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bigtreefest · 2 months

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Chapter 7: Help the Bear

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: “If you ever see me fighting in the forest with a grizzly bear, help the bear, cuz that bitch gon’ need it.” Usually, you’d say this phrase describes you. You’re tough, and your enemies are the bear, but you might be more fragile than it seems. You might have to put aside some of your issues for the night, in favor of helping a friend.

Word count: 6,722

Content/warnings: Swears, punching, anger, deception, mob themes, crying, yelling, broken promises, mood swings, pet and nicknames, nice Bucky???, everyone lowkey walking on eggshells around decks, high stress, kidnapping, a bar fight, mentions of knives, misogyny

Author’s Note: I feel like this is a long awaited climax which lines up with Ch. 10 of YCMBWH and Ch. 3 of Handiwork. Anyway, I’m very excited for you to read it. I’d appreciate your feedback in all forms!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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It was early Saturday morning when you stood outside of your apartment building, waiting for Gio to pick you up like you had instructed Steve. He’d sent you several calls and texts since, but you stayed radio silent, until finally, it all stopped. You didn’t have doubt, though, that he’d come through, and you wouldn’t have to drive that distance in your current state. The chance of a crash was far too high. Hm, maybe you should’ve taken Steve’s car then. No, no, you weren’t that mean. You shamed yourself for even having the thought.

The sky was full of nice shades of pink, orange, and purple, the air lacking the humidity that usually came with the rising sun. It was the rainy season, and had been for the last month, but for some reason, the conditions seemed almost drought-like, since Tuesday. How uncharacteristic.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a black SUV pulling up in front of your building, and tried to squint to see who was in the driver’s seat. You had only seen Gio once before, so you assumed it was him by the dark hair you could just barely make out through the tinted window. Good, that meant it wasn’t Steve, even though the vehicle had an eerie resemblance to his. The trunk popped open and you threw your bag in. You weren’t going to be there long, anyway. All you had packed was a change of clothes for the game tonight, pajamas, and clothes for when you left in the morning. Simple as that, and it meant you could wear whatever you wanted right now, which was the comfiest thing you had: sweatpants and your old hoodie, despite the uncharacteristically warm weather.

You closed the trunk and hopped into the back seat, barely having the time to get buckled as the car lurched forward and started on its way out of the city. You looked through the window at the passing buildings as they turned into trees, on the route that was becoming familiar once again.

Bucky grumbled as he tossed and turned in his oversized leather desk chair, arising from the short sleep he had found there after a late night of business dealings designed to be front loaded for him to have this weekend open. He moved to stand, only for his feet to be met by something soft, that was definitely not the hardwood floors, under his loafers.

“Ah, fuck! Steve? What are you doing down there? Why didn’t you fall asleep on the couch, like a normal person?”

Steve groaned, rolling over just enough to look at his best friend above him. “Couch is too comfy. Floor keeps me on edge, just barely asleep. I deserve that. And now I’m up so we can go immediately. You’re welcome, I did this for you and your future wife.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped over the lump of blond and muscle on the floor, creeping towards Sam, who actually was on the couch, while grumbling, “We don’t know if she’s my future wife. We hardly have a label.”

Bucky flicked Sam’s ear for him to rise, met with an, “ow! I’ve been up since you have, boss man!”

Bucky rolled his eyes again, walking over to the closet in the corner of his home office and grabbing his and Steve’s go bags that they had packed the night before.

“Okay, we’ve gotta get there soon. Sam, you still good with holding down the fort here?”

Sam nodded, having sat up fully, unlike Steve, who was still laying on the floor, face down. “Yeah, although, I’m not sure about our buddy over there. Stevie, rise and shine,” he sang out softly.

Steve stood after taking a sharp, deep breath, his eyes red and face puffy just barely, that it looked like allergies from sleeping on the floor. “Okay, I’ll drive my car, and Bucky, you’ve gotta go get Decks.”

Bucky stopped all movement, going still as a statue from where he was double checking the contents of his bag, before turning around slowly. “I’m sorry, what? You want me to go pick up Decks? No. Your girl, you pick her up.”

Steve’s head dropped as Sam let out an audible wince at the whole thing, before explaining, since he knew Steve had very little desire to be verbal right now. “Boss, Decks hasn’t talked to Steve since Tuesday. Steve can’t go pick her up, I think it’ll just make her more mad. And look at him,” he gestured to Steve, hair in a mess and head still pointing towards the floor as he rubbed his eyes, “poor puppy is gonna be broken if he has to see her this early in the morning. She’s gonna eat him alive. At least you’ve got Honey waiting for you on the other side. Steve sure as hell doesn’t.”

The help from Sam had morphed into something a little hurtful, albeit true, but Bucky still huffed. “If Decks doesn’t want to see you, why’d she agree to a ride from us?”

Steve shook his head, finally looking up. “She didn’t. She agreed to a ride from Gio, who’s in Italy currently because you were trying to be a nice boss, or whatever. So you’ve gotta drive her.”

In an instant, Bucky’s features grew soft. He switched from boss mode to friend mode. “Okay, okay. Just…get going so you can start talking strategy with Bee and Peter early. I’ll pick up Decks and meet you there.”

Steve gave a short, grateful nod and grabbed his bag, heading out.

So Bucky found himself driving you like a chauffeur out to the farm as the early morning sun was lighting up the landscape. He was used to being up this early, and he was sure you were, too, but just in case, he’d brought some breakfast.

Once he’d gotten far enough from the city that he knew you wouldn’t try and escape once he revealed himself, he rolled down the partition. He could see you curled up in the corner of the backseat, almost cuddling, clinging to the hoodie you were wearing. It was all too familiar, as Bucky knew Bee had the same one, but the last time he had seen one of them was that time he was at your apartment and Steve had worn it. And that’s when Bucky caught a whiff. Unmistakable with how often he was around it. Steve’s cologne. The corner of his lip upturned slightly. Maybe there was still a chance for the two of you.

You were pulled from your daydream by the sound of the partition lowering, but didn’t move your gaze from the passing scenery. Maybe Gio was going to ask you if you needed a bathroom break in the long drive, or to make sure the air flow and temperature were alright, but you were surprised when you heard the voice in front of you.

It was deep, and a little familiar. “So, uh… you want a croissant?”

It was Bucky. You watched as he fished around in the passenger seat, grabbing a bakery box and handing it back to you, shaking it as a signal when you hadn’t grabbed it after a few seconds. You pulled it into your lap before looking into the rear view mirror and catching his slate eyes, watching you expectantly, yet cautiously, for a response.

You looked at the label on the box. It was a French bakery. One you’d never heard of before, especially not from the list of businesses Steve had rattled off to you when you asked what all he owned. Good.

You spoke up softly, not one much for words so early in the morning. “So’s this place yours?”

Bucky looked between your image in the mirror and the road, trying to figure out what you were referencing. “The bakery? Yeah, one of many places. And one of my favorites. Try the chocolate croissant if you haven’t had breakfast yet. It’s good.”

You nodded, sighing and gingerly opening the lid to be met by one of the best smells probably ever. You carefully pulled out a chocolate croissant and took a bite, holding in a moan at the deliciousness, but Bucky could see the enjoyment on your face, no matter how brief, due to the overwhelming weight of today sitting on your shoulders.

“Told you.”

You simply hummed in response, setting down the pastry and waiting to swallow to speak up.

“So, Bucket. I thought Gio was supposed to pick me up, but it looks like Steve lied again. Why you? Don’t you have better shit to be in charge of?”

Bucky was changing highways, so he kept his eyes on the road. He had half a mind to defend his best friend, but he didn’t want to open up that can of worms when you still had a couple hours of driving left. Plus, he knew it went farther than that, and it wasn’t technically his fight. Touching on your self-deprecation probably wasn’t a good idea, either. He’d leave that to Honeybee, much better versed in seeing you like this, he assumed. But from what he could tell, this seemed far from your normal self-assured, resigned state that he quite appreciated. He opted to comment on the dissection of your sentence that mainly had to do with him. That was probably a good domain to stay within for now. “You don’t have to call me that, y’know.”

You took another bite and shrugged. “What am I supposed to call you, then? James?”

“Bucky is fine.”

You let out a dry laugh. “No, that’s weird, what are you, a hick? -wait, actually, no. Forget I said that.”

Definitely not a good idea to make a distasteful joke such as that with where you both were going right now.

You shook your head looking down at the box. “But you still didn’t answer my first question.”

Bucky spun the wheel around the clover leaf and effortlessly merged on the open roads. “Gio’s on vacation in Italy, so you’re stuck with me. But don’t worry, Steve’s already on the road ahead of us.”

Well, he did what you asked, but you left his answer unacknowledged, besides a huff as you set the box aside. So much for trying to tread lightly.

“What? Decks, sweetheart, are you mad at me for bringing up Steve?” You crossed your arms and legs, glaring at Bucky and hoping it would set him on fire, sadly unsuccessfully, through the mirror. It was a good thing you weren’t a witch, anyway, though, because Bee would’ve killed you if it had worked.

“Ugh! What is up with that!? Everyone calling me ‘sweetheart?’ You, Sam, Steve! I’m not some little token helpless woman.”

Bucky opened his mouth defensively to reply, before closing it and furrowing his brows in thought at your full statement. “Wait a second, Steve called you ‘sweetheart?’”

You rolled your eyes yet again, and decided you weren’t done with that croissant quite yet, so you grabbed the box from your side and took another bite, not bothering to swallow this time before talking with your mouth full. “Yeah, like a few times, and then Sam did when he drove me home, and you did just now. What’s the deal?”

Bucky wished you weren’t sitting directly behind him, because he would’ve fully turned to look you in the eyes for this. He didn’t realize how serious it all was between the two of you, but he should’ve, considering how enamored he was, too, with his own girl. Obviously Steve was capable of the same thing.

“Swee- Decks. For Sam and I, that’s just how we were raised. I mean, Steve was raised the same way, but…” He stopped to think for a second so it came out the right way.

“Sure, you’re right, ‘sweetheart’ is a term of endearment for anyone in our community. Any guy will call pretty much any woman that, but not Steve. Ever since we were young, he refused. Said he was saving it. That it deserved to be used for someone really special. Someone with the sweetest heart. At least for him.”

You scoffed and questioningly shook your head. “Bucket, that is not me.”

He shrugged once again. “Maybe. And maybe that’s what you try to show, but to him it is. That’s you. He doesn’t take those things lightly.”

You grumbled, taking the last bite and licking your fingers before Bucky handed you a napkin. “I had it under control.”

He smirked, catching another whiff of Steve’s cologne when your arm reached up towards him. “Sure, ya did. Hey, when’s the last time you washed that hoodie? Surprised you wouldn’t wanna use that old thing as a napkin,” he said in a playful tone, laughter almost emerging from his voice.

Evidently you didn’t want to wash it. You wanted to keep it clean, let it have this scent as long as possible. After you crumbled the napkin, you threw it up towards him in the front seat before pulling your hood up.

Bucky swerved slightly, but not enough to cause concern. “Hey, watch it. I’m in charge of your safety up here. I’ve gotta deliver us both unharmed. It’s paramount.”

You’d just about had enough of this oddly chipper attitude from him. Bucky was very obviously excited to see Bee again and you couldn’t blame him. Their relationship was honest from the start. The small tinge of normalcy you’d had for a second started to wear off again, though, as that weight began to sink back onto your shoulders. You pulled your hoodie strings tight around your face, letting the smell and the comfort fully engulf you, and hoping to catch just a little more sleep before the long day ahead.

“Okay, whatever. Fuck off, Bucket.”

When you pulled up to the farm, you were gently shaken awake by someone who had climbed in the back seat with you so that they didn’t open the door you were leaning against and make you fall out. When your eyes fluttered open, though, you were met with a face you hardly recognized, causing you to spring into action and punch him right in the nose, not that hard, but also not that lightly.

The young man in flannel in front of you clattered into the back of the passenger seat, holding his nose, when you finally recognized him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! You’re that kid who works for Bucky. Are you okay?”

He nodded, backing away and out the other side of the vehicle, scrambling to get away quickly, not sure if you’d hit him again, just based off association. “Yeah, yeah, all good.”

You could hardly hear him, voice fading as he ran into the house.

You took his words at face value, finally reorienting yourself to where you were now, seeing the green and gold landscapes and red barns outside your window. Right. Bee’s farm. For the bet. With the mob bosses. Gone was your concern as your angry face, or really more of an attempt of a flat affect came back.

You slid across the back seat, empty of the bakery box that was once there, and moved to get out of the door that was left open. When you emerged, you were met with the sight of Bee and Cherry picking through the pastries you had left behind, their nervously smiling faces lit up by the mid morning sun.

“Decks! Good morning! It’s so good to see you.”

Bee gave you a side hug you didn’t return and Cherry gave you a little wave before giving Curtis a little bite of her croissant. Gross.

Curtis thanked her with a kiss on the cheek before coming over to you and giving a bear hug, despite the way you tried to push him off. Eventually, you relented, relaxing in his hold, that of a long-time, good friend. He rubbed his hand against the top of your hood, messing up the hair underneath, before returning to Cherry’s side, grabbing his own pastry out of the box.

A small “hi” was all you could muster up to use to greet the three of them, but it was enough. You pointed over your shoulder to indicate you were going to grab your bag from the trunk, finally pulling the hood off your head and turning around. When you pivoted, though, you were only met with Steve there, your bag over his shoulder like it had been so many times before, his glassy eyes taking you in.

His voice was small and scratchy like you’d never heard it before, like he’d been silent for weeks, as he mustered up a, “Hey, Decks.”

You promptly spun back around and stomped into the farm house and up the steps, passing Bucky on the way to your usual room. When you opened the door, though, you were met with the sight of a young man sitting on your bed, ice against his face and a jolt when he saw you bust in.

“Uh, hi Miss Decks. Can I help you?” You groaned at the weird formality, but were in no mood for something like this to throw you off on such an important day.

“Yeah. You can get out of my room. You’re gonna share the other spare with Steve. No questions, okay?”

He simply nodded, beginning to grab his stuff as you stripped the bed of its sheets. He was actually complying very nicely, so you felt bad for being so assertive with him…and punching him in the face.

“So what’s your name and what’s your job?”

He stopped and looked at you, confusion and fear riddling his face. “I-I’m Peter, miss. I was assigned to stay here to help with shipments and watching over miss Honeybee. I just go wherever they say. Sometimes do tech, sometimes intelligence. Really anything.”

You nodded and hummed, pulling a new set of bedding out of the top of the closet. “So what exactly does that make you, Peter? Fourth in command?”

He cocked his head to the side, zipping up a bag, before helping you put on the new sheets. “I guess I never thought about that, but no. Technically I think I’d be fifth at least.”

You nodded along, grateful for the acquiescence that seemed to run through this organization and his kindness you were evidently not returning. With all the stress, though, you didn’t even really have the time to wonder who was number four. He finished gathering everything in his arms and sprinted out the door, across the hall to Steve’s room, before realizing there were three guest rooms and he might be able to take the last one, depending on where Bucky planned to stay. Out of indecision, he just dropped everything at the end of the hallway and went back downstairs, leaving you to lay over the comforter in contemplation. Peace wasn’t something that would come to you today.

It was early afternoon when Cherry finally came up to find you, not the person you would’ve expected to do so. She knocked on your door with a sweet smile.

“Hey, Decks. I know you’re probably in game mode, but Bee thought it might be a good idea for you to come over to my place. We can pick you out a nice outfit for tonight. Eat something, maybe? It’s my understanding you haven’t had anything since early this morning and apparently, from what I’ve been told, ‘the good stuff’ is waiting for you at my apartment. And it’s no boys allowed for this afternoon. You get to do whatever you need to get in the zone without distraction. How does that sound?”

You groaned before you nodded, launching yourself up out of the bed quickly to a seated position. “Yeah…that’s good. I mean, I already have an outfit, but that’ll be good. Let me just hit the bathroom real quick and I’ll meet you in the driveway, okay?”

She nodded with another soft smile and went back down the steps.

