honestly, Emma couldn't blame the cat for wanting inside where it was warm and dry.  She'd done the same during her time on the streets, even going so far as to break into empty houses when desperate.

"I'd rather not call out any of the volunteers in this weather, but it'll be around an hour until I can make it over to help you out. Will that be alright?"

Emma's nose scrunched in annoyance at having to wait, but reminded herself that this wasn't exactly an emergency.  After telling Killian that would be fine, they ended the call and Emma text him her address.

To pass the time, Emma set about making a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup for Henry and herself.  They were doing the dishes, her washing and him drying, when there was a knock on the door. They both donned clean masks before she pulled the door open and she found herself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.  They and some black eyebrows were all that was visible of the man's face, since he wore a beanie pulled low over his forehead and a colorful paw-print patterned mask.

"Emma Swan, I hope?" The man – Killian - asked.  She nodded and quickly invited him inside as lightning streaked across the sky.  She didn't want another startled animal running inside after all.

Killian removed a wet rain jacket, plaid scarf, and beanie, hanging them on the coat tree by the door.  His dark hair was flat against his head thanks to the beanie until he ran a hand through it, mussing the strands until they were casually messy.  He wore a dark button-up under an equally dark vest – who still wore vests - with the top few buttons undone, revealing a decent amount chest hair and the chain of a long necklace.  This was paired with tight, black jeans that hugged a trim waist above sturdy looking boots.  

Emma wasn't sure what she was expecting someone who ran an animal shelter to look like, but sexy punk-rock professor wasn't it.  When her eyes returned to Killian’s face, she realized that he must have been aware that she’d been checking him out because she was met with a raised brow and amused blue eyes.  She��d bet money that he was smirking beneath his mask as well.

“The cat is upstairs,” she announced before turning around to hide the blush she could feel making its way up her neck.  She listened to Henry regale Killian with the tale of the cat’s sudden arrival as she led the way upstairs.  At her door, she paused.

“Excuse the mess.  We only moved in a few weeks ago,” Emma murmured, suddenly feeling the need to explain the piles of boxes still scattered around her room.  

Killian’s soft laugh sent a shiver down her back.  “Don’t worry lass, I won’t judge.  Been in my new place for nearly two months and still have a fair few boxes left myself.”

With a sharp nod, she let Killian into her room, but directed Henry to remain in the hall.  She stood back as Killian set down a small cat carrier she hasn’t noticed before and kneeled next to her bed, peering under it. She tried not to watch as his jeans hugged his shapely ass even more than before.

Killian raised his head and looked at her over his shoulder. “Lass, there is no cat under there.”

“What?” Emma immediately dropped down and looked for herself, but Killian was right.  There was no cat underneath her bed anymore.  She jumped up and looked around for any other places where a cat could go.  The door to her ensuite bathroom was closed, as was the one to her closet.

“She’s probably behind some of the boxes.”  

They started checking the various nooks and corners created by the haphazard piles of boxes.  She was about to pick-up a partially open box labeled “blankets” when she heard a small squeak come from within it.  Startled, she slowly lifted the flap of the box to peer inside.

“Umm…” was all she could initially get out.  “I found the cat.”

Killian appeared at her shoulder and let out a surprised “oh!” when he looked down.  Inside the box was not only the cat from earlier, which Emma could now see was a calico, but also two small, squirming kittens.  One was black with little white paws and the other looked to be a calico like the mother.  

“Look at you,” Killian crooned at the cat as he folded back all the flaps of the box. “Such a good mom, finding somewhere safe to have your babies.”

Emma marveled at how small the kittens were and couldn’t bring herself to be upset that they’d been born on one of her favorite knit blankets.  Everyone one, cats included, deserved a safe, comfortable place to give birth.

Killian slowly reached his hand into the box.  The mom cat watched attentively but didn’t make any move to stop Killian as he carefully grabbed the black kitten and lifted it partway out of the box.  It let out a high pitched squeak and flailed its small limbs as Killian checked it over.  As he did so, Emma noticed that he was still wearing a glove on his left hand and that it appeared oddly stiff.

“I think that one is a little boy,” he whispered, placing the kitten back at a nipple to nurse.  He repeated the processes with the calico kitten, who he declared it was most likely a girl.

“Male calicos,” he told her in a calm, soft voice, poking around the mother cat’s belly as he did so, “are extremely rare and only happen because of a genetic abnormality.”

Emma didn’t know enough about genetics to really understand why that would happen, but she would definitely look it up later.  After another minute, Killian pulled his hand from the box and sat back.  “It doesn’t feel like she has anymore kittens in her, so these two are probably it.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? Less for the shelter to take care of.”

Killian’s hand rose and made to rub across his face, obviously a habit, but he caught himself before he touched his mask.  “I’m afraid the kittens complicate things.”

Emma sighed.  Of course it would.

“The shelter isn’t set up to care for cats with kittens this small,” he informed her, “most aren’t, so they rely on people willing to foster the families until they can be adopted out.”

Killian scratched behind his ear as he continued, “Storybrooke doesn’t have a large foster network to begin with and very few are willing to care for mom cats with new kittens. Those that can are already doing so and I don’t think any of them will have space for more for another couple of weeks.”

This wasn’t completely new information.  David often complained about the lack of foster families in town and how often they needed to reach out to nearby organizations for help.  It was one of the main reasons David convinced the City to apply for the state grant program to improve the shelter.  

“Can you take them?” She suggested, hopeful.

With a sad look in his eyes, Killian shook his head. “I have two orphan litters at home, one of which is only three weeks old.  I wouldn’t be able to provide an appropriate level of care for any of them if I took in another.”

The idea of orphan kittens hit Emma right in the heart.  Orphans, no matter the species, were always a sensitive topic for her because of her past. She studied the two wiggling kittens nursing away in front of her for a moment.  Killian was regarding her with an unreadable expression on his face when she looked back over at him.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take care of these three until I can arrange another home?”

Emma blinked in shock. “What? I don’t know how to take care of a normal cat, much less one with kittens!” She exclaimed.

“It’s not that hard, really, I promise,” he held his hands up in front of him to convey his honesty at her suspicious look.  “Leto here does all the hard work.  You’ll mostly just be feeding her, checking the kitten’s weights to make sure they’re getting enough milk, and socializing them a bit.”

“Leto? You’ve already named the cat?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed and scratched behind his ear.  “Aye, Leto.  She was a Greek goddess and one of Zeus’ lovers.  Her story came to mind earlier and the name stuck.”

Incredulous, Emma could only stare at Killian, who flushed under her scrutiny.

“What is her story?” Emma eventually asked, curious.

“Leto is considered the goddess of motherhood or a protector of the young. But she is mostly known for being the mother of the goddess Artemis and god Apollo.  But when Leto first became pregnant, Zeus’ wife, Hera was enraged and made all lands shun her to prevent her from having anywhere to give birth. Eventually she came upon the newly created island Delos, which was not yet attached to the earth and therefore wasn’t land.  There she was able to finally give birth.”

Even Emma had to admit that the name was appropriate.  “So the girl is Artemis and the boy Apollo?”

Killian nodded.

Emma shrugged. “Works for me. Now, how do you socialize a kitten? I imagine it doesn’t involve signing them up for extracurricular activities,” she joked.

“Handling them in order to get them accustomed to it.  Basically playing with kittens, but with purpose.” From the crinkles next to his eyes, Killian was grinning under his mask.  

“Won’t that make her mad?” Emma nodded at Leto, who was currently licking Apollo’s head.

Killian shook his head. “She let me handle them without a problem, so I doubt she’ll object to you doing so.  Why don’t you give it a try?” He encouraged.

After taking a fortifying breath, Emma slowly reached into the box.  Like before, Leto watched Emma’s hand intently but did nothing to stop her from grasping little Artemis and lifting her up.  The kitten let out a squeak that caused her mom to lean forward and sniff at her for a moment, but they both settled down a moment later. Emma held the kitten for another minute before setting her back down.  

There was pride in Killian’s voice when he told her, “She trusts you.”

Her own voice held a touch of awe when she replied, “I guess she does.”

They sat and watched the little family of three for a couple of minutes before Killian broke the silence to ask, “So, will you take care of them?  At least for a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah, I guess I can.”

An exuberant “Yes!” came from the door of her room and Emma looked up to see Henry watching from where her door was opened a couple of inches.  A door she distinctly remembered closing.

Killian gracefully rose from the floor and immediately held out his hand to help her before he remembered the “no touching” rules they all lived under now.  He pulled his hand back with a frustrated growl, the sound of which did wonderful things to Emma’s nether regions.  She clenched her legs together as she stood, inwardly curing that such a simple sound turned her on.  She’d have to deal with that later.

“I’m going to grab some supplies from my truck that you can use,” Killian told her as they left her room. “Can you two get a medium sized box and some towels or blankets together?”

With a nod, she and Henry collected the items in the empty room Emma intended to one day turn into an office. When Killian returned, he cut a large hole in the front box and then a small one at the back, through which he threaded the cord of a heating pad.  He added a folded towel along the bottom before placing the entire thing within a large dog crate.  An old blanket, small litter box, and water and food dishes went in as well.

