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#and just to have an official and clear space to celebrate gaming so everyone can see the history and appreciate it
radellama · 3 years
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Seriously. What does it take to start up a museum?
#i want to make a video game history museum. it's my new dream jgsgjddgdgj#even just the thought of having a really good place to have archives available of everything I can get my hands on has me so excited#and maybe it'd be fun to keep it in current events by having local gaming companies (and anyone who wants to visit) to come give like#ted talks or showcase new things they're working on#and to be able to have events that host people studying gaming in whatever capacity... see what cool ideas they have..#and just to have this beautiful gallery filled with gaming history...#imagine like.. display rooms that are themed around certain times and it's like a kids bedroom in the 90s#and there's consoles and games and gaming magazines and posters everywhere and a little TV that plays old game ads from that time#and just to have an official and clear space to celebrate gaming so everyone can see the history and appreciate it#i could use my film degree to make nice informational videos and mini doco series on gaming and they'd all be available to the public#i can dream...#like augh how fun would it be to have a team of people who are equally passionate about gaming helping to set this up#imagine your job being like. PlayStation specialist lol#i dream of having those cool interactive displays where you can see a console pulled apart and it's labelled nicely#so you can see how everything works#and there's cool info on every game we can get#imagine you get a little ticket at the start and it's got some random game and you go find it and pick up some nice trivia for it#imagine walls of games lining hallways and you can literally walk through the history of a company's gaming history#AUGH ID JUST LIKE TO HAVE A REALLY COOL GAMING MUSEUM TO TAKE CARE OF SO I CAN SHARE IT#AND KNOW THAT I'VE DONE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING I CAN WITH PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING TO PRESERVE GAMING HISTORY
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Writing smut without cringing the whole time? How do you do it.
Writing Smut 101: Overcoming Smut Shame
CONTENT WARNING: NSFW RELATED CONTENT BELOW.
The short answer, nonnie, is: you don’t. 
That is to say, writing smut is always kind of cringe—especially if you’re new to it, or simply “not in the mood” to write. 
But rest assured, feeling embarrassed is completely natural. The trick is learning how to overcome the cringe when it does happen, instead of letting it deter you.
I’m going to break this up into a few sections: 1) Why you might be feeling this way, 2) How I, personally, combat the issue, and 3) Some more tips that might help you get the ball rolling.
1. Why You “Cringe”
It’s important to find the root cause of any form of writer’s block so you can pull the weed out instead of just trimming it back. Smut writer’s block is its own special brand, and generally, the main issue writers have when it comes to smut is stigma.
Speaking openly and honestly about sex, in Western society, is still very much a taboo.
No matter how “progressive” we like to think we are, the inherent shame surrounding pleasure-seeking experiences, and the detailing/consumption of them, has been ground into us since we learned how to understand the concept of gratification.
And I’m not just talking about sexual gratification. This applies to everyday things, as well. Eating, shopping, relaxing (or doing virtually anything in capitalist society that does not directly contribute to capitalism).
So it makes sense that you would feel any amount of embarrassment, awkwardness, or “cringe” when writing smut. It’s something our society teaches us is wrong to want. Unfortunately, that shame translates to writer’s block when we sit down in front of the computer.
A lot of this blockage might stem from not giving ourselves permission to write the thing.
We’re staring at the blank document, knowing we want to write smut, and suddenly the thoughts start streaming in: This feels wrong, is this wrong? What if someone comes in and looks over my shoulder while I’m writing? Am I describing this right? Is this too unrealistic? I have NO idea what I’m doing, and everyone is going to know it.
These are all perfectly normal thoughts, and definitely ones I still have from time to time. But they’re also probably the direct cause of why you feel so blocked. Luckily, I have some bits of advice to give you on how to unblock yourself.
2. How I Combat Smut Block
✦ First, when the intrusive thoughts occur, instead of ruminating on them, think of each one as an impermanent object. You can use any metaphor, but I like to use the imagery of leaves:
Each negative thought is a leaf floating down the river of your mind. If you focus only on the leaf, you’ll exert a lot of energy running to try and keep up with it, consequently miss everything else around you. But if you acknowledge that leaf as a temporary part of the scenery, and let is pass, you can process and appreciate the beauty of your surroundings a whole lot better.
Remember: you are separate from your thoughts. You are not defined by them. The things you think sound stupid might be incredibly exciting to someone else. 
If you can string a sentence together, you can write smut. This is all part of giving yourself permission to write the thing that makes you feel uncomfortable.
✦ Second, I’d suggest giving good thought to how you personally experience embarrassment, how you experience excitement (of the sexual variety), and how those two might sometimes commingle or feel similar.
For me, they are very comparable, like different shades of the same emotion—but there are differences which are important to note. 
If I’m making myself blush from excitement, this is a very good thing for writing smut. It means that what I’m writing feels real enough to evoke something in the reader, even if the reader, like me, knows what’s going to happen.
If I’m making myself cringe, however, it may be time to take a step back and readjust my perspective.
✦ Third, ease yourself into it! Don’t jump straight in the deep end and expect to know how to keep your head above water if you’ve never swum before.
The way I eased myself into smut was first by writing “Steam”—a category of fic I made up because the current vocabulary lacked an efficient term for fics that straddled emotional romance and explicit content. 
Essentially, steam is smut-adjacent but not explicit, and here’s a step-by-step example of how I transitioned myself smoothly from one genre to the next:
I first wrote my fics Wicked Game and You Are (both of which feature either a heavy make out session or teasing + lots of sexual tension) with this “steam” concept in mind.
I wrote the first chapter of Fine Line, which has brief but explicit descriptions of fantasies, framed by a very sexually charged scene.
I released my fic Crashing, which is probably more of a bridge between Steam and Smut, and features soft-focus fingering. Nothing in it is explicit—it focuses more on the emotions than explicit detail—but it’s very clear what is happening.
After I wrote those, I felt just confident enough to make that final stride over the threshold into smut. I wrote my fics Holy, King, and the second chapter of Fine Line all within weeks of each other.
And trust me when I say, once you get the momentum going and receive that validation from people who’ve read your work, it becomes SO much easier to sit down and start writing. 
You just have to finish that first piece.
✦ Finally (and I know I’m going to sound cliche when I say this), just like any other skill, the more you practice the more confident you will feel and the better you will get. 
So practice, practice, practice! 
If you’re nervous about posting smut for the first time, have a trusted friend/mutual Beta read it for you. It’s the online equivalent to someone holding your hand before jumping off the cliff, and works wonders for the nerves.
3. Keep The Smut Rolling
Now that you have some tools to help get you past the blockage of writing smut, here’s how to keep the inspiration flowing.
✦ Start by incorporating smutty fanfiction/erotic fiction into your regular reading rotation- 
Of course AO3 is a fantastic resource for smutty fanfiction. 
If you’re a fan of TFOTA or ACOTAR and want some of my personal fic recs, visit my fic rec masterlist.
In terms of erotic fiction, my personal favourites are anything Anais Nin (specifically Henry & June and Delta of Venus), The Thornchapel series by Sierra Simone, The Godwicks series by Tiffany Reisz, and The Original Sinners series by Tiffany Reisz.
There are also sites like Literotica and sexstories.com, which play host to explicit short fiction (not fandom based).
✦ Next, I’d recommend having a designated digital space for smutspiration- 
This can be a list of “smutty” words/phrases kept on a separate document on your computer, for those days when you just can’t think of the right way to describe something. 
Or you can create a private side-blog or Pinterest board for your favourite smutty fanart or other kinds of visual smutspiration.
✦ For that matter, try following some smutty/18+ blogs (ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+) here on Tumblr-
Many of them have a plethora of what I like to call “lemony snippets”, a.k.a. short text posts that describe (usually in conversational language) explicit scenarios. 
This is useful because it will normalise the concept of sexual fantasies in your brain, making it less weird for you when you try to come up with ones of your own to write into smut. 
Not to mention, your dash will be rife with inspiration.
✦ I would also suggest checking out 18+ ASMR on YouTube (AGAIN, ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+). 
My favourite account is Professor Cal Official, but Auralescent also has some good content. 
Headphones are highly advisable for this, as their stuff is very dangerous for work.
So, nonnie, I hope this has provided you with at least one helpful tip. Whether you took anything away from this or not, just know that the feelings of embarrassment when it comes to writing smut are entirely normal. And the best way to keep those feelings at bay is to confront them head on. 
-Em 🖤🗡
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wevegottogetaway · 3 years
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Thanks fo’ saving my ass tonight
I got so much going on with uni, but I couldn’t resist. If you too are queen/king of procrastinating uni work, you have my deepest support! Hope you enjoyed x
TW: none (except fool language)
Part 2    -    Part 3*
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Office parties have never been y/n’s cup of tea, the idea of enjoying yourself in the very place people usually count down the hours before they can leave, is rather ludicrous in her humble opinion. Alas as the boss’ personal assistant, she not only had to plan and organize the whole shebang but her presence was also required, supervision purposes and all that. The only solace sweetening the deal for her was that she’d be in charge of the catering too, and y/n learnt very early on that good food and greater booze could make any boring work function at least tolerable.
Now that the festivities are in full swing, conversation flowing almost as heartily as the champagne in the guests’ eager mouths, y/n thinks she did quite well. The vast open space of the office is decorated with taste, the music set at the perfect level as to not overpower the boring chitchat bouncing off its walls, and to her greatest delight, the catering company she hired has truly outdone themselves. All in all, everybody seems to be having a grand time, and y/n decides that’s reason enough to officially relieve herself of her supervisor’s duties.
As she scans over the assortment of canapés, mini-quiches, crudités and other mouth-watering ambrosias, y/n fails to notice the tall figure casually approaching her. She’s in the midst of pondering whether she should try the humous or a cream cheese and salmon toast first, mouth salivating and stomach growling in appetite, when a raspy voice interrupts her inner battle, "I see m’not the only one who’s here just fo’ the food".
Her eyes pop off the delicious hors d’oeuvres to the sight gracing them next and she doesn’t know which is the most appetizing. Because standing a few feet from her is Harry, vibrant smile and pretty dimples on show, as he leans over the verrines platter to pick the best-looking one. He’s wearing an olympic blue floral suit on top of a scandalously unbuttoned transparent shirt, a bold number that would grant anyone else looks of surprise and confusion but looked absolutely divine on his broad frame. Besides, after two years working at the office, everyone had gotten used to his unconventional fashion choices by now.
Y/n quirks an eyebrow in curiosity as she dips a cucumber stick in a bowl of humous, before quipping, "not a big fan of these things?"
Harry lets out a small chuckle in a ‘no kidding’ way, and attaches his emerald eyes to hers, "they’re kind of a drag, if m’bein’ honest."
She smiles at his admission, realizing they both share an aversion for mundanities, "I know right. Like, why party here where everyone has to be on their best behavior when we could be down at the bar without the boss gallivanting around?" she cries out in exasperation and not for the first time, Harry thinks she’s quite possibly the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His smile widens the tiniest bit at her passionate rant, "my thoughts exactly. Do we even know what we’re supposed to celebrate?" The question makes her laugh, she wouldn’t have known either if not for her involvement in the affair, "well as the person behind this all drag," she give him a pointed look at his jeering choice of word, "it would be weird if I didn’t."
Harry’s face falls at the possibility of having offended her, but his uneasiness quickly dissipates when she starts laughing at him. "M’sorry, that came out wrong," he tells her before letting out a giggle of his own and y/n revels in the moment. The idea of interacting with him beyond the usual ‘here’s the presentation for today’s conference’ or ‘do you have the quarterly report ready’ is rather intoxicating for her already feeble nerves. "Don’t worry, I take no offense, I’m just as bored as you are," she reassures him with a smile, "the party is for a new potential investor, something about wooing them with some ‘corporate fun’. S’a load of bullshit if you ask me".
Harry nods at the explanation unimpressed, his boss’ intentions being the least of his worries. Aside from being the classic douche every manager typically insists on being, the guy has always made his distaste about him pretty clear, so Harry would rather focus on more interesting things. Like how beautiful y/n looks right now, her hair tied up in a loose bun at the top of her head, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. "You look amazing, by the way," he brings himself to say, though he thinks his compliment doesn’t even do her justice.
Y/n looks down at her own outfit then: a knee-length red dress composed of a skater skirt and a backless top that only holds with a couple pressure buttons clasped behind her neck. Her cheeks warm up to match the color of her apparel, betraying the timidity she’s always fallen victim of whenever he happened to be in her vicinity. Y/n’s never been one to shy away from her feelings or trip over her own words when facing her crushes, but there is something about Harry that teleports her right back to her sheepish 13 year-old teenage self. Also, she’s not too keen on office romances and the drama that usually ensues so she’s always made sure to stifle her blossoming attraction and keep their relation work-appropriate. Surely that must account for most of her awkwardness, doesn’t it?
Her eyes trail back to his face and her response comes in a shy euphemism, "thank you, you clean up quite nicely yourself." It’s enough to quirk Harry’s lips in a bashful smile, their  complexion evidently on edge as they tread uncharted territories. Professionalism has always regimented their interactions with kind but polite rigidness, neither of them quite inclined to cross that invisible line, but tonight seems to challenge that.
Tonight, Harry is resolute in his infatuation, no longer inhibited from social construct but driven by a quest for knowledge; anything that will help him decipher her carefully shielded crux. Tonight, he endeavors to scrape the edges of her rough diamond to expose the gem encapsulated inside, peel back the stoic layers of her exterior to find her unapologetic and intrinsic nature. Tonight, he is thirsty for secrets and confidential disclosures, and he won’t leave until he’s drained it all out of her. Unless she tells him to fuck off, obviously.
Harry keeps the conversation going as he browns the buffet for a new delicacy to snack on, "so, what would you be doing if you didn’t have to be here?" He wants to know everything, the present and the past, the good and the bad, the superficial and the substance, the messy and the orderly, but he figures he should start by what she likes to do in her own time. The things that loosen her up after a tense week at work, the things that will make her eyes shine with passion as she relates them back to his curious mind.
The question reaches her ears as she takes a sip of her drink, "mmm," she smiles around her glass before placing it back on the table, "-that’s easy. Playing pool with the gang at Gibson’s." Her answer spills without hesitation, a heap of follow-up questions already brewing up in Harry’s brain, but the foreign name is what beckons his attention first, "Gibson’s?" he echoes with a faint rumple pulling the skin between his eyes. Is that the name of a friend? A boyfriend? Out of all the questions he’s contemplated, y/n’s relationship status never crossed his mind. He’s always assumed her to be a single woman, the evidence of a significant other never present in her language and demeanor.
A wave of relief washes over him at her elaboration, "it’s a bar couple blocks from my place. It’s been my friends and I’s HQ ever since we all met." The sentiment has her eyes sparkle at the remembrance of all the happy memories the place hosted, and Harry stores the information in his mental list of all y/n’s soft spots.
"Sounds rad, so you play pool?" he inquires with enthusiasm. He’s been knows to play a game or two in his youth, though it’s been a hot minute since he’s felt the weight of the cue in his hands as he sinks ball after ball in their respective pockets. He remembers the elation of it all, the adrenaline coursing through his veins at each successful strike, and his heart flutters at the thought of ever sharing a game with her; she seems like the competitive type in the most entertaining way possible. Before his thoughts can spiral into much filthier realms, like bending her over the table mid-game when his own skills prevail and she turns into a sore-loser, y/n’s voice rings him back to reality.
"Uh uh, correction," her expression suddenly turns in false seriousness before she proves him right about her competing tendencies, "I win at pool." Her eyes are so full of confidence, a spice of mischief sparkling in their corner, she would have no difficulty persuading anyone of anything that passes the threshold of her mouth. Harry certainly doesn’t doubt her mastery of the bar game, but it doesn’t stop him from challenging her in a slightly elevated pitch, "oh is that so?"
Y/n only grins at the banter, not at all fazed by his taunting remark, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." She reaches for another snack, not taking her come-hither look off his handsome face, and Harry revels in her flirtatious advances, a smug smile taking possession of his lips as he surfs of the same wave of seduction. "Is that a challenge?" he philanders back, fueling the sensual back-and-forth they seem to have embarked upon.
"Not much of a challenge if I know I’ll win," y/n replies with cheek, her self-assurance once again burgeoning like sexy wildflowers sprouting from the ground underneath Harry’s feet, wrapping around his ankle and growing along his body to twine around his spellbound heart. He absolutely loves her unfaltering aplomb, finds it undoubtably sexy but he can’t let her know that just yet.
"Cocky."
"Confident."
They both chuckle at their repartee, enjoying this ping-pong of quick-witted banter they’ve never found in anybody else before. It’s like their intellects were meant to collide in galvanizing forces, the encounter of two fiery psychs too brilliant to one up the other.
Harry is mesmerized by their connection, if he knew sparks would fire this bright, he would have made a move ages ago. "Fuck, you’re something else," he shakes his head in incredulity before confessing, "definitely not what I expected."
Y/n’s chest tingles at his comment, a rivulet of liquid glee leaking through her arteries to pump her heart and her ego full of bliss, "Oh so you expected something, did you?" She punctuates her teasing with a thousand-watts power smirk, and Harry finds it strikingly alluring.
Not about to let her have the upper hand however, a burst of smugness crosses his features as he boomerangs her earlier allurement back to her, "maybe you’ll have to find out for yourself." It earns him a deep jazzy laugh rooted in her tummy and a tinge of pride swirling in his own. He wants to pry laugh after laugh from her belly until her last giggle, only relenting once the muscles in her chest are aching from unbridled joy.
Y/n sighs in content before taking a bite out of a mini-tartlet as she considers how to proceed in this much too flirty conversation. "So what would you be doing tonight, if not for this stupid party?" she returns his first question before realizing,  "-wait a sec, what are you doing here if you hate these things so much? My presence was mandatory but yours isn’t."
"I’ll have you know I was coerced into coming too," he quips back in a fake defensive tone, hand pressing to his chest, "Mike from accounting begged me to tag along, he just broke up with his girlfriend so I didn’t have the heart to tell him no." The selfishness of the gesture softens her heart in a goo of adoration, but she can’t let him know that just yet.
"Softie."
"Chivalrous."
His comeback has her giggle, a rejoinder already tiptoeing at the edge of her lips, "see, who’s cocky now?" Her eyes are full of jest and lightness, somehow taking the weight of the party off his shoulders. Turns out, food and booze are not the only remedies for boring work functions, y/n’s company is just as effective if not more, and that’s with the guarantee of a hangover-less comes next morning. Harry is truly happy he decided to make an appearance tonight, a sentiment he definitely didn’t foresee for the night. The realization has him faintly shaking his head in amazement, his lips letting out another whispered "something else" softly enough that it doesn’t quite reach her already inflated ears.
"So did you have any plans tonight?" She reiterates the question not wanting to ever stop talking with him.
There are probably a hundred exciting plans he could have conjured up to come off half as intriguing as she seems to be, but instead he decides to go the honest route, "nah, I would have probably crash on my couch, this week’s been pretty hectic." His truth is confirmed by the faded blackness tinting the skin below his eyes, a proof of hard work and long hours under the heedlessness of a greedy superior. Y/n knows it all too well, having had firsthand experience with her boss’ jackassery. That’s why she directly inquires, "boss giving you trouble?"
Part of Harry is eager to steer the conversation back to more pleasant waters but he guesses talking a little bit about work was inevitable at some point, especially since they both share palpable distaste for their superior. "The maniac keeps giving me last minute reports like I’m expected to work all night along on his bullshit projects," he explains dejectedly before running his hand through his luscious curls in sign of frustration. "Barely finished in time fo’ the party tonight, I had to slip in his office to put the file on his desk, that fucker had already left."
Y/n listens attentively, her chest tightening in empathy at the recollection of his misfortune. She’s very familiar with the embittering feeling that comes with working your ass for someone that barely registers your efforts and dishes the office hours before you can even dream of clocking off. She’s faced the same scenario time and time again, including tonight, when she’d come up to lock the boss’ office hours after he left to get pampered for the party. She barely got time to make the double commute to and from her place, much less spend hours getting dolled up. She does remember the odd file on her boss’ desk though, "oh I was wondering what that blue folder was about, he never usually leave unattended paperwork on his desk."
Harry starts nodding in confirmation before stopping dead, eyes widened in distress, "wait, did you just say blue?" he asks in urgency.
Y/n frowns at his sudden agitation, her mind reeling to try and visualize the state of the surroundings she left several hours ago. She’s pretty positive she saw a blue binder laying there, not that she knows the ramifications of that simple fact, "yes I think so, why?"
The dire nature of the situation becomes painfully obvious as Harry’s face turns into a mess of  dread and panic, "oh shit, oh fuck, no no no," the words keep tumbling from his mouth in a ramble of nerves. "So stupid, m’so fucked" he keeps muttering self-admonition in quiet anger, hands griping at the root of his hair.
Concern is starting to fester in y/n’s guts as she takes in his disheveled state, "Harry, Jesus, take a breath, tell me what’s going on," she steps closer to him, one hand softly holding at his biceps as she tries to connect their gazes.
Once his eyes plug into hers, pupils blown out in turmoil, he finally calms down enough to word  out his mishap, "s’not the right file on his desk, I only use red binders for the reports." Spinning around out of her hold to shout his stress back to the wall in a loud "fuck!", Harry’s mind is caught up in a swirl of possible excuses to give to his boss, all sounding more ridiculous than the other. He can’t think of way to fix his mistake and escape the inevitable berating coming his way comes morning.