Soon after she was gone and you’d gathered what you needed, not even bothering to consider how your bag had made it to the corner by the doorway of your room, you shuffled over to the bathroom in your socked feet and washed your face. When you were all dry, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. It was you, but it was different. Not unrecognizable, but maybe barely.

Exhaustion laced your features. Dark bags had settled under your eyes from the lack of sleep. You were in a perpetual state of puffiness from all the crying you’d kept to yourself, yet everything just looked…sunken. Like, saggy with sadness. You smiled, trying to boost your mood, make it feel like you weren’t going through hell. Trying to put on a brave face for your friend and her world. Everything this whole week was a lot, and as much as you were trying to ice out the terror, you could feel it seeping through the cracks. One final smile and one final wipe of your nose, and you were ready to go, galloping down the staircase and out to Bee’s truck where she was already waiting for you. You slid up in the seat, squeezing Cherry between the two of you, and went on your way towards town.

When you got to Cherry’s apartment, there were bowls of pasta sitting on her small dining room table that must’ve been for you. Ah yes, that was probably ‘the good stuff’ she was referring to. Cherry immediately went to the kitchen to grab bowls and utensils, handing them to you and Bee, as you took in the scent of the the still-steaming arrangement.

Despite your feelings toward everything Steve lately, the gesture and nostalgia still warmed you. The three of you sat, as you savored every bite in silence, Bee and Cherry holding soft conversation on the side and respecting your wishes until the meal was done and you felt just a little bit better. A little bet fuller in your heart and your stomach.

You didn’t have to worry as Bee and Cherry assured you that they’d clean everything up, directing you towards the bedroom where you’d found something else sitting there, waiting for you to find it. It was a record player, just like the one in your apartment. The one you’d promised Steve you’d play the song on before you’d fallen asleep to that old movie. And next to it was a stack of vinyls, some you recognized as the same as your collection, plus some new ones you’d mentioned you liked before, but never got the chance to acquire. On the stack was a small sticky note that said:

“You got this, Decky. -SR”

You couldn’t help the way a smile crept onto your face at his thoughtfulness. Sure, you were mad at him, but this was far from a cheap gesture. It was just what you needed to fully lock in, and maybe raise your spirits to get through tonight and do this for someone besides yourself. You put on a record, mood brightening by the minute, and began swaying through the room until Cherry and Bee came in to meet you.

Their faces lit up seeing your slightly improved mood, this moment acting like a brief reprieve from a day constantly growing in intensity. The two of them began rifling through the closet, pulling out a bunch of outfits for you to try, and throwing them into a pile on the bed. At least you had your music.

When Cherry’s shift at the bar was set to start, the three of you drove over, you wearing a short, flouncy tennis dress that was far from what you were used to. The clothes you had packed for this evening were just jeans and a tee, but according to your friend, that wasn’t good enough, so here you found yourself in something completely out of character. At least it had shorts underneath.

You were about an hour early for the match, but the bar was already buzzing with patrons. As Cherry went to clock in, you could see the group of guys already sitting in the booth, talking in hushed whispers until you and Bee approached. Bee instantly gravitated towards Bucky’s lap with a kiss, and you were going to sit next to Curtis, but he stood up, passing you with a nod and heading straight for the bar with Cherry. So much for having a buffer.

You were left to sit next to Steve, your already nervous state making you shake and avoid eye contact, whether you wanted to or not. Bucky sat up, saying something about checking with guards and Bee followed him, leaving the two of you alone, sitting too close for how much room the booth had now gained.

You took in a shuddering breath, looking around the crowded room, seeing the pool tables and envisioning the event that was about to go down. You felt so isolated in that moment, before you felt a large, warm hand on your thigh.

“Decks, sweetheart. You there? You alright?” You looked up and to your side at Steve, the seclusion of the tall seats allowing him to be the only one who could see the tears in your eyes. Here you were, all dolled up at the hands of Cherry, about to ruin it, but that was the least of your worries. The pressure was about to crash over you and Steve needed to seal those dam walls before a flood broke out.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Why don’t you and me take a second to go into the break room or something? We have the time.”

You simply nodded and scooted out of the booth. Steve grabbed the hat off the top of his head, placing it on yours to hide your distraught face from any possible prying eyes before grabbing your hand and rushing the two of you across the dance floor.

He’d seen most of your range of emotions. He’d seen you playful, he’d seen you focused, he’d seen you happy, he’d never get enough of that, he’d seen you mad, probably more than enough for a lifetime, but he’d never seen you quite like this, with tears threatening to spill over.

Before you knew it, you were on an old couch in a back room you had never seen before, crying into Steve’s chest as he held you closely, hand rubbing your back, and shushing you gently.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You got this. Hey, look at me. You can do it.”

You pulled your hands up to wipe your eyes as Steve searched the room to find you tissues, dabbing away the wetness as you sniffled.

“Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart. What can I do to help? What’s on your mind?”

You tried to speak, but you were gasping for air. The farthest thing from your mind was anger at him, or the pet name. You just wanted comfort. Steve began demonstrating deep breaths in front of you, helping you to calm down until it worked. He started to blow a cool stream of air towards your face, drying more of the wetness, and rubbing his large, warm hands up your arms, redirecting your focus to the gestures. Finally you were almost fully settled and ready to talk.

“I’m just so…scared. Sure, I’ve dealt with things that were high-stress before, but never with this high of stakes. I didn’t ask to be dragged into all of this, but now the whole mess hinges on me. This entire thing. Legitimate lives are riding on me. That’s a lot.”

Steve nodded along. He got it. This was hard, and it was a lot of pressure, especially since it all came crashing towards you at once. He wished there was something he could do to fix it, to take some of that off of you, but he couldn’t. He felt like he was the reason it was all hitting so hard in the first place. All he could do was try and keep you pumped up, and ready to go for tonight. He knew you had a game face, maybe he could help you put that on so you could beat these pricks once and for all. Maybe that would be enough for him. He knew you were giving him a chance, just for tonight because Bee was mostly what mattered, and he was going to make the most of that opportunity while it lasted.

He ran his hand over your hair, pulling you close one last time and planting a kiss to your hairline before sighing and slapping his hands on his knees to get up.

“Alright, up we go. C’mon.” He held out his hand for you, but all you did was sit there and look at him confused.

“Unfortunately, you don’t have all night, Decky. Stand, or I’m dragging you.”

You must not have moved fast enough, because before you knew it, your floppy body had been pulled to its feet and Steve was slowly manipulating each part. He kicked your one foot back, widening your stance, and bent each arm, curling your fingers into fists. He moved in front of you, holding up his hands, flat and open, just like boxing practice. He bounced between his feet on the ground, shifting back and forth.

“Alright, go for it. Let’s see what you got.” You huffed, landing a weak punch against his palm, and Steve laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Let’s go, Decks. I know you’re better than that. Harder. Get angry.”

And you did, you punched harder, you punched faster, and you were relentless, raging in a rain of fists, jitters long gone and replaced with a fire of fury. Fuck Cole. And fuck Lloyd. And fuck this whole fucked up mess of misogyny that threatened the livelihood of an innocent woman.

Steve grabbed your fists, snapping you out of it as you stood there, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. “There it is. Use that.” He looked at you intently, imploring you to be yourself, the confident, driven, capable woman he knew. You were back, if only for a few hours, but that was all he needed.

You settled yourself with a single breath, hands falling to your sides after you smoothed your dress and grabbed Steve’s hat back off where it had fallen onto the couch when you threw your head at his chest. You stood there with your eyes closed for a second. “Steven, do I still look okay? Bee said I have to look hot to distract these pieces of shit, and I’d hate to know that I’ve got a hair out of place. Please fix it before I go back out there.”

Steve smiled, just a little one he knew you couldn’t see, as he took a walk around you, tugging down the back of your dress and gently combing his fingers through your hair, taking his thumbs to swipe over your cheeks and fix the slight run of makeup from your tears. He gently grabbed the hat out of your tight clutch, playing with the brim. “You, uh…you want my hat? Would that make you feel better? Preserve an air of mystery and make you not have to look directly at the ‘pieces of shit?’”

You revealed a small, soft smile he thought he’d never see again and nodded, opening your eyes as he placed it back on your head, straightening it just so. He smiled just as sweetly when he saw you, actually saw you for the first time in awhile. Then, you weren’t sure what was happening as he squatted down in front of you, closing his eyes just like you had before.

“Okay, now it’s your turn to fix my hair before we go back out there. You messed it up when I gave you my hat.”

You strutted back out into the bar, face stoic, and stride powerful, your skirt flowing from the speed. Steve was a few steps behind you, surveying the area to see Bucky and Bee had returned, chatting with two men by the pool table.

You clocked them as well, not recognizing the two, but seeing one in an oddly crisp brown jacket, common for the area, but usually more beaten up on the folk around here, and the other in a knitted, collared shirt, nose pronounced by the neatly trimmed mustache underneath. Far too fancy for a place like this. These must be the men.

You walked up to Bee’s side, noticing her tight-lipped smile. “Decks, this is Cole, and this is Lloyd. He’ll be playing against you.”

You simply nodded, taking a step back. These men obviously had no desire for handshakes, only giving you a curt nod as well, as Lloyd stepped away, pulling a pool cue out of a case.

You rolled your eyes under the brim of the hat. Of course this rich prick had his own cue. You walked over to where Steve was at the rack of cues on the wall, looking at each and evaluating which one looked the best after years of wear and tear in the old joint. He pulled one down, wordlessly asking if it worked and you nodded, handing him a little block of chalk.

“Will you hold this for me throughout the game? And a glass of water please?” He nodded and headed to the bar, ready to be at your service.

When you returned to the table, negotiations had already been made and Lloyd was starting. That already put him at an advantage, but it would be fine, as long as he couldn’t get all the balls in on the first try.

His break was successful. Sharp, forceful, and precise: something that seemed mimetic of his pristine and obnoxious appearance. With two striped balls in the pockets, he went for the next one, and the next one, of your favorite suit. It was bad enough that you had to play solids, but he was surprisingly doing well. On his attempt for a sixth sink, though, he missed, giving you the chance to step in.

You took a sip of the water in Steve’s hand, rubbing the tip of your cue with the chalk in his other. You took a deep breath, leaning over the table for your first shot. It was the furthest thing from your mind, but Steve, and hell, everyone around, took notice of you bending over for it. Steve’s eyes quickly averted, though, going straight to Lloyd and Cole, as they were shamelessly gawking, doing what you’d said they would, and hopefully losing their if focus because of it. Your jaw ticked. You were angry, and you were focused, and you were fed up, and you were ready to go. There was no way you were going to mess up. You took your shot. Sunk.

That was followed by four more, easy angles, at least for you. You didn’t even look at the two men your were competing against. The only other person you could see in your zone of focus was Steve, if that, mostly because he was holding the materials you needed to win. Anyone else, anything else, was the enemy. Blocked. This was about winning, just like the years of swindling this game had set you up for. Seven hits, seven successes, one left, so you called the pocket. It was intense, and your face was unreadable. You took the shot, not even looking to see it go in, because you knew it would. Instead, your face was turned towards the two out-of-place men, your lips slowly growing smug as small crowd that had gathered around the table erupted in cheers.

You dropped your cue on the table, waltzing up to Lloyd as Bee stood in front of Cole.

You pointed a finger into the expensive fabric on the man in front of you and looked up into his eyes, dark like the deepest, deadest ocean.

“A deal is a deal and you just lost. Now hop off from my friend’s and all the other businesses I hear you’ve been harassing. Aren’t you guys all about your word?”

You were taken aback by the dark chuckle you were met with. “Oh, cupcake, that’s cute. You think I got this far on my word? No way. You may have won this fool’s game, but you all have yet to start mine.”

After gesturing over to Cole, he put his hand over his chest, dramatically gasping in a mocking manner.

“Oh no. Where’d your precious cheese curd go?”

Your head whipped over to the bar where you’d last seen him, but were met with the sight of an empty stool. Curtis was missing.

At this point, you didn’t care about the scene you were about to make, because that crossed a line. Curtis hardly had anything to do with this entire situation and they kidnapped him? Fucking why? Before you could even register what was going on, you lunged for Lloyd, trying to punch and scratch at him, but only hitting air. Something had caught you in the middle of your movement, picking you up, leaving you kicking and clawing at nothing, but you still had your voice. Curtis was innocent, and like a brother to you, and he didn’t deserve whatever this was. So you screamed, flailing in Steve’s arms, you’d know his arms and the smell of his cologne anywhere, but that wasn’t really what you were focused on right now.

“FUCK YOU, LLOYD! FUCK YOU AND THAT UGLY ASS MUSTACHE!! FUCK YOU FOR BREAKING A PROMISE!!!”

Out of the corner of your eye, even as you were backed away, you could see Cole shift and hold his hands up. “I swear. This wasn’t part of the deal. I was just doing what I was told. I didn’t know about any of this.”

You knew how much it sucked to be left out of the loop, but you still didn’t feel sorry. Cole was literally trying to commandeer the farm. He was far from innocent. You wiggled and turned as much as you could in Steve’s tight hold.

“And fuck you, too, Cole!! You ruined chocolate milk for me!”

The last thing you could see before the crowd descended was Bucky delivering a swift blow to Lloyd’s jaw, followed by him grabbing Cole by the collar.

Your attention was pulled to something else, though, by Steve’s hands on either side of your face once he had set you on a bar stool. “Decks, Decks! I need you to look at me.”

His nose was almost to yours. “I need you to watch Cherry. I have to go and check on the guards. See what happened out there and if Curtis is really gone. You need find out what happened in here. Take this.”

He slipped something in your hand that you had no idea how he concealed in the simple button-up denim shirt and jeans he was wearing. “Take out anyone who comes at you that you don’t know.”

You looked down at what was in your grasp: a small throwing knife. Without waiting a second, you snapped into survival mode, jumping behind the bar with Cherry. No one was around the two of you right now, luckily, as a full-on bar brawl had broken out.

You turned your body towards Cherry, but your head was on a swivel watching your surroundings. “So tell me what happened. When did Curtis disappear? Did you see anything?”

She frantically shook her head. “No, a-all I know is that some girl asked me to pour her a drink. She had a bunch of specifications, and when I made it and turned back around, Curtis was gone, and so was she.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What did she look like?”

“I don’t know? Kinda short, dark hair? Annoyingly fit? Now that I think about it, kinda like the female version of the guy you were playing pool against. That’s not a coincidence, is it?”

You threw your head back. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence. It was probably Lilian.

“Ah, shit.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: The moments between Decks and Steve here were much softer than I’d anticipated them to be, but there are so many different ways to act under stress, and I think it means a lot that she’s not necessarily able to stay in her normal cold manner of upsettedness when there’s so much at stake beyond just her. Things change when others are depending on you.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @thedonswife13

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factorialsotherfandoms · 2 months

Text

This is first of a group of 3 items (I'm putting them into a series as I write posts, though the fact most of the Ordem fic is same verse... I'll maybe series it someday but eh), the next 2 of which I'll look to post in a bit over an hour.

For @wsdalt

To Go Together

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ordem Paranormal (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Arthur Cervero & Rubens Naluti, Equipe Abutres Characters: Arthur Cervero, Rubens Naluti, Equipe Abutres Ensemble Additional Tags: Referenced canonical character death, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Zoo, Friendship, Arthur Is Doing His Best, everyone is traumatised, some are just more obvious about it, and we're only in one charcter's head, PoV Arthur Cervero, but it's Rubens-centric, Campaign 04: Ordem Paranormal: Calamidade Series: Part 1 of OPC Zoo Snippets Summary: The surviving members of Equipe Abutres take a day off, and go to the zoo. Just, not everyone seems to be having a good time.

Full text under cut

They pick a day in the middle of the week. São Paulo Zoo is never going to be quiet, but a Tuesday morning is less likely to be crowded than a weekend. It was Carina's idea in the first instance, tossed around as just an idea of something to do which did not involve mission work, but it was Balu who most enthused about the plan, crafting it into a reality. Rubens was the least enthusiastic - even when they tried to tempt him with the flamingos - claiming to be nervous about the people. He came around to the idea with a little convincing and a lot of careful planning, but next time they will have to do something of his choosing instead.