At each step Killian explained what he was doing and why, and she watched as Henry soaked up the information like a sponge.  “The heating pad needs to be plugged into a secondary thermostat in order to keep it from becoming too hot.”

Soon the whole set up was ready for its new inhabitants and Emma carefully carried the box with Leto and her kittens down from her bedroom.  At Killian’s direction, she placed Artemis and Apollo into the new box.  Soon her kitten’s squeaks drew Leto’s attention and when she hopped out of the blanket box and went into the new one to retrieve them, they shut the crate door behind her.  She paced around the crate for a moment before going into the box and curling up with her babies.

Killian draped a large blanket over the crate, “Its best to leave her be for a bit to let her get settled in.”

The cat crisis taken care of, the three of them made their way back downstairs.  Henry immediately started texting photos of Leto and her kittens to all of his friends.  They were, she was quickly informed, insanely jealous.

“I’m sure they are now. Send them some photos of you scooping the litterbox tomorrow and I bet they’ll be less envious,” she informed her son, which earned a chuckle from Killian.

He chimed in with, “People often forget the less glamourous side of having pets and how much work it can be.”  He’d definitely know all about that, running a shelter.  

As Killian looped his scarf around his neck, he asked, “I’d like to come back tomorrow to check-in on Leto and I’ll also bring some more cat food, if that is alright.”  

Emma nodded, thrilled that they would still have his help in taking care of Leto and her kittens.  She was also glad that it meant that she would see Killian again, as ill-advised as socializing was right now.  Not only was he handsome, even with half his face covered, but he was a pleasant person.  Obviously caring, given what he did, and he had a sense of humor.

“I left a cheat-sheet upstairs that has what you need to do and how, as well as what to look out for.  But if you have any questions, any at all, you can call me,” Killian assured her, “Day or night.”

As much as she would love to hear what Killian’s voice sounded like when he first woke up, she didn’t want to rely on him too heavily.  He did have a full-time job and two litters of kittens to care for, after all.

“Any other resources you recommend we check out?”

For some reason, her questioned caused Killian to blush.  “Oh… um…” he stuttered. “I actually have a small YouTube channel about pet fostering, specifically cats, that you could check out.”

Watch video of Killian playing with kittens?  No way was she going to pass that up. “I’ll definitely check it out.  What is the channel called?”

If possible, Killian’s already flush skin turned even more read.  

“It’s KillyKat.”

                                                          ~*~

A/N: See you in Feb!

[fairylightsandchai]

The Internship - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested. 

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no? 

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.) 

           You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.

           And then the Battle of New York had happened.

           You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.

           But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.

           After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.  

           You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.

You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.

At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.

           And now you were about to walk into his class.

           Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.

           Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.

           You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.

           “Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.

           You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.

           “U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”

           Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.

           He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s-            “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”

           The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.

           “Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”

           His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.

           “You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”

           The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.

           “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”

           Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.

           “Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.

           “Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.

           “Any questions?”

           There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.

           “Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.

           Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.

           “That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”

____________

           Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.

           He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.

           A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.

           As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.

           A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.

           But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.

           The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.

           Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.

You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.            

After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.

There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink.            “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.

“No, Tina,” you sighed.

“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.

“Is never a viable answer?”

“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”

“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”

You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.

“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”

“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”

“TINA!”

“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”

Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.

But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé  about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.

No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.

___________

You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.

Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.

Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.

More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.

As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.

Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.

He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.

“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.

“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.

“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)

“That’s a nice color on you.”

“Looking lovely as always.”

You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.

           Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.

           This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.

           After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.

           “This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”

           Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-

           “(Y/N), is that you?”

           …Maybe you’d spoken too soon.

           Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.

           “Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

           “Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”

           You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.

           “Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”

           “Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.

           “The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”

           “Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”

           “Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”

           Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.

           “It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”

           You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.

           “Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.

           “Thanks, doll.”

           You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.

           “N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.

           “I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”

           Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.

           “Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.

           “Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

           He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.

           “No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”

           Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.

           You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.

           “Steve?”

           He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.

           “Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”

           “It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”

           “Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”

           You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.

           “I’m just joking,” you assured him.

           “Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”

           You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.

           Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.

           “You ok over there, doll?”

           “Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”

           “Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.

           “Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”

           You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.

           For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.

           “Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”

           You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.

           “Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”

           You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.

           “No problem, hon.”

           You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.

           How had he known that you were friends with Tina?

_____

           Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.

           Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.

           But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.

           You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.

           He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.

           He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.

           You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.

           His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.

           With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.

           He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.

           His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.

           But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.

           All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.

           He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.

_______

           You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.

           Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.

           When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.

           As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.

           “Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”

           “Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”

           You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.

           “Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”

           When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.

           “Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.

           After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.

           The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.

           Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.

           When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.

           “Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.

           “So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.

           “For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”

           You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)

           “If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”

           A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?

           “…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.

           When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.

           Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.

           “Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.

           “Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”

           You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.

           “Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”

           “A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”

The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.

“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”

           “Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”

           “Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”

           You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.

           “It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”

           “It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”  

           Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.

           “Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.

           As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”

           “Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”

           “Why not?”

           “Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”

           You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.

           “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“

           “No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

           Your lips twitched into a half-smile.

           “Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”

           “…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”

           “Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.

           “What is it?” you asked.

           “Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.

           Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?

           You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.

           “I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.

           For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.

­­­­______

           You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.

           Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.        

           When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.

           “You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.

           “I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”

           Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.

           Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.

           You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.

           Dear (Y/N),

           Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.

           Sincerely,

                       Steve Rogers

           You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.

           You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.

           After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.

           When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.

           “Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”

           “…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.

           He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.

           “I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“

           “How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”

           Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.

           “Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”

           You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.

           “I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”

           Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.

           You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.

           “U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.

           “It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.

           “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”

           Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.

           Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.

           “It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”

           The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.

           “So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”

           He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

           “That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”

           You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.

           “Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”

           “Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”

           “Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”

           “Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”

           You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.

           “A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.

           “That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”

           Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.

           But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?

           “I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”

           Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

           “Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.

           “Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“

           “No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”

           Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.

           “Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.

           “Whatya say?”

           You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.

           “I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“

           “It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”

           You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.

           Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

           “I’ll do it.”

_______

           Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.

           He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.

           Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.

           He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.

           You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.

[dweetwise]

you know the drill. have some fluffy riconti <3

ship: felix x ace warnings: mentioned (past) sexual content word count: 2430

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Where there’s smoke, there’s fire (part 3)

When Felix wakes up, he immediately notices something is off.

There's a brief moment of panic when he realizes he's not in his own bed, the layout of the strange room different than what he’s used to. To make matters worse, someone stirs next to him in the bed, and Felix—

Has his hand on the man's bicep and has apparently slept curled up next to him.

Ace is still asleep, sprawled out on his back on the hotel bed, snoring softly without a care in the world.

Felix recalls last night. There was the fire alarm, and they'd talked while sharing a blanket for warmth. Then, he'd invited Ace up, they'd kissed, Ace had agreed to stay the night…

… And things had escalated to the point where Felix had come in his pants like a teenager.

Felix buries his face in his pillow in embarrassment and silently wishes the earth would swallow him whole. Nothing about this situation is like him at all; usually, he’s careful to a fault, and having a one-night-stand with a man he just met has been something reserved only for fantasies.

But Ace hadn’t seemed to mind. On the contrary, he’d been understanding and even encouraging, not running for the hills despite Felix’s numerous fuck-ups.

Felix peeks up from the pillow and looks at Ace. Something flutters in his gut upon taking in his bedmate's relaxed features while he sleeps. And then something different stirs in his groin when he realizes Ace is shirtless, a lean arm stretched behind his pillow, the duvet only covering half of his hairy chest.

It's embarrassing how much the proximity of a very male body next to Felix is enough to wake his libido, years' worth of repressed sexuality now hitting him full force. He barely resists the urge to reach out and touch the grey curls, not wanting to wake Ace, since they don't have anywhere to be—

Shit!

Felix bolts up to sit on the bed and frantically glances around the room for a clock, acutely reminded that he's here for business and not a gay escapade.

“Oof!” Ace protests and flinches awake when Felix accidentally knees him in the ribs.

“Sorry,” Felix apologizes half-heartedly, finally spotting the alarm clock on the nightstand next to Ace.

Seeing the numbers 8:40, Felix immediately sighs in relief and slumps back down on the bed. He still has plenty of time before his business appointment.

“Sleep well?” Ace's asks, voice groggy with sleep while he blinks awake.

“Yes,” Felix says. “Uhm… and you?” he asks awkwardly, immediately feeling much more self-conscious now that Ace is awake.

“Like a baby,” Ace flashes Felix a grin but doesn't meet his eyes.

Ace proceeds to sit up, before yawning long and loud, stretching his arms above his head.

And Felix stares like an absolute creep at the way Ace's shoulder muscles move with the action. He wants to run his hands all over them, thanking his luck that they still have time for a lazy morning under the covers.

“Well, I should probably get out of your hair,” Ace says, shattering Felix's daydream. “Leave you to prepare for your important meeting.”