Fortunately for him, y/n is not about to let this happen, "it’s okay, we’ll fix this," she encourages. "What’s on his desk right now?"
Harry looks back at her then, not totally convinced that this all mayhem is salvageable. His boss is never going to tolerate this minor negligence, especially once he finds out the irrelevant material mistakenly slipped amongst his work. "My 14 year-old niece’s english project" the answer comes out as a question, a hint of self-deprecating humor lacing through his words. "Bloody hell, he’s gon’ have my head fo’ that one."
Harry is adamant in his doom, but if anything, y/n is not a quitter. "No he’s not. He hasn’t seen it yet, right? You said he was already gone when you brought the file."
He takes a long breath, "I suppose not."
"Guess it’s a good thing I have the keys to his office then, yeah?" She smiles proudly as a beacon of hope shines on his conflicted face. The forest green of his eyes seems to breath back to life in an endearing revival, effectively tugging at y/n’s heart’s merciful strings.
"Fuck, you’d do that fo’ me?" his shoulders loosen up in relief, the tension slowly simmering down to a gentle buzz, as he envisages the possibility of an illicit break-in. Well, as illicit as it may be, considering they have the keys. Still, best they don’t get caught snooping in the boss’ office, for both of their sake.
"Of course, silly. No questions asked," y/n answers with a smile, and her willingness to put herself in potential trouble, warms Harry’s heart from inside out.
"Y/n, you’re an angel, a life savior," he grabs her shoulders in each of his hands, his gratitude painted all over his soft traits. "Fuck, I could kiss you right now." The words fly out of his mouth without him realizing their significance after spending the last ten minutes coming onto her. And well, y/n isn’t too opposed to the idea either, and she thinks she might hold him to that promise in retribution for her saving grace when the time and space works better in their favor. "Alright Casanova, let’s get your ass out of this mess," she grabs her purse form the table and takes his hand to guide him through the cluster of people milling around the office space, eventually reaching the row of elevators across the room.
As they stand waiting for their lift to come, Harry starts fidgeting with nervous energy, feeling like a kid who’s about to get caught trying to steal straight from the cookie jar. "Shit, alright, we have to be discrete if we want to pull this off," he tells her, not taking his eyes off the room in case someone would look at them and read their plan straight off their guilty-looking faces.
"Says the guy in the flashy suit," y/n immediately counters, in an attempt to revive the playfulness of their synergy. The night was going swimmingly before the whole ordeal, and she’s convinced this foxy little adventure can only add to the appeal of an evening full of surprises.
Harry’s indignation at her dig teeters from his pouty lips, "hey! It’s not that bad." She giggles at his poor rebuttal, and as the doors of the elevator open, they quickly take a few steps inside.
"Harry, that suit is so loud, it could break the sound barrier," y/n teases as she eyes the crowd of people frivolously chatting away, while waiting for the door to close back.
"Thought I cleaned up nicely," he cheekily throws back her words from earlier, letting them resonate within the small confines of the elevator as they make their way up to their boss’ office.
She turns to face him then, a smile spreading on her supple lips, "don’t get me wrong, you look wonderful, just nowhere near decent for a secret spy mission."
Her words have him beaming back at her in a second, his mind fixated on her compliment rather than how impractical it is that his clothes are flashier than the Queen’s; in his defense, neither are y/n’s. "Damn, just got upgraded from nice to wonderful, this night is actually turning around," he chirps as the door open to the deserted hallway of the top floor.
"Alright, more action and less flirting, Styles," y/n playfully chides him. "Go get the right file, while I open his door, we should be quick in case he decides to bring the tour and his special guest up here." She sends him off with a tilt of her chin in what she knows to be the direction of his office, and Harry complies with ease and starts backtracking a few doors down, "yes ma’am."
While he’s gone to fetch the correct document from his office, y/n rummages through her purse to find the key of her boss’ office and unlock the door. Once she’s inside, she makes her way around the imposing mahogany desk commanding the space, and finds the imposter file sitting innocently on the polished wood. For pure curiosity’s sake, she starts leafing through its contents and lets a small chuckle as she takes in the endearing work of a young aspiring writer.
Her reading is interrupted by Harry’s hurried strides when he joins her in the room. "Here’s the damn report," he flings the folder on the desk next to his niece’s, red clashing with blue, mocking him for his slight negligence. As he absorbs the sight of y/n’s face engrossed in the teenage’s fiction, he moves slowly behind her, getting a glimpse at his niece’s whimsical words over her shoulder, before his eyes settle on the bare skin of her back.
Y/n welcomes his sudden proximity, has stranding on end as she feels the soft puffs of his breaths against her neck. "Your niece is quite the writer, does she always come to you for advice?"
She ignores the shivers running down her spine, and gulps when Harry’s voice greets her ears in a deep quiet hoarse, closer than she excepted, "usually, yeah. I was the one who got her into writing, so it’s kinda become our thing, I guess."
She smiles at his softness, "that’s really sweet," and draws in a long breath in a vain attempt to calm her jitters. She can almost feel his presence on her skin though they’re technically not touching, her fingertips tingling in anticipation.  
Another frisson travels through her when he responds with a low "mhm," his nose slightly grazing behind her ear, taking in her beguiling fragrance. Jasmine and vanilla, fresh and soft, exciting and comforting at the same time; it suits her perfectly.
"Harry-" she doesn’t know what to follow the whisper of his name with. Careful? Not here? Please don’t stop? At this point, she wants nothing more than to succumb to his affections, regardless of their improper whereabouts.
Harry brushes the back of his index down the smooth skin of her back in a featherlike caress, "thanks fo’ saving my ass, tonight," he murmurs into her ear, before laying a small kiss behind it.
Y/n is exulting under his tender ministrations, her eyes closed to enhance the feeling of his touch. "Anytime," she breathes out as her head tilts backward, a hand coming behind his neck in a silent plea not to let go, and Harry smiles against her skin at her receptiveness, goosebumps of his own blossoming across his body.
His next words are out of his mouth before he can think, "mmm, I owe you a big one," his playful persona resurfacing now that the situation was handled. They snort in unison at the double-entendre, and Harry slides his free arm around her waist to bring her closer to his chest in silent remittance. Y/n doesn’t mind though, she kinda likes this boyish side of him, but she can’t let him know that just yet.
"Gross."
"Hilarious."
Their ping-pong of wisecrack is back despite the tension permeating the air. It’s the kind that speeds heartbeats and moistens palms in lustful anticipation, the kind that curtails people’s breath as their lungs fill up with voluptuous aphrodisia. "Will you let me kiss you? Show you all my gratitude? I really wanna have a taste, love," he pleads for her permission, and y/n is too consumed by desire to deny him, "have it."
In one swift move, he spins around and latches his eager lips onto her. Passion ensues, hands roaming all over each other to find the perfect hold; the back of a neck, the lapels of a suit jacket, a few strands of hair, the curve of an exposed ribcage, it’s all intoxicating but there is always more to explore. Their tongues are caught up in a heated tango of their own, swirling around each other to quench the thirst of passion, licking their lustful way around their mouths.
At one point, Y/n finds herself pressed against her boss’ desk, one leg around Harry’s waist as he attaches his hips to hers in a heated embrace that leaves them breathless upon parting. He rests his forehead against her temple as they both process the intimate exchange, not ready to burst out of this fairy bubble. "Fuck, been waiting to do that for a while," he exhales with a smile, still incredulous at the evening’s proceedings, and the girl nestled in his arms.
"Same," she agrees and gently cups his face to bring his eyes back to hers, barely believing the adoration and warmth swimming within his lovely olive irises.
Harry’s heart feels like a ticking bomb about to implode, the sweet taste of her lips already providing him with a fix he didn’t know he was addicted to. "One more," he demands against her mouth before diving into another searing kiss. This time his hands explore more meticulously, scavenging for other soft spots to add on to his mental list. The dimples in her back right above the curve of her ass seem to rival the area at her side right below the swell of her breast, but Harry is pretty sure he’ll find more sensitive spots in the near future. Hopefully.
Once again, the need for oxygen compels them to part way, but neither of them make a move to separate their tangled limbs. Y/n is reveling in the moment she’s been daydreaming about for months, "so good," she keeps whispering sweet nothing against his lips while rubbing her nose against the bridge of his.
Harry clears his throat as he regains his bearings, realizing that there are still very much in the middle of their boss’ office, a place they are not supposed to be in, doing stuff they’re not supposed to be doing. At least not here. "Let’s get outta here, yeah?" he brushes a strand of hair that fell in front of her face, "you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and I’ll tend to yours once we’re back at my place, what’dya say?"
And well, how can one say no to that?
➪ Masterlist
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It is I, here to Officially Request™ absolutely chaos All Named Characters Molina Family Board Game Night because honestly? The chaos needs to be freed.
THERE'S SO MUCH CHAOS I'M NOT SORRY.
Have the official sequel to this fic because when @screamin-amuseum requested the first part as "the whole gang + boardgame" I took that to mean All Named Characters playing board games and so here's that continuation. It's so unnecessarily long. It's so unnecessarily angsty??? TW for mentions of Trevor with an eating disorder, nothing graphic though.
I don't know what else to say. This is really chaotic. I can't write scenes with more than two people in them and yet this fic has 13. Hope you all enjoy.
Read on ao3 here:
--
Unfortunately, the Molinas’ extensive board game collection does not actually include Pretty Pretty Princess (it was just a tad bit before Julie’s time).
But on the bright side, she knows someone they can borrow it from. Even if Luke’s not happy about it.
“Why’d you have to invite him?” he complains the second Julie gets off the phone with Nick.
“Because—” Julie barely spares Luke a glance as she passes him on the way to the living room. “We’re borrowing his little sister’s board game.”
“So? That doesn’t mean he has to play it with us!”
Julie rolls her eyes. “Luke, are you seriously still jealous of him?”
Luke lets out an indignant squawk. “I am not jealous . I just don’t like him!” He poofs out and back in again to cut Julie off in the doorway, and she stops out of instinct, never quite sure these days if she’ll end up walking through the boys or into them. “Julie, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re talking about a kid who was literally possessed by Caleb five minutes ago. And you want us to hang out with him? You want to bring him into your house? Where you live? To play Pretty Pretty Princess? ”
Julie gives him the most exasperated look she can muster, trying to ignore the smile threatening to tug at her lips. “Luke. First of all, Nick’s already been to my house, so that argument is invalid. Second, he’s not possessed by Caleb anymore, and the fact that he used to be is only more reason for us to offer him some extra friendship, I’m sure he needs it. And third, I already invited him, he’s on his way, and not even your pouting and puppy dog eyes can change that, so don’t even bother trying.”
Of course, Luke immediately breaks out the pout and the puppy dog eyes, but Julie doesn’t let herself so much as look at him. She pushes past him and continues through to the kitchen, shaking her head in amusement as Luke’s annoyed grumbling fades out behind her.
Her dad’s at the kitchen counter, just hanging up his own phone. He turns when Julie enters and offers her a small smile. “Takeout’s on its way. And your tía’s coming, with her own set of dice, so be prepared for those to be loaded.”
Julie giggles. “Well, I called Flynn and they’re gonna bring some sodas and snacks, and Nick’s bringing Pretty Pretty Princess since the boys were so excited to play it. It’s still cool that he comes, too, right?”
“Of course, mija.” Her dad looks at her for a second, and then away, busies himself with wiping down the perfectly-clean counter. “Did you, uh… Did you maybe want to invite Carrie to join us?”
Julie sighs. “Dad, you know me and Carrie aren’t friends anymore.”
“No, yeah, I know.” He scrubs harder at an invisible speck of dirt. “I just thought it might be a nice gesture.”
Despite everything, Julie finds herself considering it. Sure, she and Carrie are still decidedly not friends , but… they’re not quite enemies anymore, either. It’s hard to be enemies with someone who helped you save your shared ex-love interest from an evil jazz-singing magician ghost. Carrie knows about the guys now and didn’t expose Julie and the Phantoms as a fraud, and she hasn’t been as actively mean to Julie and Flynn at school the past few months.
Maybe someday, the three of them will be able to reconcile, officially. Julie might even want to. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have Carrie in her house so soon, doesn’t mean she wants to include Carrie in their first family game night without her mom.
“Maybe another time,” she says, offering her dad a soft smile so he knows she means it.
He smiles back, and there’s more relief and happiness in his eyes than Julie would’ve expected under the circumstances, leaving Julie to wonder why her dad would care about her relationship with Carrie Wilson so much.
An hour later, everything’s all set up, and all the guests—ghost and human alike—have arrived. They’re all spread out across the various couches and floor space in Julie’s living room, all ten of them—Julie, her dad, Carlos, Tía Victoria, Luke, Alex, Reggie, Willie, Flynn, and Nick. The four ghosts are all sharing one couch, the four Molinas another, while Flynn and Nick lounge on the floor across the room because the ghosts still make Nick a little uncomfortable (though Julie’s unsure if that’s because of his stint with Caleb or because Luke won’t stop glaring at him).
Knowing Game Night, the seating arrangements won’t stay as they are for long, as the various games require space or privacy or the occasional team-up. Julie’s certain by the end of the night, her friends and family will all be mingling and getting along.
Since there are so many of them, they can’t follow the usual Game Night rules—everyone picks one game and they play through them all. If they tried, they’d be here all night, and half of them have to go to school tomorrow. So instead, the plan is this: Everyone’s name will go in a hat. Whoever wins each game picks a name out of the hat, and that person gets to pick the next game. They’ll play a total of five, or until midnight, whichever comes first.
The only caveat to this strategy is that they’re playing Pretty Pretty Princess first, and since that was technically Alex’s choice, his name’s not going in the hat (a fact Alex seems perfectly fine with).
Game Number One isn’t nearly as much of a disaster as Julie kind of expected it to be. It’s only a four player game, so they play in teams of two and three: Luke, Reggie, and Julie playing for the purple jewelry; Alex, Willie, and Flynn playing for the pink; Nick and Carlos for green; and Dad and Tía for blue. The only fight that breaks out is when Luke takes the black ring on purpose and then refuses to put it back the next turn; otherwise, the teams work together surprisingly well.
Somehow, despite Reggie’s earlier insistence that Alex is a PPP master, the adults win, and then they insist on splitting their winning jewelry between them even though it’s all sized to fit five-year-olds.
Just as Dad and Tía are celebrating their victory, and Julie and Carlos are having a telepathic brother-sister conversation about how their aunt must have rigged it, the doorbell rings.
“Ooh, I bet that’s the pizza,” Dad says, hauling himself to his feet. He keeps one hand on the tiny plastic crown on his head so it doesn’t fall off.
He looks ridiculous, between the crown, the singular clip-on earring, and the ring just barely stuck on the end of his pinky finger, but Julie manages to hold back her laughter as she stands and says, “I’ll help carry.”
Her dad beats her to the door, only because Reggie holds her back and tries to convince her not to let Luke have any pizza (to which Luke gives another indignant squawk and immediately starts bickering), so by the time Julie catches up with him, Dad’s already got the front door thrown open, and whatever’s on the porch to greet him has left him staring, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and pale.
Like he’s seen a ghost or something.
“Dad?” Julie starts to say, but the word dies in her throat as she steps into view of the open door and sees none other than Carrie Wilson standing on her front porch.
Carrie looks nervous, and just as pale, as she stares back at Julie’s father, a clutch purse held in her white-knuckled hands.
Carrie says something, quietly enough that Julie thinks she might have imagined it, that sounds suspiciously like, “Hi, Papi,” and then her gaze flits behind him to Julie and her eyes widen. She clears her throat, straightens her shoulders, says louder, “Mr. Molina. Julie.”
“Hi, Carrie,” Dad says after a weirdly long pause, startling like he’s been struck. “What are—I didn’t—” He breaks off and glances at Julie over his shoulder, his expression screaming, I thought you weren’t going to invite her!
I didn’t! Julie shoots back, then trains a painfully plastic smile on her definitely-not-a-friend-but-not-quite-an-enemy. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”
“Sorry to interrupt, I—didn’t realize you had company…” She glances toward the driveway next to the house, where Nick parked his car. “I can leave.”
“No, don’t—It’s okay,” Dad assures her, a little too quickly for Julie’s liking. “What’s—did you need something?”
Carrie shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking back and forth between Julie and her dad like she wants to ask Julie to give them some privacy. Julie just plants her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. Like hell is she gonna leave Carrie alone with her dad when he’s already acting weird and she still has yet to tell them what she’s doing there.
Julie doesn’t even remember the last time Carrie Wilson stepped foot on the Molinas’ property. It’s all too weird, like Julie’s stepped out of Family Game Night and into some strange, confusing alternate universe.
“Um… Okay, so, Dad and I were at this dumb charity event at Schaefer’s, and on the way back, our car broke down.” Carrie waves a vague hand toward the street. “Gerald—our driver—called someone, but Dad doesn’t trust mechanics, and I think it’s supposed to storm later, so…” She trails off, blushes, and adds, “We were only a block or so away so I thought…”
Julie’s not sure she’s following. Her dad must catch up quicker because he says, “Oh! Oh, well—well, you’re welcome to wait out the storm here, we’ve got food coming, we’re having a little game night. Why don’t you join us?”
He turns to look at Julie, almost as an afterthought, his gaze somehow pleading and apologetic at the same time.
Whatever frustration Julie might feel at his eagerness to let Carrie interfere with their lives despite knowing how Julie feels about her is quickly snuffed out by the look on her dad’s face, and the equally anxious look on Carrie’s.
Julie doesn’t like this. She doesn’t think putting her, Flynn, Nick, and Carrie in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She really doesn’t think putting Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Trevor Wilson in a competitive setting together is a good idea. She can think of very few scenarios in which this whole night doesn’t turn into a complete and total disaster.
But reconciliation has to start somewhere, and she does, deep down, want to be Carrie’s friend again someday, wants even more to help her boys get their bandmate back.
She takes a slow, deep breath, prays she won’t regret this, and says, “Of course, Carrie. Come join us for Game Night.”
Carrie visibly relaxes, something like a real, genuine smile fluttering around her lips. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll, um—I’ll go get Dad. He wanted to wait in the car, in case you guys… turned us away…”
Awkward silence falls, and Julie can’t understand why her dad looks so sad all of a sudden, but before she can think of how to ask, Carrie spins on her high heels and starts back down the porch steps.
The second the door closes behind her, Dad says, “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”
Julie sighs. Her dad’s always been particularly good with boundaries. And she thinks part of him might miss the days when Carrie was over more often than not, playing dolls and singing with Julie and Flynn. So Julie can’t be mad. “No, it’s okay. But you get to tell the guys the pizza’s not here yet, and the guy who stole all their songs is.”
His eyes widen in horror, only adding to the absurdity of his bejeweled look, and Julie stifles another laugh as she heads back to the living room.
All things considered, it’s not nearly as much of a trainwreck as Julie thought it might be. Flynn loudly declares that she will not be on a team with Carrie under any circumstances, and the guys don’t take the Trevor news well , exactly, but a sharp look from Julie and a badly whispered promise from Willie to do some serious ghost pranking later keep them from actively pitching a fit about it.
When the Wilsons and their driver Gerald arrive, the tension in the room grows so instantly thick and awkward that Julie’s worried someone might actually explode. Carrie breaks it by stalking confidently into the room and plopping herself on the floor between Nick and Carlos like she belongs there. Gerald soon follows, claiming a chair next to Tía Victoria, and smiles politely at them all.
Only Trevor remains hovering in the doorway, pale and shaky, taking deep meditative breaths as his eyes rove across each person one at a time, lingering a little too long on Julie’s aunt, skipping over Luke entirely. Finally, he swallows, winces like it hurts, and says to Julie’s dad, “I didn’t realize you still did these.”
Julie frowns, unsure what that’s supposed to mean exactly, but her dad offers up no explanation, just waves Trevor over to sit on the couch with him. Luke lays a gentle hand on Julie’s knee, leans in close to whisper, “Hey. You okay?”
She gives him a grateful smile, nods. “Fine. How about you?”
Luke shrugs, glances over at Trevor, who’s still very purposefully not looking in their direction, and winks at Julie. “Let’s just cream this guy, shall we?”
And so, Game Night continues.
The three new guests’ names get added to the hat, and Victoria shuffles them around before pulling a slip of paper out.
“Carrie,” she reads. “You get to pick the next game.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Carrie tries. “I just got here, someone else can pick.”
“Come on, Care,” Nick says, nudging her encouragingly. “Them’s the rules.”
“Your name came out of the hat,” Julie agrees, attempting a smile. It’s the closest she can get to a peace offering. “Pick a game.”
Carrie scans her face a moment, like she’s searching for any hint that Julie’s being mean or ingenuine. She must not find any, because she says, “Okay,” and gets to her feet, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. She peers into the game cabinet for a total of about five seconds before she says, “Oh my god, you still have Monopoly with the credit card readers? We are definitely playing that.”
“Dibs on banker!” Carlos shouts and jumps to his feet to dig the box out of the cabinet.
Julie grins at her little brother’s enthusiasm, and when she catches Carrie’s eye, her smile doesn’t fade.
Maybe they can do this. It’s as good a first step toward reconciliation as any, she supposes.
The pizza arrives while Carrie and Carlos are setting up the Monopoly board, so Julie and her dad bring it in and set up the stack of boxes on the kitchen island for easy access. The ghosts immediately descend on the food like a pack of rabid animals, Luke grabbing four or five slices at once and starting to stuff them in his mouth before Julie shouts, “Plates, boys! Plates!” and he deflates, grinning bashfully at her.