It's unlikely that Dante will get much out of the zoo itself, not when using his sight is a little too obviously paranormal and exhausting to match, but he is willing just to come and spend time with them. And Arthur... this is his team, his friends - if they're happy, he's happy.

Then, of course, Ivete found out as Arthur was buying things to make a picnic, and invited herself along. Not so much for the zoo, but she offered to drive them, then find a cafe or bench to sit somewhere nicer than the base, with a drink and the accounts.

They arrive a little after nine in the morning, at least half of the team more asleep than awake. Ivete and Dante handle buying the tickets, while Carina searches through an info-stand for maps. She picks up two in Portguese - one handed to Ivete, and one to Rubens - and one in Italian.

"Where first?" she asks, as they are ushered through the gates. "If we want to do a circle... Starting with blue or pink?"

"Either way, you kids will probably be in green around lunchtime?" Ivete frowns a little. "I can meet you at the picnic tables there."

Carina nods, pulling a pen from a pocket and circling it.

"Blue has the flamingos... Is anyone else admitting to a favourite animal?" Balu looks around the group, not actually giving them time to decide. "And is labelled one, so I think the choice is made for us."

"Both have flamingos," Carina, who bothered to read the map, corrects.

Still, nobody has especially strong or vocal opinions; Rubens touches the necklace under his shirt, glancing around without ever looking at their faces, but shrugs when asked for opinions.

Even on a day to themselves, Arthur cannot quite turn off the scratch in his brain telling him to keep an eye on everything. Already knowing that Rubens wasn't thrilled with the idea... It's not difficult to be concerned.

There is a little more discussion about plans, finally agreeing on numerical order before Ivete splits off to find somewhere to work. Balu leads the rest of them, passing from enclosure to enclosure. Carina leads Dante, Arthur staying close but appreciating having his arm free to take photographs of everyone - with lynxes, and elephants, and alligators, to name a few. Sometimes they trade phones with other people, taking a photo in return for a photo, as they slowly make their way around.

And then they come in sight of the flamingos.

Rubens wanders a little away from the main group when he spies them, meandering on ahead to lean against the railing and look into the enclosure. Balu follows a little after, standing with Rubens with a much harder time leaning on the rails. If he says anything, it is with a much quieter voice than his usual boom.

They seem fine, though, and this early, plus on a quieter day, it's still possible to see them from where the rest are. Carina seems to have barely noticed, busy reading all of the signs to Dante.

This place is safe. If there was danger here, they would know about it; the only thing likely to hurt them is if someone walks into a bollard.

It's still really, really hard to relax.

Arthur cannot stop himself from checking on everyone, and he's not sure he ever will be able to.

In time, they all meet back up by the flamingos. Carina keeps reading the signs, though Balu takes over for one explaining how shrimp cause the flamingo's colouration.

"Hey, Rubens?" Carina asks. "Any other facts about them?"

He startles to be addressed, then stills - eyes blinking - as he thinks, after a moment he offers, "mirrors. There are mirrors to make them breed. They think the flock is bigger, feel safer like that."

Balu starts talking, clearly teasing; Arthur zones him out and looks - sure enough, he can see a handful of mirrors dotted around the lake. Why exactly Rubens chose that fact... He probably just saw the mirrors, and thought they might be curious.

No reason to read into it.

They stay with the flamingos a little longer than the other animals before moving on. The path is plenty wide enough for Arthur to slip in beside Dante, forcing himself into the conversation. The cheetahs are the other main draw of this zone, but there are a couple of other things in between.

"You coming, Rubens?" it's Balu who calls, interrupting the flow of conversation.

Looking back, Arthur can see how Rubens is trailing behind the group. Rubens glances back at the enclosure, earning laughter from Carina.

"We can come back later," she tells him. "There's still the rest of the zoo!"

Still, Rubens hesitates. Arthur looks and... His expression is more complicated than just not wanting to leave his favourite animal behind. Arthur can't quite pin down more than that, but...

Balu seems to spot it at about the same time, "there's still a bit of time, we can stay a bit longer."

Rubens shakes his head, moving to catch up.

Whatever that expression was...

"It's cool," Arthur tells them. "I could do with a break anyway; you guys go on ahead, and we'll meet you at the picnic benches in an hour? Where we agreed to meet Ivete."

"Sure," Carina seems to catch on well enough, grabbing Dante and Balu's hands. "The dinosaur park is up that way, if we run out of snakes we can go hang out there."

Arthur mouths her a thank you, and gets half a wink in return.

Balu seems pensive a moment, before calling a "we'll see you later, Rubinho!" and running off.

"Rubens," Rubens replies, without any of the usual passion.

The pair watches the others leave, before Arthur turns back to the flamingos. He watches them for a moment, leaning on the railing, before spying an elderly couple get up from a nearby bench. It still faces the enclosure, so...

"Shall we sit down a bit?" Arthur offers.

Rubens, still clearly distracted by things other than the birds, nods.

Still, Arthur is already sat down and helping himself to a fruit bar from his lunch box before Rubens comes over. He eats it, swaps to his phone, and starts sending the photos he has taken so far to Agatha.

She replies with a photo of her latest tattoo, and a thumbs up.

Once the last one is sent, Arthur tucks his phone away.

Rubens is still watching the birds, expression pensive as he fiddles with his necklace.

"Look, Rubens," he starts, hesitates, then decides to just throw in at the deep end. "Is everything okay? I know you were worried about the crowds, but it doesn't seem that busy today...?"

"I'm fine."

He's clearly not.

"You sure?"

"Fine," there's more of a snap this time, a harsher.

Arthur backs down, watches as one of the smaller flamingos - probably not fully grown, as it still has grey feathers in patches - trips and falls into the lake. The others startle, before one of the others leans its long neck down to 'help' the small one back up.

Within a minute or two they have settled again, the lake back to its usual semi-serene state.

His phone vibrates, and Arthur pulls it out to see that Agatha has texted him again. There's a whole string of excited text, only half of which he understands; he asks her to rephrase it, and smiles as he gets another, differently incomprehensible wall.

"Johnny was going to come."

"Huh?" Arthur pulls himself up from his phone, typing out a quick excuse and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Johnny," Rubens repeats the name, pauses, pulls his necklace up to look at it. "After the mission. We were going to come together."

Well, fuck. That's... Arthur cannot really see how there's any way that wasn't going to ruin the mood; he hasn't touched a computer game since Kaiser vanished, and has only managed to start using his laptop again - games they played together staring at him from his desktop - since it was confirmed he was dead.

And since Joui died...

Johnny isn't dead, but it's maybe one of the few scenarios where that must be worse. Because if someone isn't dead, if you're not sure they're dead-

Arthur clung to those games, in the hopes they would find Kaiser and they could play them again.

Deleting them was hard, it was a finality, but it came with it's own peace.

"I'm sorry," Arthur tells him. "If you'd said, we would have understood."

Rubens shakes his head, "wanted to. I wanted to come. He would want me to come. See the chickens. Just..."

He trails off, and doesn't finish.

Arthur gives him a few moments, and then offers, "it hurts?"

A few nods of his head, and then Rubens presses his face into his hands. They stare there a long moment, and come away wet; Arthur sees but does not comment, Rubens does not explain.

"He promised," Rubens tells him. "We were going to come together."

He shifts, clings to his bag, clearly tries to calm down.

"You might get to yet," Arthur does not think of a download code in his emails, one he can not bring himself to either use or give away. "Nothing's over 'til it's over, right? Maybe next time it'll be him on the bench with you, not me."

Rubens opens his mouth as if to reply, then shuts it again; Arthur doesn't press. There's no need to press, not with this.

"I'm sure the others will want to later, but we could stop by the gift shop before heading up to them," Arthur offers instead. "You could get something for Johnny, and I'll... I'll get something for Kaiser and Joui. We don't have to tell the others."

He bites his tongue at the mention of his best friends. He can't... But he will. Offerings for their graves, or perhaps to put on the shelf in his room, or maybe even something soft to hold at night and pretend it is them.

The conversation pauses a moment, with Rubens clearly thinking. The flamingos are kicking up a fuss about something, giving him something to look at which does not make Rubens feel watched.

Arthur's phone buzzes again. This time, he ignores it; everyone knows he's busy today.

Eventually, Rubens comes to his conclusion. He nods, and takes a deep breath, gesturing a bit with his hands. "Little gift. Put it on the table. He'd like it."

Having never seen Johnny's hospital room to know if it, like their shared house, has a one, Arthur couldn't tell you which table Rubens is talking about.

It's still worth smiling at him over, "but, we don't have to go yet. We're not meeting up for another hour; do you want to move on, or...?"

"I like it here," Rubens eyes flick down a moment, and then back up to the flamingos. "You?"

"I'm fine to sit for a bit; Balu can only get into so much trouble with Dante and Carina there."

The noise Rubens makes is extremely doubtful, only serving to make Arthur laugh.

"Well, if he does, it's not our problem," Arthur is still smiling as he says it, leaning back on the bench and kicking his feet out a little.

His phone buzzes again; Arthur keeps ignoring it. Instead, he swaps his attention between the flamingos, the other guests, and the almost obnoxiously cloudless sky. The bench itself is not an especially comfortable one, and he is definitely getting the occasional stink eye for sitting there so long, but...

Rubens flops against his side, head resting just below where his arm would have been.

"You good?" he asks.

A thumbs up pokes into his vision.

"Cool."

If he had an arm on that side, Arthur would be tempted to wrap it around him. He's too low down to lean back on him either, so Arthur just... Stays where he is. Tries to get a little more comfortable, but quite content to sit wait.

#opc #op fanfic #opc fanfic #rubens naluti #arthur cervero #post-canon #ordem paranormal

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mr-and-mr-diaz · 2 years

Text

okay listen, I saw the onesie and this fic fell out of me.

IT’S NOT MINE

“I’m getting Chris, then we’ll head over to yours for Tuesday night pasta and video games, ‘kay, Buck?” Eddie yelled over his shoulder as he adjusted the grip on his duffle and headed to the car.

“Uh, wait--” Buck came running after him, hair still wet, t-shirt only halfway over his torso. “Uh, right now isn’t a good time for my apartment, it’s a little... a bit messy.”

Eddie snorted. “Like we haven’t seen it messy before? Honestly, I think Chris is going to care more that you still don’t have a couch.”

Buck squirmed suddenly, startling as the motion reminded him that his shirt was only half on. “Ah, yeah, it’s just--” his hand got tangled in the neck hole, wiggling pointlessly for the dangling empty sleeve. Eddie chuckled and dropped his bag, reaching out to help.

“It’s okay, Buck. We’ll help you straighten up,” he firmly pulled Buck’s hand out his collar and reached into Buck’s shirt to feed it into the errant sleeve, “And then we can all do dinner, okay?”

“...Can we do it at yours?” Buck wasn’t looking at him. That was never good.

Eddie tilted his head, grin teasing. “What, you got something hiding in your place I should know about?” Buck’s flinch told him that yes, maybe he did.

Buck’s high, choked-out, weak chuckle confirmed it. “Nah, Eddie, I don’t have any good hiding places, the loft is totally open plan, I couldn’t...” He was definitely avoiding eye contact now. “Anyway, like you said, I don’t even have a couch, your place is better.” His eyes finally turned to Eddie, wide and blue and begging. Please stop asking.

Eddie nodded. “Okay.” For now.

***

“You shouldn't have let me have that third beer, Eddie,” Buck mumbled as the car rolled up to his building.

“I trust you to know your own limits, Buck. Besides, you looked like you needed to forget your troubles a little.” Eddie shut off the car and turned his attention to Buck. The whole night Buck had been distracted, checking his phone. At one point, Chris had caught a glance over Buck’s shoulder, saying “Wow, Buck, that’s a big Amazon order!” And Buck had flinched and quickly turned back to the TV, reaching for more beer. By the time the night had rolled to a close, and Chris put to bed, Buck wasn’t safe to drive.

“Me?” Buck jerked his head side to side. “I’ve got no troubles, I’ve got nothing, I’m--me? I’m good, Eddie.” He stopped suddenly looking nauseous from the excessive movement.

Eddie sighed fondly. “Well, then, let’s get you out of the car and up to your place then, Mr. No Troubles.” Eddie pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and came round to Buck’s side, opening the door and holding out a hand. “Come on.”

“I’m good.” Buck shook his head, gingerly this time. “You don’t need to walk me up.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Buck. C’mon, I promise not to enter your super secret apartment, just let me get you up there.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Eddie. “You promise?”

Eddie chuckled. “I promise.” This time, Buck took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the car.

***

Getting up the elevator to Buck’s place didn’t take much effort in the end. Buck was tipsy, sure, but hardly stumbling drunk and only had to lean on Eddie’s arm once or twice. The challenge would be getting Buck through his front door, which was barricaded on all sides with Amazon and UPS boxes.

“Damn, Chris wasn’t kidding about you buying out Amazon, Buck, what gives?” Eddie knelt down to inspect the pile, squinting to read the labels on the packages.

“Don’t look!” Buck’s hand tugged on Eddie’s collar, his tone panicked. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

“I said I wouldn’t look in your apartment, Buck, this is still outsi...” Eddie’s voice trailed off as his eyes took in the names on the labels.

Baby Barn. For Evan Buckley

Toddler Emporium. For Evan Buckley.

Parent One-Stop-Shop... Babies R US... Rockabye-Babeez... For Evan Buckley.

“Buck,” he breathed.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Buck was pulling at Eddie’s shirt hard now, stretching out the collar.

Eddie stood and turned to face him. “Then what is it, Buck? Tell me what I’m looking at.”

Buck just looked at him, blank, lost for words, panicked. And sad, so incredibly sad.

Eddie sighed. What could he say to this Buck? This Buck who so determinedly stayed positive whenever the subject of the sperm donation came up? ‘Hey, no I’m so happy for them!’ spoken right after ‘I’m gonna be a dad!’

Buck wasn’t going to be a dad. This new child would be connected to Buck genetically. And that was where the connection would end.

In Buck’s eyes, Eddie saw all of that.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s go inside.”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’m okay, I just got a little overexcited, bought some stuff--”

“Buck? Give me your keys, or I’m fishing for them myself.”

Wordlessly, eyes defeated, Buck reached into his back pocket and handed them over.

Eddie couldn’t even get the door open all the way for packages. They were stacked against the wall, piled on the kitchen island. Some were open, their colorful contents laid lovingly into baskets or lined up on the floor.

“I was on Amazon a few days ago, and I just… got carried away.”

“Carried away,” Eddie echoed. This was not carried away, wasn’t here are a few things to pad out your supplies. Buck had purchased everything a new baby would ever need, from diapers and wipes to bottles, pacifiers, swaddles…

Buck was shopping like an expectant father.

“What was your plan for all this?”

A pause. “They don’t need to know it’s from me?”

“Buck,” Eddie held up an LAFD baby onesie in his hands, eyes unreadable in a way that made Buck want to squirm. “They’re going to know it’s from you.” He sighed and laid the onesie back down, folding it back on top of another onesie decorated for Christmas. “I don’t think they’ll be… No, they definitely won’t--” he stopped himself again. How to say this?? And it’s not like Buck didn’t already know this, so why…? “Buck, are you--”

“Don’t say it.” Watery, shaky. Eddie turned. Buck looked at him, stripped open and raw, surrounded by the physical evidence of his not fine with it anymore laid out in this vibrant collection of love and pain on every available surface of his home.

Eddie looked and saw in each toy the home Buck would build if only he had someone to build it for. Saw the pain in Buck, the self-doubt and deprecation. I was born for parts. The only piece of me that’s been deemed worthy to build a family is a part, not the whole, not me.

A child will be born soon, and I am empty about it. I am filling the empty with all the things I would shower my child with if I could. My child is being born and I can’t even call it my own.

Eddie opened his arms and Buck walked into them. At first, he just leaned heavily against Eddie, face buried in the juncture between neck and shoulder. Then he started to shake, just his chest, then his arms, then his whole body. Eddie tightened his arms, and Buck let out a wail, a loud and broken thing and held on for dear life, sobbing.