Ace pulls the covers away from himself and turns to get out of bed, and Felix wants to protest—

“No,” Felix finds himself saying out loud, Ace's head immediately whipping around to look at him in surprise.

“I, ehm,” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I have time. If you do too,” he manages lamely.

A smile slowly spreads over Ace's face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and a familiar warmth sparkle within them.

“It's kinda chilly, huh?” Ace grins, leaving Felix confused.

“Not particularly—” he starts, feeling almost too warm under the thick duvet.

“We should cuddle for warmth,” Ace interrupts before eagerly slipping back between the covers, making realization dawn on Felix.

“You're right,” he says, playing along while trying not to smile like an idiot as Ace scoots closer. “I'm very cold.”

“Well, can't have that, now can we?” Ace smiles, lifting the covers and extending his arm, and Felix gratefully take the opportunity to cuddle up to him.

Sighing blissfully as Ace's arms wrap around him, Felix buries his face in the crook between Ace's neck and shoulder.

Making good of his earlier thought, Felix brings one of his hands up from Ace’s back to smooth over the man’s shoulders. Ace hums in approval and starts petting Felix's hair, and Felix never realized just how nice it is to be held. His few girlfriends were always much more petite than him, and even though Ace is shorter and smaller than him, he's broader and bigger than a woman and Felix feels safe in his arms.

Felix's other hand, on its own accord, comes up to rest on Ace's chest, and it's only when the man huffs in amusement that Felix realizes he's been playing with his chest hair again.

And it suddenly hits him just how weird it is that he's happily cuddling the man he only met technically today without technically even having sex with him.

“This probably isn't how a normal hook-up goes, huh?” Felix realizes, hesitantly stilling the movement of his hand.

“Not really,” Ace chuckles, the sound reverberating in his chest under Felix's hand. “But normal’s boring anyway, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Felix murmurs with a smile, doubts successfully reassured. On impulse, he places a soft peck on Ace's neck.

When the other shivers and gasps, Felix pulls back to look at him, startled by the reaction.

“Uh, neck's kinda sensitive,” Ace offers with a sheepish grin.

Well. It sure would be a shame if someone used that information for their advantage later tonight.

“I don't know whether to be turned on or scared,” Ace jokes, seeing the mischievous smile on Felix's face.

“Later,” Felix says, leaning in for a kiss that Ace dodges, Felix's lips landing on Ace's stubbled cheek.

“I promise you don't wanna taste my mouth right now” Ace explains. “It's a distinct combination of booze and death.”

Felix would like to pretend like he's not grossed out by morning breath, but then remembers he didn’t even offer to lend Ace a hotel toothbrush last night.

“Fair enough,” Felix says, settling for kissing Ace's bearded jaw instead.

The prickling under his lips is pleasant and, again, so distinctly masculine. Felix can't help nuzzling into Ace's jawline, his own morning stubble rasping against the trimmed beard.

“Having fun?” Ace teases, returning the gesture, scraping his beard over Felix's stubbled cheek.

“Sorry,” Felix chuckles. “It's just different. In a good way.”

“I'm not judging,” Ace grins. “If you wanna bump your head into me and knead my chest hair like a cat, go right ahead.”

“I'm… a little obsessed, sorry,” Felix says, a hand running through said chest hair once again.

“Baby, a guy with your face? You can do whatever you want with me," Ace purrs suggestively, and Felix feels heat rising up his neck.

“Do you really think I look good?” Felix asks, almost regretting it once he realizes just how insecure he sounds.

Sure, his ex-girlfriends complimented him every now and then, but that's what couples do, right? The kids back in his school years sure didn't make it a secret how "weird" and "boring" they thought Felix was.

“Don't tell me no one ever told you how pretty you are,” Ace grins. At Felix's confused frown, Ace's smile falters. “Fuck me, no one ever told you how pretty you are.”

“People don't generally tend to compliment strangers,” Felix points out.

“They should if the stranger looks like you!” Ace exclaims, now sounding almost offended on his behalf. “Okay, babe, listen. This is important,” Ace says, grabbing Felix by the shoulder and looking straight into his eyes.

“You're gorgeous,” Ace says. “And, yeah, I don’t really tend to be stingy with compliments, but you're easily in the top five of most attractive people I've ever seen in my life.”

“You said this was important,” Felix says with a small smile, trying not to flush from the praise.

“It is!” Ace insists. “You need to know that you're a ten and you can't spend your life picking up fives and sixes.”

Felix frowns, not really seeing where Ace is going with this.

“I mean obviously I'm not referring to myself—” Ace hurries to add. “But if you ever start getting more involved in the hookup scene, you need to set the bar high. Because trust me, you're not gonna run out of options.”

Felix barely resists the urge to tell Ace that he can't see himself sleeping with men that aren't him, but manages to just nod instead so he doesn’t sound too clingy.

He's still flustered that Ace finds him this attractive and isn't afraid of saying so. Maybe it's a cultural thing, the Argentine much more free with his compliments than is customary in Germany.

“So, now that we've established how hot you are…” Ace starts, sensing Felix's awkwardness about being in the spotlight like this. “You probably didn't have the time to check out the breakfast buffet, huh?”

“No, I only got here last night,” Felix says.

At the mention of food, Felix suddenly notices a pang in his belly, signaling an empty stomach. Having only had a couple of pathetic airplane meals for the past 24 hours, breakfast is sounding pretty tempting right about now.

“Well, need some help with that?” Ace suggests.

“Help?” Felix asks, confused.

“You know,” Ace gestures lazily with his hand. “Get all the insider information. Which cereal to pick. Whether apple or orange juice is better. Important stuff.”

Hearing the strange suggestion, something clicks in Felix's head.

“Are you asking if I want to have breakfast together?” Felix asks.

“Is it working?” Ace grins.

“Somehow, yes,” Felix says, and Ace’s smile widens even further.

“I hate to say it, but we should probably get out of bed in that case,” Ace says, sitting up on the bed and taking the cozy warmth of his body away. “I'll swing by my room to freshen up. See you downstairs in half an hour?” he offers over his shoulder, starting to dress himself.

“Sounds good,” Felix agrees, hurrying to get out of bed so he'll have time to make himself look presentable.

Making for the bathroom to brush his teeth, he walks past his phone on the desk, suddenly remembering something crucial.

“Oh,” Felix says, making a nearly-dressed Ace perk up and look at him. “Can I please have your number, just in case? I don't want to lose you again.”

“Aww, babe,” Ace smirks. “The three seconds we were separated by the elevator were hard on me too.”

“You know what I mean,” Felix mutters, shooting Ace a half-hearted glare.

“I do, I do,” Ace defuses with a smile, walking up to Felix with a partially buttoned shirt and extending his hand. “Here, I’ll type it for you.”

As Felix hands over his phone and watches Ace add his number, his gaze inadvertently drifts down to the man's exposed chest. The crumpled, pastel pink shirt combined with the generous neckline exposing a hairy chest should look nothing short of ridiculous and trashy.

Instead, Felix forces his eyes away before his sweatpants start tenting suspiciously. What the hell is wrong with him?

“There!” Ace finally finishes his task and hands Felix back his phone. “Call me?” Ace suggests and—thankfully—proceeds to button his shirt most of the way up.

Felix glances at the number, smiling as he sees "Ace ♠️" as the contact name.

“Cute,” Felix comments when he presses the call button.

“Not as cute as you,” Ace winks, grabbing his own phone that lights up on the nightstand. “Thanks babe, I got it.”

“Do I even want to know what you're saving me as?” Felix mutters, intrigued.

“Oops, would you look at that, gotta run!” Ace grins, avoiding the question and making for the door. “See you in thirty, handsome!”

“Be safe,” Felix reflexively calls after him, and Ace turns and raises an eyebrow, making Felix choke on his own embarrassment. “I mean… yes. See you soon.”

Like he should have said in the first place. You know, like a normal person.

Instead of making fun of him, Ace just smiles in a kind of derpy way.

“Can you stop being so adorable?” Ace teases, but then he's out of the door before Felix can even begin to think of a reply.

Left to his own devices, Felix realizes he only has thirty minutes to shower, shave and get ready for what is essentially his first date with a man.

He hurries to the bathroom and turns on the shower, a flash of shame shooting through him as he spots his previously soiled boxers still drying on the towel rack.

Still, he manages to shower, shave, blow dry his hair and brush his teeth with ten minutes to spare.

But then he runs into his next crisis; what the hell does he wear?

Felix ends up laying all of his outfits on the bed, and yes, five entire outfits might have been excessive for a three-day-trip, but it sure comes in handy now.

Does he wear his work clothes? It might be overdressing for the occasion. He can't wear the leather jacket, since they’re only going to be indoors. Can he go with the t-shirt and vest? Will Ace think he's a slob?

Suddenly recalling Ace has only seen him in his pajamas, Felix realizes anything he chooses to wear is probably a vast improvement.

And then he also realizes he only has three minutes left, having wasted most of his time overthinking his outfit choice.