Once everyone who wants pizza has gotten some (Gerald takes a slice, Trevor and Carrie don’t—Julie remembers vaguely that the Wilsons were never big fans of take-out in general), they work out new teams, which leads to less bloodshed than Julie expected but takes way longer than it has any right to. Finally, they figure out a breakdown that everyone’s more or less happy with, despite now having an uneven number of players: Trevor, Gerald, Dad, and Tía; Carlos, Luke, and Reggie; Alex, Willie, and Flynn; and Carrie, Nick, and Julie.
It’s a chaotic game for sure, but no one outright attacks each other, so Julie counts it as a success. And her team wins, so.
The rest of the night goes like that, one game after another. Julie picks Willie’s name, Willie picks Mario Kart, Carlos wins. Carlos picks Gerald’s name, Gerald picks poker (“Oh my god, my driver’s a gambler,” Trevor sighs into his hands), and somehow Flynn smokes them all. For the last game, Flynn picks Luke’s name, Luke picks Candy Land because he’s actually eight years old, and Flynn and Carrie manage to eke out a victory despite being on the same team and bickering the entire game.
Luke and Trevor, also on the same team, don’t say a single word to each other, but Julie doesn’t miss how a smile tugs at Luke’s lips when Trevor makes a joke about Lord Licorice looking like their high school English teacher.
Gerald gets a call just as they’re finishing up and informs them that the broken down limo’s been towed away and one of his colleagues is there with a fresh car to take the Wilsons home.
“Perfect timing,” Dad says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll walk you out.”
Once they’re gone, Nick and Flynn soon follow. Julie thanks Nick profusely for letting them borrow his sister’s game and convinces him to take some of the leftover pizza home to his family. Tía kisses them all goodnight (including the ghosts, which leaves Reggie grinning and the rest of them bright red), and then she’s out the door too, and Carlos heads up to bed, and Willie poofs out, telling Alex they’ll catch him later, leaving just Julie alone with her Phantoms.
“That was actually really fun,” she says, leaning back into the couch.
“Next time, I think we should choose teams at the beginning and stick with them all night,” Luke suggests, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “More fun that way.”
Alex plops onto the couch on Luke’s other side. “But if we play Pretty Pretty Princess again, I’m not playing on your team, bro.”
“Yeah, man,” Reggie agrees, snuggling up under Julie’s arm. “We coulda won that game if you’d just put the black ring away. ”
“It made me look awesome!” Luke insists.
“And the purple one didn’t?”
Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as Luke and Reggie break into an argument over Julie’s head. She just rolls her eyes and tries not to giggle too audibly, though it’s hard when her boys are so lovingly silly.
When she looks up, her dad’s lingering in the doorway, watching the four of them and playing a little nervously with his hands.
Julie frowns, catches his gaze, and mouths, You okay?
He nods, smiles, but looks from her to the three ghost boys cuddled up next to her and back again. Julie instantly catches his meaning.
“Hey, guys,” she says, loud enough to be heard over Luke and Reggie’s bickering. They shut up right away. “I’m gonna help my dad clean up. Can you go wait in the studio for me, and we can rehearse a bit before I go to bed?”
“Oh, yeah,” the boys say, and “Yeah, sure, Julie,” and they all hug her and wave goodnight to her dad before disappearing with a gentle displacement of air.
Julie gets to her feet as her dad joins her in the living room. He sets his phone on top of the game cabinet and plays a Celia Cruz album her mom liked.
They work in companionable silence for a while, other than the music, counting all the cards and tokens and jewelry pieces to make sure everything’s accounted for and gets back into its proper box.
As Julie’s wrapping up the Mario Kart controllers, her dad says casually, “You have fun tonight?”
“Yeah,” she says, and finds she means it. “Yeah, you know, it wasn’t quite the same as playing with Mom, but I still had a really good time. Thanks for letting everyone come over.”
“Thank you for being such a good sport about Carrie. I know she wasn’t exactly part of your plan for how the night would go.”
“No,” Julie agrees, shutting the game cabinet. “But I kinda liked having her here. Although—can I ask you something?”
Dad grabs his phone to pause the music. “Of course, mija. What is it?”
Something’s been nagging at her all evening, but now that Julie actually has the opportunity to ask about it, she’s not quite sure how to put her question into words.
Finally, she manages, “When Mr. Wilson first got here, he said something like… like he didn’t know we still had game nights. But I don’t remember him ever playing with us when Mom was alive.”
Her dad doesn’t answer for a really long time. Julie knows him well enough to know she needs not be concerned—her dad, much more than her mom, has always needed to really take his time and think before he says anything, especially anything important. Finally, he sighs and says, “Honestly, mija… I’m not quite sure what to say. It’s not really my story to tell.” He sits on one of the couches and pats the cushion next to him. Julie joins him, hugging a throw pillow as she waits patiently for him to continue.
“Do you remember, when you were really little, Trevor and Carrie used to live with us?”
Julie’s mouth drops open. “What? No. When?”
“Only until you were about six,” Dad explains. “But for a while, we had a house together, the five and then six of us, once Carlos was born. Your mom and I, and Trevor, we all kind of raised you kids together.” He elbows her teasingly. “You used to call Trevor Daddy.”
“I definitely don’t remember that,” Julie says, eyes wide in horror.
His smile fades, face turning serious. “I think Carrie does,” he says softly, and Julie remembers when Carrie first got here tonight, how she called Julie’s dad Papi , so quietly Julie thought she’d imagined it.
“Anyway,” he continues, “before all that, before Trevor was even… Trevor … he lived with your mom and me, and he was going through a really rough time, had a lot of trouble with food because, well…”
“Because food killed his best friends…” Julie realizes.
“We used to play board games with him, after dinner, when things were hard. It kept him distracted, made it easier to keep things down. That was the real start of Molina Family Game Night.”
“Huh,” Julie breathes. “Well then, next time? I want to invite him and Carrie for real.”
--
Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique
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nightswithkookmin · 3 years
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Hi! Goldy, do you know why are jikookers making such a big deal out of jk saying “I’m hyung ‘s copy cat”. I’m I missing something here , why is everyone acting like they just confessed their love , if anything vmin were more sus 😂
Lol shippers...
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We are like a bunch of boohbahs on crack every day. We get excited over everything and anything- which I think is the point of shipping though. Lol.
Not sure what you are missing as I haven't seen the show in its entirety yet...
But off the top of my head, I'd say it's probably because of the blushing and the whole Kook's ear turning red bit when JM was addressing him about copying him.
He did the same thing in the Be.TS Vlive when Jimin put him on the spot about posting on his birthday. Jimin makes him shy
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It's been several years and Jimin still has an effect on him. I think it's cute.
Also, the bit about them confessing...
You actually not wrong. Lol.
JM used to say JK copies him because JK liked him and so JK would deny that all the time. To accept that he was imitating JM would mean he was admitting he liked Jimin- that he thought Jimin was cool, had impeccable style yadda yadda.
Jimin might as well had asked JK to confess he liked him.
They both had a habit of trying to get the other to confess their feelings for them in the past.
JM: I am Army.
JK: Do you like me that much?
JM: I had blue eyes first.
JK: No. Mine is bluer
JM: Stop imitating me.
Do you like me that much?
Jk: No
It was their way of flirting. So I guess in effect, in admiting he imitates JM, Jimin sort of got JK to officially admit he likes him🤷🏽‍♀️
'Do you like me?'
'Do you?'
'Do you?'
And he acted so innocent about it too.
This man! Lol
That innocent pout afterwards my God. Lmho.
There's just a lot of history between those two. A lot, and it's nice to see them remind eachother of that.
And I think it's the history and memories, the nolstagia he evoked in JK with that comment that had JK blushing hard especially if he read double meaning in that request.
From, his reaction I'd say he did.
All these double entendres chilee.
Its intriguing JK had such a strong reaction to something seemingly less intense or even cringe. That comment was supposed to be a safe bet. The safest conversation JM could have with Kook in front of new audience to not make things awkward in the room and yet...
There's no hope for JK. Dude is gone. Bid him farewell to gay boulevard🤧
Jimin was like why are you blushing it's nothing heavy or something like that and that reminded me again of that whole, 'did I scold you" bit from New Jersey.
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Jimin had a strong reaction to what JK deemed a trivial issue- Which I gotta smirk at. Smirk.
It's interesting that of all the things he could ask Jk, this is what he chose to ask him. I think he genuinely believed it was a safer conversation to have- Y'all think VMin was wilding, wait till you meet the Jikooknims.
Imagine if JK had said what V said to JM or if JM had said that to JM. Imagine that...
I mean I get it, if they are going to be regulars on traditional SK media now, they have to be able to interact 'normally' within the group without the members or eachother panicking and acting like Jikook be spelling the nuclear codes with their butts.
We've discussed the gradual shift in BigHit's marketing model but it seems with all the Asian hate crimes, racism, stigmatization of Asians and Asian Americans in the wake of the pandemic, it's become imperative that they redirect their focus and attention to SK to solidify their presence and hold in their home market.
I'm afraid we might be seeing a shift towards the company pandering to their roots and adhering to traditional media practices with mostly one foot in the international market, and one foot in their home market.
And if that's the case, Jikook would have to be able to tether the line of their closet without making things awkward for eachother and the members lest they risk exposing themselves to the gay hateration and criticism rampant in Korea.
Bang PD have made it perfectly clear, he is not about the risk taking life. That he prefers as a company to play things safe- I wonder if he's stance on that has changed in recent times.
But I don't think when it comes to it, he'd risk it for them. He's not gonna shove their alternative lifestyle in conservative spaces like that. Chilee.
Anywho, Jimin likes to rile JK up and watch him squirm sometimes but naa I don't think that was the agenda this time around...
Then there was this bit also
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Which I think my guy spilled right there😏
I've been saying for the longest time BigHit staff take stock in the Jikook business. There you have it.
They style Jikook. They style BTS. So all the times they've appeared in couple outfits, matching shoes, complimentary hairstyles, all the time they deliberately cut from JK to Jimin or Jimin to JK, all the times they've paired Jikook up, isolated them from the group so Jikook can give them a moment-
When I say BigHit is intentional in the way they brand Jikook within the group and in the way they push those two not as friends but as a 'couple'
And because of this people scream Jikook is fan service blah blah nonsense.
But the question have always been, why does these two grown ass men go along with it. Do they not know what it means when of all seven they are the two that are constantly marketed as 'lovers?" They are not twins, neither are they twelve and so why the need to match their fits?
And how come none of them object to this?
Why don't they ask questions???
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Bet. Bet there's a reason for that.
As for Vmin all I have to say is...
Tae Kook who? Tae Kook WHERE?!
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Lmho. Vmin, TaeJin, (Tae kook) VHope, Taegi
In that particular order for Tae's ships. The last three are fluid with Tae Kook alternating anywhere from 3rd to the last position lol.
I saw their shippers bust out their go to, 'Tae was being sarcastic" he hates Jimin rhetoric - like
GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
Tae talks some strong Vmin agenda.
We been knew. We been said it
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He flirts Jimin hard to gay proportions too.
'In love with my Soulmate- a memoir written by Kim Taehyung. Coming soon to a bookshop near you. Lmho.
If Jimin catches feelings for Tae one day it's game over for us all🤣🤣🤣🤣
'We need to stop. This game is dangerous.'
Then he proceeds to gulp on top of it 🤣🤣
Reminds me of when JK was asked if Jimin wasn't his style and JK was fumbling and Jimin said, cut the cameras. Deadass. Lol
'Jk don't answer that' 🤭
Why shouldn't he answer that?
Jimin is a funny guy. A funny gay guy🤭
And did y'all see how hard Yoongi screamed when Tae said that?
Lolololololololololololololololololololololololol
Tae doesn't need to convince me he has feelings for Jimin. I'm convinced all by myself 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
And is it me or did Tae look like he didn't believe Jimin when JM said he liked him too??🤔
I can't wait to watch the whole thing.
I love their relationship. I hate when people invalidate it. VMin does not invalidate Jikook nor does Jikook invalidate VMin or even Tae Kook. They all are, unique and they are beautiful me thinks.
They ought not be compared in this way but celebrated.
It's not a competition.
Talk of celebrating ships, did you see Tae and Kook too??? 🤭🤭🤭🤭
I love seeing them in a good place in their dynamic like this.
It's the look he shot JK when the envelope ended up infront of him for me😂
Tae is hilarious I swear! Lmho.
I kinda lowkey wished it was for him I won't lie.
It's the same energy as when JK grabbed his neck and said he wanted to ride in the car with Tae. (If those subs were correct. Can't trust any unofficial subs on any Tuktuk moment💀)
Tae was like 👀 waeyo? Lmho.
I'm off to ship Tae Kook and VMin.
Keep your eyes on the gays for me.
Bye🤣
💜💜💜💜
Signed,
GOLDY
68 notes · View notes
likeawildthing · 3 years
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Not to be morbid on main, but everyone dies and people are rarely prepared for it. It’s so much easier when you know your loved one’s wishes. So even if you’re a teenager or twenty-three and healthy, I hope this helps you start thinking about end-of-life wishes, because it can happen to us all (both the dying and, rudely, being died upon).
Cremations are an affordable way to subvert the funeral industry, but going this route puts the burden of “the little things” on the family. I’ve learned a lot in the last 36 hours and wanted to pass those things that weren’t on any checklists, because the burden is on you to navigate the process.
Putting this under a cut because it’s so long (although not comprehensive). Obviously some of this is altered because COVID and some is meant to be applicable in some distant, theoretical future when we can go out to lunch again.
Before you die
Think about it, talk about it, write it down
Think about what kind of rememberance you want, if any. If it doesn’t matter, tell people that so they don’t fret about it and grieve in whatever way works best for them.
Communicate now to save your family and friends angst later.
Build an “in case of death” binder, zip drive, google doc with links, etc. Make sure your passwords are up to date so that’s not an administrative nightmare for your loved ones.
Advanced directives. Here’s a great article explaining the types of medical advanced directives and decisions to make before an accident or illness happens, including whether you want to donate your organs.
We lost grandma for about twenty minutes yesteday because we couldn’t find the paperwork and grandpa couldn’t remember where they signed up for services. Death. Binder. Have a death binder/folder/zip drive so no one loses grandma.
Insurance. 
You likely have insurance through work, so consider that. It will also expire if you leave your job.
You can usually get, with minimal fuss, a 10- or 20-year term policy with enough to cover your arrangements and debts for less than $20 a month. Death expenses are anywhere from $5-$20k, conservatively. 
Talk to your auto insurance agent and score a multi-line discount.
Body snatchers. 
If you want to be cremated, talk to a local crematory beforehand and give them your basic information. It can be paid out of your estate (i.e. by your family or a life insurance policy) when it happens. 
Most funeral homes (I believe) require pre-payment. It’s super morbid but there are TONS of heavily discounted grave sites for sale on Craigslist if that’s the route you want to go. 
Here’s a list of certified green burial sites in the US.
Donating your body to science 101.
Memorial service. 
The idea of a “proper” funeral is more or less out the window, especially in the time of COVID. Celebration of life? Religious ceremony (or not)? A picnic at your favorite park? Anything goes, so figure it out now. 
When my sister-in-law died, we had a celebration of life at a non-profit who donated the space and had a poker tournament with her ash tin (she lost). 
Whether you have strong or no preferences, write that down to guide decision-making. 
Memorials. 
Traditionally people would donate money in the event of a death to a charity, foundation, or family account, or flowers to a funeral home or church.
 Family accounts (like for children) are traditionally done in care of the deceased’s bank but online fundraisers are a thing. 
If you have a particular charity you love, add this to your list of wishes.
Food. 
Before COVID it was pretty typical for there to be some kind of meal after a funeral. Will this be a restaurant? 
This is ultimately up to the family but if you have strong preferences (i.e. no church or Italian food), tell people now.
Obituary. 
Writing down the basic facts of your life, hobbies, and accomplishments you want included in your obituary means your family doesn’t have to do a guessing game.��
Plants, animals, stuff, etc.
Do you want your clothes to go to a specific charity? 
Do you NOT want your stuff to go to a specific charity? (Goodwill is terrible!)
Who will get your car (person, donate, sell)? Want to have your record collection to go one sister? Obviously family will divvy up stuff how they like, but write down any special considerations.
Have a plan for your pets (insurance, vet info, guardianship).
Please organize and digitize your photos if they aren’t already.
If you lose someone close:
Identify the primary griever
Support that person/those people by providing feedback when solicited, running errands as needed, and running interference so they aren’t inundated with all the little things.
Notifying people
Use the phone tree method. Great Aunt M will be happy to help by calling your cousins. Your boss, coworkers and HR. Your mom’s best friend/your adoptive aunt, your mom’s bunco group. 
Ask that family not put anything on social media until the principal people are informed. I found out my grandpa died on facebook!
Esp these days, set boundaries for visits (who, where, and in what capacity).
Designate one person to be the primary contact for extended family to keep the burden off the primary griever(s). 
Give this persons’ information when the first phone calls are made. It also makes sense for this person to be the travel coordinator. 
This person should have a good handle on family dynamics (i.e. my aunt is flying in and would drive my grandma nuts so she’s staying with Mom). 
This should be their only task because it’s time consuming.
Food
When people die, people gather, even in the time of COVID. Be responsible but expect a ton of drop by food. Clean out the primary griever’s fridge in anticipaton.
Organization
Start a shared family Google doc or sheet. Consolidate to do lists, anecdotes, important contact information, questions and inquiries, etc. 
Pay to have the houses of anyone hosting (gatherings, people coming in from out of town, etc.) cleaned. Or, delegate. This can be an act of service for someone who wants to help and doesn’t mind doing the work. 
Find the death binder (hopefully), legal documentation, etc. Get a folder or binder for papers if one doesn’t exist. And start a shared google doc for loved ones to track everything.
Delegate
I know I have said this three times, but it’s important. If you’re a primary decision maker do not be the primary do-er. My mom is the primary decision maker so my sisters and I are doing literally everything else. 
Say YES when people ask if they can help you. Look at your running list of to-dos and say yes.
Pay to have the houses of people who are hosting cleaned. It will seriously be such a life saver, or this can be an act of service for someone who wants to help.
Social media
You will need to decide what to do with a person’s social media. Do you start a tribute page? Turn their facebook (if they’re old) into a tribute page for a time? Indefinitely? Things to think about. 
Thank yous
Keep a running list of people to thank after via hand-written thank you notes. The link includes guidelines on 
who should receive a thank you note (gave flowers, brought food, made donations, helped with arrangements or the service(s), did readings, or went well out of their way to warm your heart or show up)
when to send them (ideally 2-3 weeks after the funeral)
here’s how to write them (it doesn’t matter if you buy fancy, ones or dollar store ones, make sure they’re hand written).
Receipts. 
Don’t be the petty biatch your cousins hate, but do save significant receipts to be reimbursed by the estate. (I.e. catering hundreds of dollars of food, paying $250 for programs and thank-you cards like I just did, etc.)
Service.
You will have a million decisions to make including
what kind of service to hold, if any
where to hold it
costs
hymns, readings, and anecdotes to share
who will be pall bearers, readers, vocalists, and give eulogies
Crematories handle cremation only, not the service details. 
you will need photo boards (Hobby Lobby has nice black foamcore ones) or a powerpoint (and a way to display it depending on the venue)
a guest or memorial book
a card basket,
memorial cards, possibly programs, and thank you cards 
Officiants, musicians, religious institutions, etc. all need to be paid (and tipped) for their time.
If we ever wrangle this pandemic, donating funeral flowers to a nursing homes is a fantastic way to brighten residents’ days. 
Obituary.
Obituaries are expected, but traditionally costly ($200-$800). As part of the publishing fee, most newspapers keep the obituary on legacy.com indefinitely.
A funeral home will assist you with this, but the burden will be on you and your loved ones if using other methods. 
These take hours to write and many hands does not make light work. Keep it to 2-4 key people. Having the facts laid out will help, and so will looking at other obituaries. I read a great tip which was to write about your loved one in present tense first, then change the tense before submission. 
Newspapers will update your spelling and grammar but that’s about it. Cheaper alternatives: 
Death notice which gives age, date and location of death, and who is handling funeral arrangements. Our crematory put in the death notice for us because they had her body, but the requirements on this likely vary state-to-state. 
Here is a place to put a free online obituary.
Plants, animals, stuff, etc. 
Save the plants and pets. 
Household misc. are usually not dictated by the will, except in special circumstances or contested items. Closest members will go through possessions first. Voice early if you want something in particular, but understand that you may not get it. That’s ok. 
Going through someone’s life is an overwhelming process. You may be repulsed and sad and overwhelmed and amused, all at the same time.  
In deciding what to keep, as I’ve now cleared out three houses, I’ve found that quality over quantity is the way to go. The sweet spot? 1-2 sentimental + useful things. My great grandmother’s thimble and juicer? Use them all the time, and I remember her lemonade. 
It’s okay to throw away some keepsakes and let things get thrown out or donated, depending on the thing. 
Don’t give into guilt if you don’t want the china your Aunt Karen is pressuring you into taking when she doesn’t want it either.
Legal stuff. 
If someone dies, there will be all kinds of legal things you will need to do (bank accounts, utilities, debtors, education, etc.), investments or 401k, etc. 