“It’s not mine, Eddie! It’s not mine! I was fine with that, I was, I was so happy to help, so happy that someone thought highly of me like that, wanted me, chose me! I’m so stupid!”

Eddie’s hand lifted to the top of Buck’s head and rested there, combing through the curls. “No, Buck. No, you’re not stupid.”

“It’s mine, Eddie. It’s mine. That kid is a piece of me, and I don’t get anything back. I’m so selfish, Eddie. God, I’m the worst.”

“Buck, stop.” Eddie carefully guided them both down so they were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the pastel carnage of Buck’s dreams. Buck leaned heavier into him, almost in his lap. “Stop judging, stop calling yourself names. Just cry it out, okay?”

Buck did. Tears flowed anew, soaking into Eddie’s shoulder and Buck curled closer and closer until those long legs were wrapped around Eddie’s waist, arms holding on for dear life as Buck finally let himself feel the pain and regret he’d been hiding behind cheerful comments, big smiles, and shopping. He cried until there was nothing left but gasps and hiccups, and through it all Eddie held him, rocked him back and forth in his arms until he had quieted.

“Sorry,” Buck whispered, nasal and horse. “Your shirt…”

“If you’re sorry for anything, let it be that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about this sooner, Buck.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t even really letting myself…” A sniff. “I just want--I don’t know what to do, Eddie. I don’t know how I’m going to live with this.”

Eddie breathed deeply, fingers still combing through Buck’s hair, thinking. “I don’t either, Buck.” He sighed. “But I do know that you need some sleep. And then we’re going to go through all of this and make some returns at the post office.”

Buck made a noise of protest.

“No, Buck, I don’t know what will be good for you, but I know sure as hell that this isn’t it.” Eddie grasped the nape of Buck’s neck and pulled until Buck’s head was off his shoulder. He glanced down, waiting until Buck met his eyes. His were watery and red, lashes all clumped together, his cheeks swollen. “You can’t torture yourself like this, okay? It’s going to take you somewhere bad, and I can’t watch you go there, okay? So tomorrow I’m going to help you wrap this all up, and you can choose one thing to keep, because you’re going to be a dad, Buck, even if it isn’t the kind of dad you dream of being.”

Buck didn’t respond, but he didn’t protest. Fresh tears flowed from his eyes as he looked at Eddie, and Eddie made himself maintain eye contact, even though seeing this fresh pain made him want to run laps around the apartment building, destroy every item in this room until it looked as bruised and damaged as Buck’s heart.

“For now though, you need sleep. And you’re coming back to mine to get it.”

Buck started to shake his head again. “I couldn’t--”

“You can, Buck.”

“But Chris--”

“Is a big boy and can handle you not being at your best around him.” Eddie huffed. “He’d probably be mad if you tried to hide it from him, deprive him of extra hugs, hm?”

Buck gave the barest inch of a smile. “Okay.”

Eddie stood up, then reached down a hand to pull Buck to his feet. “Come one.” Buck rose heavily and made for the door, reaching for his keys that had been discarded in the mess around them.

They reached the door when Eddie stopped. “Buck?”

“Mm?”

Eddie reached out and grasped Buck’s shoulder, turning him gently and looking into his eyes. “He may not be your genetic material, but Christopher thinks the world of you. Not because you’re strong, or because you take him out on trips, or for any one thing, Buck. But because you’re all of those things and more--you’re smart, funny, kind, fun,” Eddie cupped Buck’s cheek in his hand, “Beautiful, even when you’re all puffed up from crying.” Buck’s eyes darted away but Eddie wasn’t finished yet. “You’re an amazing man, Buck. That’s what your roommate saw and what made him ask you to be a piece of this child.”

“I shouldn’t have said yes.” Buck whispered.

“No. But it’s a reflection of your kindness that you did.”

“I’d never been chosen before, not like that.”

Eddie huffed. “That kind of choosing is only the tip of the iceberg, Buck.” He turned Buck around and reached for the door. “Let’s go.”

***

Later that night, after Buck had finally sunken into sleep, Eddie sat by the couch and watched. He’d insisted that Buck blow his nose and wash his face before sleeping, so he wouldn’t wake up congested and puffed up any more than he had to be. Now, he lay there, vulnerable in his sleep, curled up on his side in Eddie’s shorts and t-shirt.

Eddie couldn’t sleep. He ached, his heart raw. It always had been tender where Buck was concerned, and Eddie often found himself surprised and forced to see new angles and facets of Buck every time he thought he’d seen all there was to see. But seeing Buck standing in the loft, heart bleeding on the outside had done it all over again. The tender spot in Eddie’s heart had been blown wide open, and he suddenly found himself hating Buck’s former roommate, for seeing what he had steadfastly pushed away, be it from fear or confusion. It was all clear now, watching Buck’s chest slowly rise and fall.

Chris is right, our Buck does snore.

He reached out and ran a hand down the side of Buck’s face, where stubble was beginning to grow in. “Tomorrow, okay? We’ll show you what it means to be chosen, Buck.”

#911 spoilers #buddie #eddie diaz #oliver stark #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #otp: you two have an adorable son #otp: you can have my back #otp: i thought you just dress alike #9-1-1 #911 season 6

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iantimony · 6 months

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twoweeker tuesday: redux

im really making a trend of two-weekin these huh. gonna try to Not do that bc it makes me way less likely to actually do it lol. speed-posting this before bed (and before the melatonin kicks my ass, i'm trying to reset my sleep sched a bit)

listening: hozier unreal unearth. sammy rae & the friends. leaving this pretty sparse because i don't want to dig back through my history for the past two weeks and that's definitely the bulk of it. some notes from the Release Radar(tm) that i like: good luck, babe! - chappell roan bell - rob blivion waiting. - pater ...all (feat jake clemons, live) - grouplove i had not my hat - tom rosenthal april 8, 2024: the great north american eclipse - sleeping at last (!!!) too sweet - hozier flea - st vincent lil' freak - bbno$

reading: finished the main bit of scum villain! i'm reading the extras now. officially read all three mxtx books

watching: FINISHED SERIAL EXPERIMENTS LAIN. i have so many thoughts. i was in delta-orionis' dms about it a bit but my ass has so many Notes. many thoughts. gnosticism mostly but also the obvious tech-as-extension-of-self throughline. idk it was a very weird show and i definitely need to re-watch it to let it sink in a little more.

playing: no games but a lot of horn! i have an audition tomorrow for the fall's campus ensembles, i am...not super confident about it tbh, unsurprisingly i am not back to where i was pre-pandemic so my upper range and endurance is still really crunchy.

making: i keep forgetting to charge my phone before pottery so it keeps. dying. so i made quite a few new things the past few weeks but no photos of those - i did Crack the Code a bit, so now i can more reliably get things shaped in a conscious way. basically i was sitting too far forward so when i was pulling the walls up i was actually doing it at an angle, if i sit with my nose over the center of the pot it's all *chef kiss* beautiful. anyways here's a few glaze related pics. a lot of disappointment unfortunately.

1. my fucked up teacups. god im so mad about these. they were supposed to be a cool grey-green with a white flower, and matte. it is None Of These Things. idk will get redone. big mad.

2. bowl and mug that both got bubbles because i misread the glaze labels - they're both mayco glazes that are optimized for cone 05, not cone 5, so the both the color is not as good as i thought and also the surface variation is. not great. the bowl is acceptable, it's mirror blue, it went through the kiln again and the bubbles evened out (pic is from before), and plus it's on the outside - i just put plain white on the inside - so it's fine. the mug is a little more problematic. it was green slip sgraffito with evergreen fir over top, and i really love the color effect, but there's some small bubbles along the rim...this glaze was marked as food safe in a way that the mirror blue is Not so i thought it would be fine but. well. i'm hoping nuking it in the kiln again will smooth those out.

3. One Good Thing: trying a new glaze technique! someone in my studio does this gorgeous thing where she paints on flowers with underglaze, then covers them with liquid latex to paint on the background, and finally peels off the latex. it always comes out sooo nice, so when i ordered some more underglaze i went ahead and added liquid latex to cart too :3 this is just the flowers, i will be adding the background tomorrow!

eating: uhhh good cauliflower vegetarian shawarma thing that i refused to make unless we added a can of chickpeas because where in the fuck is the protein. tonight was a miso-butter chicken with radishes that we added potatoes and onions to. both sheetpan recipes so im def a fan of those now.

misc: ouuuugh. augh. oughghghg. i need to be done with homework forever please god. i have like...7? 8? total hws left between my two classes. and then i am Done With Classes. mentally gearing up to do my preliminaries at the end of the summer. not to doxx myself but ouch. basketball yesterday. Pain. the eclipse yesterday WAS unreal. oh my god. i drove to [redacted] very small town about 40 minutes from me and it was perfect. so glad i avoided the Big City, although that's where my roommate and her mom went and apparently the traffic was fine, but i'm definitely glad to have been in a less crowded zone. i get it now. i want to take that feeling i had watching totality and eat it and keep it with me forever. i was with friends. the weather was perfect. it was beautiful.

#tuesdayposting

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hieromonkcharbel · 2 years

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Great Lent is fast approaching. This Sunday is Meatfare and the following week is Cheesefare.

Meatfare Sunday is the second Sunday before Great Lent. It is called Meatfare because it is the last day to eat meat before Lent. This day is somewhat akin to Shrove Tuesday for Latin Rite Catholics. This Sunday is also called Judgment Sunday/Sunday of the Last Judgment. The gospel reading (Matthew 25:31-46) is Jesus describing our final judgment day.

Following the topic of judgment is forgiveness. Cheesefare Sunday is also called Forgiveness Sunday. The gospel reading (Matthew 6: 14-21) includes the message of forgiveness, fasting, and building up our treasures in heaven. How appropriate a reading for the day before the beginning of Lent! Cheesefare is also the last day to eat dairy products before Great Lent.

It is beautiful how these movable feasts connect the themes of judgment and forgiveness. We prepare for the Lenten season by contemplating our judgment and recognizing the ways in which we sin. Yet this is paired with a reminder of God’s mercy and forgiveness.

Meatfare Sunday

The gospel reading of the Last Judgment is sometimes labelled in the Bible as The Sheep and the Goats. In our society most people don’t want to be called sheep. But on the day of judgment they certainly do! Jesus tells us that what we do to others is we do to Jesus. He describes the acts of mercy that the righteous have done for him: feed the hungry, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked… Then he goes on to explain to “the goats” that they did not feed him when he was hungry, or give him water when he was thirsty. These people are surprised and claim not to have recognized Jesus as being hungry or thirty.

In the busyness of our lives, it is easy to overlook the needs of others. Is someone at your work or church lonely? Struggling to get by? Do you know how your friends are doing, and do you make yourself available to help them if they need it? Is there someone you ignore or feel uncomfortable around? Perhaps God is challenging you to recognize the needs of one of His children.

This Sunday is a good time to reflect by yourself on the ways you are serving “the least of these” mentioned by Jesus in the gospel.

Cheesefare Sunday

Cheesefare Sunday follows Meatfare Sunday. This is the last week to partake of dairy before Lent. Aside from Cheesefare and Forgiveness Sunday, this day is also called Adam’s Lament. We remember how Adam was banished from Eden, and join with Adam and Eve in expressing our sorrow over the sins which have separated us from God. This prepares us for our Lenten journey towards Easter. Christ’s death and resurrection reopens the gate to Paradise and restores our relationship with God. We mourn the loss in order to remember the joy of the hope which has been given to us through Christ.

The Rite of Forgiveness is celebrated following Vespers. During it the priest apologizes to the people for the sins he has committed against them, and the people do the same. The people offer forgiveness to the priest, and the priest offers the same reconciliation for us. This act of mutual forgiveness reminds us that we cannot reunite ourselves to God while we are not reconciled with each other.

The gospel reading calls for fasting and forgiveness, which reminds us why we celebrate Great Lent as we do. Fasting helps us to better hear God’s voice, and forgiveness enacts God’s will and grace in our lives. By letting go of our anger and other earthly attachments, we make more room for God in our lives.

* Adapted from blog byzantinelife

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goddamnshinyrock · 7 years

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I’m going to dream of bleeds and crop marks and margins and fucking kerning tonight

#FINAL PRINT PACKAGE FOR THE EXHIBIT IS BEING SENT TO THE PRINTER A WEEK FROM TODAY #and my colleagues are- incredibly- STILL ARGUING about the CONTENT of the labels #like. guys. you need to decide what words are going on these soon or I will not have time to PUT them on there #we did a ''''final read-through'''' of the labels on tuesday #yet SOMEHOW there are a bunch of new edits and comments in the google doc #hhhhhh #I'm just going to have to start laying in text and be like 'nope whatever you had friday night was final sorry'#I am the only person on this design team with a copy of adobe indesign and I am Suffering #grad school hell #I! am not! a graphic! designer!

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1kook · 4 years

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kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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candychronicles · 3 years

Text

carve // k. bakugou

A/N: hello and welcome to my take on the all about bakugou bnharem collab! this is a potential intense read so please heed all warnings!

this is a continuation of quarantine that i wrote last year for a harem collab. it’s not required to read in order to read this story but feel free to read if you’re interested!

i am so sorry that i solely write for collabs now lol

CHARACTER PAIRING: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 3,050

WARNINGS: heavy knife play (mentions of blood, wounds, weapons), super intense emotions, oral (f!receiving), good ol fashioned penetration, implications of a lighter skin tone if you squint

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend suggested to try a new kink over quarantine yet life was beginning to resume some semblance of normalcy with no excitement in sight. what was going on?

want to enjoy more bakugou? i mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t?

head on over the the masterlist!

you did not, in fact, try anything risker. bakugou balked at the thought of hurting you once he got over the high he was in, lusting over the fact that you were able to put him in his place so easily, though he would never admit that. he wouldn’t admit a lot of things, in fact, like how he was afraid he was going to slip and cut too deep, how he thought you secretly didn’t trust him, how he wasn’t and never would be good enough. all these thoughts kept running through his head as time went on, as quarantine sunk deeper and deeper into chaos, as he got called back into action much sooner than expected and never really got a chance to spend time with you like he really wanted to.

over a year had passed since the last first and last time he had ever brought the knife up. you had asked him plenty, showing him different blades, trying to get him wound up, but he always pushed the thought away, fucked you into submission, or if you were being particularly relentless, let you fuck him. it kept you at bay for awhile but you both knew that things wouldn’t stay quiet forever.

it was on a normal tuesday evening that you sat him down for a serious chat. he had been gone for awhile, quarantines lifting up left and right, people getting vaccines and life returning to as normal as it could be after what everyone had went through. he was distant, stressed, unsure of life and frustrated with how he was feeling and you could tell. he didn’t, however, know that you were that observant and he was sure that you were going to kick him to the curb. honestly, how could he blame you with the way he was treating you, acting like you were some fragile doll that needed to be kept at arm's length wrapped in bubble wrap your whole life? fearing he would break some sort of trust between you two or worse, snap you in half. it wasn’t until he felt your gentle hand on his own that he realized he’d been consumed in his own thoughts.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” you finally asked, not one to beat around the bush.

“nothing’s wrong babe, just tired, you know i’ve been working a lot,” he brushed off, going to stand up.

you didn’t give him the chance though, yanking his hand so that he was pulled forward, slamming into the table.

“don’t. lie. to. me,” you commanded, anger evident on your face, brows furrowed and eyes challenging straight ahead.

he sat down with a sigh, not sure of where to begin or even if he had the strength to say anything to you, but before he could, he heard your voice, unusually meek, ask “was it something i did?”

his hand tightened around your own before he realized he was squeezing harshly, quickly letting go and rubbing his fingers as if he had burned you, which he might as well have with the way you recoiled at his actions.

“Katsuki, please, if there’s something i did, at least tell me. i’m going crazy watching you run away from me without me even knowing what’s going on.”

fists clenching under the table, he huffed, attempting to collect his thoughts once more. he knew now that there was no running from this, no more hiding his feelings or wallowing in his own despair and pity.