No small amount of cursing later, Felix manages to dress himself in the casual outfit, only fretting momentarily over whether the jeans are too casual or not. Since he has no time left to gel his hair into place, he haphazardously brushes his bangs over to one side and hopes that it’s good enough.

Barely remembering his keycard, Felix is out of the door with only one minute to spare, power-walking to the elevator.

He pushes the call button, and then pushes it again… and again, when the elevator isn't fucking arriving. He glances at his watch, remembers he didn't remember to put on a watch, sighs and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. But at least the elevator is finally here—

“Fancy seeing you here,” Ace quips as soon as the doors slide open.

[carrisarune]

In Your Eyes

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Note: At this point, please expect at least a few errors as I basically dish these out as soon as I’m done even with a quick review. Editing of previous chaps may occur at one point though so there is that. I have to say a great thanks again to Bree and Preet for all their support and encouragement, you guys are amazing

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst @schnitzelbutterfingers @aestheticartsx

CHAPTER FOUR: NEW PEOPLE AND A NEW HOME

The next morning arrived and after a restless sleep between the not so comfy bed and trying to calm his raging thoughts, Rai was ready to face the new day. As he made his way to the staff entrance, he happened to catch Bryce playing basketball with some other surgeons. At one point, the ball rolled to Rai’s feet. “Well, come one then Hayashi. You gonna play, or you gonna send that back over?” Bryce called, clearly challenging the other.

Picking up the ball, Rai stuck out his tongue in concentration before shooting the ball. Somehow, rather than entering the hoop, the ball hit the support board, hit the ground, then bounced towards a bewildered Bryce, who caught it. A beat of silence came before Bryce, along with the other surgeons burst into laughter.

Bryce leaned against Rai as he exclaimed, “Man you’re a riot Rai” while the male sighed. “Me and ball sports never did have the best relationship” Rai mused. Patting him in consolation Bryce stated, “Hey, not everyone can be good at everything like me” before laughing as Rai bumped his hip in retaliation. After giving Rai’s hair a quick ruffle, Bryce went back to his game. A quick fix of his hair and walk later, Rai was in the changing room and getting ready for work.

He had just placed on his shirt when Sienna came in and announced her arrival with cookies. Upon hearing that, Rai perked and went over to request for some. As he stuffed some cookies like a squirrel, he missed Jackie question how Sienna was so chipper in the morning. He only looked up when he heard Sienna describe the apartment she found and Jackie being skeptical about it. Swallowing the cookies and wiping his mouth from any crumbs, he chimed in, “Well, we can always go together and make a run for it if it’s like some old killer’s den.”

Both girls laughed at that before Sienna informed them that there might be a chance they would need to sign today. Folding his arms, Rai gave a hum, “Looks like we’re gonna have to play gymnastics with our shift today then” causing the girls to laugh once more. The trio then headed to the atrium and met with Elijah and Landry. They discussed their thoughts on what the senior residents might be like when Landry pointed them out. Turning, Rai recognized one of them as Dr. DeLarosa and the other was a broad man with tanned skin, a neatly trimmed beard, and a stern looking face.

Rai quickly learned that the two were pretty much night and day in terms of demeanor as he joined the group and soon learned the stern looking man was Dr. Zaid Mirani. The moment they announced they would be distributing cases, Rai slid over to Dr. Ines’ side, deciding it was better to go to someone familiar. “Hi, Dr. Hayashi! Remember me?” she greeted and Rai grinned, telling her it was alright to call him by his given name. Frankly, the orientation she gave as she handed him his cases was best described as bubbly sunshine.

Once he had his cases in hand, he happened to hear Jackie finish her talk with Dr. Zaid. He blinked and thought, “(And I thought Uncle Greg was strict)” before meeting with Jackie. Apparently, Dr. Zaid was best described as an ass, and when Rai had told her what Dr. Ines was like, she gave a shudder before stating she preferred working with the ass to Rai’s amusement. Later on after they were set off to their cases, Rai found himself paged to meet Dr. Ines along with his group of interns.

It seems that they would be starting their rounds now and Dr. Ramsey would be joining them. At that announcement, it looked as if Landry would burst and collapse from excitement at the same time. Suddenly, Dr. Ramsey wryly stated, “Let’s see who the interns are going to kill today” and Rai froze. “That’s uncalled for” he muttered, his eyes icy and fists clenched. Somehow, Dr. Ramsey seemed to have heard him, “Something to say, Dr. Hayashi?” he asked, clearly daring the intern to speak up.

Ignoring the awed whispers from the other interns over Dr. Ramsey knowing his name, Rai squared his shoulders. A crackle seemed to spark between the two as their eyes met, “Yes, actually” he started, “It’s only the second day. There is no need to make, frankly, crass statements to test our confidence” tone cold, he stood firm, not backing down from Dr. Ramsey’s gaze. Dr. Ines anxiously looked between the two and tried to defuse the tension and move things along. Then, Dr. Ramsey asked, “Has your confidence been tested then?”

“No, doctor” Rai firmly stated and the crackling tension seemed to settle into a quiet rumble. Dr. Ramsey nodded, “Good. Because if I scare you, then you aren’t remotely prepared for what you’ll face on a daily basis here” then a glint entered his eye, “Actually, why don’t we start rounds with your patient?” he rhetorically asks. Rai had no chance to answer before the group was led to a patient’s room. The man sat up as they entered, “Uh, are my eyes going, or are they multiplying?” he asked.

Dr. Ramsey, who had moved to the side, answered, “Good morning, Mr. Knoblauch. They multiply. It’s horrible.” As he said this, Rai mentally pulled at his hair while screeching over the whiplash the man was giving him with his attitude. Outwardly, he was as calm as can be as he reassured the patient and introduced the patient, Mike Knoblauch, and his case. The moment he gave the floor to Landry, he could see that the male was nervous with Dr. Ramsey. It didn’t help that Dr. Ramsey gave a retort to Landry’s stuttering.

Catching his fellow intern’s eye, he mouthed, “You got this” and mimed taking a deep breath. Landry shot him a grateful look before continuing with his presentation. He still stumbled a bit, but managed to relay the rest of the patient’s details. The moment he finished and Dr. Ramsey gave a nod of approval, Landry mouthed his thanks to Rai. Then, Aurora spoke up from behind the group, questioning their seriousness over the internal bleeding found. Rai nodded in acknowledgement of the question and answered it with his assessment. Mike then asked how long he would be stuck in the hospital.

He was rather upset hearing it would take it a week. What’s more, he was angered at the prospect of the hospital profiting from his prolonged stay. Rai was quick to sympathise with him and explain that they had to be careful, urging him to think of his son should something happen. Mike grumbled but relented at that. They then continued on with their rounds and by the end of it, Rai felt like flopping on the ground for a break.

He barely heard Dr. Ines’ congratulations and Dr. Ramsey’s warning to the group as his mind conjured a miniature version of him flopped on a cloud. When Landry came over to thank him for earlier, he gave a small grin and a thumbs up. Just as he was about to go for a water break, he sees Dr. Ramsey beckoning to him. “Not you Rookie, you’ve got one more to present” he told the intern. Mentally, Rai wailed as alarms rang out, but nodded nonetheless and followed the man.

They enter a room where a woman sits up and smiles at them. Even with her arm in a cast, her smile managed to light up the room. With her gaze at Rai she stated, “Please tell me, you’re my new doctor.” At that, Rai gave a chuckle before turning to Dr. Ramsey for confirmation. Upon hearing what happened to the patient’s previous doctor; Rai’s mind provided the mental image of Dr. Ramsey literally kicking a faceless man in a golf outfit with a stethoscope out of the hospital. He had to bite the inside of cheek to stop from laughing before he presented the case as instructed.

When he grabbed the chart, he did a quick read and his brows furrowed. “Patient is Kyra Santana, twenty-eigth years old. She has a fractured radius in need of casting” he paused as he caught Dr. Ramsey’s assessing look, “But you clearly know that already so that means there’s more to this” he muttered before flipping through the chart and scanning it. Spotting the anomaly he declared, “The main issue isn’t the broken arm, it’s her cancer, you brought me here to see if I could detect a bigger picture” before fighting a flush as he saw Dr. Ramsey nod in approval.

“You’re not completely hopeless then Rookie” he offered before lecturing, “The real problem isn’t always obvious. If it was, they’d let any idiot become a doctor” ending with a snort. Rai tilted his head and looked at Kyra, “If she’s here for a treatment, then… where does the broken arm come in?” he wondered.

Kyra gave a grin before explaining how she had been on her way to a C.T. when she spotted an abandoned bike at the side of the street. She had apparently always wanted to learn how to ride a bike and took it as a sign. Problem was, she was worse at riding a bike than she thought she was and ended up wiping out. Rai gave a laugh at the, “Well, at least no one can say you don’t have guts” he told her. She pointed at him and exclaimed, “Right?!” before the two were interrupted by Dr. Ramsey asking Rai what the treatment plan was. “Well, I’m sure she already has a treatment plan so I’ll get to work on casting her arm” he stated before Dr. Ramsey nodded and told him to do that before leaving.  