This varies too much by state and circumstance to talk about in depth but there are guides to specifically help you.
If someone you love has lost someone they love
Do not give platitudes or ask if they’re ok
Don’t expect a response from someone grieving
Do send a card! It’s so thoughtful. I keep a stack of blank condolence cards and a set of forever stamps in my closet. It doesn’t have to be a $20 card to be special.
Don’t judge someone by how they grieve
Offer specific, actionable help if you’re close enough to give it
I am going to come over and clean at 10, leave the house unlocked
I’m at the store and am going to buy cheap vodka unless you tell me what kind of wine you want
oops I got you an uber eats gift card in your gmail sorry/not sorry
Buy thank you cards with stamps as a condolence gift, depending on the person and situation
Send a plant instead of a bouquet of flowers
Make a donation in the loved one’s name if you have the funds
If the grieving person is someone super close (best friend, sister, etc.) add the date in your recurring calender so you can check up on them this day next year with a card and/or phone call
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matbarzyy · 3 years
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Impossible
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A/N: If you follow me on main you might know I’ve been obsessed with Impossible by Nothing But Thieves, so I tried to use it to write a fic. It definitely deserves a listen if you wanna have that playing in the background while you read. This is a best friends to lovers fic starting off a lil angsty but it ends well.
Word count: 4358
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Love it stings, and then it laughs
At every beat of my battered heart
.
Something was wrong.
You couldn’t tell what it was just yet, but the way Mat was texting you wasn’t normal. He wanted to talk, he tried to keep the conversation going, but the texts were empty of content. It was so unlike Mat that you didn’t realise how worried you were until you tasted blood in your mouth from the way you bit your lip.
He was a ray of sunshine and a dork, always throwing jokes around and acting like an idiot. Seeing Mat sad was a rare occurrence.
You didn’t know what put him in that state but you guessed he needed something to distract himself, so you decided to call him.
“Alright, what’s up with you?” You spoke as soon as Mat picked up the phone. There was a sigh on the other end of the line and a ruffling noise before you heard him.
“Nothing,” He replied weakly, trying to hide a sniffle by putting the phone away from his face. You picked up on it anyway.
“Mat?” Your voice softened and your heart squeezed. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” He admitted, unable to give you a better answer as he lay on his bed without moving, tears streaming down his cheeks.
You took it as a clear no. The only times Mat ever called you to cry were after hockey games he lost, and that was only if he was too far for you to be with him. Whenever he played at home you came to see him and stayed to celebrate or cheer him up depending on the outcome.
“Where are you?” There was no need to ask if he needed you, the answer was obvious, you just had to ask where you had to go.
“Home,”
“I’m coming over, hold on, okay?” You slid into your sneakers as quick as you could, too rushed to undo the laces and put them on properly.
“Okay,” He whispered so low you barely heard him.
He went quiet on the phone and you hung up after promising him you’d be there in no time. You lived close enough to him that you could walk, driving was pointless unless you had a lot to carry. Mat had made you pick this apartment on purpose when you moved to New York, he argued that he’d be close if you ever needed anything, and you had never been more glad to be there.
He was your best friend in school when times were simpler, and he somehow remained your best friend when his hockey career began. Things were different with the distance, but you were the little bit of home he could stay attached to. He had been ecstatic to find out you were joining him in New York after your degree so that you could work on a masters.
Anthony had quickly become one of your best friends too, and you all got along well with Mat’s girlfriend. Lena wasn’t as part of the group as you thought she would be when you first met her, but you didn’t mind it too much. You liked spending time with just Mat and Tito, she was nice but always calm and calculated. It didn’t fit with the spontaneous crackhead energy you shared with the boys.
You often wondered why Mat always reached out to you rather than her. You could understand when he went to Tito, he understood him when it came to hockey and guy things you couldn’t wrap your head around, but you spent endless nights questioning where you fit in the middle of that. Mat never let you feel left out, no matter how invested he was in his relationship he always made time for you.
“I’m here,” You called out when you unlocked the door. You had a spare key from the moment you arrived, officially because he needed someone to have it in case he got locked out, unofficially because he wanted you to be able to come over whenever you wanted. “Hey,” You found him in his bedroom, dried tears on his cheeks as he looked at you with heartbreak written all over his face. “What happened?”
“Lena’s been cheating on me for four months,” Mat whispered, his eyes falling shut as he dug his teeth into his lip to stop himself from crying again. He had been rehearsing the words in his head since you called so that he could tell you, but they still tore at his heart.
“Oh my god,” You sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to engulf him in a hug. That at least explained why he called you. He needed comfort, and as sweet as Tito was he was also fiercely protective, you knew he’d go rip her apart if he found out now. Mat’s chest shook with small sobs while one of his arms wrapped around you, clinging to you for dear life. “Shit Mat, I’m so sorry,”
“I was- I was just going to surprise her,” He cried against your shoulder, tears beginning to soak your shirt. “And I found them,”
“Come here,” You breathed out as you slid onto the bed more comfortably, letting Mat curl himself against you. You had held him while he cried before, but you had never seen him look that small. “You deserve so much better,”
“I just-” He hiccuped. “I can’t believe she’s been doing this for so long,”
“I know… I don’t even know what to say,”
“Four years,” His words were so choked you barely understood them. He was the most broken you had ever seen him and your heart fell apart for him. No one should have to go through that, but it angered you more than anything that someone as sweet as Mat had to be the one to suffer from it. “I trusted her,”
“I know you did,” You nodded, gently running your fingers through his hair in a way you hoped would soothe him. On some particularly quiet nights at home when you were drunk with no one but him and Tito he liked to rest his head in your lap to make you play with his hair. It wasn’t something Lena really did for him, he had told you one day, but he never let himself be that close to you when people were around in case pictures circulated and she became unbelievably jealous again.
They had a fight about it once, and you wished you realised how horrible she was back then. She played it off on insecurities when it was pure misplaced jealousy, and you could now add hypocrisy to that. Mat was a good boyfriend, reassuring her and talking to you about it to make sure you’d know not to be too touchy when she was around.
It should have clicked in your head that she didn’t belong with him at all when he was forced to hide his affection for you and any other woman in his life. Tito might have been a bit smarter than you about it, he never even tried to take a liking to her while you made efforts to get along with her for Mat’s sake.
“I don’t want to fall in love ever again.” He sniffled against your shoulder, only calming down for a second before his sobs became louder.
There was nothing you could do except hold him through the rest of the night.
.
Somebody told me and I think they’re right
There is a change on its way tonight
.
It took a few months for Mat to feel better. He kept blaming himself, trying to find where he went wrong, and it took many pep talks from you to remind him that he was worth more than that. None of it was his fault, Lena was a heartless liar using him, and she didn’t deserve all of the tears he shed over her.
Tito helped too, joining your efforts as soon as he found out. Between the both of you Mat got plenty of encouragement and love, it was at least enough for him to appear fine to everyone else around him. Only you and Tito got his late night phone calls and texts when he got in his head and began blaming himself for everything that ever went wrong in his life.
Girls were still flirting with him, some of them asking him out on dates, but he turned them all away without a care. You thought he might get into a bit of a fuckboy phase to take his mind off things, but even that didn’t happen.
Neither you or Tito pushed it, he needed patience.
“You’re in love with him,” Tito accused you one night. He was the only one still sitting at the table you had secured in the bar for the rest of the team and their significant others. There was enough space that everyone was standing and mingling around the room. You were practically filling the whole bar anyway, there weren’t many other customers.
“That obvious, uh?” You gave him a weak smile, glancing in Mat’s direction.
“You’ve only been giving him all of your time and attention for the past year,” He shrugged. “I figured it out after I saw you turn down three dates the first month you were here,”
“Nice catch, I barely had it figured out for myself then,” You admitted, taking a weight off your shoulders. You had never been able to confess your feelings for Mat to anyone before. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Tito was the one to figure it out. “I just don’t want him to know yet,”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s too scared to fall for anyone again, or I would have told him already,” You saw him down the rest of his drink and laugh loudly at something one of his friends said, and that sound alone made a smile appear on your lips.
“He trusts you though,” Tito brought you back to the conversation. He had spent enough time with you to know, and he wished the two of you could see things as clearly as he did.
“Not to let himself love me as more than just a friend,” You sighed, your heart squeezing at the thought. “I know what he’s going through, well, not to that extent, but yeah, I know the kind of trust issues that come with it,” You had spent a long time getting over an ex who only cheated with a kiss, and you had barely been with him for six months back then. You could only imagine what it did to Mat to find out his girlfriend of four years lied to his face for four months straight.
“I honestly believe he already has feelings for you, he just won’t act on them just yet,”
“Maybe… Either way, all I can do is wait until he notices,” You could still give him time. You didn’t blame him for keeping his distance, as much as it hurt you had seen the damage his last relationship had done to him and you were willing to wait. You couldn’t see yourself falling for anyone else, Mat was the only one in your heart.
“Mat might act like an idiot all the time but he pays attention to people, he knows how much you care about him,” Tito assured you. You didn’t see it, but Mat was always looking at you and turning to you for everything. You were more than just his best friend and it was painfully obvious.
Mat wasn’t doing it subconsciously either. He was all too aware of your feelings for him, and he fought with himself trying to repress his own for a long time.
You were his best friend back home, but ever since you came to New York you had become so much more than that. Even when his relationship still held up you were the person he shared everything with. You and Tito were his favorite people, he constantly hung out with you without realising what you truly meant to him. Tito was like a brother but it was different with you.
Accepting his feelings for you while getting over his ex was a lot to handle, but he eventually got there. There was only so much patience you could have, he was scared it would wear off before he grew the balls to jump in and tell you the truth.
He could see you sitting with Tito while he was out there drinking, and he couldn’t help but walk over. There was no way for him to enjoy his night unless you did too.
“Come on, you’re missing out on all the fun,” He cheerfully grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the table, motioning for Tito to join.
“Someone’s drunk,” You chuckled when he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his chest. Drunk Mat was always extra needy.
“Only a little,” He grinned down at you.
His loud laugh echoed through the room when you took the opportunity to tickle his sides, and he jumped away from you with a squeal. It was the most beautiful sound, one you had missed for a whole month when he never let himself be truly carefree.
“See! This is why I can never bring you to work related stuff!” He tried to retaliate but you blocked his hands, wriggling around until he gave up and put his arm around your waist.
“Why, because I always make sure we have a good time when we’re out?” You laughed at the memories of all the stupid things you had done together when he was supposed to act professional. Granted, trying to see which one of you could catch the most olives in their mouth while the other threw them hadn’t been your smartest idea, but that dinner had been boring and the backlash had been worth it.
“More like because he can’t focus on shit if you’re around,” Tito muttered and you bit your lip in response, wondering if that was really the case. Mat was just Mat around you, but was he different when you weren’t there?
“Something like that,” The brown haired giant remained oblivious to his best friend’s words, too drunk and excited to notice. “But now you need a drink!”
“I’m driving you home, dumbass,” You laughed and resisted his grip while he tried to drag you towards the bar.
“We can uber!” Mat’s face lit up like the idea made him a genius, and you had a hard time not turning into a puddle at the sight. He was so cute it was unfair.
“And leave my car here? I don’t think so,”
“Tito, help me,” Mat looked to his friend, puppy eyes at their finest, to convince him.
“I only had one beer, I can drive,” The man sighed, rolling his eyes at Mat’s behaviour. It was the best compromise so that you wouldn’t have to leave your car and Mat could get his way.
If he could anything that might finally get you two together he’d do it. He was sick of watching you like this when you should obviously be a couple. As stupid as it was, he hoped the alcohol would help you loosen up and get closer. Mat hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and he was obviously lonely, there was a solid chance you’d at least be cuddling by the end of the night.
“You don’t have to,” You tried to ignore the hand that tugged on your arm, making sure Tito was okay with not drinking for the rest of the night. You promised you’d drive, you didn’t want to ruin his fun.
“I don’t really want to drink more, you’re good, go,” He gave you a gentle push, and a second later you were stumbling after Mat because he often forgot how strong his grip was.
“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke please,” He asked a little louder than he needed to, but the bartender clearly didn’t mind. The guys tipped well when they were out, and since the whole team was filling the bar you knew the whole staff was happily making more money than on regular nights.
“You really think you should be drinking tequila?” You laughed at his state, knowing he was only about to get worse. You didn’t mind it, he was always closer when drunk, clinging to you like a baby, and there was nothing you craved more than his hugs.
“Nope, that’s all for you,” He handed a bill to the bartender to pay for the drinks. “You need to catch up,”
“You’re going to be the reason I die one of these days,”
“Promise I’ll make sure you get home in one piece,” His lips pressed against your temple and you melted into him. He’d always make sure you were safe.
You didn’t know what to do with the mixed signals you got from him. Tito was right, you were almost sure he had feelings for you, but you wondered if he would ever act on them or if he would only want to keep you as a friend. You could only have your hopes up for so long.
The shots were placed down in front of you before you could let yourself overthink things more, and you took both with a grimace under Mat’s stare.
He was trying his best not to let himself ruin a potential relationship with you. He knew he loved you, but getting with you before he was ready would be a mistake. You were more than a rebound and you deserved to be treated right. Mat couldn’t be the one for you until he fixed himself, but knowing that gave him the energy to be better. He let himself slip into the depth of the love he felt for you, allowing himself to fall a little further every day until he was so in love with you he knew he could never go back.
The night ended as predicted, you and Mat were so drunk you laughed constantly and could barely walk, Tito tried his best to be patient as he helped you both to the car.
“Guys,” He groaned as you stopped once again, doubling over into a fit of laughter at something he didn’t understand. He was mostly amused but had to act serious for either of you to listen to him. “Come on, hop in,”
“Thanks Tito,” You gave him a big hug while Mat opened the car’s door.
“Yeah yeah,” He rubbed your back with a chuckle. “Get in there and hug Mat,” He guided you to the backseat where Mat already was, leaving the passenger seat empty.
“Tito said I should hug you,” You leaned over to him and rested your head on his shoulder as you did so.
He only hummed in response, wrapping his arms around you while Tito started the car. It would be a short drive to Mat’s place, and the three of you knew there’d be no need to drive to yours. Tito’s car was at Mat’s because you had picked them up there to come to the bar, so he’d be able to drive home and leave your car where you’d spend the night.
Getting up to Mat’s apartment was surprisingly easy. Your energy had died down in the car and you were both just dying to get in bed. Tito had to fight a little to get you both to drink water while you complained you were hungry, so he promised to make you food if you both just went to bed.
“Alright, everyone comfy?” Tito had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when he found you settled under the covers together. Mat was shirtless and you were in one of his t-shirts, you couldn’t look more like a couple. “Here,” He let you both sit up against the headboard before handing you plates.
“You’re ‘e ‘est” Mat dug in and spoke with his mouth half full of his sandwich. You nodded after him, looking up at the blue eyed man.
“Drink some more water before you fall asleep, okay?” He chuckled as he thought that soon enough all of your nights would look like this. You might have thought that Mat needed more time but Tito could see he didn’t, he had already let himself fall for you, you just had to let it happen.
.
I could drown myself in someone like you
I could dive so deep I never come out
.
Dinner at Mat’s was common, but a homemade dinner at Mat’s wasn’t. You didn’t hide your surprise when you smelled chocolate brownies baking in the oven as you walked in on a Friday night. Mat rarely went through the trouble of making food himself when he could get it cooked by someone else who would know how to prepare it right.
He had texted you to come over early during the week, so you knew he had this planned and it wasn’t just another spontaneous night you’d spend together.
“You cooked?” You took a look at what was in the oven while he stood by the stove.
“Um, yeah,” He scratched the back of his head nervously, moving a pan off the heat while you smiled.
“It smells good,” You reassured him and earned a relieved sigh. You had teased him about his cooking skills hundreds of times, but he really had tried tonight.
You sat with him like everything was normal although the dinner and bottle of red on the table told you it wasn’t. Mat was a nervous wreck, glancing at the candles he had left unlit on a shelf because he knew it’d be too much to add them to the table.
You carried the conversation easily through the beginning of the meal, giving him some more time to say what he needed to. You could see he had something to get off his chest, but you didn’t try to push it until dessert. You could barely believe he was serving you a homemade brownie with freshly cut strawberries and your favorite brand of vanilla ice cream.
He was slowly turning quiet, obviously thinking too hard.
“What is it?” You bumped your foot into his to get his attention.
Mat finally looked up from his dessert, taking a deep breath in before letting the words flow out.
“I’ve fallen for you so damn hard,” He put his spoon down, looking at you with a slightly awkward smile. Mat was rarely shy around you, but there he was, knee bouncing under the table and running his hand through his hair too many times.
“The feeling’s mutual,” You abandoned the rest of your dessert to focus on him with a soft smile. You thought you’d feel butterflies or excitement when it finally happened, but Mat’s confession only brought warmth to you. It made you feel like everything was finally falling into place.
“I know,” He breathed out, reaching for your hand across the table. It wasn’t the first time he held it, but it was the first time he let himself get amazed by how small it was in his. “I just… I thought it was impossible, I didn’t want that again. But you’ve got more patience than anyone else I know and… and you made it all possible,”
“I knew you’d need time to come around,” You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, looking straight into his eyes. Mat felt his heart melt at the sight, it was like you had known this would happen all along while he wondered if he was meant to be single for the rest of his life.
“I didn’t think I would,” He honestly answered, knowing he could voice his insecurities around you without fear of being judged. You had been his rock this whole time, his steady while he was a mess. “And I probably wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for you. You’ve pulled me out of my head so many times, so thank you,”
“Come here,” You pushed your chair back and got up while Mat mirrored your movements.
He pulled you into a tight hug almost instantly, placing a soft kiss on top of your head while you rubbed soothing circles on his back. There wasn’t a lot you needed to say once you were there, holding each other.
“I love you,” He gave you a gentle squeeze, the words floating in the air for less than a second before you replied.
“I love you too,” You pulled away to look at him, cupping his cheek and feeling him lean into your touch. “And I know how much it takes for you to say that, so thank you, for trusting me,”
“I’ve always trusted you,”
The tip of his nose touched yours and you both smiled, letting your eyes fall shut before your lips finally met.
In all of the years you had known Mat you had never exchanged a kiss, not even during a dumb drinking game. You had only imagined this moment a million times, and now that it was finally happening you could barely think.
His lips were soft, the stubble growing on his face tickled your skin, and it all felt like perfection. Nothing could have ever prepared you for what it’d be like to kiss the person you were in love with.
“Wow,” Mat whispered as he pulled away, his hands trembling slightly.
“Yeah,” You chuckled before a frown appeared in your face. “Hey,” You got him to look at you rather than his feet. “What are you so nervous for? It’s just me,”
“Sorry, I’m, uh, all out of practice when it comes to that stuff,” He admitted, his hands coming to your waist to hold you.
“How about we clean up and get on the couch so you can get practice again, mmh?” You kissed his cheek and instantly got a smile back on his face.
“That sounds perfect.”
.
Please reblog guys! Feedback and comments are always super encouraging and help me write more
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missjaystone · 3 years
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What’s up, Doc?
This is my submission for darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ ‘Watching-Stalker AU Challenge’ (And yes, after asking initially from an entirely new account before posting on a secondary blog, I’m too embarrassed to tag Roo again.)
Prompt 11: Everyone knows about celebrity stalkers, but what happens when a celebrity is the stalker? Kinks: Forced Pregnancy/Breeding, A/B/O
Word Count: 3000
Relationship: Dark!Steve x Fem!Reader x Dark!Bucky Trigger Warnings: nonconsensual/dubious consent, forced pregnancy/breeding, A/B/O dynamics, abuse of power(?). PLEASE DONT READ IF THESE OFFEND YOU (PS Everyone: I’m sorry to redirect everyone to another blog but I’m too nervous about having 'missjaywrites’ as only a secondary blog. The first blog post on miss_jay_stone with stay but that blog is officially abandoned. Henceforth everything will be posted here.)
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Being a doctor meant stressful moments, being a military doctor meant stressful days, weeks, months, or years. However, being a doctor specifically for the Avengers was an entirely new level of pressure. Being the person to patch up or perform surgery on literal superheroes made you miss working in the middle of warzones. You knew one wrong move could quickly spiral into a major issue, but you knew this when you took the job.
The choice itself wasn’t easy, there were more than enough reasons for you to respectfully decline, reasons like; despite being as accomplished as you were, you were still fairly young, the pressure was enough to age someone half a century, there were about a dozen security measures in place to make sure you said nothing to anyone, numerous contracts and NDAs to sign, and possibly the biggest reason to say ‘no’ was what you really were. An omega. You could very well be arrested because of how many official government forms you’d falsified and signed stating you were a Beta. You did what you had to do to accomplish your goals and it landed you in the medbay of the Avengers compound, often in close contact with the numerous Alphas on the team.
In your opinion, you were pretty physically average and never thought of yourself as someone that turned heads. That was more than fine by you, the less attention you had on you the better. Recently, though, you felt something subtle change, you always felt like somebody was looking at you, even if nobody else was around. The constant feeling and incessant nagging in the back of your mind sent a chill up your spine daily. There were some days where you found yourself feeling something like an internal tug towards whatever alpha was close by and now more often than not, the closest alpha was one of the two blue-eyes super soldiers. If you had listened to the alarm bells in your head, you would have left your job the moment you felt something strange.