“i’m afraid of hurting you. during sex, especially. with the knife kink, ya know?”

you cocked your head at his, eyes squinting as you tried to analyze what he had just said.

“i’m not made of porcelain. i think that, as adults, you and i can have a conversation about boundaries, safety, how to keep in communication and what to properly do during aftercare. it’s really not any different from the conversations we’ve had before in any part of our life, really.”

“but what if i go too far?”

“then i’ll just embarrass you by going to the hospital and telling them that my boyfriend’s monster cock split me in half. m’sure they’ve heard worse,” you teased, reaching out to poke at his forehead that was set in a permanent wrinkle, face scowling at how nonchalantly you were talking about this.

“i’m serious, what if i fuck up and cut too deep or nick an artery or accidentally slip and stab you or you sneeze and stab yourself or-”

“hey, ‘Suki,” relax. it’s why we’ll educate ourselves and take it slow. you’re not putting a knife to my neck after all. we’ll learn and talk together so that we’re both feeling safe and if you still don’t want to do it after then that’s fine! we have a great sex life as is. i don’t need every one of my kinks fulfilled to be happy and satisfied with you.”

despite the insecurities and confusion that settled in his brain like a thick fog, he nodded his head, agreeing to learning and trying this new experience with you. secretly, he was ecstatic, his cock twitching as he thought about carving his name into your body, but the logical part of his brain still wasn’t convinced.

you two spent the night educating yourself, figuring out what blade you wanted to purchase, how to keep it clean, how to safely take care of wounds, both minor and major, safety do’s and dont’s and going over boundaries and safe words. it was hours later that you both collapsed into bed, thoroughly tired yet satisfied after the conversation and education that had just taken place.

three days later, a nondescript package arrived at your door, simply labeled with the postage and address. you quickly grabbed it and rushed inside, careful to close the door quietly. Bakugou had the day off and spent most of the morning doing paperwork, only now choosing to workout in order to get rid of the boredom that was already seeping into his brain.

you tore the package open as quietly as possible and shimmied the box tucked inside the package out, careful not to damage anything, popping it open and smiling at the sight inside. a shiny blade stared back at you, hilt a forest green, deep and inviting. you pulled the object out, running your finger along the cool metal, admiring the way it glinted in the harsh kitchen light.

quickly, you scrambled into the bedroom, eager to see what Bakugou would think but when you peeked your head inside the room, it was dark. you frowned before realizing he had already sat down at his desk, tolling away at the mounds of papers he had to go through. sighing, you gently placed the blade down on the dresser, forgetting about it as the day went on.

it was only when you were in the shower later that evening, ready for bed, that you remembered you didn’t put it away. you hurried to finish, barely throwing a towel on yourself before whipping the door open only to see he had already spotted the object.

Bakugou was twirling it in his hands, testing the weight, prodding at the tip with his fingers, letting out a sharp hiss when the blade nicked his finger.

without thinking, you stepped forward, taking his hand into your own before slowly lifting it up to your lips, sucking on the wound, the taste of iron and his own sweet flavor hitting the roof of your mouth. you watched him with hooded lids as your towel dropped haphazardly to the floor, body still dripping from the shower.

“princess, you’re playing a dangerous game tonight.”

you only hummed around his finger, stepping closer to him, pressing your wet body to his, shivering at the warmth he radiated. he pulled his hand away from your mouth, choosing instead to cup your chin and bring it closer to him.

“are you sure you want to do this? do you remember everything we learned?”

“i’m sure, Katsuki, i promise. we have our safety words if things get out of hand, yeah? but i’m sure it won’t,” you reassured, blinking up at him with such sincerity it nearly took his breath away.

with the knife tucked firmly in one hand, Bakugou led you to the bed, laying you down gently, propping your head up and settling into your thighs, kissing, biting, sucking.

he took one deep breath, hands trembling, before the coolness of the blade just barely grazed your skin. you took a sharp inhale of breath but before he could ask what was wrong, he heard you beg for him to do it again.

his tongue came out to press flat against your clit and you jolted, his one hand coming down to hold you still and the other using the knife to trace lazy shapes along your thighs, up your pelvis and around your stomach.

you struggled to maintain your breath, the sharp scratch of the knife as it tickled your skin contrasted with the soft and soothing tongue of Bakugou as he leisurely lapped at your sensitive nub. you begged and pleaded for more friction, white knuckling the sheets as you tried to keep your composure but all he did was sadistically smile and hum, the vibrations driving you crazy.

he kept up that pace for a while, the blade leaving behind bright pink swirls on your skin, tickling and pinching you at the same time. it was all so exhilarating, knowing that something bad could happen and yet being at the complete mercy of your boyfriend.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was stalling for time. he wanted so badly to claim you as his own and yet he was still convinced this wasn’t what you wanted. he thought you were faking it or doing it for his own pleasure and yet in this moment, all he wanted to do was please you, make you feel good, make you know that nobody would ever lay a hand on you besides him, that you were and would be his forever. he felt so strongly about you and about you being his that he didn’t even notice he was applying more pressure to the blade until you let out a gasp.

immediately he sat up, blade dropping clumsily to the bed as he examined your hips, realizing he had nicked the thin skin on your pelvic bone. he stared blankly at the red welt, a pinprick of blood seeping out of the cut. numbly, he looked up at you, ashamed he had hurt you. before he had a chance to open his mouth and apologize, however, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his own, teeth gnashing. he was sure he tasted blood but the way you were kissing him, he didn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to.

“Katsuki, i need more, please. i need you, all of you, need your name carved into my body, need to know that i’m the only one for you.”

he paused, hands coming to gently push you away, looking into your eyes to see what kind of game you were playing but all he saw was that same sincerity and desire as always.

“i just hurt you know. what if i go too far?”

you grabbed his face fervently, squishing his cheeks with your hands.

“I trust you with my life. I always have and I always will. I am yours as you are mine. I want, no I need, this from you. Please.”

his heart practically squeezed in his chest, an unusual lump forming in his throat as he stared at you, at the way the tears pooled at your lashes, how you looked at him like he was the sun, how your warm breath caressed his face and your soft hands held him so tenderly. it was in that moment that he finally realized how much you loved him, trusted him, needed him as much as he needed you.

no words were spoken as he wiped away the tears from your cheeks, laying you back down gently on the mattress, knife picked up firmly in his hand as he splayed his other across your stomach, stretching and pulling at the skin to make it taut. he didn’t even think before he put the blade to your skin and began carving the first line in the K.

the first cut stung, a slow, agonizing pain as he sliced straight up and down, pinpricks of blood following in the wake of his actions. he looked up at you, making sure you were okay, but you were already placing your hand on the blade, urging him to continue.

the next few lines continued to sting but with it came an utmost sense of security and pride. he was carving you, embellishing his name into your body, carving you, marking you, molding you to become a piece of his own flesh. you were his canvas, his artwork, the beauty that was brighter than the stars. he was the sun, hot, fiery, full of temper and you were his moon, patient, calm, full of emotion. together, you two worked in tandem, balancing each other out, keeping each other in line, never able to fully connect but never being able to stay away from one another. but today, on this glorious evening, the sun and the moon meet, an eclipse in the night, destined to become one, and as the blade finished slicing you, the final stroke, the “I” to end it all, your souls merged.

Bakugou stared back at his own name, his first name, carved along your skin, rivulets of red pooling along your skin, eager to be released from their confines. his hand came to gently wipe away your skin, wincing as you hissed.

“let me get you cleaned up.”

he tried to get up, he really did, but when you reached for him, your voice wanton, begging him to fuck you, pleading, saying that you needed him now more than ever, he sunk back down onto the bed, his shirt flinging over his head, clothes kicked off to the side. gingerly, he climbed on top of you, not even getting a chance to adjust or make sure you were okay before you were trapping him in your legs, pulling your bodies practically flush, his cock sitting heavily against your aching cunt.

“baby, please, i want you too, so fucking bad, but i need you to tell me you’re okay first, need you to talk to me before we go any further,” he begged, eyes searching your own frantically to make sure you didn’t get lost in the emotions.

“m’okay ‘Suki, promise. just need y’so bad, please.”

he breathed deeply through his nose, cock twitching painfully, before he situated himself properly between your legs, gently thrusting into you, nearly gasping out as you sucked him in, soaking wet and eager for his touch.

“fuck baby, you’re so wet. been waiting for me to fuck you senseless, hm?”

you only whined out in response, hands curling around his neck to pull him closer to you, sealing him in a kiss and wriggling your hips.

he obliged without question, too consumed in the feeling of you, your scent, the stickiness of the blood, your hands in his hair, everything about you was driving him crazy. you were everything to him and he could feel in the way your body reacted to his touch, the way you cried as he kissed you, how you whispered over and over again how much you loved him, how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, how you needed him at your happiest and darkest moments in life, how you two would meet in every life and love each other no matter what, he felt it all. so much so that his own tears began falling, soaked in your soft skin, slipping between each kiss, sealing your fate with one another.

his thrust were slow and deliberate, taking his time, savoring every breath that he stole from you, every gasp and moan and cry and prayer as you worshipped him over and over again. your body was on fire, adrenaline making your toes curl and fingers tingle, head dizzy from lack of air but you couldn’t stop, meeting his thrust with your own, legs locked tightly around his torso, hands pulling him impossibly closer, loving the way his body set you on fire. you were drowning in the flames and yet only wanted to sink deeper into heat, consumed by the tranquility it gave you. you were at peace, body alight with pleasure as your chest met his, back curling off the bed as he rocked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had.

it only took a few moments of your cunt clenching around his cock before he came, thrusts becoming sloppy as he rode you both through your high. breaths were caught, bodies untangling from one another as you came to your senses. after a few minutes, Bakugou gently began stroking your cheek, bringing you back to reality, going through his checklist as he made sure you were okay after what had happened.

after he had gotten you some water and began tending to your wounds, you looked at him, hand coming to gently grip his, stroking the calloused palms of your lover.

“thank you, Katsuki.”

he looked at you like you had two heads before scoffing, claiming that he only did what you two wanted to do before finishing cleaning you up, going to the bathroom to take his own shower and wash the blood off of himself. you laid there, donned in one of his shirts, taking in your emotions, when the door opened up, Bakugou stepping out dressed in sweatpants, flashing you a rare soft smile as he took in the name carved on your stomach.

“y’know, that’s just the beginning,” he started, coming over to lay down next to you, gently pulling you into his side, kissing the top of your head and watching the way you looked at him, expectant and full of love.

“you’re not going to just have my name carved on you, princess. soon, i’ll give you my last name too.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #tw: knife

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jenohi · 3 years

Text

Let Me Love You

"Smoke and Mirrors keep us waiting on a miracle."

“My cousin Y/N is transferring here to SMU. My parents asked me to stay with her and take care of her, so she and I decided to share an apartment. I know we planned to stay here for all 4 years of college but my parents were adamant.” Taeil said to his friends apologetically.

Yuta got up from the table and scoffed. He would never openly admit it to anybody but in the past year he had gotten really attached to his friends, the members of their new secret society, NCT. After their first semester, they had agreed to rent a house together on the edge of campus that they would all stay in for the next seven semesters of university. “How old is she? 12? She’s a university student, why does she need to be babysat by you?”

The other members eyed Yuta wearily, he definitely had the shortest temper out of all of them. After a long pause, Taeyong decided on a resolution. “That’s okay Taeil, we understand. Just remember we’ll always have a room open for you. You’re still a member of NCT. Every Sunday at 8 we’ll still meet here if that works for everybody?”

Taeyong looked around the table and was satisfied when everybody nodded, the last person he saw was Yuta. Yuta wasn’t happy about this, but he knew it wasn’t really his place to tell his friend not to move out. So eventually, he nodded his head in agreement as well and Taeyong smiled. He didn’t see it but Taeil smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as well.

‘In all 21 years of my life, I have never met someone as infuriating as Nakamoto Yuta.’ You thought as you tossed the left over trash from your cousin and his teammate, friend? You weren't exactly sure what their relationship was. When the Moon cousins had initially agreed to share an apartment together in the city just outside their university, the last thing You expected was to have to deal with a constant stream of rowdy boys constantly going in and out of their apartment.

After piling all the leftover dishes into the sink, You turned on the faucet and began to start washing the dishes. You only looked up and smiled when Taeil spoke to you, about to leave their place “Hey Y/N, thanks for making us dinner. It was really yummy!”

Yuta didn’t say anything. He could sense that You always had some kind of edge against him. It bothered him a little bit, but not enough for him to do anything about it. Whenever he came to hang out with Taeil at his place, you usually stayed out of the way so although your presence may have been uncomfortable. It had never outright inconvenienced him.

Once the two had left, You made your way to the balcony of their apartment. You shrieked when you breathed in the remnants of the cigarette smoke in the air. You looked down to see two cigarette butts in the ashtray that had not been properly snuffed out. You picked them up and tossed them on the ground and stomped on them to snuff them out.

You didn’t have an issue with smoking, you even smoked a cigarette or two in the times you were most stressed out but there were few things you hated more than the smell of cigarettes. After snuffing out the butts, you stormed back into the apartment and picked up your phone to call Taeil.

“Hey, I thought I told you to make sure you take care of the cigarettes and the smell when you’re done smoking them!” You yelled into the phone as soon as your cousin answered. “Look, I don’t have an issue with it, but I don’t want to accidentally burn down our entire apartment complex and you know I hate the smell when you smoke too much.”

You stopped your rant when you realized your cousin hadn’t said anything. Taeil was sweet and usually he would have said something to apologize by now. You looked down at your phone, his name was on the caller ID. You brought the phone back up to your ear “Taeil?”

“Not Taeil. This is Yuta.”

“Yuta? Where’s Taeil? Why are you answering his phone? Can you put him on the line?”

There was a pause, You could hear vague mutterings from the phone before Yuta’s voice was back on the line. “Taeil’s busy right now.”

You heard a groan that sounded like someone got hit and then a bunch of voices that followed in an ‘ooh’. Then you heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like your cousin scream. “Is that Taeil? Is he okay?”

“I’ll let him know you called. I gotta go now. Bye.” Yuta said quickly, trying to end the conversation.

“Wait!” You shrieked before he could hang up. “What’s going on? Where are you guys?”

You narrowed your eyes as you heard Yuta scoff into the phone “your cousin Taeil is a grown-ass man. You don’t have to worry about him alright?”

“But-”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“What?”

“There’s a party tonight at my house. Come, starts at 11:30 PM.”

“No, I don’t want to go to a party. It’s a Tuesday! Is Taeil okay? That sounded like him earlier.”

“If you want to check on your beloved cousin, come to my party. He’ll be there. Loosen up a little bit, it’ll be fun.”

“Um, I’ll think about it.”

“Great.” Yuta said, hanging up before You could say anything else. You stared at your phone, what in the world had just happened? You looked at the clock to see that it was 10:30. You had an hour to decide if you would actually go to the party or not. Who else was going to be there?

You didn’t know very many people since you had just transferred to SMU, so maybe it was a good idea to go to this party and socialize a little bit. You could take the opportunity to potentially make some friends.

Just as You was about to finish touching up your make-up, your phone pinged. You picked it up to see that it was an address from an unknown number. You tapped on the address to see where it was, as you were doing so, you saw a notification of another message. ‘This is Yuta btw.’

The house was on the very edge of campus and close enough that you could just walk there. You were surprised to see that there were already crowds of people both inside and outside the house. There were colorful lights flashing from outside the house.

‘How the heck am I actually supposed to meet anybody like this?’ You asked herself. You took a deep breath and made her way up the stairs and into the packed house. You threaded through the crowd of people dawdling in the foyer, pushing her way to find some space. Eventually, you made her way into the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief once you had some space to herself.

There was a whole bunch of opened bottles of alcohol and stacks of cups laid out on the island in the middle of the kitchen. You moved closer to the island and started reading the labels of the bottles. In Germany you didn’t go to very many parties, if you wanted to drink you would just go to the bar and order a beer. But you didn’t see any kind of drink you recognized here.

“Do you need help?” a melodic voice asked her. You turned around to see a fairy like girl approach her. You didn’t say anything as the girl grabbed the cup from her hand.