Rai turned back to Kyra, "Alright then! Let's get that cast on you and send you for the scan. How's that sound?" He asked. “Tragic, for a first date” she responded and Rai barked a laugh. He ruffled his hair and told her, “An A+ for effort, would have worked if I didn’t bat for the other team.” Kyra gave a mock sigh and snapped her fingers, “Damn, they were right, all the hot guys ARE gay, taken, or both” she mused.

Rai gave a grin at that, "Ah, it usually depends, if it makes you feel any better, I don't really mind it” he consoled. A mischievous grin was his response, “Good. Then I’ll do it incessantly” she stated. Another laugh escaped Rai, “Just make sure you leave time to beat cancer” he joked to her. She seemed to dim at that and even tried to show a brave face by joking over living as much as possible with death near. Rai immediately corked that by encouraging her before urging her to give him her arm.

Once her arm was cast she thanked him by addressing him by his title before he told her to call him by his name. She grinned at that, brightening once more as she asked him to be the first to sign her cast. Considering what to write, Rai grinned before writing “Carpe Diem” and signing his name in kanji. Kyra peered at the characters and asked, “You didn’t write some weird phrase like they do with those character tattoos did you?” gesturing to the kanji Rai wrote.

Briefly adopting a look of mock hurt to make Kyra snort in amusement, Rai shook his head, “It’s my name” he explained, “My last name is written as forest while my first name is written as lightning” pointing to the respective characters. “Badass…” Kyra breathed before looking at Rai, “You know… I’ll be here pretty often, cancer and all, so…” her grin seemed to say it all. Rai gave an answering smile. “I’ll see you around Kyra, and hopefully with no more broken bones” he said as he left, laughing as he heard her call, “No promises!” when he stepped out the room.

Later as he was checking on other patients, he distantly heard the sound of something approaching. Due to years of learning when to dodge out of necessity, Rai had flattened himself against a wall before Dr. Ramsey even finished his yell of “Out of the way Hayashi!” and past him with several other staff wheeling a seizing patient on a gurney. When another doctor arrived to ask about the patient, Rai did a double take upon hearing him call Dr. Ramsey by his first name, Taking another look at the man, Rai blinked as he soon recognized him as Dr. Naveen Banerji; Dr. Ramsey’s mentor.

Rai knew that if he had a tail, it would be wagging wildly to match the stars in his eyes. “Trying not to fanboy there too hard Hayashi?” he heard a voice asks and turns to see Bryce grinning at him. Lightly smacking the surgical intern’s shoulder he huffed, “Jerk, we can’t all be as carefree as you” before sighing, “Man, I would have loved to see them in action.”

A mischievous spark entered Bryce’s eyes, “Who says you can’t?” he offered, raising his surgeon keycard. Realizing his implication, Rai turned to him with wide hopeful eyes, unintentionally giving the other male a puppy eye look. Bryce gave a chuckle at that before ruffling Rai’s hair and gesturing for him to follow. The two tried to not draw attention as they crept to the observation deck.

“I owe you one Bryce” Rai whispered as they settled in the room; “I’ll remember that” Bryce whispered back, a devilish grin on his face. Responding by sticking out his tongue at the other, Rai turned his attention to the O.R. As he mentally took notes, he heard Bryce murmur, “Where’s the fireworks? Are they gonna cut him open or what?” and he turned to give the surgical intern a deadpan look.

“Ha ha, always got to have the clever line don’t you?” he whispered. Bryce gave an unrepentant shrug, “Always” he whispered back, “But seriously, they’re standing around talking. Why didn’t you want to be a surgeon?” his question throwing Rai off. For a moment, Rai was silent, then he met Bryce’s eyes with his, “That’s… a story meant for another time” he murmured, a flash of sadness crossing his eyes as he said it. This seemed to surprise Bryce before he nodded in understanding and patted Rai’s shoulder.

Nodding his thanks, Rai turned his attention back to the diagnosticians, enraptured by the work they were doing. The different pieces soon came into place and Rai murmured out the problem and Bryce smiled, impressed. As the doctors finished up their analysis Rai murmured, “It’s no wonder they’re known as the best with skills like that” sighing in admiration. He then turned to Bryce and asked, “Is it okay if I ask why you became a surgeon?”

Bryce nodded, “Always liked fixing things. Appliances, stuff around the house, you know?” he explained and Rai gave a hum. He found himself looking at Bryce in a brighter light, “So you think people are like unique machines, sometimes needing a fix and with how different every person can be in different ways, fixing them is like… a new experience each time” he surmised and Bryce quietly exclaimed, “You get it!”

The surgical intern then perked when he noticed that the patient had been placed into his coma. He seemed to lean in closer for a better look, “They finally knocked him out? Nice. Now comes the cutting right?” he asked and Rai snorted. He knocked their shoulders together, “You’re incorrigible!” he muttered to him, nearly knocking Bryce over before they burst into giggles. At that moment, Dr. Ramsey glances up at the observation window. The two quickly duck down and with a pounding heart Rai hissed to Bryce, “Time to go.”

Bryce empathically nodded and the two quickly snuck out. Once they were back in the hallway, Rai gave a breathless laugh, “That… was great! Thanks again Bryce” he enthused to the other, grinning brightly. “Ah, as if I could say no to those puppy eyes of yours, and now you owe me one!” Bryce responded, cheekily pinching Rai’s cheek.

Playfully slapping Bryce’s hand away, Rai rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, I’ll brace myself for whatever you got up your sleeves for me in the future, now shoo! We both got work to get back to. Bryce laughed before sneaking in a boop on Rai’s nose and running off with a wave. Giving another eyeroll, Rai went back to his rounds.

Later on, Landry and him checked on Mike and learned more details about him and even his son, they mulled over his condition. After considering all the possibilities and what they learned from Mike, the duo soon managed to find the problem. They soon relayed a treatment plan to the patient, with Rai assuring him that while it would take time and work, he would be able to get out of the hospital soon enough.

While the two did a mini (though slightly awkward on Landry’s part) celebration, they received a text from Sienna. Apparently the landlord had responded but if they didn’t go now, there was a high chance the apartment would go to someone else. Landry urged him to join Sienna and Elijah, stating that he would handle things at the hospital. After making sure it was really alright with Landry, he quickly set off.

It didn’t take long for the trio to be rushing towards the apartment building. Suffice to say, it was worth the rush when they were presented with the apartment. Just as they were imagining themselves in the beautiful place, the landlord, Farley, quickly dashed things down. Apparently a tech group had made a rather big bid on the place as well. It took some quick thinking but Rai managed to seal the deal once he and the others managed to convince the man they would be more reliable in terms of meeting rent and maintaining the apartment. Plus they sweetened the deal by adding in Sienna’s treats once a week.

Days later, Rai and his friends were happily settling into their new apartment when he realized that he had left his I.D. at the hospital. Well, it was lucky that it was only 10 minutes away now.

[mingjue]

chuyao prompt um 👁️👁️ sharing a bed / falling asleep together on the couch?

i accidentally deleted the first version and im beyond pissed but here we go

word count: 2,978ao3 link: here :)

------------

The day was a bit odd. At least to Lu Yao.

Normally, when Chuseng came over directly, especially holding a bunch of different files-- and returning to his car to get even more files, it was for a case. A case that Lu Yao would be told about pretty much immediately, and if Youning was there, she’d tell them what she knew before scrambling off to get even more information.

But today, Chuseng and Youning have purposely got him to keep out of the house, and they won’t tell him a single thing about . . . well whatever they’re doing.

“Go watch a movie or something!” Youning had huffed out, hurriedly giving him a handful of coins, “Or eat! I don’t know-- but we can’t have you in the house for a few hours.” That was the first thing he was told as soon as he got dressed. Of all days to plan on making breakfast at home.

He couldn’t reject money though.

So, Lu Yao stuffed the coins into his pocket and simply walked to the closest diner he could find. He stayed for about an hour and a half, scarfing down what food he got, getting more, and talking to the staff about pointless things. But then he got bored. 

He took detours around the neighborhood, chatted with vendors he ran into, or anyone familiar to him . . . basically anything to stretch out the time before he got home. He ended up only being gone for two hours. But whatever, he wanted to know what was going on anyways.

The minute he walked into his apartment though, he was greeted with a pillow to his face.

“Go away!” Youning said, hurriedly getting up from her seat on the ground. Lu Yao scoffed after straightening up from his startle.

“I’ve been gone for two hours! Am I not allowed to stay in my own home?”

“Not for another two hours!” Youning picked up the pillow and hit him with it again-- and in retaliation he began wrestling it from her grip.

“Why not, huh?!”

“It’s a secret!”

“Since when are we keeping secrets?” Lu Yao let go of the pillow right as Youning pulled back, letting her fall back onto the loveseat. She landed with a small yelp, then let out an aggravated huff. He glanced at Chuseng.

Papers piled up on the coffee table, along with a couple of empty glasses, an opened package of cookies, pens . . .