You would’ve moved to Calgary or Portland or Dallas, but you brushed it off as silliness and an overactive imagination. And because of that, here you were, stuck in a web of your own design, your protruding stomach a reminder of the mistakes that led to this situation. Of course, you’d love them when they arrived but that wouldn’t lessen the naivete you felt for falling into their game. Their words forever holding your heart and soul firmly in a vice grip. “C’mon, doll, you can be our good little ‘mega and get everything you could ever want” “We can keep your secrets safe, we’ll make sure nothing bad can ever happen to you.” The words seem to play on repeat in your mind. You can pinpoint the exact moment a small mistake led to where you were now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 8 Months Prior~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wow, where are you going all dolled up like that?” Your colleague and friend Alex asked as you stepped out of the storage room with a bundle of clothes in your hand. He paused typing his report to watch you gather your things. “I’m going to a 50s themed party with a guy I’ve been seeing and he’ll be here to get me soon,” you answered, motioning to the very-50s inspired outfit you wore. “Lucky you, kid, knock him dead but use protection,” he called with a chuckle as you left towards the elevator. You rolled your eyes at his comment but got a chuckle out of it yourself. He loved acting like he had 25 years on you instead of 10. The entire elevator ride down you were checking to make sure everything was perfect and not a hair was out of place.
You didn’t even look up when you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. You did however look up, when you collided with a firm body. Your apologies were stopped by two things; the feel of cold metal on your back thru the thin fabric of your top and the strong scent, familiar scent of cedar & sandalwood and sage & pine. “I’m so sorry about that Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes; that was totally my fault for not looking and I’m incredibly sorry to have almost steamrolled you,” you rambled awkwardly as you hurriedly tried to step back and put space between you and them. It took several long moments before Bucky removed his hand from your back, putting both in his pockets.
“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” Steve said with a smile that just didn’t seem quite right. There was an uncomfortable couple of seconds where you felt their eyes raking over you and you would’ve sworn their pupils dilated. “You know, it’s funny, you look like you’re straight out of a magazine from the 40s,” Steve said with a chuckle to break the silence. “Thank you, sir, I have a date at a themed party and this is the theme,” you sheepishly replied. The blond cleared his throat to cover what almost sounded like a growl at the name ‘sir’ and his features momentarily hardened when you mentioned it was a date. His smile was quick to return “well we don’t want to hold you up, enjoy your weekend, Doc and we’ll see you around.” You politely thanked him and returned the pleasantry before stepping passed them to leave. If only you had looked back, you would’ve seen them begin an intense, hushed conversation before they disappeared into the elevator.
That little conversation seemed to be when all of this started, but it was only little things that never drew much thought. At least, it started small; things on your desk would be moved, lights would be left on when you showed up the next day, your door would be unlocked, just little things that you couldn’t definitively say you did or didn’t do and the feeling of surveillance being minute and random. Then it got bigger; clothes you’d left at the office would disappear like jackets you kept in case you got cold or a spare change of clothes if what you wore got messed up, and papers you were sure you’d put away would be scattered on your desk but the feeling of being watched was more often, and one or both of them often came around for seemingly any reason. Like when Sam came in to get stitches after a mission, Bucky stood to the side almost brooding when you only mildly acknowledged him to tend to his friend.
Then alarms started to go off in your head but you ignored it. They were celebrities, they were superheroes. There’s no way on Earth they’d give you more than a second though. Your internal alarms kept going off; you never felt alone anymore, even in your own home. Your cozy little home that you’d fallen in love with always felt like somebody else was there or had been there. You often felt like your skin was burning, especially when they were around which was now multiple times a day, you always seemed to run into them. Bucky was normally quiet when you crossed paths, always asking if you felt okay and commenting on your flushed and flustered appearance, taking two steps forward for every step you took away from him. Steve seemed to be more physical whenever you two met around the building, he’d pull you into a friendly hug before you could object and make conversation with you, often brushing hands with you or setting his hand on the small of your back.
It went on like that for two months and you’d never been more thankful for fall to turn to winter, the cold breeze helping to sate your increasingly uncomfortable temperature. You thought everything had passed when you started to feel more normal and they stopped coming around you as often.
One night you decided to stay late to get some reports finished, submitted, and filed properly. It was perfectly fine for a while but then you felt yourself heating up again. Even after removing your scrubs and changing into some clothes you stored here, you were still burning. Soon you were fidgeting in your seat, trying to find some way to quell whatever what happening with you. You ended up nearly running to the bathroom to splash cool water on your face and get something to drink but you should have just gone home.
When you took two steps back into your lab, you were immediately pulling back against someone’s broad chest with superhuman strength. On instant contact, a familiar and unnerving scent surrounded you; cedar and sandalwood. It was Bucky hold your back flush against his chest. Panic set in seconds later when you felt him pressed into your lower back, the size alone was enough to take you out of your paralyzingly-afraid state. But it wasn’t like that helped any; you were an average human and he was a Super Soldier, it took no effort to keep you in his grasp. All he had to do to keep you in line was move one hand around your throat and growl quietly in your ear.
“Easy, doll, if you move too much he may have to hurt you and that's the last thing we want,” a calm voice said, the tone almost soothing. Steve stepped into sight from where he’d been looking at some things on your shelf. “I know you’re probably a little confused but we’ve been keeping an eye out for you. Keeping creeps away at bars, making sure your train ride home goes without incident, taking care of the men you go on dates with. You’ve quite the active social life doll,” his voice was tender as he approached you, gently stroking your cheek.  By now your eyes were wide with bewilderment as your brain attempted to process this situation. “We want you to be our good little Omega, start a family with you, and give you everything you could ever want or need,” Steve continued when your attempt to speak came out in a whimper.
Just as you went to correct him, Steve stopped you, cupping your cheek “please don’t lie to me, doll, we can’t create a future built on lies. We always thought you were a cute little Beta but after running into you that day, we both got a nice strong whiff of your cleverly hidden Omega scent, made us both incredibly hard, especially in that outfit that looked like it was from our time. That little incident made us see you for what you are; a good little ‘mega perfectly tailored for us, made to be our girl and have our pups. Unfortunately, we had to wait sometime to wean you off of those nasty chemical suppressants but now that you’re on the verge of your first heat, your body is more ready than it ever will be to take us,” Steve explained in that eerily calm voice, the intimacy of the town and him gently stroking your cheek was easily beginning to jumble your mind as it told you to do what you’d been fighting for years, what you hoped to always avoid.
“Steve,” Bucky grumbled, finally speaking up when his friend paused, he’d started steadily grinding his hips against yours for friction. “I-I can’t, I d-don’t want this,” you stammered out, nearly biting your lip off to keep yourself from whimpering or moaning as you felt Bucky’s hard-on against you, so close to where you needed but didn’t want it to be. “Well, that’s why we’re giving you a choice, princess. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you and if you’re our girl we can make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. You’ll be the safest person on the planet. Alternatively, people will find out about your status and well, perjury, falsifying federal documents, and falsifying medical documents are serious. You’d lose your medical license permanently and it’ll be at least a decade in prison but that’s not what we want,” Steve reassured before planting a small but quick kiss on your lips and smiling.
“C'mon doll, you can be our good little 'mega and never have to do anything ever again, you’ll never have to worry about money, job security, gross bar creeps, medical issues. We just wanna take care of our girl,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his tone too gentle for the situation. When you began to object again, a strong cramp in your abdomen had you nearly double over with a pained moan. You’d have been on the floor if Bucky wasn’t holding you and Steve wasn’t in front of you. “We can make all of this pain go away right now, just say you’ll be our best girl,” Steve coerced as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. You knew you couldn’t open your mouth without moaning in pain or screaming so you furiously shook your head. Steve continuing to stroke your cheek, though small, was enough to distract you from noticing Bucky untying and pushing your shorts down.
As much as you hated yourself for it, you moaned out in surprise when you felt Bucky’s cool metal fingers rubbing your clit slowly. The man let out a groan and pulled his hand back, smirking as it glistened in the dimmed lights of the lab “fuck, Stevie, she’s so wet for us.” The words renewed your sense of panic and you began struggling hard. That seemed to be all it took for Steve to let go of his restraint. He lunged forward and captured your lips in a harsh, hungry, and dominating kiss. The blond wasted no time ripping your shirt and bra away, sending buttons flying to the floor. He didn’t break away from the bruising kiss as he began to fondle your breasts, paying extra attention to the nipples. In your state of unwanted pleasure, you didn’t notice Bucky quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them and his boxers down enough to free his aching member.
An entirely new sense of panic filled you when you felt his head nudging at your entrance; you would not make it through this in one piece, they were going to split you in half. When Steve’s lips finally left yours, he haphazardly pulled his member out and pulled you down until your face was level with his cock. When you didn’t do anything, he seemed to signal to Bucky who then buried himself into the hilt and moaned out happily, his breathing hitching as he mumbled “fuck, so tight, feels s'good.” Just as anticipated, you opened your mouth in a silent scream of pain and forced ecstasy, he gladly took the opportunity to thrust into your mouth, making you gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.
It took them no time at all to set a bruising rhythm, their moans and groans combined with your muffled cries of pleasure and fear filled the moan. You hated the way you felt your body betray you, how your core ached from Bucky to go faster, how your mind was quickly falling into the role of a submissive little Omega that you’d avoided all your life. Pretty soon you were beginning to move with them, the logical part of your brain being overshadowed by the need to please the two Alphas violating you.
“That’s it doll, that’s our good little Omega, such a good girl cooperating with her Alphas,” Steve cooed soft praises as he proudly watched the last of your resolve vanish. He took one of your hands and wrapped it around the part of his cock that wasn’t in your mouth, helping you build up a good stroking motion before letting go. He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugged whenever he felt you run your tongue along the veins. Bucky on the other hand had a vice-like grip on your hips as his thrusts gradually became erratic. He reached underneath you and started rubbing your clit quickly, this time with his flesh hand. “C'mon doll, cum for your Alphas, you’re gonna feel so good being our Omega,” he muttered into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.
You couldn’t stop yourself. Between his words and the way he rubbed your clit and Steve’s praises and encouragements, you didn’t stand a chance against doing what he asked. You came with a muffled scream as your searing orgasm raced through every one of your veins, leaving you in a seemingly endless state of white-hot euphoria. You could barely acknowledge the feeling of Bucky erupting inside of you, filling you with his seed. His thrusts slowly becoming more languid.
“C'mon, hurry up,” you heard Bucky say, even though it sounded muffled and far away to you. You admittedly whined at the loss of his member even though he still held you up. You coughed when Steve removed himself, finally taking in deep breaths of air. They switched places quickly, Steve emitting a groan as he entered you more gently than Bucky did. This time, you didn’t hesitate before taking Bucky’s cock into your mouth, just following the part of your brain that said to submit to them, that they alone could bring you this much pleasure and everything they promised. Steve gave a few thrusts before he pulled your hips flush against his and spilled himself with a content moan.
You all but collapsed to the floor when they were done, them being the only reason you didn’t. Bucky scooped you up bridal style after Steve wrapped his jacket around your used, naked form. You were only semi-conscious as they carried you out of the lab, barely awake enough to mumble out “where are we going?” “We’re going to our room, little 'mega, and we’re gonna keep doing this every night until we see you round with our pups and we’re gonna make sure you’re treated like a princess, our princess,” Steve said, using his soothing tone from earlier. Barely clinging to consciousness, you merely nodded. The last thing you remember before passing out into sweet, sweet dreamland was you saying “alphas know best.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Current~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You looked down at your stomach before looking back at the sonogram in your hands; clear as day, you could see two 8-month-old babies. You’d stopped fighting when the pregnancy tests turned positive, they were very clear that no matter where you went, they’d find you and bring you home. They kept their promise about giving you everything you could ever need or want and protecting you. They kept their promise to keep you safe and always be there for you. You resigned from your position and didn’t renew your rental agreement, officially moving in with them in a bigger room. Once you safely passed the second trimester, they claimed you as theirs and let you claim them as yours. You’re not sure if you’ll ever forgive how this started but it wasn’t so bad.
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The Best Worst Kept Secret
Hello!! I am back with yet another fic! I decided to give y’all some fluff this time as a treat. I wanted to finish this before yesterday’s ep but I got tripped up on one of the sections. So this just kind of ignores canon a lil and takes a path of its own. Enjoy!!
AKA: The one where everyone finds out that Gil and Jessica are together
JT
Gil tries to contain himself for about the hundredth time that night. He should have known she wouldn’t listen to him. It’s in the Whitly’s nature to go against everything he says. The second he knew that Jessica had an invitation to a charity discussion with their latest suspect he should have pulled the plug. It was absolutely absurd to send her in there with nothing more than a wire taped to her to catch anything duplicitous that might be said.
He should have known.
When they heard glass breaking and the connection drop his team rushed in. It was on Dani’s insistence that he stay behind. It was driving him absolutely crazy not to know what the hell was going on in there.
So he paced.
Finally, after what seemed like ages the door opened. She steps out, looking all the same if not slightly more disheveled than when she walked in. He notices she walks with a slight limp, he makes a mental note to wave down a paramedic the second he gets the chance. But it disappears once her eyes meet his.
It feels like the air is sucked out of his lungs as she walks to him, a half smile on her face that masks the fear and exhaustion lying beneath. He wants to ask her what happened in there. He wants to know what the hell went wrong. But all he can think about is that he could have lost her.
That sound could have easily been Wilkes knocking her unconscious, dead before Dani and JT can even reach her. Another missed opportunity. Their window slammed shut for good this time.
He doesn’t think.
She opens her mouth to speak but he just presses his lips to hers, pouring all of his fears and hopes into those few seconds that he loses himself. He’ll be damned if he loses her before kissing her one more time.
But he isn’t losing her. She’s alive and he can feel her heart thundering against his chest as her hands hover between them, unsure of what to do. Then he remembers everything that happened. Her fears and boundaries that he definitely just crossed way too quickly. 
He pulls away just as she starts to respond and her face almost makes him laugh, her eyes are blown wide, jaw clenched but then she smiles. That warm, effusive smile that digs deep into his chest every time he sees it.
“Don’t scare me like that again.” For a second he wants her to tease him, that it wasn’t her fault that things went south.
“Yes Lieutenant.” She answers with teasing smirk. Back on her game just as quickly as he threw her off. And god help him.
The sound of a throat clearing makes him remember just where they were. JT stands just a few steps behind her, hands in his pockets. Jessica blushes, her jaw dropping open as she stammers for words once again.
“Mother!” Malcolm’s call saves her from whatever she was going to say, her motherly instincts taking over as she rushes to him, despite her hurt ankle. He shakes his head with a small smile as he watches her go.
“So,” JT strolls up, rocking back and forth. “You two?”
“Not a word.”
“I didn’t say anything!” He casts a look to the two Whitlys, Jessica fussing over her son like she wasn’t the one in a hostage situation just minutes ago. “Just didn’t know you two were a thing.”
“We haven’t been for a long time.”
“Well in that case, don’t let her slip away.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dani
“Do not.” Jessica’s voice dips with the warning, her threatening tone lacing through the words. 
“Don’t what?” Gil smiles, mirth sparkling in his eyes. She’s seen that look hundreds of times in Malcolm, she’s more than familiar with what follows.
“Whatever you were thinking, do not.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything.” He puts his hands up in mock surrender and she almost falls for it. 
Almost comes a little too late when the jet of water hits her straight in the chest soaking her blouse. “Are you serious?” She tries to be angry but when he tilts his head back laughing it sends blush rushing up her neck and to her cheeks. “I am going to kill you. I didn’t bring any spare clothes.”
“At least I know my murder will be solved if Malcolm’s on the case.” 
“Hilarious.” She drawls, trying to suppress the shiver that rolls up her spine.
“Fine, take it off.”
“What?” She stammers for a second. Just as quickly, she recovers, a smirk forming on her face. “I thought we’d at least wait until after dinner.” She watches his eyes go wide when he realizes what he’d said, his head turning as he chuckles nervously. She bites the inside of her cheek as she undoes the buttons, tilting her head in a tease.
He is right behind her though, shucking off the turtleneck he’s wearing and tossing it to her instead. “There. Now you have something dry.” She presses her tongue to the inside of her teeth rolling her eyes at him but puts it on nonetheless.
“How do I look?” She does a little spin for effect, feeling the heat in her cheeks rise once again as he looks her up and down.
“You look beautiful.” He’s about to walk towards her when there’s a knock on the door. They’d been expecting their food to arrive any minute, she’d just hoped he would’ve taken a little longer. Gil steps back leaning against the counter. “This isn’t over.”
“Promise?” She flips her hair over her shoulder before going to answer. She swipes her purse from the table along the way. She doesn’t even look up when she answers the door. “Hi, ok so that’s $29 and-”
“Gil, I thought you were cutting down on the takeout since we order so much at the precinct-”
The two of them stop at the same time realizing that they weren’t talking to who they thought they were. Jessica looks up from her purse meeting Dani’s confused gaze. Why was she here and why did she have their food?
“Ms. Whitly.” Dani seems just as shocked as she was. Eyes falling to the very recognizable turtleneck she was wearing. “What are you doing here?”
Jessica has to bite the sarcastic remark before it slips off her tongue. 
It is not helped when she hears Gil slide up behind her. “What’s taking so long?” It only takes a sideways glance to know that he is definitely still shirtless. He goes rigid when he spies Dani and from the look on her face she’s almost certain the poor girl is ready to bolt. “I’ll go get a shirt.” She mentally curses Gil as he dips into the safety of the bedroom and away from the awkward questions.
“How long have you two been…” Jessica frowns when she realizes that her tone doesn’t sound nearly as interrogating as she expected. Rather a little guilty, she partially wonders if she ever found out that Jessica had overheard their conversation all those months ago.
“It’s new.” As in literally under a week, she thinks to herself. She’d hoped that they could keep this under wraps as much as possible. “We didn’t want to tell anyone until we were certain.”
“Not even Malcolm?”
“No.” She sighs. As much as she loves her children, they’re equally nosy and while they want the best for her, she knows Malcolm is still looking to get revenge on her for when she meddled with his first date with Eve. “I just,” She casts a look to where Gil had disappeared to, the fear and sadness momentarily taking over. “I don’t want to mess this up again.” Not for herself. Not for her children who cherish him like a father. Especially not Gil who she’s slammed the window shut so many times. Every single time he just gave her that same understanding smile. Even if it hurt.
“Well,” Jessica snaps her gaze back to Dani, remembering that she wasn’t just lamenting to herself. “He looks happy.”
Gil chooses that time to come back while she’s still locked in her own thoughts. It’s all she can do to excuse herself to the kitchen and leave them to talk. She finds the bottle of bourbon they’d planned on opening later trying to quell her shaking hand as she pours two glasses. All of her ease has disappeared, replaced with the knot of tension pulling her further into herself.
She’s just about to go check when she feels to arms wrap around her from behind. “What’s wrong?” He asks dropping a kiss to her cloth covered shoulder. Of course he could tell something was wrong just from her standing there. He’s always known her better than anyone. “Talk to me.”
She spins in his arms, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She bites the inside of her cheek. “Are you happy?”
He drops his head, shaking it with the same soft smile that makes her heart skip. “Of course I am.” One hand moves from her back brushing the hair that had fallen across her face. “I’m happier than I’ve felt in a long time. I’m with you.”
“Even if-”
“Yes.” He stops her before she can ramble off any scenarios. He’s not letting her push him away, not this time. His thumb strokes her jaw and her eyes fall to his lips. “Even then.”
Finally he kisses her, and it tastes like a promise.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Edrisa
“Are you certain there’ll be nobody here?” Jessica grasps Gil’s arm as they step into the restaurant. By all means, it was perfect. Out of the city, away from prying eyes of photographers looking to get a shot of her, far from the legacy of her name. Just a nice, fancy restaurant for a first date.
That thought send a whole new wave of anxiety through her.
Gil had asked her to dinner, officially, to celebrate his closing of a case and her sealing the deal on a new realtor’s space. Finally they have some time to themselves again, maybe for the first time in weeks they can see each other for more than fifteen minutes for a quick meal before she’s called off to a meeting or Malcolm calls him for an update on the case. 
He seems to sense her unease as he slips his hand over her’s giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just me and you.” She softens at his smile, her hand reaching up to trace his jaw. For a moment she thinks she could say the three words that have been stuck on the back of her tongue ever since they’ve started this again.
“I-” Her breath catches, choking on the words once again. She quells the frustration before it can even cross her face, instead pushing away from him. “I have to go to the restroom. Will you get our table?”
“Yeah.” If he caught what just happened, he doesn’t let on. She steadies herself by focusing on each step. Gaining back her control with each careful stride. That is, until her eyes fall on a booth across the room.
It’s the laugh that draws her attention. A sound she’s become familiar with the more the woman hangs around Malcolm. Her laugh has been something that made her son smile brighter than she’s seen in years. It’s instantly recognizable.
Edrisa.
She’s sitting with a group of women, from what she can tell they’re sisters. Similar in appearance enough to be related at least. They’re so caught up in each other that Edrisa doesn’t see her. If she’s quick enough she can just slip right into the bathroom and be back to Gil where she requested a private booth.
She’s so focused on the group of women she doesn’t see the waiter round the corner talking to a coworker. Not until she crashes into him, wine glasses tipping from the tray and spilling all over the front of her dress. The force knocks her to the ground flinching as the glass sprays across the floor around her.
“Jess, oh my god!” Gil runs up to her, careful of the shards to help her back to her feet.