“Do you like Coca Cola?” the girl asked. You nodded and you grabbed a large glass bottle and started pouring the liquid into the plastic cup and then you grabbed the large bottle of Coca Cola resting on the island and poured it into the cup before handing the cup back to You.

“I’m Selena by the way.” Now that You could see her up close, she really did look like a fairy. You didn’t comment on the fact that her hair seemed kinda messy or that her lipstick was obviously smeared.

“Nice to meet you Selena, I’m You.”

Just as Selena was about to respond, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist effectively cutting off the conversation. You were shocked to see that it was Taeil who had his arms wrapped around Selena, he was currently whispering something into her ear that made her giggle.

When Taeil looked up, his eyebrows jumped up to see You standing there. “Hey Y/N, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Uh yeah, it was kind of last minute. Yuta invited me actually.”

At this, Taeil’s eyebrows rose even higher. He knew that the two had always been at odds with each other. “Yuta?”

As if he were summoned by the devil himself, Yuta appeared in the kitchen. He strode over to the other side of the kitchen island and started digging through the bottles. Cursing when he couldn’t find whatever bottle he was looking for. He paused when he spotted the drink in You’s hand.

“What are you drinking?” he asked. His eyes looked up, one side of his lips pulling up into a smirk when he recognized You. “So the prissy princess finally decided to show her face to the lowly commoners.”

“I’m not a prissy princess.” You said. You looked down at your cup and then over at Selena, you had no idea what drink the girl had made for you.

“Sorry Yuta. I used the last of the rum to make her a rum and coke.” Selena said, a smirk painted on her face. You tried not to appear too nosy when you looked over at Selena to see her leaning into Taeil. Did Taeil have a girlfriend that You didn’t know about?

It was obvious that Yuta was dissatisfied. He stared you down and when you finally turned your attention to him, he looked down at the drink. “Are you going to drink that?”

You looked down at the cup again, startled, then looked back up at Yuta. “Uh, yeah but you can have some if you’d like.”

You handed him your red solo cup over the kitchen island. Yuta plucked it from your hand and took a slug of it before dropping it back into your hand. “It's good. Try it.”

He drank a lot, half of the cup was empty. You lifted the cup to your face and took a sip, you tried not to make a face as you tasted the bitter rum. This is what people drank at parties?

“What do you think?”

“It’s alright.” You said. It tasted horrible and you didn’t want it anymore. But you didn’t want to offend Selena.

“Liar.” Yuta said, he scoffed as he grabbed the cup from your hands and drank the rest of it.

“I’m not lying!” You said, looking over to make sure you didn’t offend Selena. You were shocked to see that Selena and your cousin had disappeared. “Okay, maybe I lied a little bit.”

Yuta tossed his head back and laughed. “Loosen up. You look so uncomfortable. This is a party, go have fun.”

“I’ve never been to a party before. Everyone is already so...drunk.” You said.

Suddenly everything made sense to Yuta, why the darn girl was always so uptight and prissy all the time. He made his way around the kitchen island and stood in front of You before placing one arm on each side of you and leaning down “they didn’t have parties back wherever you came from?”

What was he doing? You thought. You leaned back as far as you could, the expression on Yuta’s face was smug and you weren't sure what he was going to do. Out of all of Taeil’s friends, you heard that Yuta was the wildest and most spontaneous. “In Germany we just go to bars and drink beer. I’ve never gone to an event so...wild.”

“You think this is wild?” Yuta asked. “Have you checked out the basement yet?”

You shook your head. Yuta grinned, almost maniacally and grabbed one of your wrists and tugged you behind him, pulling you through crowds of people. Unlike how you had to push your way between groups of people earlier, the crowds seemed to part for Yuta and wherever he went eyes followed him.

Instead of pulling you downstairs like you expected, he pulled you up a set of stairs and pulled you into an empty room. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Both You and Yuta could tell that you had been tense and uncomfortable since you had stepped into the house.

“Pick your poison.” Yuta said, pulling open a fridge he had set aside in the corner of his room. “These are all my drinks. This is the good stuff that we don’t share at parties.”

“Wow, you’re letting me have exclusive access?” You said, in an almost mocking tone. Yuta raised an eyebrow.

You bent down to look to see what was in the fridge. You smiled in delight when you saw your favorite brand of beer. You grabbed a bottle and held it against the edge of the fridge and smacked the top with your hand to take off the cap. Yuta didn’t say anything but he was impressed, this was the first time he had seen You behave this way.

Yuta couldn’t say anything when You tossed your head back to take a sip of beer. You made it look like a beer commercial. After a couple more delicate sips, Yuta grabbed one of your arms and pulled you close so that you stood in between his legs and your ear was right up against his mouth.

“Chug it.” he said. You looked at him with your eyebrows raised. Yuta raised his eyebrows in return.

You shouldn’t chug it. That would be unclassy. You thought. But why did you kind of want to? You looked Yuta in the eyes and narrowed your eyes, what was he playing at? The corner of Yuta’s lips pulled up into his trademark smirk as he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of the same beer and used his teeth to pop the top off.

Yuta pulled the bottle you drank from out of his hand and replaced it with the one you just opened. He put your already opened one on the desk and grabbed another one before biting on the cap again and spitting out the cap. He clinked the two newly opened bottles together, and lifted his bottle up to his lips.

“I’ll do it with you.” Yuta said.

With the bottle at his lips, Yuta gave you the most taunting expression. He was challenging you, and You never refused a challenge. You brought your bottle to your lips and started pouring the beer back down your throat.

Yuta was both mildly surprised and mildly amused to see how quickly You had finished your beer. In fact, you had finished your bottle before he had finished his. As soon as you finished your first bottle, he picked up the bottle you drank from earlier that was sitting on his desk and handed it to your.

You gave him a look before placing down the bottle you had finished and taking the one you had drank from earlier and tossing it back down your throat as well.

Two beers wasn’t enough to get you blackout drunk. But it was certainly enough for you to start feeling a buzz.

Yuta waited for you to finish your second beer and once you did he took the bottle from you and grinned at you. You grinned back like a loon and with a satisfied grin Yuta grabbed your wrist again and pulled you behind him.

This time, he did pull you down to the basement. And it was wild. It was dark and the lights were colorful. There were people everywhere and this time people did not part for Yuta. People were dancing, or wobbling goofily. The sight was amusing.

You didn’t even notice that you had let go of Yuta’s hand. You found yourself swaying along to the loud beats of the song. You didn’t know who was around you or exactly where you were but you were having fun. Honestly, it was kind of gross as it was super hot and there were at least 5 people pressed up against you but never had you let herself experience this kind of situation.

Yuta cursed when he noticed that You were no longer with him. You would be fine on your own right? He needed to find Taeyong and take care of some things really quick.

You spotted Taeil near a makeshift bar and grinned, you pushed through the people and made your way over to him grinning. He grinned back and waved at you. When you were close enough, he approached you “are you having fun?”

You nodded, dancing along to the beat. “I didn’t think I would but I’m actually enjoying this. I could use a drink though, it’s kind of hot down here.”

Taeil nodded and brought out another red solo cup. “The only thing we have down here is jungle juice. It’s pretty much just cheap wine with juice, but it does the job.”

You took a sip and was delighted to find that it tasted pretty much just like juice and you drank the rest of the cup and before handing it back to Taeil for him to refill. The surprise was evident on his face “I didn’t know you liked these kinds of events. I should have invited you earlier.”

“No it’s okay. I’ve never really been to an event like this before and I don’t think I’d like it. But today I am loosening up.” You declared. You grabbed the cup and wandered off into the crowd of people.

The alcohol was starting to hit you and the people around you were starting to blur. You suddenly felt nauseous when you felt someone grab you by the wrist and jerk you around. When you looked up you saw that it was Yuta.

“Yuta!”

“What’s that in your hand? Where did you get that?” he asked. He tried to grab the cup from you but you kept moving it away from him. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to accept drinks from strangers? Are you stupid?”

You shoved him away, shocked into sobriety by his words. You moved to walk away from him. You thought maybe you had read Yuta wrong and maybe he wasn’t so infuriating but actually he was infuriating and a jerk.

Undeterred, Yuta followed you and grabbed your again. This time he did manage to grab the cup from your hands and he tossed it in a trash can that was sitting in the corner of the basement.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You shrieked.

“What are you doing? Where did you get that drink? It could be roofied.” he yelled.

“What is your problem? I got that from Taeil. You know? My cousin?” You yelled back. This time Yuta had no words. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, you placed both hands on his chest and leaned close to speak in his ear.

“Get lost.”

You used both hands to push him back into the crowd and stepped away from him. You found the staircase that led you back to the main floor and made your way up. This isn't fun anymore. The party was over. Taeil was fine.

“What’s your problem?” Yuta yelled from behind you. You whirled around him and stomped back to him and stood so that you were standing right in front of him nose to nose.

“No. What’s your problem? You invited me to this party. You gave me a drink too! Why are you overreacting over Taeil giving me a drink?”

He followed you out of the NCT house. “Aw, did I make the prissy princess upset? I’m so sorry. Whatever will I do?”

“What’s wrong with you?” You screamed once you were both far enough from the NCT house. You were incredibly irritated, tired, and frustrated.

“What do you have against me? Ever since you’ve arrived at SMU all you’ve done is be such a bitch. To me. And specifically me. Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

You paused. You didn’t realize that Yuta had noticed. You looked away and tried to think of what to say. You couldn’t come up with the right thing to say so you just settled with “sorry.”

“Sorry? You think I’m gonna let you get off with a sorry?” Yuta scoffed. He walked up to you this time, and looked down at you.

“What do you want then?” You asked, not backing down.

“You.” Yuta said, and for a moment it was dead silent. Then Yuta threw his head back and cackled. “That’s what you thought I was gonna say right?”

He didn’t even notice that you had turned around and stormed off back towards the direction of your apartment. He followed you back to your apartment, but he didn’t bother to chase after you. He strolled casually back towards your apartment jingling your keys in his pocket.

As soon as you reached your apartment and reached into your pocket for your keys you cursed when you realized they weren’t on you. You patted your other pockets and fished out your phone hoping that Taeil was still awake. You dialed his number.

“Looking for these?” You heard Yuta say from behind you as he jingled your keys in front of your face.

Just as you reached up to snatch them from him, he moved to hold them behind his back.

“Give those back to me. I want to go home and sleep. This night sucks.”

“No.”

You whined. “Why?”

“Tell me what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for being a bitch can I have my keys back?”

Yuta looked unimpressed.

“Fine. I’ll tell you why I’ve been rude to you, but can we do it inside? You’ll probably think it’s really stupid once you hear.”

“Okay. Move.”

You moved away from the door, and watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. You stepped inside when he gestured for you to go in. He stepped in after you and shut the door behind you both as you both took off your shoes and stepped into the apartment. Once the two of you were situated on opposite ends of the couch facing each other you spoke.

“The first few times you visited our apartment I got the impression that you were upset with me. That you didn’t want me around. So naturally, I decided to act back. Plus, whenever you come here you and Taeil leave this place a mess. The other guys either clean up after themselves or it’s not so bad and Taeil cleans it up himself.”

Yuta didn’t say anything for a few moments. “The truth is, I didn’t want you here. At first.”

“Great.” you said, turning away from him and getting up from the couch. “Get out.”

“Wait.” Yuta said, grabbing your hand before you could leave. “At first. At first, I didn’t want you here. The truth is your cousin is awesome, before you came we and a few other guys lived together and they’re the closest friends I’ve ever had. We were, we are a brotherhood. And I was concerned about what you coming here and Taeil moving out would do to the dynamic of our friendship.”

“So what?” You asked, turning around to look at him. “What changed?”

Yuta didn’t answer and you were getting annoyed. So you tried to tug your hand out of his. But he didn’t let go. Instead when you tried pulling your hand out of his a second time, he pulled you forward, so hard you fell into his lap.

“I realized I was being really dumb. I realized that Taeil’s cousin is really cool and I started to get jealous that she treated all the other brothers better than me. Then...I started to develop feelings for Taeil’s hot prissy cousin from Germany.”

You didn’t say anything as you were straddled on Yuta’s lap. His forehead was pressed against yours and you could feel his eyes looking at yours, trying to make eye contact you. But you were unsure of how to feel, you kept your eyes looking downward. How had things shifted so suddenly? What was this feeling?

Before Yuta could second guess himself he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. He stayed like that, holding his breath and hoping you wouldn’t push him away. When you lifted an arm around his shoulders and moved your lips against him he breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you in so that your bodies were melded together.

When you ran out of breath you pulled your lips from his and leaned back to catch your breath. Yuta moved one arm from your waist up so that his hand held the side of your head. You leaned your head into it and he leaned forward and began to kiss down from behind your ear to your collarbones.

“I-, we should stop.” you were confused and you were tired. How had things escalated so quickly?

Yuta stopped and lifted his head up. He moved his arm back down so that both arms tightly gripped your waist, holding you against him. You moved your hands to his biceps and tried to push yourself out of his grip. “Let me go.”

“Don’t you think that we should talk about it?”

“No. I want to sleep.” You said, still looking away from him and avoiding his gaze.

He lifted you up wordlessly, you gave up on trying to fight out of his grip and wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. You tucked your face into his neck.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Yuta said as he fell back on your bed, still carrying you. “The way we are, we still have a million miles ahead of us.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Please, Yuta. I need to sleep and I need to think.”

You were saying one thing, but your face was still tucked into Yuta’s neck and your limbs were still wrapped around Yuta’s body.

“Can I stay?” Yuta asked quietly. The truth was, he was nervous and worried that he had come on too strong, that he had played his cards wrong. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard you say.

“Yeah.”

The last thing you heard as Yuta lifted both of you up and under the covers was “don’t you give up. Let me love you.”

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

Text

enough for you [emily prentiss]

emily prentiss x reader

requested: hey can i request an angst/fluff emily prentiss x fem reader where emily tries explaining that it’s her job and her work needs her, and the reader says smth like “but i need you too”

*not my gif*

You closed the book that you were reading, trying to fight off the tears that were trying to break through the dam as the front door of your shared apartment was unlocking.

This wasn't the first time she forgot something important. Whether it was a dinner with your parents or a date or an anniversary. This time wasn't any different, your ten year anniversary. No note, no simple text wishing you a happy anniversary. Nothing.

You understood what you were getting into when you first started getting serious. You've known each other since she was a newbie starting with your friend Sean McAllister at Interpol. Then she went into the BAU. Her job and work were always going to take up her time, but that didn't stop you from loving her.

"Long day?" you whispered as she stepped into the living room.

"Shit," she let out a breath, "You scared me Y/N. What are you doing up? It's almost 4 in the morning,"

"Do you know what day it is?" you asked, even softer than before.

"Tuesday, well I guess Wednesday now, why?" she asked furrowing her eyebrows.

"I meant the actual date," you clarified, she look dumbfounded. Wow, she really had no idea, "It's the 12th of August or was I guess, it's now the 13th,"

You could see the gears starting to turn in her mind as she looked around the apartment. She saw the flowers you bought her on the middle of the kitchen table with a neatly wrapped gift right next to it.

"It was our anniversary," she whispered.

You scoffed, "Ding ding ding, we have a winner!" you exclaimed with a lace of venom in your voice.

"Y/N I'm-" she started, but you cut her off.

"No, you're not sorry. This isn't the first time Emily! You meeting my parents for the first time! Our five year anniversary! Do you even know what's going on in my life right now?" you argued, raising your voice.

"You had a meeting with a record label today, didn't you?" she asked, meekly, hoping she didn't get it wrong.

You nodded, "Wow look you got something right today. But I bet you caught the unsub today, so it's the second thing you got right," you said sarcastically, "Not once did you ask how it went, you knew and you didn't care to ask because if you did you would've known that I got signed!"

"It was really busy today!" she argued back, "I can't be babying you every second of the day!"

"You don't even baby me! It feels like I've done this relationship on my own for the last nine years! Nine fucking years! So you do not get to say that you can't baby me because you haven't been here for the last nine years!" you screamed.