Lu Yao stepped towards the table and snatched one of the fancier looking ones. He brought it up to his face and began turning it over in his fingers, looking at the gold trim and dark blue cap.

“Lu Yao,” Chuseng hummed before he could say anything, “If I let you have that pen, will you steer clear of the living room?” Lu Yao tilted his head in thought.

“Maybe.”

The two looked at each other. Youning groaned.

“You already have my other pen,” Chuseng said.

“I do,” Lu Yao said, “It’s run out of ink though, and the tip broke, so . . .”

“I’ll get you an ink cartridge for the other pen and pay for the repair, now go, San-Tu.”

Lu Yao grinned, which got a smile pulling at Chuseng’s lips, then hurried to his side of the apartment when Youning threw the pillow again. This time she missed.

-

Lu Yao managed to busy himself all the way until nightfall. And Chuseng was still sitting at the table. Youning was still here, but talking quietly in the phone-- which was the only thing keeping him from yelling out in annoyance.

“When am I getting my living room back?” Lu Yao hissed, stomping over to Chuseng, “And when are you going home?” Chuseng briefly glanced up at Lu Yao before closing the file he had been writing in, then starting to straighten out the table. Now that Lu Yao got a closer look at him, he looked pissed. He took a cautious step back.

“I’m staying until we get what we’re looking for,” Chuseng replied, voice quiet. The annoyance on his words were thick, “It may be another few hours, Youning is trying to get information from some of her people, and I still haven’t heard from mine.”

“Then let me help!”

“No, Lu Yao,” His voice was louder than anticipated, making Lu Yao blink, and Youning stammer in her conversation. Chuseng glanced between the table and Youning, “Not for this case, you can’t get involved in any way.” He continued to pick up the files and paperwork, stacking them to the side.

Lu Yao frowned a bit, “Is it mafia work?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Chuseng.”

“Damn it--” Chuseng dropped his hands on the table, “Just go, please!” Lu Yao almost flinched, then pulled back when Chuseng lifted himself up from the ground. He only went to sit on the couch, “Unless you want to talk to Mr. Bai about it personally, just let me and Youning handle this.” His voice dipped back down to just above a whisper as he spoke, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

In fact, he was a little hurt. Lu Yao bit into his cheek and furrowed his brows.

“Fine then,” He paused, “Can I at least cook something?”

“Yeah,” Chuseng ran his hands through his hair, “Go ahead,” Lu Yao nodded, but before he could get too far, Chuseng added a quick, “Sorry.”

-

The next time Lu Yao came into the living room, it was almost three am.

Earlier, Youning came into his room to inform him Chuseng was staying since it had gotten so late, and promptly snatched a pair of his pajama pants for him. Whatever. 

What he didn’t expect though was to see Chuseng just sitting at their kitchen table, staring off at nothing, literally in the dark. He hovered at the doorway to his side of the apartment, blinking.

“Chuseng?” He said quietly. The man addressed looked over at him, then raised his brows just in the slightest.

“Hey,” He replied simply.

“What are you doing?” He asked, walking into the living room. He turned on one of the lamps, making Chuseng squint, “You okay?”

“Oh,” An awkward pause, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.”

Lu Yao hummed and nodded, heading towards the kitchen.

“Why are you up?” Chuseng adds, turning his head to watch him. Lu Yao shrugged, and as he passed Chuseng, kept himself from lingering too long at his side. Chuseng was only wearing a tanktop with the blue pajama bottoms-- and the scars on his back caught his eye just for a second.

“Getting a drink,” He said that with a yawn starting at the end of his words, “You look so scary sitting in the dark like that.” Lu Yao opened one of the cabinets and got a glass out, turning to the sink to fill it with water as Chuseng chuckled.

“Sorry,” Another pause between the both of them, “. . . And sorry again, for earlier.”

“Huh?” Lu Yao grunted and brought the glass to his face, turning off the sink. He sipped at the water.

“For yelling at you.”

“You didn’t yell.”

“It felt like I did.”

Lu Yao went to the table and sat in the seat next to Chuseng, “Don’t worry about it,” He shrugged, “Didn’t bother me anyways,” Chuseng opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it, glancing away. Lu Yao took another sip from his glass.

Another bout of quiet between them. Chuseng leaned back into his chair with a sigh.

“. . . Is this new er-- case? I guess, bothering you?” Lu Yao asked hesitantly. There had to be something going on, for Chuseng to have gotten so worked up about it earlier. He looked at Lu Yao, obviously hesitating himself.

“It’s . . . hard to explain,” Chuseng began carefully, “It’s related to that, but it’s something else too.” Lu Yao nodded, the glass in hand now setting on the table while he toyed with the rim of it.

“I know you don’t want me knowing about it,” He stifled his yawn the best he could but pretty much failed, then quite awkwardly added, “But-- I am here for you. If you need someone to talk to, you know,” Chuseng laughed gently, a smile finally breaking through, “Hey-- don’t laugh, I’m not used to you telling me to go away for cases!”

Chuseng shook his head, “You’re fine, San-Tu.” Lu Yao huffed.

In his mild embarrassment, he grabbed the glass again and took another gulp-- and somehow that’s when exhaustion began pulling at his eyes. He ignored it, just for a second.

“Hey, Chuseng,” He set the glass down and slid it away from him, making Chuseng raise a brow, “Can I get a hint?”

“A hint?”

“Yeah, a hint,” Lu Yao leaned onto the table with his elbows, “About what you and Youning are dealing with right now.”

Chuseng stared at Lu Yao for a second before crossing his arms.

“Go to bed, you need sleep.”

“What? No!” Lu Yao said, “Just a hint!” 

He rolled his eyes with another sigh, “Will you go to bed if I give you one?” He stammered briefly, “And not bring the topic up again?” Lu Yao tilted his head, but nodded, “. . . No, never mind.”

“Chuseng!” He whined, falling back into his chair, “It can’t be that bad!”

“It is that bad.”

“Tell me what it is, then!” Lu Yao looked at Chuseng with a pout, which got a small hum of amusement from him, “I don’t like that you two are hiding whatever this is from me-- if it’s dangerous I want to be able to help.”

“I really wish you could help,” Chuseng slowly got up from his seat, “But it would put you in danger, is that a good enough hint?”

“No!” Lu Yao scoffed, “I’m not moving until you give me an actual hint.”

“I wish you would get an actual hint,” Chuseng muttered-- Lu Yao furrowed his brows in confusion, standing with him, following him when he began to walk off.

“What does that mean?” Lu Yao jabbed at Chuseng’s back, making him flinch and turn towards him, “Hey! What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” He raised his hands in defeat, “Just go to bed, San-Tu.”

“There would be no point in that,” Lu Yao said, “I would just sit there awake because you won’t tell me what’s going on,” Chuseng shook his head and turned away, heading to the couch, “What if one of you die or get severely injured, and it’s something I could’ve helped prevent, huh? I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me something.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Lu Yao stumbled a bit.

“To your room, come on,” Chuseng turned back to him and gently gripped his arm, “You need to sleep.”

“What?” He repeated, dumbly, “You do too, Inspector.” Chuseng glanced at him.

“I’ll sleep once you’re asleep.”

Lu Yao whined, but let himself get dragged to his room.

-

As soon as Lu Yao hit the bed, his exhaustion came back to him all at once. He blinked heavily, trying to wake himself up a bit, to no avail.

“Chuseng,” He said, “I’m not going to sleep if you’re just standing there watching me.” That was a bit of a lie. He could honestly fall asleep right now, whether Chuseng was standing near him or not. He was tired.

“I’ll go sit then.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“No.”

Chuseng went to the small couches set in front of his bed, sitting down-- then leaning over to the table to grab one of the books.

“Don’t just sit there either,” Lu Yao scooted up on the bed to pout at Chuseng again.

“What do you want me to do, then?” Chuseng opened the book and flipped through a few pages, “Need me to sit next to you?”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on and then go away,” Lu Yao said, a bit of a playful tone on his words. 

“Ouch,” He continued to read, not saying anything else.

Lu Yao pouted again, exaggerating it when he noticed Chuseng peak at him from the book. Chuseng was biting back a smile.

“Come here,” Lu Yao finally said. He sat up further and patted the space in front of him. Chuseng closed the book and tossed it back onto the table, standing from the couch. He did as told and came to sit in front of Lu Yao, with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the bed.

“What?”

Lu Yao looked at him for a second. He genuinely was worried. He was almost scared, even, if whatever the situation was about was really connected to the mob. The fact that not even Chuseng was telling him about it was what worried him most.

“You’d tell me if you or Youning were in danger, right?” Lu Yao asked quietly. Chuseng had a gentle look pull over his expression, but he didn’t look him in the eye.

“. . . I would--” Lu Yao felt he was lying, but telling the truth at the same time, “--but it isn’t her or me that I’m worried about.” Chuseng set his hand on Lu Yao’s shin, as his feet were just at his knee, patting him.

“Who are you worried about then?”

“You.”