“Ma’am I am so sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t-” She barely hears the rambling apologies when she can see that the person she was trying to hide from is now looking straight at her, along with everyone else in the damn restaurant. 
“I’m fine.” She dismisses with a hand. “I’m going to clean up.” She knows her tone betrays everything. She hasn’t caused such a scene since smashing the camera of the man who tried to sneak pictures of Malcolm while he was sitting on the swings with Gil only months after Martin’s arrest.
The quiet of the bathroom is a welcome change as she steps in front of the mirror. She’s an absolute scene. Hair rumpled, face flushed with embarrassment. The dress that she spent hours trying to pick out by herself all but ruined. The stickiness of the wine already making her uncomfortable.
What if she can’t do this?
The knock startles her out of her thoughts. She shuts her eyes gathering herself, “I’m fine Gil. Really, I’m not hurt.”
The door opens slowly and the person in the doorway isn’t him. Rather Edrisa who swallows heavily before stepping inside. “Do you need help?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure, cause yknow wine stains even black clothing- which is, awful, right? Like, how dare it? Isn’t that the fundamental rule of black?”
“Edrisa-”
“You should probably start blotting, that looks like expensive velvet.” She passes her a cloth napkin that she must have snagged from the table when she got up. “That’ll clean up better than the paper towels. Trust me.”
Jessica wants to put up a fight but just sighs, accepting the help. “Thank you.” She carefully blots the stain, eyes falling on the woman who rocks back and forth looking like she wants to ask a hundred questions but is barely refraining. “Before you ask, yes. We’re dating. No, it hasn’t been for long. This is our first actual date. Yes, we were trying to keep it secret.”
“I knew you two were together!”
“What?!” Jessica’s head snaps around, her tone coming out angrier than she intended.
“No! I mean- No!” Edrisa stammers. “I didn’t know know but I knew. You know?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s like. It’s like in the movies. It couldn’t be more obvious that the two people who’ve known each other for decades are going to be together in the end but it’s this will they won’t they. It’s the miscommunication and the boundaries. He’s a widower. But there’s all this tension.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’d have to be blind not to see how you look at each other.” She smiles tilting her head. “You’re head over heels for each other.”
“Are we really that obvious?” Edrisa gives a half shrug and Jessica lets out the breath of frustration. “Well, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Malcolm.”
“Oh! Yeah, totally. I mean, wouldn’t want it getting out before you’re ready.”
“No, we wouldn’t. Not yet at least. It’s new and I don’t want to mess this up. I just want to keep everything discreet.”
“One hundred percent. My lips are sealed.” The silence falls between them and for a moment Jessica wonders if she’s going to tell her something else. A thought passes across the woman’s face before she waves it off. “Well I should get back to my family. Have fun! Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want your kids to hear about.” She laughs and Jessica just chuckles nervously. “Right. Going. Bye!” Jessica follows her out the door relieved to see Gil standing there with a worried look on his face.
“Sir.” Edrisa nods at him passing him, but as she’s about to round the corner, she spins around giving him a double thumbs up with a wide grin and a wink.
“Do you think she’ll tell?” Gil asks once he’s certain she’s gone back to her family.
“Honestly? I have no idea.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ainsley
“Gil.” Her warning comes out huskier than she intended it to. She’s trying to focus on the paperwork in front of her, stacks of royalty agreements, press issues, and editor’s notes scribbled on the words of her own writing are enough to drive anyone mad. She partially wonders if this is how he feels when pouring over case files.
He hums against her neck and her control almost snaps. His arms wind around her torso scooting her closer to him on the couch. 
“Don’t you have a case to work on?”
“Just finished.” She feels him smile and she sighs putting down the file she was studying. “Not my fault you look so good in glasses.”
“They’re reading glasses.”
“Doesn’t matter. You still look good.” She bites her tongue, cheeks blushing with the compliment but she leans further into his touch. “Take a break.”
“We’ve taken 3 breaks in the past 2 days.”
“Are you complaining?” She tilts her head, pretending to think about it for a minute. That only encourages him more as he trails his kisses down her chest.
“Gil,” She tries again but all of her will is gone the second he hits that spot on her collarbone. “You’re horrible.” She pushes him back using the momentum to swing a leg over his lap so she’s straddling him. His wide eyed look of wonder is enough to make her laugh before she captures his lips with hers. Her hands rest on the back of the couch while his slide down her thighs pulling her impossibly closer.
She begins tugging at his turtleneck that he has carefully tucked in. “We should move.” He whispers in between kisses and it’s her turn to split into a wicked smile.
“I dismissed everyone this morning. We’re all alone.” His jaw drops and she tilts her head back with a laugh.
“Who’s horrible now?” But his lips attack her neck again and she just laces her fingers through his hair letting the sensation take over.
She’s ready to lift his shirt over his head when the sound of the door opening and shutting calls her attention. They both freeze, chests heaving trying to catch their breath. “Mom?” 
Jessica lets out a stream of curses under her breath at the sound of Ainsley steadily approaching. She pulls herself off his lap, quickly fixing the buttons that she didn’t notice he’d managed to snap open on her blouse. Gil does the same, tucking in his shirt where he can and taking a file to drape over his lap. She runs her fingers through her hair and picks up the file she was working on as if nothing had happened at all.
“There you are! You won’t believe what happened today! Oh, hey Gil!” Her eyes bounce between them for a moment, but if she suspects something she doesn’t let it show. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m helping your mother with her book.”
“You’re letting Gil read it?” Ainsley pouts, reminding her of when she was little and she didn’t get what she wanted. “You told Malcolm and I we’d have to wait until it was released.”
“I believe I told you I didn’t want you reading it at all, but nevertheless. What’s happened today?”
“What do you mean?” It takes Ainsley half a beat to remember she came home for a reason. “Oh. I just got the word that they want to kick off Joseph Lassley after the whole incident. You remember, right?”
“Yes?”
“Well they want to give me his spot! I’m going to be the head reporter!” Jessica jumps up going to hug her daughter. 
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful!” She squeals. “I’m so proud of you!”
“Congratulations Ainsley.”
“Thanks Gil.” She beams practically bouncing back to the door. “I have to go. I just stopped by to tell you in person, didn’t feel like over the phone news.” She hugs Jessica again and she squeezes her daughter back just as tightly. “I have to go tell Malcolm.”
“Go! We can celebrate tonight!”
“Belluci’s?”
“Whatever you want, darling.”
“Can Gil come?” Jessica looks back at him and he seems shocked at the request but nods with a soft grin.
“I’d love to.” The look of adoration makes her chest feel so tight that it hurts.
“Awesome. Love you. I’ll see you later.” With that hurricane Ainsley is gone. She lets out the breath she was holding turning back to Gil again.
“That was close.”
“Um, Jess?” Her eyebrows furrow when she realizes he’s looking at her chest. Her blouse is slanted, having missed one of the buttons in an effort to get them back together quickly.
“Shit.” She casts a look towards the door, fixing the buttons while she does. “Do you think she noticed?” 
The scream is distant but loud enough to still carry into the home. “MALCOLM HOLY FUCK.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Malcolm
“Jess if you pace any more you’re going to burn a hole into the floor.” Gil leans against the table, eyes watching her as she walks from end to end.
“He’s late.” She checks the clock again for confirmation, and yes, Malcolm was officially half an hour late. “I told him that tonight was important and that I needed to talk to him.”
“Can you blame him? The last time you said dinner was important was to harass him-”
“Don’t finish that sentence unless you want to sleep on the couch tonight.” Gil raises his glass in mock surrender sipping on the scotch. “Why are you so worked up about this? You know he’ll be thrilled. I mean when he was a kid he basically begged me to move in.”
“It’s not about how he’s going to react. It’s just,” She sighs finally settling in a chair. “He’s the only one we got to tell for real. Everyone else figured it out.”
“For a profiler, he’s shockingly unobservant when it comes to family.”
“Oh trust me, I know.” She smiles with a small laugh. “I thought for sure he was going to catch us that day in your office.”
“I can’t believe we did that.”
“Oh, poor JT.” She laughs, the tension in her chest finally easing a little. It’s enough that she misses the door opening.
“Mother, sorry I’m late. But on the brightside, I’ve got this beautiful 14th century broadsword that-” He stops, his eyes falling on Gil. “And Gil’s here.” He glances between the two of them with a suspicious look. “This isn’t some kind of intervention is it?”
“Not exactly.” She straightens herself, feeling the anxiety bubble in her stomach all over again. Everything up to this point had been amazing. Sure when they were apart, Malcolm tried to help them get back together, but what would he think now? Would he be upset? Hurt to know that he learned last?
“Mom, is everything ok?” Her expression softens, he only calls her mom when he’s worried about her. She’s given him far too much to worry about lately. She takes his hand in hers with a reassuring smile.
“Your mother and I wanted to talk to you. And this is something that’s important to us.”
“Ok you’re both acting weird now. I’m used to her. Please don’t turn on me too, Gil.”
 “Malcolm.” She sighs because she knows this is how he acts when nervous. He can’t stop talking, a habit he’s picked up from the medical examiner she’s noticed him lingering around lately. “Sunshine,”
“Oh god, she brought out Sunshine. I’m in trouble.”
“No, kid, you’re not in trouble we just-”
“Gil and I are together.” She finally blurts out, before pursing her lips together. Malcolm’s head snaps towards her with a mixed look of wonder and disbelief.
“Like, together together?”
“Yes.”
“Is it serious?”
“Well I hope so considering he’s moving in.” She tries for the joke but Malcolm just short circuits, leaning back in his chair running a hand over his chin.
“How long?”
“2 months.”
“2 months?” 
“Well, kid. Your mother and I wanted to make sure it stuck this time before we told you.”
“Does Ainsley know?” The two of them pass a look and they can practically see as the dots connect in his head. “Oh my god the couch. She called me and was talking about Gil, and the couch. She didn’t make any sense. Oh my god.”
“We wanted to tell you for so long. But it didn’t feel like the right time.”
“Is that the bet that Dani and JT have going? If you two are together?”
“Not exactly.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It’s more like when you’ll figure it out.”
“They know?” 
“Well they figured it out the same way Ainsley did.”
“WHAT?”
“Not like that! JT saw me kiss your mother after the Wilkes case,”
“Dani was a few days later. I stayed the night at Gil’s and I answered the door thinking she was our takeout.”
“Did everyone find out before me?”
“Well we were sure Edrisa was going to accidentally let it slip.” Jessica shrugs.
“Edrisa knows?” 
“We ran into her at a restaurant where some said it would be safe away from anyone we could run into.” She shoots a playful glare at Gil who raises a brow at the challenge.
“How was I supposed to know the Tanakas were in town?”
“Oh my god.” Jessica turns her attention back to her son who looks as if he’s going over every single interaction he’s had for the past 2 months in his mind.
She swallows heavily, taking his hand again and getting serious. “Are you ok with this?”
The question seems to snap him out of his spiral. His eyes finally fall on her with a clarity and hope she hadn’t seen for a long time. “Ok with this? This is like, something I thought about since I was 12. Gil’s basically my dad. And if you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me. Are you happy mom?”
“Oh Sunshine,” She chokes back the tears building in her eyes, her free hand tracing over his jaw. She wonders how the hell she got so lucky. “I’m very happy.”
He turns his attention to Gil. “Are you?”
The look on Gil’s face almost takes her breath away. “I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”
“Good.” Malcolm smiles and Jessica is certain her heart is going to burst right out of her chest. “Now, when are you going to propose?”
“Malcolm!”
“Am I getting a little brother or sister?”
“I am fifty two!”
“So was Janet Jackson.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Oh I’m just getting started. I’ve got twenty one years of meddling pent up and ready to unleash.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Martin
The sounds of wheels sliding across the linoleum breaks Martin’s deep focus, he abandons his latest project with a wide grin. “TV time already, Mr. David? I felt like I had a good half hour in me still!” The man doesn’t answer, only moving to set up the equipment with the same boring monotony as he did every day. Honestly, you’d think the man could show a little more life.
It no longer matters when the TV powers on, just in time to see his daughter’s smiling face, with a warm greeting that feels especially for him. He bristles, the same sense of pride that fills his chest any time he can see his children in their element consuming him. He can’t help but shift in glee, scooting closer to the screen.
“Is she wearing L’agence again? You know, that’s her mother’s influence right there. I was always more of a Brioni man, myself. Italian. Swear you’ve never felt something so soft in your life.” Ainsley picks up her papers, tapping them against the desk, signaling she’s diving into the latest news. “Shh, she’s starting”
“Why don’t we start off tonight on a good note? Lighting up the social circles and buzzing all around New York, daughter of John and Carrie Milton, Jessica Whitly is engaged! You may know Jessica Whitly as she was the ex-wife of the Surgeon and is my mother.” She grins, and he swears he can see Jessica in her. The mischievous glee of knowing that his world is falling apart sparkling in her eyes. “Tabloids were lighting up after spying Ms. Whitly with a ring on her finger, and it is with great pleasure that I’m the one to confirm the rumors. Ms. Whitly is engaged to the head of major crimes, Lieutenant Gil Arroyo. The two of them met during the arrest-”
“Turn it off.”
“Martin,” Mr. David approaches, ready to apprehend if necessary. It won’t be, he can control himself.
“Turn it off!” He snaps. He blissfully does and Martin revels in the silence, if only for a moment. “How could she not tell me? Me? I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone again!” He pushes the chair back pacing from end to end, or as far as his rope would let him reach. “I had to find out by a broadcast. The news.” He scoffs, noticing that the man across the room’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. “Did you know about this?”
“Yes, I received the news about a week ago.”
“A week ago.” He falls back onto his bed with a sigh. “My boy didn’t even tell me! And I really felt like we were connecting again! ”
“Martin,”
“And my girl! Oh you know her mother set her up to do that just to get at me. Ainsley would never stoop so low as to address tabloids. They’re so beneath her.” He rakes a hand through his hair, “and Mr David, Et tu, Brute. Leave me alone, I’d like to suffer in peace.”
“I guess I shouldn’t tell you I got the invitation in the mail yesterday.”
It’s all he could do but turn his face to scream into his pillow.
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jobean12-blog · 4 years
Text
Top Shelf: Chapter 17- Muffin But Books
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Bookshop/bartender/baking AU)
Word Count: 2,050
Summary: You go out to celebrate the reopening of the bookshop and have maybe a bit too much fun...and before you know it’s the day :) 
Author’s Note: So I hope you guys can get the feel of what the bookshop looks like now, I used some pics in the moodboard that give you an idea :) I also could not resist some sexy fun with Bucky because I never can. The bar they are at called The Park (pic is in the center of the moodboard) is unfortunately closed now but here is an article about it so at least you can see the space and know the story. Thank you all for continuing on this journey with me and a day early today! 😁 I love you and I’m sending you all my love always ❤❤❤
Warnings: soft fluff, fun with friends, smut, teasing, flirting, all the emotions (the good ones :) 18 + only please ;)
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Top Shelf Masterlist 
You and Bucky are tucked into a booth at The Park, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. It’s the Saturday night before the reopening of the bookshop and Sam suggested everyone take the night off to celebrate. The two of you arrived early on purpose, enjoying some alone time while sipping your drinks and talking quietly together in the corner booth.
“Do you wanna sleep over at the bookshop tomorrow night? Or will it be too much to get up, go home and shower and then come back?” Bucky takes a sip of his drink while he watches you consider his question. “Let’s stay over. It will be our last night before it officially becomes “The Bookshop Bakery!” He agrees with a smile, leaning in for a kiss that he quickly deepens when your hand runs up his thigh under the table.
“Starting the party without us I see.” Sam’s loud voice breaks the two of you apart. “You have the worst timing Wilson,” Bucky groans before standing and pulling him in for a hug. Everyone finds a seat and orders some food and drinks. The next few hours are light and worry free. You talk about the excitement over the reopening, Peggy and Steve’s upcoming wedding and everything in between.
You’re halfway through your third drink when you hand starts inching up Bucky’s thigh again. He grabs your wrist, stilling your movements and whispering in your ear, “what are you up to, baby?” Striking up a conversation with Nat you ignore his question and wiggle from his grasp. He let’s your hand continue its path until it’s hovering over the growing bulge in his jeans.
He nearly spits out his drink when you start to gently rub him through the thick fabric. It’s hard to stop when you can feel him throb beneath your fingers, but you can tell it’s really getting to him. “Hey Buck, you ok. You look like a deer in headlights.” Steve’s question makes you bite your lip to stop from giggling. “I’m good. Yea, fine, thanks.” Steve raises a brow but doesn’t push it, turning his attention to Peggy.
“Doll face. What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?” This time it’s more of a growl than a whisper and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Just having a little fun is all.” With one more firm squeeze you remove your hand and slip into the conversation between Sam and Nat. Before you know it Bucky’s hand lands on your bare thigh and his fingers dance along your soft skin.
“Hey Nat, Peg, bathroom break?” You eye the two girls and they both nod, squeezing around the guys to get out. You give Bucky a wink and saunter off toward the back. “Fucking hell.” Sam smirks. “What was that Barnes.” Sliding out his middle finger, Bucky doesn’t answer, just takes another sip of his drink. Sam tries Steve. “So, how’s the beard working out for you?” Bucky can’t hold back his snickers and he dips his head, “we are never gonna let you live it down.”
When the three of you return the boys are still smiling and Steve’s face is red. “Oh god,” Peggy complains, throwing her hands up. You all laugh and slip back into your seats. This time you decide that Bucky’s lap is better than the booth. He definitely doesn’t mind and now you can continue your little game. Shifting back and forth you do your best to push your ass back and grind over him. His hands are digging into your hips and his breath is hot in your ear.
“What time is it?” he grits out. “Almost 1 am,” is your sultry answer. He reaches back to grab his wallet. “Ok gang, we’re out. We have some stuff to finish at the shop tomorrow and dinner with Grandma.” The boys boo but Nat and Peggy give you a sly smile. “See you all at the opening!” With that Bucky slides out from under you and grabs your hand.
The bar is only a few short blocks from your apartment and you both keep your cool until you’re in the elevator. The second the doors shut Bucky has you pressed against the wall, his hands slipping under your dress. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that.” Your sassy response dies on your lips the moment his fingers ghost over the wet patch on your underwear. He hums into your mouth, pushing the satin aside and gliding his fingers through your folds.
The elevator dings and he pulls away, letting your dress fall down and pulling you out and down the hall. You try to find your keys but it’s taking too long. Bucky turns you around and kisses you against the door. Breaking away he takes his fingers and traces them over your lips before pushing them past. You both moan as you suck them clean, tasting yourself.
“Fucking keys,” you breathe out, finally finding them at the bottom of your bag. The door flies open with your combined body weight and Bucky quickly slams it shut. You’ve barely dropped your bag to the floor, and he’s got your dress up above your hips. Trailing soft kisses along your neck his fingers hook into your underwear and pull them down your legs.
Your hands fumble with the button of his jeans, eventually working them down his thick thighs. His boxers are next, and you wrap your hand around his hard cock, slowly pumping the length of him. He parts your legs with his knee, removing your hand and running his cock through your arousal. “Is this what you want?”
He pushes into you every so slightly before pulling back out, loving the whine that leaves your parted lips. “Yes. I want you to fuck me.” He teases you one more time before slowly filling you up. He lifts one of your legs and goes deeper, causing your head to roll back against the door. His lips are on your neck as he thrusts into you hard enough to shake the door on its frame. His hand reaches between your bodies and it isn’t long before you’re clenching around him, chanting his name with your release.
Once you both catch your breath, he carries you to bed, covering you before he gets in and holds you to his chest. You can feel your eyelids grow heavy with sleep, the steady beat of his heart matching your own. Kissing his chest and snuggling closer you whisper, “I love you,” barely hearing his same words as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.
Sunday is a flurry of last-minute preparations and dinner at Grandmas. She’s practically humming with excitement and makes you promise not to give too much away about tomorrow. “I want to be surprised and I have full faith in you all.” You help her clean up and sit and talk for a little longer before heading back to the bookshop.
You and Bucky stand by the door and look out and the new space. “Wow. I can’t believe we did it.” Bucky hums his agreement, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his head atop yours. “We did it.” You take a deep breath, loving how it smells like pumpkin and spice and coffee beans with the light scent of old books somehow weaving its way through in a perfect balance.
The books have been neatly shelved on the beautiful new dark wood bookcases, all the mismatched piles gone and free of dust. You wrote all the aisle and shelf labels by hand and encased them in brass adornments that match the new lighting fixtures. The front of the store was cleared out and now houses a completely new display case for the baked goods as well as some tables, chairs and a couch with soft cushions.
Behind the counter there are shelves for coffee mugs, teacups and plates, all of which you and Bucky picked out at antique stores, estate sales and consignment shops. The labels for the desserts are hand-printed on antique looking paper, framed by more brass and the new countertop is a dark oak wood with lighter grains running through it.
The lighting is soft with hanging lamps and candle holders that line the walls while the accents are bright and colorful without being overpowering. You got rid of the old blinds that covered the windows and went with light and flowing curtains that are pulled back with antique hooks. It has a charming and soft look that’s both comforting and classic.
You and Bucky head toward the back staircase, which is now closed off with an iron gate to prevent people from going up to the attic library. Once you’re upstairs you plop yourself down on the fluffy blankets, watching Bucky as he scans the bookshelves. “What are you looking for handsome?” He smiles but doesn’t answer as he stops in front of one and grabs a book. “Remember this?” He turns it around to reveal the cover. Your eyes land on the Auryn garnishing the cover. “Of course, I do. You read some to me the first day we met.”