"You know what this job takes! We made this commitment together that we'd work through it! My work needs me! The team needs me! The innocent people who lost someone or lost their own lives needs me!" she screamed back, her words echoing in the quiet of the lonely apartment.

Tears were falling freely from your cheeks and you brought your voice to a softer tone. It cracked slightly in the process, "I needed you, too,"

She was about to respond when her phone started going off. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and answered it. You rubbed the tears furiously off your cheeks as she talked softly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there," she whispered.

Emily looked at you with guilty eyes as you let out an empty laugh, "Go, they need you," you whispered. She didn't even try to argue or protest or apologize. She just started walking towards the door slowly, "Oh yeah and Emily,"

She hummed in response turning around, "Happy anniversary,"

The door closed and you immediately started breaking down. You couldn't take it anymore. You love her so much, but it's just not the same anymore. It hasn't been for a very long time.

You grabbed a suitcase from your side of the closet and started filling it with all the clothes that you could possibly fit in it. Until there was no room left possible.

The tears blurring your vision as they ran hot against your cheeks. You grabbed all the necessities you needed before grabbing a piece of paper and pen, writing down a few words.

Dear Emily,

We didn't get to finish our conversation, but I think we both knew where it was headed.

I needed you...past tense. Maybe one day, somewhere in the future we'd finally be on the same page. But I can't keep coming second to you. Maybe not even second because there's the BAU in general, JJ, Hotch, Reid, Derek, Penelope, and Rossi, then there's those innocent people who need you. Maybe I'm not even on the list.

All of this will take time. But I need to do what's best for me right now. I'm sorry.

With love,

Y/N

You left your apartment key next to the tear stained note. You took one look at the apartment before leaving the house, going to the one place you knew you were welcome. You just hope you got there in time.

As you arrived at your destination, someone opened the door to the house at the exact same time, "Y/N, what are you doing here?" JJ asked.

"I just need to stay here please, don't tell Emily," you whispered as she looked at the suitcase in your hand.

JJ looked like she was fighting a battle in her head before ultimately nodding, "Make yourself at home,"

But before she could leave to head to the office, she rushed over to you and pulled you into her arms for a hug. You nuzzled your face into her neck, letting the tears fall freely. You finally broke down the way you needed to.

She rubbed your back until you calmed down a little more, "It's going to be okay, it's just going to take time,"

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine

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werenotadulting · 3 years

Text

Routine Procedure - Finale

Author's note - Hope you enjoyed!

Part 7 - Kate

If you'd asked her, Kate wouldn't have been able to tell what exactly had gotten her interested in it.

Maybe it was the idea of the power dynamic. She had always been one of those girls labeled as 'bossy' growing up, which was a misogynistic way of saying that she wasn't afraid to speak up and speak her mind.

Or maybe it was the subversion of expectations of a traditional relationship that did it for her. The idea that she was the one in control, the one making all the decisions.

Maybe it was the fact that it was so taboo and kinky that appealed to her. It didnt really matter, whatever the reason.

Kate was into being a Mommy Domme, and Kate found nothing hotter than having a diapered little bitch boy to call her own.

The ultimate fantasy was teaching the boy to love and trust his diapers. Make him associate orgasming with wet diapers and diaper changes. Create a leaking "accident" in public so he learns that while thicker diapers might increase the risk of being noticed, they save you from the embarrassment of wet pants.

Of course, she had considered bringing up her desires to Mike, but based off of past experiences, she didn't want to chance it. Mike was just too perfect of a guy to risk blowing it like that.

She had always been the dominant one in bed, with Mike eagerly submitting to her every whim, so she knew they were sexually compatible. It had never gone past light bondage though, and Kate was starting to get an itch that handcuffs and blindfolds just wouldn't scratch.

────────

It had come up entirely by chance, one day while she was scrolling through an obscure ABDL forum.

The post read: "Biomedical engineer here, and I think I've figured out a way to induce instant, semi-permanent incontinence."

The post was over 3 days old, and only had two comments on it. The first was from a mod, basically saying to take everyone's posts with a grain of salt. The second was from the OP, about 24 hours after the original post.

"I know it sounds like a fantasy, but I'm pretty confident it will work. I've had a career in medical devices for the last 8 years, specializing in the urology space. I don't want to get too deep into the details on here, so just PM me of you're interested."

Kate rolled her eyes.

Everyone in this community is so hooked on the 'I want to be instantly incontinent' thing, and all it ever ends up being is some silly fap content, she thought to herself.

"You know what, let's feed the troll and see what bites," she muttered.

Liv2DomU: ok spill, what's your magical method?

PrinceOfPadding: this for you, or someone else?

Liv: hypothetically, let's say it's for a boyfriend

Prince: Ahh okay. Very interesting. Well, like I said, I've worked in med device for awhile, and I've recently started my own company. I primarily work in the urology space, catheters, scopes, that kind of stuff.

Liv: hmm hate to break it to u bud, but catheters kinda already exist

Prince: oh sure, catheters exist, but my idea is to bridge the catheter world with the stent world

Liv: sounds idk...sketchy? illegal?

As she read more, Kate was beginning to think that this guy might not be as full of crap as she had initially thought. He had his own start-up, which had already launched a Foley catheter to the market. It was all above-board and legit.

Prince: so, for the aspiring incontinent-person-to-be, the ring is positioned with a catheter, and stays in place once the Foley is removed. Then overtime, probably a month at minimum, depending on the chemical makeup and customer desire, the ring breaks down and is naturally absorbed into the body. And they all sign a consent form saying they accept the risks of such a procedure.

Liv: so then once it's dissolved they are back to being being able to control their bladder?

Prince: that's the theory, yes

Liv: theory?

Prince: well, dissolvable stent technology present state takes like 18 months to break down, and the manufacturing of it is patented and kept under lock and key

Liv: so basically all you have to offer is a catheter lol

Prince: well no. I've got some good leads on dissolvable compounds, but I've got to do trials of the rings first to see if it would even work. I've promised free diapers for the first few months if people sign up, but it's been hard to get subjects

Liv: so these trial rings wouldn't dissolve?

Prince: nope

Liv: meaning my hypothetical boyfriend would be....?

Prince: permanently diaper dependent, yeah

────────

In the end Kate was curious enough that she was willing to hear the guy out.

He'd asked for a mailing address and her phone number. The first was to send proof that his company was real, and the second was just to keep in contact should she decide to proceed.

It all made sense, at least in theory. Foley catheters were safe, provided they were inserted by a trained healthcare professional. A normal person would get a normal catheter just like everyone else. But an ABDL would be signing up for what was essentially an intentionally faulty catheter.

Assuming they knew they were willingly signing up for it.

When asked about 'accidental' ring implants, Prince had basically said, hey, people really need to learn to read the fine print.

────────

I walked out to the mailbox. I've been expecting test results back from the scan I'd had a few weeks back. Opening up the box, I noticed a large envelope with my hospital's address on the front.

About time, I thought, grabbing the envelope and the rest of the mail.

I walked back into the house, where Kate was making herself a cup of tea.

"Anything good in the mail?" she asked, taking a sip from her mug.

I listed them aloud as I started to flip though the mail, "Looks like some junk mail, an internet bill, a brochure for some UroVention medical thing, and last but not least, my test results."

I dropped the rest of the mail on the counter and started to open up my scan results. As I was reading, Kate walked over and began sorting through the other mail.

"Oh good, they said it's benign, but they're still worried about the location. They're recommending removal, just to be on the safe side."

"Removal for something benign? That sounds odd, but whatever," Kate said, tucking something into her back pocket.

"I'm not too worried. It sounds like it should be a pretty routine procedure."

────────

Part 8 - Mike

I sat down on the couch, my diaper squishing underneath me. Kate had taken to putting two stuffers in my diaper, even though these Tykables could already hold a lot. The warm, comforting feeling of my wet diaper started to turn me on, just like it did every time I realized how wet I was or if I was about to get a change. Not that I could do anything about it, though.

I flipped open the laptop and signed in. It would probably be a good hour before Kate got back from the store. Apparently I was being downgraded from sippy cups to bottles.

Once logged in, I noticed that the screen was still up to the site where Kate had last been. It was another diaper order, this time a case of Megamaxes. I felt my cheeks start to heat up, seeing that Kate had chosen the pink color for the whole case.

I opened up a private window, and navigated to KinkLink. My profile on here was pretty bare. It always had been, just containing my age, gender, and some basic interests. I hadn't even bothered to post a picture when I set it up. I preferred to look at other people's profiles rather than post things of my own.

I was always intrigued by people's locations and how close they were to where I lived. One such person who I came back to check the posts of daily was a mommy domme, who it happened lived in my town. Her first posts, from nearly three years ago, were what had first caught my attention.

'Every night I dream about finding my perfect diaper slut. He will wake up to me rubbing his thick, soggy padding, the little bedwetter that I turned him into.'

'Picture this: You, in a wet diaper and nothing else. Me, in my black lingerie with a strap on. Do I have any volunteers?'

'Have no doubt, if you date me, it's diapers forever. There's no "only at home" or "but my parents are coming over". Maybe I'll just find a way to make you incontinent. Then you won't have an excuse.'

And then there were the pictures. She never would show her face, but she didn't need to.. She wasn't lying about the black lingerie. It left very little to the imagination. Then the next picture, where the bra came off, and she was just in her lacy panties, her pierced nipples and tattoos on display. Maybe it was the octopus tattoo on her arm, my favorite animal, that made her stick out to me.

But there was one post that I always came back to and was entranced by. It was a picture of her holding an ABU Kiddo, right below her breasts. She wasn't wearing any clothing.

'Aww baby, did you wet the bed? I think we should probably put you in some protection.'

────────

I stood in line at the coffee shop. It wasn't too busy for a Tuesday at 9 a.m., only two people were ahead of me. As the first person in line got her coffee and the second lady stepped up to place her order, I checked my phone. Still a half hour before I needed to be at work, I had some time to sit and enjoy my drink. I got my usual and went off to a booth in the corner.

"Excuse me, but do you happen to know what the Wi-Fi password is here?"

I looked up to see the woman who had been in front of me in line.

"Oh um, yeah it's....oh I think they just changed it. Try 'PINTO'. They always pick some sort of bean, I think they find it amusing, but it's never a coffee bean..." I trailed off.

She smiled, "Oh thank you so much, yeah I'll try that."

My mouth fell open is shock.

"I uhhh...I like your tattoo," I said. "They're my, um, favorite animal."

"Oh mine too! Isn't the octopus, like, the coolest animal?"

"D-definitely. Hey, would you like to sit with me? I'm just hanging out while I wait for work. My name is Mike by the way."

"That sounds really nice. Thank you, Mike. I'm Kate."

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katyamorrigan · 3 years

Text

‘A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat’ - Chp. 1!

Gang banner by @verdiris

A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat

A trunk of contraband items ends up in the hands of the Crows, but the item that piques their curiosity most is the large box labelled “MONOPOLY”. Kaz is out of the Slat for the time being, so of course they decide to play it. Was there ever a mission more likely to fail than six criminals with lethal skills and undeniable emotional ties all trying to build a make-believe empire without killing each other in the process? Answer: yes - all of the above while attempting to pull off a heist at the same time.

Turns out board games weren’t the only interesting items shipped into Fifth Harbour that afternoon, and now the Razorgulls are interested. It will take all of the gang’s effort to break into two buildings full of rival gang members, regain possession of the contraband, and make it back to the Slat in one piece. And that’s without the inherent strains of playing at business negotiations with a group of decidedly underhand friends.

Join the Crows as they cheat, steal, lie, and bribe each other, all before the heist has even begun.

I am so excited to finally get to share the fic that I have been working on for the @grishaversebigbang over the last few months - A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat! Getting to take part in the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 has been so much fun, and I have had the honour of working with an absolutely incredible gang of artists and the loveliest beta reader. It’s been an absolute blast, and this is one of my favourite things that I’ve written. Thank you so much to everyone that I’ve worked with, and I hope that you enjoy reading and admiring the story and art that we’ve created!

Here is everyone in my gang, with links to the work that they’ve created (some art may relate to chapters of the fic that haven’t been posted yet - the fic will be posted in its entirety within the next 3 weeks and the art will be linked within the fic on the relevant lines, but also there’s nothing that will spoil the story for you, so don’t worry!):

Corporalki: @davonysus (who is the most wonderful beta reader, thank you for everything that you contributed to this story!)

Materialki:

@ciph3rrr with hilarious Crows-minus-Kaz Monopoly shenanigans from Chapter 1

@j-wirth with this brilliant Inej and Wesper moment inspired by Chapters 2 and 7

@bloodysusher with a gorgeous group moment in Chapter 7

@verdiris with some amusing Kaz geniusness from Chapter 7

@maximumbluebirdpatrol (link still to come)

@emmaxtw (link still to come)

There are 7 chapters in total, so I shall be uploading a new one every Tuesday and Saturday until 25th September. Look below the cut for an excerpt from Chapter 1, and if you want to read the full thing (and check out the collection of all the other incredible pieces created for the GVBB) then click either of the links. I hope that you enjoy!

AHOTBIWTOTG Chapter 1 Excerpt:

The front door of the Slat opened with a loud clatter, and slammed shut on itself seconds later. It made Inej jump in her seat as she sat going over ship documentation - which, as it turned out, there was a lot of - in the front room. Nina gave her a look, and Inej wrinkled her nose back at her; the Wraith didn’t startle easily, but equally, there was usually less banging of doors while she tried to organise her finances.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Came Jesper’s voice. “And I brought treats!”

“It had better be more exciting than that time you came back from Cilla’s Fry with meat pies,” Inej called back. “That was underwhelming.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nina chimed in. “I was more than happy to finish up those.”

“We know.” Matthias gave her a knowing look, and Wylan sniggered as she raised a single finger at him in response.

The bickering that came from everyone trying to work on separate projects at the same time was one of the many reasons that Inej hadn’t made it past the first page of her sailing license. That being said, she joined in the chuckling at Nina’s expense.

“Oh, it’s definitely better than Cilla’s pies, but you’ll have to take a look for yourself.”

Jesper rounded the corner, a large trunk tucked under one slim arm. His face was bright from the brisk, cold air of the streets, and a bead of sweat dropped from his chin as he deposited the luggage on the table beside Inej. She sighed heavily as the wad of pages in front of her jumped with the sudden extra weight.

“Sorry,” Jesper grinned. She just rolled her eyes fondly in response.“Come on, who wants to see what I’ve got?”

Nina, Matthias and Wylan all got up from the neighbouring table and crowded around Inej and Jesper. It was uncomfortable having so many significantly taller people stood behind her while she was sitting, so Inej scooped up her papers and deposited them on the floor, taking their place on the table so that she could get a good look at the trunk.

“Where did you get that?” Matthias asked.

“Well, our dearest Kaz decided to put me on shipment duty and I had to wait around at the Exchange for a boat full of contraband to come in. It took hours, so as soon as I saw something that looked interesting, I used my innumerable skills to swipe it so that we could take a look inside.”

““Innumerable” is a long word for you,” Nina quipped.

A bubble of laughter rose up amongst the group, and Jesper stuck his tongue out childishly. “Fine, no contraband for you.”

“No, I want to look!”

“Be nice, then. I get first dibs on anything cool because I found it.”

Matthias snorted. “What happened to the ancient rule of “finder’s keepers”?”

“I found the trunk, therefore I found anything that’s inside it by proxy.”

“Can we just open it up?” Wylan said impatiently. “I feel like we’re building expectations by arguing like this – it’s probably smuggled whiskey or something.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaz?” Inej asked. The others gave her a look of incredulity. “Where is he, anyway?”

There was a brief moment of looking at each other for answers, before Jesper answered decisively. “If he was so worried about what came in on the boat, he would’ve gone himself. And if he isn’t here now, then he’ll just have to accept whatever is left over from the spoils.”

“We aren’t actually pirates, you know,” Inej said.

“Not yet,” Jesper stage-whispered in reply, and Inej found herself grinning, pleased. “Gather around, then.” He beckoned everyone closer like a ringmaster at the centre of a performance.