It set heavy in the air for a moment. Chuseng had looked up at him, and they held that eye contact for a few, long seconds. Lu Yao fiddled with the collar of his robe almost nervously. He finally pulled his eyes from Chuseng.

“Am I . . . in danger?” He felt childish hearing himself speak, but it was clear he was unsettled.

“We don’t know yet,” Chuseng’s voice dropped to just barely above a whisper, and he dropped his gaze as well, “I’m doing everything I can to make sure no one touches you,” His hand stopped, now resting on top of his leg, “We want everything to be low-profile. They’re going to be pissed enough that Youning is involved, I don’t know what they’d do if they found out you were too.”

“. . . Who’s ‘they’, Chuseng?” He looked at him.

Chuseng didn’t meet his gaze, he only shook his head. Lu Yao furrowed his brows and looked down at his hands-- still fiddling with his robe.

Eventually, in their now tense silence, Lu Yao slid back down on the bed, raising his knees when Chuseng got in the way. The second the man began to get up, Lu Yao grunted.

“Lay down,” He said. Chuseng looked at him.

“Hm?”

“Lay down,” He repeated, “Please.” He started kicking up the blankets from underneath him, leaving the blankets down next to him as he brought his side up to his chest.

“You’re not gonna get kidnapped during the night, I promise,” Chuseng had a small smile on his face.

“Well, I don’t know that!” He huffed, Chuseng snorted, “You’re so ominous about it, maybe there’s someone in here with us right now and they’re just waiting for me to fall asleep!” It broke into a quiet laugh.

“I’ll protect you, Yaoyao, don’t worry,” Chuseng said, and while he spoke, he climbed over to the empty side of the bed and laid down. Lu Yao helped him with pulling the covers over him, which earned another huff of amusement, even when Lu Yao jabbed his side for the nickname.

Then, once the two settled, Lu Yao fell asleep surprisingly quick.

-

The next time Lu Yao woke up, the sun was just barely grazing the horizon. At first, he had woken up thirsty again-- and hungry, but what kept him from getting up was an unfamiliar weight on him.

He looked down, blinking in confusion when he saw an arm wrapped around him. And of course, he felt the warmth on his back, someones breath on his neck. It didn’t irk him any, he was just confused as to why it was happening. Then it hit him.

Chuseng was holding him.

Heat immediately hit his face, burning his cheeks and the back of his neck. Why was he holding him? It didn’t feel bad-- he was actually quite comfortable, but he was confused. Did Chuseng just . . . do this with friends? Lu Yao held back a scoff. And sat there. 

A giddy feeling gripped him, even if he was just staring straight at the wall with his hand hovering close to where Chuseng’s set. This felt surreal.

He was pulled out of his short trance when Chuseng cleared his throat and nuzzled against the back of his neck-- making Lu Yao instinctively pull up his shoulders at the touch. It didn’t seem to bother him. He slowly relaxed. His hand settled on top of Chuseng’s. Chuseng sighed through his nose. 

He stayed like that for a few moments, the pad of his thumb rubbing along his hand. 

Lu Yao breathed in deeply after a while. He wanted to turn around-- so he did. Chuseng lifted his arm, but didn’t seem to really wake up, and set it back on him when he settled. When he did, he had his face resting against Chuseng’s chest, hand shyly placed on his side.

When he realized he could feel, and hear, Chuseng’s heartbeat, that’s when it really settled that this was happening. Lu Yao toyed at his bottom lip with his teeth, finally forcing his eyes closed-- right as Chuseng moved his head to rest on top of his.

He slowly began dozing off again at this. Even if his mind was still rushing at the fact he’s being held for the first time in literal years, the comfort he felt from it just made him want to sleep. 

As Lu Yao really began to fall asleep though, he felt a hand slowly rubbing his back, and a kiss being pressed on the top of his head.

[captainsassmanes]

Follow up to It’s the Little Things

Alex poked his fingers between the blinds and slowly lifted them, hoping not to draw attention to himself. 

It was 9am on a blazing hot Saturday and he’d been woken by the sound of a weedwacker whirring right outside his window. He didn’t have to look to know exactly who it was, but he was curious as to what the fuck Michael was doing.

He’d be lying if he said the image of Michael, shirtless and sweating, didn’t turn him right the hell on but this was getting out of hand.

After Alex had spilled his guts, throwing his insecurities into the wind before thinking about where they’d land, he couldn’t get up. He lived for helping Michael, for finding ways to give back, to make some kind of difference, however small, in the other man’s life. 

Michael had managed to call him on his bullshit, though. It was Alex’s way of staying involved, of being as close to Michael as he could be without physically being near him.

But he’d pushed too hard and it really was over. 

That first night was awful. He replayed their conversation, or the word vomit he’d spewed, nonstop. He drank, and then drank some more, until he woke up on the couch, stiff and barely able to move with a headache that made blinking agonizing.

After a puke, a coffee and some eggs, Alex had taken Buffy outside and sat in one of his patio chairs, taking in his house, his car, his stuff.

It meant little now.

The thought of Michael, of their potential relationship, possible future, had quietly been keeping him going all these years. To have that hope extinguished...he didn’t have the words to describe how empty he’d felt.

His chest ached as he went inside and opened his laptop, starting his search for the country’s top cities. He knew he’d want to live somewhere busy, populated, but safe. His job could easily be remote once his re-enlistment period was up, plus he had quite a bit of money saved so he could take his time getting readjusted.

New York City and LA definitely had his attention, the music scenes alone would be worth the trip, but the apartments were tiny, and he may end up having to sell a kidney to pay his rent. Miami wasn’t his scene and Seattle looked like the type of place to send his depression spiraling.

He grabbed his third cup of coffee and moved to the living room, getting comfortable on the couch and making room for Buffy to rest her head on his lap. He found another one of those top cities lists and was intrigued by Portland. LGBT friendly, relaxed people, music scene, not so far that he couldn’t visit if he wanted to.

That afternoon was spent clicking through photos, checking out postings for apartments, falling down a YouTube spiral of some artists who got their start in the city.

The next day, feeling a bit better with a plan under his belt, he’d ventured outside to Beam Me Up for a cup of coffee and a snack. On his way out, he literally bumped into Maria.

“God, sorry. Did any of that spill?”

Alex just blinked, an uncomfortable wave of jealousy moving over his skin and pinching him where it landed.

He shook his head and said, “no. It’s okay.”

She gave him a smile as they stood awkwardly in the doorway. He wanted to say something, even if it was small or unimportant, just something to break the ice, but his instincts telling him to get home were clouding his thoughts.

“Michael mentioned he saw you the other day.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. They hadn’t spoken in weeks; nothing more than worthless pleasantries and she knew why; he’d been honest with her. He’d also felt he’d been fair, leaving them both alone to their relationship, not interfering or getting involved.

At least he’d thought that was what he’d been doing.

But now, as he stared at his oldest friend, watching as her face changed to apprehension, maybe realizing that playing the we can connect over Michael card was the wrong move, he felt angry.

“I’m moving.”

Maria stepped back, surprised. “What?”

Alex nodded, looking around the street, hoping he looked as relaxed and casual as he was aiming for. “Yep. When my enlistment period is over.”

Her mouth opened and shut a few times, small sounds trying to become words escaping. Eventually, she was able to croak out a, “where?”

Alex shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Portland looked interesting. I’m looking at a few apartments there.”

The silence took over again as the street became a bit busier with the weekend tourists coming out to enjoy the weather and the sights. Maria’s hair bounced, the ends of her head scarf wrapping loosely around her throat. “You’re leaving because of me, right? Because of me and Michael? You can’t just go because – “

“I have no reason to stay, Maria.” Their eyes met and both sets were filled with a sadness neither could describe. Alex’s heart felt too heavy in his chest, memories of late nights and shared shakes and tears and joints and hugs threatening to leak out of his eyes. Instead, he smiled. “My time here’s up. I did my part but it’s time to see something new.”

With that he turned and walked to his car, coffee cup shaking in one hand while his fingers curled painfully around the bag in the other. Fuck he missed Maria. But he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to look at her the way he used to again.

It was that night, his excitement dwindling and replaced by a quiet desperation, when the first text had come through.

Don’t leave.

Alex stared. Obviously, Maria had told Michael about their chat. Maybe he felt bad, a twinge of guilt. Alex hoped he did, then felt guilty for hoping Michael felt guilty. This was exactly why he had to leave.

He ignored the text and went back to his computer, sipping on a beer and occasionally giving Buffy some nice scratches behind the ears.

His phone pinged again. Alex stared at it, hoping his glare would make it blow up or something. In the end, curiosity got the best of him and he looked at the text.

Don’t leave me.

Alex’s heart raced as his fingers moved without thinking.

You wouldn’t come with me anyway.

He turned his phone off and tossed it across the room, not caring when it bounced along the wood floor a few times.

He didn’t sleep well after that. Thoughts of car rides and spaceships and apartments and soft blankets and bright sunshine and honey curls played behind his eyelids every time he tried to rest.

The further away from Michael he was, the better it’d be for everyone.