He props up some pillows and leans back, opening his legs so you can sit between them. You lean your back against him and he cuddles you close, placing the book in your lap. “Ok, I still have the bookmark from that day.” He starts to read, and you feel yourself relaxing, his soft voice lulling you to sleep. When he realizes you’re out he sets the book down and shifts so you’re both laying down, kissing your shoulder before resting his head on the pillow.
Bucky wakes before the alarm, moving carefully and sitting up. “Hey baby, pssst.” Gently running his hands over your hair, he tucks it away from your face. “Sleepy head, hey, come on, time to get up.” You mumble something incoherent and roll over, smacking at the air. You took the week off from work using your vacation days so you could help Bucky with the launch as much as possible and getting up early just doesn’t sound appealing right now.
“Today’s the day!” he chuckles, “gotta get up.” His hands reach down and squeeze your butt and he watches a smile creep over your face. “I know you’re awake now. I’ll resort to tickles if you don’t start moving.” Trying to smack his hands away you curl into a ball, hiding in the pillows. “Ok, I’m up! I’m up!”
The two of you change and head back to his apartment to shower and get ready. You only have to grab a few things before heading back to the store and checking it all over for the last time. You have a couple of hours before the doors open, so you head to the back to throw some things in the oven, hoping to have them as fresh as possible.
“Hey, baby?” You hear Bucky’s voice from outside the door and immediately panic at his tone. “Bucky.” You quickly head out and around the counter staring at him first before following his line of sight. The line of people outside has you muttering, “holy shit,” under your breath, grasping for Bucky’s hand before you turn to him.
His smile hits you like a ray of sunshine and before you know it, you’re kissing and hugging him and jumping up and down in his arms. “There must be 25 people out there already Buck!” He keeps smoothing his hands down your hair and rests his forehead to yours, “thank you. Thank you for everything.” Tracing his lips with your finger you kiss them softly, “Bucky, I love you. Now hurry, we gotta get the muffins and cookies out of the oven!”
Once everything is out and properly displayed you straighten a few cups hanging along the wall and attempt to check your hair in your phone. “Are we ready?” Bucky gives your hand one last squeeze before you make your way to the door. You can already see Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam and right beside them is Grandma Betty. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and when they land on you and Bucky you know you won’t be able to hold back your own.
@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @buckys-henley @bucky-on-my-mind @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-minty-breath @breezy1415 @buckyandbowties @buckosawrus @chuuulip @eurynome827 @emilylyoness @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @imgaril-lindru @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @scarletsoldierrr @tuiccim @this-kitten-is-smitten @the-wayward-robot @yansi1923​ @flyawaybay​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @amandatar-06​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @fire-flv​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @irishflutiegirl​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @inflxmes @curlyred2020 @lauratang​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @buchanansebba​ @addikted-2-dopamine​ @lady-pswrld​ @lookiamtrying​ @tales-of-spring​ @lokilvrr​ @mishaandthebrits​ @hopefuldreamers-world​ @rebekahdawkins​
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realityhelixcreates · 3 years
Text
Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge
Chapters: 79/?
Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: pg 13(Blood)
Relationships: Loki x Reader
Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner
Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas
Summary:  The great ceremonies begin.
The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.
With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.
First Wielder.
The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.
Peace. Eternity. Creation.
Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.
Before all.
The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.
There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.
Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.
The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.
Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.
The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.
The Wielders always came to a bad end.
                                                                            ******
Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.
It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.
Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.
Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.
Maybe just a few hours.
Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.
But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.
It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.
Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.
Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.
“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”
“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.
You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.
“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.
“Want me to run them off?” he offered.
“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”
“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”
“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”
That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.
“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”
“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.
“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”
“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”
You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.
“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”
“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”
You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.
Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.
“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.
You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.
“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”
Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...
“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”
You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.
“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”
“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”
“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”
Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.
“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.
“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.
Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”
“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”
“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”
Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.
“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”
Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.
“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.
                                                                                ******
“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.
“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”
“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”
A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.
“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”
“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”
“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”
“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”
“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”
Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”
“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”
You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.
“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”
“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”
“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.
As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”
You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.
“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.
“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”
“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”
“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”
Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.
“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.
Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.
But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.
An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.
You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.
The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.
There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.
But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.
The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.
“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.
Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.
You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?
Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.
All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.
Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.
Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.
“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.
A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.
Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.
Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.
The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.
And you understood them.
Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.
He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.
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malecdiscordserver · 4 years
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We’ve officially come to the end of the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020 presented by the Malec Discord Server. We had a fantastic turnout with 35 writers, 21 artists, and 22 betas making it across the finish line. I hope you’ll join us in giving everyone a huge round of congratulations for this fantastic content. 
Take a look at the AO3 collection here!
Without further ado, here is a masterpost of all submitted pieces for this event. Please be sure to give all of these fantastic creators the credit they deserve for these amazing stories and incredible pieces of art. 
The Games We Play by @accal1a
Rating: Explicit Summary: Alec and Aed play a diabolical game, Magnus and Francesca look on, teasing their partners all the while.
When Life Doesn't Give You Lemons by @jesssssah
Rating: Mature Summary: Magnus and Alec are contestants on Masterchef. Without a recipe, they must each make a dessert by celebrity chef Jace Wayland or risk elimination from the competition. Magnus' talent is for desserts but Alec is inexperienced at those. So to save him from going home Magnus must give him some lessons in baking.
The Angel's Treasure by @notquiteascrazy 
Rating: Mature Summary: When a change of life circumstance gives Magnus the means to go in search of adventure, there is only one person he can think of who should accompany him: his college friend, Alexander Lightwood. After all, what could possibly go wrong with taking the man you've always had a secret crush on to explore a tropical island on the hunt for long-lost treasure? Link to completed fic
You Are The Music in Me @brightasstars 
Rating: Explicit Summary: Alec wakes up one morning, in a hospital’s bed, alone and far away from home, only to discover that he has lost his lower leg and all that he had, is now gone forever. With his new life, comes new relationships and encounters, and Alec finds himself working on his dream with Magnus, a famous cello player, who shares with him more past than he could imagine. Heart grows fonder as they get to know each other but it terrifies Alec to reveal everything to Magnus, scared that it would be too much, for he isn’t ready to lose everything all over again.When truth is forced out of him, even his own skin doesn’t feel safe enough. Luke’s question echoes through his mind, is he ready to let someone see him? let someone love him? A story of losing and winning and everything in between. Link to completed fic
hollow crown by taurussieben 
Rating: Teen Summary: He nodded at himself in the mirror, took the keys from the bowl on the sideboard in the hallway, checked for his pockets for his card and phone, and stepped out. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
“I think we should take a break.”
A story about how we shape our own world and that sometimes, that shape is much more different then we thought it is.
of track meets and heartbeats by fallenhurricane
Rating: General Summary: Alec takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders, bouncing from foot to foot. He adjusts his grip on the pole one last time before starting his run.
His run feels good and right; his knees are pulling up high and the pole is steady, if a bit lighter than normal, in his hands. As he approaches the crossbar, he straightens and speeds up a bit, extending his arms above him. The bottom of the pole settles into the plant box and Alec swings himself forward and up, just as he’s done hundreds of times before.
But.
But.
While Alec has plans to clear this jump and advance to set his personal record, the pole that Camille loaned him has a different idea.
OR: The high school track team injury AU nobody asked for.
Please, Don't Turn Back by hmweasley
Rating: Teen Summary: Once they're 18, both demons and angels must visit Earth with their own personal missions before they come of age. For angels, this means saving souls. For demons, it usually means little more than corrupting a human or two, but Magnus isn't a run-of-the-mill demon. He's the son of a Prince of Hell, and his mission must reflect that. What Asmodeus gives him is a mission that's rather straightforward on paper: kill Alexander Lightwood, the son of high-ranking angels.
There's just one thing the plan doesn't account for: how Alexander makes Magnus feel.
Dormancy by Hermit
Rating: Teen Summary: Love used to be a weed that threatened to choke him. Now, it will never again be in the cards for him. Magnus absolutely, and with all the certainty of centuries, knows this. Until Alec Lightwood unknowingly waters his heart. It decides to grow. This is undeniably a problem, but both Alec and Magnus have to choose if it can bloom.
catch me when i fall by @mirrorofliterature
Rating: Teen Summary: When Magnus Bane walks into Alec Lightwood's office on one frosty fall night, fresh from a conference about a particular world-destroying lie-detector, the Damocles sword doesn't drop onto their heads.
Or: Robert Lightwood doesn’t tell Alec about the Soul Sword, and things change. Magnus and Alec stay together. Yet -
How much more does he have to lose - how much more does he have to suffer - before he’s finally left alone?
In the perpetual, lonely silence filling his home, Magnus Bane falls to his knees, and cries.
Meet Me On The Ice by @aceon-ice
Rating: Teen Summary: Magnus is at the top of men's figure skating, with a solid winning streak, but he's no longer interested in the sport- until he meets Alec Lightwood.
Alec is a pairs skater struggling with competition anxiety whose life takes a turn for the better when he's approached by Magnus Bane.
AKA the figure skating AU nobody asked for but I wanted to write.
Artwork for Meet Me On The Ice by @koryandr​
the way to a chef's heart by @lecrit
Rating: Mature Summary: After a scorching review on his restaurant in one of the world's most famous food magazine, world class chef Magnus Bane is set on finding the food critic who dared to slander his art and make him change his mind. He doesn't expect someone as stubborn or infuriating as Alec Lightwood.
Artwork for the way to a chef’s heart by @whatanexcitingfewdaysithasbeen
I loved your colours (before I loved you) by @hopesilverheart
Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.
In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind. Link to completed fic
Artwork for I loved your colours (before I loved you) by @calliartss​
Bleeding Heart by sivan325 
Rating: Explicit Summary: “Are you sure? Maybe there is some other alpha out there for you?” Jace asked.
“What other alpha?” Alec asked as he stared at the beta, and added, “I don’t have a choice in that anymore, I’m without an Alpha, I’m more like pack less, someone that does not belong anywhere.” Link to completed fic
Artwork for Bleeding Heart by @miss-shiva-adler​
They Call Me a Thief by @lightwormsiblings
Rating: Teen Summary: The Lightwoods are relatively new to the criminal scene but are quickly making a name for themselves. What happens when they run into world renowned con-artist Magnus Bane and his team when on a job after which Alec realizes he and Magnus might be after the same thing.
or a Shadowhunters Leverage AU
Artwork for They Call Me a Thief by @killiarious
Love, but Make it Fashion by theweird1
Rating: Explicit (Chapter 9) Summary: Alec couldn't stand corporate life anymore. Now he needs a job and Izzy is the girl to help. Unfortunately, it is to be a PA to the most overbearing and annoyingly handsome fashion designer to ever grace the pages of Vogue. A man with a heart of ice, but even ice can be thawed with enough care. Ghosts from the past will surface just when it looks like love is in the air. Suddenly Alec finds himself in the most awkward position of pretending to be his boss’ new fiancé. Magnus and Alec will have to decide if their fake engagement can become a reality before they are completely torn apart. Link to Chapters 1-5 Link to Chapters 6-Epilogue
Artwork for Love, but Make it Fashion by Kuro
To Shine A Light by Nadja_Lee
Rating: Mature Summary: Alexander Lightwood is a very old and powerful Warlock, who has risen to become a leader for the Downworld. When one of his people, the Warlock Andrew Underhill, is accused of breaking the Accords and faces sentencing Alec shows up at the New York Institute to set the record straight. Camille, leader of the NYI, has plans for the powerful Warlock, plans she is eager to see carried out. She has Idris’ best soldier, Magnus Bane, assist with the interrogation of Alec, unaware what she is setting in motion by doing so as Alec and Magnus are instantly drawn to each other. Soon Magnus will have to choose between helping Alec and his oath to Idris. Will Magnus dare to risk it all for the possibility the powerful Warlock will take a chance and open his heart to him? Link to completed fic
A Bit of Space by @facialteeth
Rating: Mature Summary: Alec and Magnus are the sole survivors after their spaceship crashes on an uninhabited planet. They have no way to contact anyone to let them know they’re still alive but somehow, they make it work. In the end, all they really need is each other. Link to completed fic
Artwork for A Bit of Space by @accal1a​
A Prince of Gold and Glass by @harkasun
Rating: General Summary: When Magnus sends himself to Edom in order to protect Alicante and the world, Alec must come to terms with the possibility that the man he intended to marry has sacrificed much more than his freedom. Meanwhile, in the demonic realm, The Queen of Edom finds a warlock, the half-breed son of a Prince of Hell whose corruption can ensure that the throne of Edom is once again claimed by a creature of demonic royalty: one who will become her Prince of Edom. Link to completed fic
Artwork for A Prince of Gold and Glass by DarayFlair
Cradling the Sun by @cuubism
Rating: Mature Summary: Alec’s known for a long time that Magnus is a hard person to hold. He’s so much—so much power, so much energy, so much brilliance, so much love. He shines so bright he’s hard to even look at directly, never mind try to hold in one set of hands. Now that Magnus himself is losing his grip on all of that, well. Alec will just have to hold him a little bit tighter. Link to completed fic
Artwork for Cradling the Sun by @faejilly Also found on YouTube and Spotify
A piece of night sky by myulalie
Rating: Teen Summary: There are rumors that Valentine is back. And he's searching for something. When his dealings with dark magic cause swarms of demons to crawl New York, the city is not safe at night, especially for downworlders.
Alec is doing his best to keep the city safe. With no support from the Clave, the New York Institute is desperately understaffed. He begins patrolling with help from the Downworld factions - which proves to be tricky at best, and becomes almost impossible when the werewolves start hunting Alec.
His siblings have no idea of what he’s up to at night and to keep them all safe Alec needs to keep it that way.
Then, he meets the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Suddenly, patrolling also includes pop songs and bird puns in between watching someone's back when fighting demons.
But, what’s one more secret to keep? Link to completed fic
Artwork for A piece of the night sky by @jesssssah​
Dona Nobis Pacem by lawsofchaos
Rating: Teen Summary: “When Alec kneels before you on that dais, Magnus,” Jace keeps going, “he’s telling every person present that it is your judgement, your respect, that he places before all others. In you placing that rune on his neck, Alec is publicly proclaiming that it’s your blessing and your judgement on him and on his reign as Head that gives him the right and the authority to uphold the Covenant.” Link to completed fic 
Artwork #1 for Dona Nobis Pacem created by @cloudburst-ink Artwork #2 for Dona Nobis Pacem created by @cloudburst-ink
isn’t it just so pretty to think (an invisible string) by @iambeingcoy
Rating: General Summary: alec had jumped at the chance to work in paris when the offer presented itself to him. it was a chance to run away from new york for a year under the guise of a good career opportunity. there, he meets magnus. while falling in love with the other man, alec finds himself falling in love with the city too. when the year begins to come to a close, alec doesn't realize that what you're running away from can always catch up to you and, just maybe, he isn't the only one who has been running.
it's easy to fall in love in paris.
Artwork for isn’t it just so pretty to think (an invisibly string) by @spark-draws​
Copper, Gold, Silver, and Glitter by YourAverageNerd 
Rating: Teen Summary: "Oh. Yeah. You know how you invited Magnus Bane to Jace and Clary's wedding as a joke?" Alec shrugged. "He actually showed up. We went out for lunch yesterday."
Silence. It was silent. The kind that Alec craved and usually could never find and wow, he should drop bombs like this more often because he really liked it.
Then Jace ruined it by nearly screaming, "I'm sorry, what!"
(In which there's a wedding, some celebrities may be nicer than they appear, and Alec is trying to keep himself from turning into smoke.)
Blame It on the Fairy Dust by slyvir 
Rating: Mature Summary: Pandemonium is Magnus's territory, the lack of Alec's presence by his side despite the latter's apparent open stance on downworlders is slowly brewing into political issues. That clubs are not Alec's scene it is not a surprise, the reasons why he tried to avoid nights at Pandemonium however blindside Magnus, especially when they came out in the open in a fashion that is uniquely normal for them.
Both Alec and Magnus are ready to give away a piece of themselves for the other. Suffering in silence, with the intent to protect their partner from pain or guilt. But the way to Hell is paved with good intentions. And the more one let someone else in, the more one can get hurt. No one has any doubt that Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood are deeply in love, they show it all the time, even when no one’s looking. So it should not come as a surprise that they end up being each other’s reason to hurt so much. Link to completed fic
Artwork for Blame It on the Fairy Dust by @a-ghost-named-k​
In Every Universe, We Find Each Other by EternallySilverMagnusandAlec 
Rating: Teen Summary: Tensions have been rising between the Clave and the Downworld to the brink of near revolution in the wake of Valentine's return. Magnus is asked to lead in these trying times, pushed to fight at the forefront of his people and the downworld as he has for centuries. Despite this, Magnus and Alec still meet and dance around with whatever is growing between them, time stretching into months of stolen interactions despite the swelling conflict, and fall in love. And Alec Lightwood still makes the decision to choose Magnus Bane. Or: A collection of moments in a time of growing tension Magnus and Alec share, and the product of their final choices
Artwork for In Every Universe, We Find Each Other by @greentealycheejelly​
Codename: Bane by @bidnezz 
Rating: Mature Summary: Magnus Bane meets Alec Lightwood by pure coincidence on two occasions: one morning in a quaint coffee shop, and again during a mission briefing for The Clave. It’s only supposed to be one mission, but leaked information and the kidnapping of his friend and mentor Ragnor Fell lead to undesirable predicaments, and hard as he tries to keep it professional, Magnus can’t help his growing affection for the spy he’s hired to watch and navigate through the murky treachery of espionage.
Artwork for Codename: Bane by @myulalie​
A Wonderful Institution by @rhosyn-du 
Rating: Teen Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.
Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that. Link to completed fic
Artwork for A Wonderful Institution by @bidnezz​
Coming to America by PisangGoreng 
Rating: Mature Summary: His Royal Highness Asmodeus Magnus III is the crown prince and sole heir to the throne of Edom. He has never left the island and is pretty desillusioned with the royal treatment. The law says he needs to wed before he turns 30, so on his 29th birthday his father arranges a marriage for him. But when his fiancée turns out to be an awful familiar face, Magnus takes matters into his own hand.
He bargains with his father, who gives him 3 months to do whatever he wants. So Magnus comes up with a plan: he's going to live life as a normal guy and find a partner all by himself in New York.
Not wasting any time he starts looking for love, with little success. Until he encounters the most handsome, intelligent and charming man he has ever seen! Without realizing it himself Alexander Lightwood sweeps Magnus off his feet, and along the way Magnus finds that he's in deep and has no plan, his dream guy is already in a relationship and every day he is closer to his return to Edom.
And even if he manages to get Alec's attention, will there ever be a good time to tell him he's been a prince all along?
An adaptation of the 1988 romantic comedy Coming to America (but probably a lot less funny). Link to completed fic
Artwork for Coming to America by amillustration_
until death do us part by ColorfulWarlock 
Rating: Explicit Summary: In the past, a still traumatized six-year old Magnus thought he would have to endure the darkness of Edom alone. Until another child – a boy with dark hair, pale skin and bright hazel eyes – found him and lighted up his heart.
In the present, the High Warlock of Brooklyn Magnus Bane works with the Shadowhunters and other Downworlders to bring Valentine down. What he doesn’t expect is that Valentine controls a very powerful being, and how to fight someone to whom you give your heart centuries ago?
Artwork for until death do us part by @eternallysilvermagnusandalec​
Keris by AlterEgon
Rating: Mature Summary: A recent death shakes Magnus Bane with some eerie parallels to his own past. As the supposed suicide turns to probable murder, he begins questioning the circumstances surrounding his own mother's death. When proximity to the dagger that took his mother's life brings him visions of details long forgotten that do not fit into the narrative he had taken as truth regarding her last days or weeks, he, Alec, and their friends and family begin to investigate, uncovering unexpected connections and a killer who has been on the loose for far too long
It's What You Do With Life That Matters by @skylar102 
Rating: Teen Summary: Alec has come to the Sinnoh region in search of a rare pokemon. Along the way, he meets a trainer who is more than willing to help him out. Is there more to the stranger's generosity? Will Alec be able to capture the pokemon he's been long searching for? What secret is Alec hiding?
On this journey, Alec is going to make new friends, finish a long overdue promise, and finally confront a piece of his past.
Aligned by @jaackkitty
Rating: Teen Warning: Non-con in a chapter (not descriptive or explicit) Summary: In six months, Prince Alec Lightwood is set to become King of Idris. He’s been waiting to take the throne since his parents' unexpected death at sea eight years ago. Since then, Valentine Morgenstern has been serving as king. Needless to say, Valentine’s rules & regulations only serve Valentine and his trusted followers, with no regard for the well-being of the people of Idris, least of all the magic users. Afraid of them, he created a law to bind their magic to another. By circumstance, Alec finds himself aligned with magic user, Magnus Bane. Link to chapters 1-9 Link to chapters 10-16
Artwork for Aligned by @greentealycheejelly​
My Fearless Love, I Will Not Say Goodbye by @arialerendeair
Rating: Explicit Summary: When their first time together results in an accidental mating bond, Alec and Magnus have to decide how they want to proceed. Especially since they were both sure that the other didn't want a full mating...right?
Also known as: Alpha Alec, Omega Magnus, and a fuckton of pining. Link to completed fic
Artwork for My Fearless Love, I Will Not Say Goodbye by @skylar102​
Sixteenth Sunset by Nhixxie
Rating: Mature Summary: NASA astronauts Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood spend one year living and working together in the International Space Station. They fall in love one astounding view of Earth at a time.