Inej was surprised to find that her heart was actually beating faster with the thought of what might be inside. Wylan was probably right that they were getting themselves worked up over nothing, but all the same, she couldn’t help hoping that they found something rare or exciting. Perhaps it was gold? Guns? Something dangerous? You could never know when it came to the imports of Ketterdam, and for once Inej was glad for the intensity of life in the city. It could very well be something extraordinary.

The catches on the front of the trunk lifted easily, but there was a thick knot of string around the middle as well. Jesper struggled to untie it, so Inej slipped a knife from her sleeve and cut it off with one flick of her wrist. Giving her a mischievous look, Jesper dug his fingernails under the lid and with a crackle of flaking rust, the trunk opened.

On top there was a loose gauzy scarf clearly intended to keep moisture out of the trunk on the long sea voyage, which had definitely served its purpose; the red print had blotted itself onto the inside of the lid, and there were water stains on it where it had protected the rest of the cargo. Matthias and Nina went to grab it at the same time, but it ended up in Nina’s hands regardless as he passed it to her with a shy smile.

“I thought you would want it, so I was making sure no-one else got there first.”

Wylan made an exaggerated gagging noise, and Matthias’ expression quickly reverted to his familiar scowl.

“Aha!”

Jesper reached forward and pulled out two pistols, both only a little rusty and with a single blue gem stamped into the body of each. With impressive speed he turned around and mimed firing two shots at the wall before holstering them beside his favoured revolvers.

As Matthias pulled out a slim soft-covered book, Inej realised that she was far too focused on the discoveries of her friends and was going to miss out on finding her own treasures otherwise. Lifting up two more scarves – this time green and blue – she found another couple of books which she handed to Nina. Her friend’s focus was pulled away from adjusting her hair under her newly matching scarf to flicking through the pages and wrinkling her nose hard.

“I don’t recognise the language, but I can understand it well enough,” Nina mused.

“Where did the boat come in from, Jesper?” Wylan asked as he opened a small wooden keepsake box full of golden rings in varying levels of ornate decoration.

“Kaz didn’t say, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”

Nina tutted and continued her reading with Matthias peering over her shoulder. With fingers now covered in rings, Wylan pulled out a long fur coat that smelt of mould. Removing its furry cuffs from the case, Inej reached into the trunk for what seemed to be the last item: a big box made of thick card, with a green cover and the word MONOPOLY emblazoned on the top. The lettering was incredibly clear, but it didn’t look as though it had been done by hand or with a printing press. It had an odd shiny feel to the outside as well, like it had been coated in order to keep out the damp.

Inej sat it on the table and lifted the lid. It came off easily, and revealed a large square of that same thick card in bright red that unfolded into a larger board with regular markings on it.

“What in the Saints’ names is that?” Nina remarked, putting down her reading material.

“I have no idea. It was at the bottom of the trunk.”

“Is it a map?” Wylan suggested.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Inej murmured as she put the board down and looked at what was left in the box.

Underneath that map-like object was a tray divided into several compartments, with little silver tokens collected in one, some colourful playing cards of an unknown variety in another, and some appealing little houses done in an unusual material in both green and red. Beside those lay a rack of what looked like currency, in the same shape and thickness as notes of kruge. Jesper immediately started rifling through it all, mixing up the various collections and inspecting them all with irregular attention. Although Wylan slapped his hand away with a tut, it clearly wasn’t out of lack of interest.

“What is it?” Nina asked again. Taking the board in her hands, she began to stumble through the words written on it.

“Collect 200… something, looks like it could be a currency symbol because it says “salary” after that, as you pass GO... Old Kent Road, another amount of money… sixty? Community chest, Whitechapel Road, same amount of money as the other square…”

As she turned it over in her hands, a slim white booklet fell out onto the table. Inej started forward and managed to snatch it up before anyone else did, although the gesture was useless as she immediately handed it to Nina, who skimmed over the first few lines and let out a delighted noise.

“It’s a game! A board game! Seems like you play by going around the board which has place names marked out on it, and you buy up the land so that you can build houses on it. And you compete to earn the most money.”

“Who’s sending weird foreign board games to Ketterdam?” Wylan said incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not got something contraband hidden in there somehow?”

Inej laughed. “Does a game based on financial gain not strike you as the most Kerch thing in the world? I can well believe a mercher bought this to educate their children on the fun of working under Ghezen.”

Wylan cracked a grin at that, and Nina snorted. She pushed the box towards him.

“Take a look if you want.”

He lifted up the tray of items and ran his fingers along the underside, then looked inside each of the little model houses as if there might be gemstones wedged in the base like on Jesper’s guns. Wylan tapped along the top of the board, but there were no hidden compartments or secret openings. It seemed as though they had genuinely come across some kind of entertainment from another country.

“Shall we play it?” Jesper said with a broad grin at everyone. “We’ve got nothing else on, have we?”

“I’m meant to have applied for my sailing license by the end of next week,” Inej said weakly, but she wasn’t much interested in her own excuse. This bizarre-looking game they had stolen by chance had already caught her attention far more than boat permits and crew-hiring documents.

“I’m happy to,” Matthias said, and Nina and Wylan nodded fervently as well.

“Perfect! Let’s not disturb everyone’s things down here, we can take it into another room.”

“Nobody’s bedrooms are big enough,” Nina complained. “Kaz is too cheap to give us enough space to actually enjoy our stay at The House of Brekker.”

“His bedroom is, though.”

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wasabito · 4 years

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had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true.

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer.

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once.

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance.

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture.

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment.

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly.

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too.

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit.

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up.

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!"

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?"

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

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hieludoboi · 4 years

Note

Okay okay hear me out,,, Todoroki x a nb!reader,,, He finally actually confessed to them and the reader is just like cannot accept that Todoroki Shouto actually likes them. They're in total disbelief

A/n- Reader’s just standing there like “Me? Oh. That’s right, who else here is named Y/n” and Shouto’s kinda just standing there like ‘....’

A/n- Also! Just the thought of Pro Hero Todo getting like a scone or something sweet every morning before a patrol (I headcanon Shouto liking sweets, just idk, something about it just works for me) and slowly falling for the baker at his favorite bakery

A/n- I did a little research for how to write non-binary readers and such, and I feel like it’s kinda difficult to write for them unless specifics are given! Some non-binary individuals are masculine, other’s are feminine, some go by they/them, some by she/her or sometimes by zie/zim. I didn’t feel like it was right for me to write for these individuals specifically until I do a bit more research and learn to properly write for them!

A/n- Non-binary is a blanket term encompassing a whole list of genders/identities that don’t exactly follow societal gender norms! Sometimes non-binary individuals have gendered pronouns, sometimes they don’t! Since you didn’t specify I’m going to label this as a more gender neutral thing!

A/n- Update, I researched like two hours and I still don’t understand. My brain very fried no work from online classes brainrot but not by bokuto by staring at screen all dy. Someone pls give my pigeon brain examples on how to properly write for nb! readers rn or I’ll pull out the glock >:(

Pairing- Pro Hero! Shouto / Gn! Reader

Summary- So he was serious?

Warnings- not really?

It was a mundane Tuesday morning. The sun had yet to rise, slowly peaking over the city’s skyline, yet somehow getting lost among all the trees and towers. As with every morning, Y/n started off their day by preparing for their day. A quick shower, followed by washing their face and brushing their teeth. Before they knew it, they were trudging out of the house and making their way to the bakery to prepare for the morning rush.

Y/n was quirkless in a society plagued by quirks, an average day to day citizen if you will. They didn’t mind, in fact, life even seemed a bit easier when they didn’t have to worry about controlling some strange and odd power. The rest of the world, however, couldn’t begin to fathom how they even managed to lead a life without a quirk.

Stifling a yawn, they made their way to the front door, unlocking it before closing it and locking it behind them. If the day went as planned, which normally it didn’t, they’d have scones, muffins, and croissants all out and freshly baked by six. Bear claws, donuts, and danish pastries would be out by eight, all the rolls and loafs would be done by ten and by eleven they could hopefully get started on the sugary sweets that their younger costumers seemed to enjoy so much.

Their morning dragged on as usual. One by one the rest of the employees pooled into the back kitchen, kneading dough and making batters to pour in to tins or mold into shape. Grunting, Y/n picked up a tray chocked full of scones and made their way towards the display cases, setting the tray atop the display and carefully arranging the scones inside. Looking up at the pretty light blue clock, Y/n hummed. Their day rarely went as planned, but they could always count on Shouto coming in once the clock hit six-thirty.

“Waiting on Mr. Pro-Hero?” Y/n turned around, feeling the heat begin to seize the apples of their cheeks. Sputtering, Y/n turned around, ignoring their coworker and instead focusing on arranging the last of the scones.

“Come onnnnnn! How are you so oblivious!” Y/n huffed, quickly standing up before thrusting the empty tray into Hina, their coworker’s, hands. “Y/n. He likes you!!” Hina groaned, following a wordless Y/n back into the kitchen.

“Hina. No he doesn’t!!” Y/n mocked Hina as they slid a tray of muffins into the oven. Hina grunted, pulling out a giant bowl of risen dough before letting it fall onto a flowered counter top. “Besides, he’s rumored to be dating Creati,” Y/n pointed out, dusting their hands off on their apron.

“They’re just ru-” Hina rubbed her temples, watching as Y/n made their way towards the front at the sound of the little bell ringing. When would they stop being so oblivious?

--------------------------------

Nothing seemed to go right that morning. While on his usual morning patrols, Shouto had run into Momo. While it was a welcome surprise, the situation was not. They had run into each other while battling a lowlife villain with a disastrous quirk. Damages were not kept to a minimum, and all Shouto wanted to do after being chewed out by local authorities was to go bite into a delicious scone at his favorite bakery.

“This could have gone better,” Momo sighed, rubbing her temples as they both surveyed the damage they had done to the small plaza. Shouto nodded, he couldn’t agree more. “We should probably go out west, right? If there were robberies here, there’s bound to be some in the shopping centre,” Shouto nodded, Momo had some nice ideas.

“We can stop by a bakery there too, I know a place that makes some nice scones,” Shouto explained as they walked, a subtle smile on his face at the thought of the baker that awaited him every morning. “What time is it?” SHouto asked, turning to look at Momo.

“Oh, it’s around seven-thirty, why?” This morning could not have gone any worse for Shouto. First, he has to stop villains at the crack of dawn, and now he’s going to miss out on scones? Admittedly, they didn’t sell fast, but the bakery didn’t make a lot of them either.

“No reason,” Shouto shrugged. He hoped he wouldn’t miss Y/n.

-------------------------------------

Y/n sighed, watching as the seconds ticked by on the clock overhead. It was eight already. Shouto was never late, ever. The man had a thing for punctuality, and even when everything was going wrong, Y/n could always count on seeing their favorite customer before the sun fully rose.

“Pretty boy ain’t here yet?” Y/n stood up, turning to look at the smug grin on their co-worker’s face. Curling their lip and rolling their eyes, Y/n went back to slouching over the counter, resting their chin on their palm as they zoned in on the glass door ahead of them. “C’mon boss! Cheer up, we’ll never make any sales with a grumpy face up front!” Y/n frowned seemed to become deeper, rooting itself in their brows and lips.

“And I suppose having a super buff woman who looks like she can pop your head off with a squeeze of her biceps at the counter will allure customers like nothing ever could?” Y/n teased, grinning as Hina flexed her biceps.

“Children adore me. They see me and are amazed by the ‘big muscle woman’,” Hina gloated, wiggling her eyebrows while continuing to pose behind the counter.

“Yeah yeah, go help Kohaku before he breaks an arm trying to knead the dough,” Y/n grumbled, pushing Hina into the kitchen so they could focus on the sales upfront. Kohaku liked decorating cakes, but every once in a while he’d have to knead dough while Hina helped Y/n arrange things up front.

Picking at their nails for a minute or so with boredom, Y/n’s head instantly popped up as soon as the bell on the glass door chirped. Their eyes instantly attatched themselves to the blue suit before them, almost completely ignoring the red latex that stood beside it.

“Shou! I was starting to think you’d... never get here,” Y/n’s voice was filled with excitement at first, immediately dying off at the sight of Creati, who stood right next to him. Offering the pro hero a pleasant smile, Y/n grabbed their gloves and tray, their tongs hanging off a little hook on the display case.

“What can I get for you two?” Y/n asked, the bright smile that usually reached their eyes seeming to drown before it could fully rise. Shouto frowned a bit to himself, wondering where the usually happy and bright baker he had grown so used to had gone. Was he maybe reading too into it?

“Oh! I’ll a pumpkin walnut muffin! They look so good!” Momo praised, delicately pointing to her preferred muffin through the glass case.

“Thank you, made the recipe myse-”

“And we baked them!” Y/n winced at Hina’s booming voice, opening their eyes as soon as it died out.

“Sorry about that, you’ll come to find that this bakery comes alive after a certain hour,” Y/n explained with a giggle, placing the muffin on the tray they held. “And you, Shouto?” Y/n asked, tilting their head a bit as they awaited his answer.

“The usual,” Shouto made sure to offer them a grin, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit as he watched Y/n set the tray on the counter.

“Lucky you, I made sure to save one just for you!” Y/n hummed happily, reaching for the last scone before placing it on the tray. Shouto could feel the shy smile subtly spreading on his face, did they really save on just for him?

“I’ll pay, it’s the least I can do after you helped me out earlier today,” Momo said, turning to give Shouto a smile.

“Right, thank you, Momo,” Shouto gratefully accepted his scone, waving goodbye to Momo as she left the shop. Shouto preferred to eat his scones at the shop anyway.

“Are you not joining me today?” Shouto looked up, a confused look on his face as he watched Y/n fidget behind the counter. They would always snack on a danish pastry and sit with Shouto before he had to leave again. It was routine at this point.

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Y/n muttered sheepishly, snagging a pastry from the display case before heading over to Shouto’s usual spot by the window. For the umpteenth time that day, Shouto could feel himself frowning. He wondered what was wrong.

“S-so you and Creati?” Y/n asked, taking a small bite from the sweet bread that sat in their hands. Shouto looked up, eyes widened in surprise, midway through a bite of his scone. Was that what this was about?

“She helped me stop some villains this morning, that was all,” Shouto explained. Y/n hummed, nodding their head as they started to pick at the jam filled sweet in front of them. “Oh, uhm...” Shouto mumbled, his brow furrowed as he began to search his pockets. Where had he left it?

“You okay, Shou?” Y/n giggled, amused by the way his face had contorted when he began to search for his little mystery item.

“Yeah, fine... Oh! Found it,” Shouto muttered, pulling out the small box that had resided in his pocket since the day prior. “Here, for you,” Shouto mumbled bashfully, sliding the velvet box across the table to Y/n.

“For me? Shou... That’s sweet, but you didn’t have to,” Y/n explained, gently sliding the box back to Shouto. Accepting gifts felt odd, especially if they were from Shouto. They could already imagine what ridiculously expensive gift sat inside.

“Please, open it?” Shouto asked, sliding the box back across and making sure to set it in Y/n’s hands this time. Y/n gasped, eyes wide as they felt the heat rush to their face. Open and closing their mouth in a flustered fit, Y/n finally decided to delicately pry open the box, eyes tripling in size at the sight of the gold chain anklet studded in pearls that sat in the box.

“Shouto... No, I can’t accept this,” Y/n insisted, shaking their head profusely, shutting the box and trying to put it back in Shouto’s hands.

“You can, and you will. Can we go out sometime?” Y/n could feel their jaw drop to the floor. First the anklet and now he’s just asking for a date like it’s a regular Tuesday?

“M-me?” Y/n asked, looking around the shop, the confusion settling in their eyes, locking their mind in some sort of fuzzy haze.

“Yes, so, will you?” Shouto asked once more, amused by their cute little reaction.

“Uh, sure... Sure...”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at seven,”

“But we don’t close untill-”

“THEY’LL BE READY BY 4!”

“Hina-”

“I SAID YOU’LL BE READY BY FOUR DAMNIT!”

“I’ll be ready by four!”

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

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