The next morning his doorbell rang at 8am. Alex had thought it was a part of his dream at first, cuddled up on a firm, warm chest, wiry hairs beneath his fingers while nails scraped his scalp, lulling him back to sleep. When the buzzing continued, he was thrown back into reality with a big, empty bed and a headache to boot.

Grabbing his crutches, he went to the door and threw it open, shocked to find Michael on the other side looking clean shaven with a cup of coffee.

Michael looked…different. Yes, the beard was trimmed, maybe his hair, too? His clothes were definitely clean. But there was an energy, an aura, around him that Alex hadn’t seen in years. One side of Michael’s mouth lifted, an almost bashful smile, and he held out the coffee cup. Even Michael’s fingernails were clean. Alex lost some time staring at those nails and remembering the comfort they’d brought him in his dream just moments before.

Michael cleared his throat, bringing Alex’s attention back to the moment. “Whole milk and one sugar.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Michael shrugged and pushed the cup gently into Alex’s chest. “Bringing you a coffee. Good morning, by the way.”

Alex would later blame the broken night’s sleep for the dreamy way he’d whispered out, “good morning,” while accepting the cup. He took a sip and was instantly in his glory. His favorite coffee from his favorite café made perfectly delivered by his favorite…

“Well, have a good day, Alex.”

While Alex stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open at a loss for words, Michael sauntered back to his truck and drove away.

It had fucked with Alex for the rest of the day.

After that morning, Michael made appearances most days. A delivery of a burger and fries one afternoon, randomly bent over the hood of Alex’s Jeep for a tune up a few evenings later, dropping off a case of Alex’s favorite beer. Each time Michael came around, the conversation was limited. Michael would smile, explain why he was there and, as soon as he was finished, he’d smile and say goodbye, driving off once again.

Alex hated it. It was so confusing and contradictory, it made him fucking furious.

Alex really loved it.

He was seeing more of Michael than he had in years and Michael was absolutely different but in a way that suited Michael, not as though he’d changed to fit someone else’s wishes. He looked great and seemed healthy. Happy.

Apparently, today was clean up the yard day. With a sigh, Alex turned from his window and looked at Buffy with her head raised and cocked to the side in concern.

“Yes, it’s Michael.” Buffy’s tail wagged furiously. “You little traitor.”

Alex watched him for a few quiet minutes, taking in every detail, from the way his curls looked almost blonde when the sun hit just right, to the pattern of body hair scattered across his torso, to the flex of his legs when he bent and stretched.

He’d realized the other night, as he sipped on one of the beers Michael had bought him, that he’d stopped looking at apartments, collecting more information on Portland. All it took was for Michael to notice him and his universe tilted, and its center of gravity became Michael once again. That was the first night since their fight he’d allowed himself to cry again.

With a sudden surge of resolve, Alex threw open his drawers and grabbed whatever clothes his hands touched. He took the time to get his leg on, wanting to feel stable and steady for whatever came next.

By the time he got outside, Michael was leaning against the bed of the truck looking like a tan god, bottle of water to his lips, head tossed back with his face covered in sunlight.

Taking a deep breath, Alex charged ahead.

“I want a reason.”

Michael startled a bit, lost in his own thoughts, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Alex couldn’t help but stare at the dampness his hand missed.

“What reason?”

“Don’t be coy, Michael. It’s not cute.”

Playfully, Michael pouted while batting his lashes. Alex wanted to laugh and scream and cry and hold Michael, confusion and caution warring within him.

Alex looked at the ground, noting a nasty scuff across the toe of one of his boots. He pushed his foot into the sand and whispered, “why are you doing this to me?”

Michael made a quiet noise that sounded hurt and stood straight, blocking out the sun from Alex’s face. “To you?”

Alex looked up and fell into hazel eyes. He nodded. “You’re not actually trying to talk to me. But you’re being- being really kind and generous. I don’t understand.” He shook his head this time and took a step back so he could think. “You told me to get out of your life, I say okay, and then you come flying back into mine.”

Michael shook his head and started digging around the bed of his truck, apparently looking for his t-shirt to throw on as well as his trademark hat. Turning back to Alex, he shrugged and pulled out his car keys.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Alex.” The silence between them felt thick with opportunity; to be honest, straightforward. Just a chance. “But that night I…” Michael scoffed and broke eye contact, looking around at Alex’s house. “You’ve got a loose shingle up there – “

“That night you what, Michael?”

With a sigh, Michael continued, “I knew that might be it. I know I’ve pushed, and you’ve walked and recently I’ve been pushing a lot harder but I just, I dunno, never let myself imagine you not being in my life somehow.”

Alex crinkled his eyebrows, confused yet again. “If you didn’t want me to go then why say all that shit about – “

“I have been drowning for years, Alex. In booze, in sex, in work, in regret. Just fucking drowning. Then you came back, and your dad was the fucking devil and then my mom and Max. I couldn’t separate it all out. Everything felt like it went back to you.”

Alex nodded, feeling the familiar creep of guilt working its way into his gut. “And I said I understood all of that. I gave you as much space as I could.”

“Did you?”

Alex sighed and dug his hands into his pockets, wishing he had something in his hands to keep them better occupied. He could either choke Guerin at the moment or pull him into a suffocating kiss. He couldn’t decide.

“I guess I didn’t.” He blinked as the next thought smacked him across the face. “I’m not as strong as you, Michael. I can’t know you’re nearby and struggling and do nothing.”

Michael shook his head, taking a step closer to Alex.

“That’s why I’m moving. I can’t stop myself from being in your orbit and you made it clear that’s what you wanted. It’ll give me a fresh start, too, you know. No one’ll recognize the Manes name. No one will care. I can just be another face out there, have a little anonymity and figure out what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Alex groaned. “C’mon, Michael! You just came here not that long ago bitching that I sent you some food! I’d think you’d be thrilled that I’d be gone.”

Michael laughed. Alex watched as his face changed with the humor and his heart broke a little to see how much younger Michael could look when he relaxed. Even if just for a second. “I told you stay away. You didn’t. I told you again stay away and then you did. Then I couldn’t stay away and now you’re gonna leave. Can we just say the fucking things we need to say and stop doing this?”

Alex took the challenge at face value and straightened up, nodding his head. “Fine.”

“Why did you do all those nice things for me even when I told you to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

The ease with which those words slid from Alex’s mouth surprised both of them. There was something freeing about the honesty, of finally just saying the words out loud to Michael without fear of rejection or consequence.

He took a deep breath. “Because I love you and I was worried about you.”

Michael licked his lips and looked away, nodding in understanding.

“Your turn,” Alex whispered, pulling Michael’s attention back. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I regretted everything I said as soon as I said it.” Alex lifted an eyebrow, not fully understanding. “I thought I needed distance. Not seeing you all the damn time helped me focus on other things. And I did tell you the truth; I didn’t think we were good for each other and I really, really wanted to be good for Maria.”

Alex took a step back, feeling the burn in his throat start at the mention of his friend’s name when Michael’s callused fingers wrapped around his wrist. “The second I realized I probably pushed you completely out of my life, I regretted it. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to stop caring. I want to be better. I just – “

Michael stopped and took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed as his voice began to crack. Alex slowly shifted his wrist from Michael’s grip and gently held his fingers in his own.

Michael sighed, “can you ask me one more time?”

Alex nodded. “Why do you keep showing up here when you told me to stay away?”

“Because I love you.”

They stood together in the blazing sun, sweating and staring at one another as though the world had fallen away. The moment was broken when Alex’s eyes shifted to Michael’s turquoise belt buckle. “But you love Maria, too.”

Michael nodded and watched helplessly as Alex let go of his hand. “I do. But I love Maria the same way you love Maria.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what that means.”

“She’s my friend, Alex. That night we fought I had an epiphany.”

“An epiphany?”

“Yeah. You probably already know this but I’m an alcoholic.”

Alex’s head whipped up with concern in his eyes. His mouth moved but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Michael took it as his cue to continue. “I’ve also been a shit brother to Isobel, so I’ve been working on that. But the morning after I left here, I talked to Maria. Told her how I was feeling, she talked about her feelings and, we both just told the truth.”

“Which was?”

A smile tugged on Michael’s lips. “That we both love you.”

Alex cleared his throat, doing his best not to start crying. “I’d like to get back to the alcoholic piece of this, and I’m glad you’ve stepped up to support Isobel but, uh, are you and Maria still together?”

Michael shook his head. “Not for about, what? Two weeks now?”

Alex nodded. “Okay.”

“Go out with me.”

Alex waited a beat, making sure he’d heard clearly before repeating, “okay.”

“The Crashdown? Lunch tomorrow? Around 12?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

Michael smiled and closed his truck. Slowly, he took off his hat and leaned in, kissing Alex on the cheek. They were both just piles of sweat and beet[TS1]  red, but Alex thought it might be one of the most romantic moments of his life.

“I wanna do this right, Alex. From the beginning.”

Alex smiled. “Me, too. I’ll see you tomorrow. For our first date.”

Michael laughed, his youth bursting through every pore. “For our first date.”