Artwork for Sixteenth Sunset by @miss-shiva-adler​
Untitled experiment by @imandras
Rating: General Summary: But it happened at the time that in one of Alec's lectures the proposal to conduct an experiment was presented so convincingly, that Alec and his guitar were allowed to (or rather had to) spend some time (with considerably less wages) in the subway.
And as fate would have it (she was in a good mood this morning) Magnus went to work earlier than usual, because he wanted to start the day pleasantly with his dear friend Cat and an extensive breakfast together.
Remember, it's all Simon's fault! 
Artwork for Untitled experiment by @a-ghost-named-k​
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ronnytherandom · 3 years
Text
I forgot to watch content all week so i wrote about games ive been playing
9/2/2021: The Truman Show
You should fear your fears but embrace them and use them to guide you into the unknown, to explore and experience what life has to offer. Fear stands between you and the fullest experience of life so you must pass through it to better yourself. Heed not the walls built about you and the chains made to hold you. Though the architects insist it will preserve your life, containment is anathema to life. Do not take in faith the benevolence of powers that be; instead trust those who would support and liberate you, guide you through fear and into life.
As best I can lay it out, I think this is the philosophy of the Truman show but there is so much more to read into it also. There is critique of systems of commodification and celebrity (i.e. capitalism) reducing human beings to a consumable good as well as encouragement to find and pursue your goals despite adversity and even sensibility which is also tied to the illusion of economic responsibility. You can’t put a camera inside a human head, you can never “know” them without being an active and intrinsic part of their life, but also there is need for reciprocation. If one half exists with ulterior motive then the entire relationship is rotten; sincere humanity is what creates real connections. Without such your world is fake. A world built around one person is a world where no one can truly live. All these actors have given up basically their entire lives for the sake of watching Truman have his life built around him by outside forces, have allowed themselves to be commodified and dehumanised for the good of one man, Christoph. The man at the top has delusions of grandeur and thinks only of his own bottom line, he cares not for his subjects but simply wants them to do as he tells them because it benefits him to commodify their lives and interactions. Even then he cannot stand to lose control and in seeking to demonstrate Truman’s “realness” he structures his life so thoroughly that eventually there’s no reality left, only a script and adverts. But the people watching still empathise with Truman because everyone in the working class understands what it is to be trapped because real life is our own Truman show and one day we must all pass through fear, step out of the dome and create a real life for ourselves outside of the system of commodification which consumes everyone’s life and removes all realness and sincerity and emotional catharsis from it.
I unreservedly love this film.
14/2/2021: Assorted Game Reviews
Horizon Zero Dawn (Unfinished due to technical issues, 45 hours inc. parts of Frozen Wilds): This game is really cool and really fun. I think it is defined by its incredible setting which somehow creates a fresh feeling post-apocalyptic environment. Said environment creates intriguing alt-future lore and some very interesting environments to explore. I love the machine designs (especially tallnecks!) and was very sad to hear one of their contributing artists passed away recently but I’m glad their work lives on in this visually stunning game. I’m a sucker for Ubisoft-style open world games simply because it tickles a certain kind of itch and somehow this non-Ubisoft game has outdone Ubisoft on their own formula, which is hilarious, but also good for me as running around this world exploring and clearing map markers is engaging fun. Not least because of the combat. I have a minor criticism here that the combat feels slightly awkward on mouse and keyboard, the arrows never seem to go where I’m aiming, but aside from that the experience of fighting is a grand one. Enemies never lose their threat and I love the weak spot system the game employs which makes every tool useful in niche circumstance and rewards curiosity. It specifically manages this in a way that I feel the Witcher series could learn from if it ever returns; by making head on assault less viable and encouraging tactical hunting. I do feel this system makes hunting robots so fun that by contrast hunting humans becomes a chore however, though I noted this improves in the dlc with the addition of humans with elemental weaknesses limited in number as they are. I cannot speak for the story in entirety but what I encountered was pretty good, though I feel as if it was only just really getting going at the point where I could not continue. I find Aloy to be a compelling and well portrayed protagonist and though I can guess about her origin and the ultimate end of the alt-future apocalypse I still want to see how it plays out on screen, so will return to this as soon as I’ve fixed it.
Rimworld (122 hours. Familiar with but do not own Royalty Expansion):
Rimworld is one of those super special games that I don’t think I have a single problem with. Fair warning it can be brutal and is heavily dependent on RNG but this allows it to create truly unique and interesting scenarios on a constant basis. In the wider perspective it could be described as formulaic, with regular cycles of managing the settlement between raids and random events, but the devils in the details. Colonist traits, health and skills dictate how you play and sometimes you’ll be forced to adapt as some colonists simply refuse to perform some tasks. The depth of health particularly amuses me, in that each little part of someone’s body is modelled in a way. If you’re in a firefight you may take a single bullet which grazes your finger and you’re fine. Alternately it could pierce your human leather cowboy hat, your skull and kill you instantly and the game will tell you exactly what happened. The risk/reward element is addictive enough, and that’s without accounting for just how cool it is to see your colony slowly expand. Establishing more and more options for crafting is fun and shows off the full range of different items in the game which is fucking extensive. Between clothing, weapons, armour, sculpture and drugs to name only a few you have the opportunity to create many varied production lines either for your colonists or to trade for money and there is a lot of fun to be had here as well as it is quite satisfying to see psychoid you have grown personally become the cocaine your colonists snort to help them stay awake on limited sleep. From an archaeologist’s perspective it is especially cool to look back over your base and see the hints of how and why structures were built and remember the history of your limitations and development through structure. I think the lore of the universe is really cool too, a very 40k-esque kind of place except with far less order, somehow. But the universe does an excellent job of feeling alive and moving constantly on both a planetary and interstellar level. You can fully believe that while you build wooden shacks to shield yourself from terrifyingly low temperatures there are simultaneously rich pieces of shit living it up on the glitterworld that’s one system over. The music does an excellent job of creating the wild west frontier atmosphere the game cultivates to great effect. Ultimately, for just being a grid with a series of different numbers attached, this game does a fantastic job of creating a compelling, brutal and very real colony management experience. I dont think I can properly put into words the grandness and scope of this one. I didnt even mention the modding scene, which is expansive and tailors to basically any need you could have. The Rim is a terrifying place but theres so much fun to be had.
Factorio (86 hours, mostly 1.1): Having completed a game of Factorio I can tell you reliably that this is one of the best games ever made, thoroughly addictive and fun. If you like numbers, logistics, TRAINS, its gonna be your thing. Not to mention its probably the only documented case of a game with no bugs (so far as official forums are concerned). Strictly speaking this games combat is not the most engrossing thing but good lord do you feel it when you acquire a flamethrower. The way each aspect of the game (production, research, logistics, combat, upgrades for everything therein) feeds into the next is a really well constructed balancing act such that you must experience the full game in order to complete it and I always appreciate this kind of design. I think its one of the best tenets of factory game design especially as its something present in Satisfactory too. Beyond all of this generalised good the game is also excellent in its intricacies, the architecture necessary to build a maximum efficiency base, the level of planning and organisation that can be employed is mind-blowing. Not to mention the mod community, factorion is already an extensive experience and some mad bastards have seen fit to complicate it further, hats off to them. This really is a great moment in gaming.
 Destiny 2 (198 hours, all expansions, played some post Forsaken release, mostly Season of Arrivals onwards, spent roughly £20 on microtransactions):
This is a very interesting and enjoyable experience, but I must say it can be a bit controversial at times. What its does particularly well is moment to moment gameplay and design in all aspects. The game is stunning; between environments, cosmetics, shaders ships and ghosts there’s a vast range of incredible things to see, all rooted in the “pseudo-magi-science” aesthetic it’s got going on. The class design is excellent and you really do feel like you embody this rampaging madman / agile gunman / space wizard archetype, whichever you choose to play. The abilities, especially supers, are very satisfying. Everything has heft and power behind it which can be felt in all aspects of design; sound and animation is top notch. Movement is cool, you can feel how fast you move both on foot and in vehicles and the navigation has a little fun subtlety depending on your class jump, even if you can bounce unpredictably occasionally. But for the love of god why is the wall kick in there? It has only ever served to push me from a ledge into a bottomless pit. You're looking to remove antiquated content? Start there. Some guns are not so good to shoot but there’s such a great range of guns that are fun its like complaining about one drop in an ocean; and enemies are fun to shoot at, each faction distinct in meaningful ways and presenting an effective challenge. Speaking of oceans, that’s one way to describe the lore. I haven’t dived too deep but it keeps going down forever and everything I’ve read is intriguing. As a former Elder Scrolls lore nut this is something I could definitely sink my teeth into, though its much more of a pulpy sci-fi vibe than a pure nonsense vibe. I do think the game has a bit of a loot problem, primarily in regards to the conflict between high stats and looking good. This should never be a conflict, and yes you can apply ornaments to any purple gear but that’s not enough when I spend the entire time grinding power levels and thus must change armour and weapons on a constant basis to progress. This game needs a true transmog system and if not that, rethink how gear power level works. Perhaps rather than earning new instances of gear you always possess a version of it and the loot you acquire in missions just upgrades your instance to your current overall power level? This would serve to do away with the current upgrade system which I think is a needless additional grind. Perhaps it could be retained in using enhancement cores to empower gear as present but necessitating a whole upgrade module to keep your favourite weapon on hand is kind of painful honestly. There is also at present the issue of sunsetting gear, mildly controversial to say the least. If it’s necessary to streamline the game and make it function moving forward so be it but surely loot pools should be adjusted so you can actually get useful loot from older locations? And why sunset personal instances of gear which can be acquired at the regular power level anyway? I had to throw away my favourite bow and hunt down a new version of the exact same weapon for… what reason? I do think destination navigation leaves a little to be desired also. I get that having a physical hub world is meaningful but Destiny does not have a very extroverted community; I can count the times someone noticed me in the tower on one hand. And its not even like there’s fun activities to be found in the same sense as say Deep Rock Galactic, which really does take advantage of its hub. Perhaps for players who simply want to go about their business all of the vendors could be set into a menu system where just clicking an icon takes you to their menu from anywhere in the system rather than, per se, having to go through an entire loading screen (Which takes you to orbit and back) to reach a location which serves simply as the front for four menus. These are established player problems. As a dedicated PvE player I can say that this game is immensely fun in combat and growing in power does feel really good. It’s something I recommend getting into, there’s just some very large creases that need ironing which the Bungie should really take the time to address rather than pushing out new in game content every three months.
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puckngrind · 4 years
Text
What’s In A Name: 9 - J. Toews
Chapter 9.
Where we left off: Jon poured his heart out to Bekah and she answered okay.
Warnings: smut, language, mentions of Humboldt crash
Word Count: 3,594
Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist
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Okay.
Jon left Columbus to finish the season with just an okay from Bekah. He didn’t push her answer and she didn’t elaborate.  It was a lot to process for both of them.  Jon felt tense leaving since he laid his entire heart at her feet knowing she could easily stomp on it when she finally came around to processing her feelings and answering him.  He didn’t care.  He loved her more than anyone or anything in his life.  Bekah cared about Jon but the fear was masking so many things for her.
It was hard for Bekah to watch the end of the season for a multitude of reasons but she did. The Blackhawks weren’t making the playoffs for the first time since Jon’s rookie year and with every loss she could hear Jon’s voice ringing in her ears that it was hard to focus on leading his team.  She felt a huge ping of guilt knowing she was at fault for his lack of focus. Bekah and Jon talked but she could tell he was giving her space and avoiding topics.
“Whatcha doing?” Brynn headed in to Bekah’s office for lunch and see Bekah clicking away feverishly.
“I was looking over Jon’s new foundation and this collaboration for the gardens.” Bekah answers but doesn’t look up at her best friend.
“Ah! Did you watch the game last night? They won, yes?” Brynn’s face contorts but she recovers.
“Yes. 6-2. You know what he wants to do with this foundation is incredible but could use some tweaking, right?” Bekah finally looks at Brynn.
“Like a mastermind marketing badass could fix if she were to leave say her best friend and move to Chicago with the hot ass hockey man who has professed his love and she just answered okay even though she loves him too and is way too chicken shit to jump fully in?” Brynn raises her eyebrows and shoves a bite into her mouth.
“Wow! You really just...” Bekah leans back in her chair.
“Went there? Yes. Yes. Yes I did. Have you told him you love him?”
“No.” Bekah barely whispers.
“Because?” Brynn rolls her hand to get Bekah to continue.
“Rin, that’s not something you do over the phone, okay?”
“But you love him?” Brynn shoves another bite in her mouth and stares at Bekah.
“I mean...”
“Don’t do this what’s in a name it’s not a relationship bull shit again Bekah! That man poured his heart out to you. Told you he tries to replicate your scent when you leave. Can you imagine him in the kitchen with a spice rack and a splash of vanilla? It’s romantic as fuck and your answer was just okay. And he was fine with that! You told Captain Jonathan Bryan Toews, OM okay... do you know how many women wish they were you?” Brynn sucked in a breath and stared at be her best friend.
“OM?” Bekah questions.
“That’s what you are focusing on?  Okay.”  Brynn rolls her eyes and chuckles.  “You really don’t google him do ya?” Brynn smirks as Bekah shakes her head no.  “OM. Order of Manitoba. It’s the highest award the territory can give to outstanding citizens. Jon received it maybe the first summer you two were not defining things.” Bekah’s mouth opens and closes. “Google him friend. I did it recently. There are some super cute pictures of the two of you. The WAG pages think you two are adorable which I will say, they aren’t always nice to the woman so bravo.” Brynn gets up to leave.
“Wait, I’m in his google search?” Bekah croaks out.
“Yes friend. You are considered his girlfriend by everyone but yourself.” Brynn dropped the bomb, waves and walks down the hall.
Bekah types Jon’s name out. Sure enough their pictures from the Gala were in the first line and then from winning the cup and a few more from games including her in the jacket. Bekah could not believe that Brynn was right. The WAG blogs mentioned that Bekah loosened up Captain Serious. Also, one mentioned they were cute together and you could see how much he loved her. That statement was paired with a picture from his 2015 cup win and Bekah felt the lump in her throat. She stared off into space processing everything.
Bekah was working and barely watching the game against the Blues. She didn’t even notice the game was over until Jon’s was calling.
“Hey!” Bekah is greeted by the sounds of almost sobs. “Jon, are you crying? Babe!” Bekah’s voice calm but her brain racing.
“Beks, there was a crash. A junior hockey team from Canada.” Was all he could mustard up before the emotion caught up with him.
“Oh Jon!” Bekah clicked open a new window and searched. Her eyes misty. “Those families.” She whispers.
“Yeah, I’m going to head there next week before you come, okay?” Jon sniffles trying to regain his composure.
“Do you want me to come?” Bekah asked and while Jon wanted her to he knew her time off was limited.
“No but thanks. I’ll see you in two weeks, okay? Lo... Later Beks.” Jon cleared his throat and they hung up.
She clicked off the website and into her email. She typed out an email to her boss. A tear streaming down her cheek and she swiped it away. She hadn’t been in the hockey community long but she knew this loss was one that would stay with them forever, she could feel it.  
Two weeks later, Bekah was on a plane to Chicago as planned. Jon waiting for her, this time with a small bouquet of flowers in hand. “Beks!” He pulls her up and kisses her sweetly.
“How are you?” She surveyed his face after an emotional two weeks he looked good but with a glimmer missing from his eye.
“I’m okay. Glad you are here. Let’s go get your bag.” He slides his hand in her’s and she feels a jolt as they touch. He lifts the bag off the conveyor belt with ease. “We can grab lunch then head to my place.”
“Wait!” Bekah spotted her other bag a few feet back and snags it.
“Beks, why so many bags?” Jon’s eyebrow raises.
“I... I... well... Tae.” She looks deep into his eyes.
“Spit it out, Baby.” Jon’s hand lets go of the luggage and the back of his hand swipes her cheek.
“I love you, Tae!” She almost shouts. Jon’s face lights up.
“Say that again?” He leans towards her face unsure if he heard the woman he loves correctly.
“Je t’aime Jonathan!” She giggles.
Jon lifts her up and spins her around. His kiss a little too strong for an airport but he doesn’t care. “Je t’aime Beks!” He places her back down on the ground. “But the fact that you love me doesn’t explain the extra suitcase.” His eyebrow rises again.
“Well, I took a sabbatical from work for the next 3 months.” Bekah’s feels the pink in her cheeks.
“You what?!?” Jon voice echoes off the walls.
“I took a sabbatical to figure out all of this without losing my job. Now I need to find a place to live here.” Bekah bats her eyelashes at Jon with a smirk.
“Oh, if you think for one damn second I’m letting you live anywhere beyond next to me in bed, you must be out of your ever lovin’ mind!” Jon kisses her again. “Let’s go home and celebrate you coming to your senses, m’kay?” He chuckles.
“But you said lunch?” Bekah whined. As Jon envelopes her hand in his. The bouquet tucked in his fingers.
“We will eat. Promise.” He winks and Bekah feels a jolt through her body again.
Jon presses Bekah to the side of his car when they finally reach it. “I’m so glad you love me back.” He kisses her hard and Bekah moans in his mouth.
“You really didn’t think I loved you, Tae?” Bekah captures his cheek in her hands and runs her thumb over his lips.
“Honestly, I thought you were coming here to break up with me. Well you cannot break up with someone you haven’t officially called your boyfriend but yeah. I thought you were coming to tell me you just cannot do this anymore.” Jon’s eyes well up with the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since February.
“Tae. I... I’m a... damnit. I’m an idiot.” Jon shakes his head.
“You aren’t an idiot Beks.  We decided not to call this anything. We are both idiots if anything.” Bekah laughs.
“Well, we might not have used the terms but the internet sure has given us a label.” Bekah smiles big up as Jon stares into her eyes.
“What?” Jon questions.
“Rin convinced me to google you. The internet has called me your girlfriend for some time now.” Bekah pulls him into her further.
“And what do you think about that label?”
“I don’t hate it.” Jon’s lips graze hers. “I’ve learned other things too.”
“Oh yeah?” Jon pulls away realizing they were in public. “Wanna tell me what you learned on the way home?”
“Sure, J Bone.” Bekah snickers.
“Merde. I think I liked it when you refused to look.” Jon looks down at his hand. “Oh, these are for you.” Jon hands her the almost forgotten bouquet of wildflowers and she breathes them in.
“Tae, no man has ever given me flowers for no reason.” Bekah slides into his car after he opens the door.
“Well get use to it Beks. You deserve it.” Jon jogs around and Bekah feels the heat in her cheeks. Jon buckles and looks over.
“Why are you flush?” Jon runs his thumb over her cheek.
“Jon, you are too good to me. I can count on one hand how many times my ex gave me flowers and that’s including Valentines Day and my birthday. We aren’t even whatever and you’ve given me flowers a few times already.” Bekah’s nose wrinkles up thinking about her ex and how polar opposite Jon was.
“Well, as I said when we met. His loss, my gain.” Jon’s jaw tightens as he backs out of the parking spot. “Speaking of birthdays, we didn’t celebrate yours.” Jon places his hand on her thigh while driving home.
“And your 30th is in what a week and a half?” Bekah's fingers dance in his hair.
“Do we need to talk about my over the hill status?”
“I’m 30, Tae. Am I old?” Bekah flicks at his ear.
“There is no right answer, so I pled the 5th.” Jon smirks.
“Can Canadians do that?” The both laugh. “You aren’t old Jon.” He squeezes her thigh and looks over.
“In hockey terms 30 is kinda old. When your career starts before you are 20 by the time 30 hits you start to feel old Beks.” He flinches.
“Well we need to celebrate and I’m not taking no for an answer Tazer.” Bekah bites the inside of her cheek waiting for his response to another nickname she learned.
“I really liked when you didn’t know all the dirt Google has on me.” Jon grabs her hand and brings it to his lips.
“And crowd surfing Tae? Now that was a video.”
“Oh. My. God. Please stop.” Jon’s face starts to turn pink.
“The French interviews.... oof. Is it hot in here?” Bekah fans herself.
“Beks.” His face gets hotter.
“I’ve never seen you so... so... embarrassed. It’s kinda sexy.” Bekah squeezes his hand and he smiles.
“Not sure that is the case but thanks.” They pulled in to his home. “Welcome home-ish.” Jon looks over not sure what she will say and sees Bekah smile. “That smile is what I’m talking about. I was afraid I was gonna get kick back for that.”
“How long are we staying in Chicago for?” Bekah opens the door and Jon already has jumped out and is retrieving her bags.
“We can talk calendar later and I think a few trips are in order since we can actually vacation together.” Jon dips down and places his lips on hers.
“So Tae, which room is mine then? The one guest bed is super comfy.” Bekah twirls as she enters and starts to head upstairs. She looks back at a dumbfounded Jon.
“All of them Beks. All the rooms are yours!” He some how bounds up the steps with both her suitcases in hand making it look easy.
“Well fuck that was hot.” Bekah turns back and keeps going.
“No kiss for that Beks? Come on!” Jon shouts as he follows her up.
“I was thinking of something better since I guess you are officially have boyfriend status.” Bekah reached his master bedroom door frame and slinks out of her tank dress to reveal the navy blue lingerie set that was maybe the most uncomfortable thing to travel in but Jon’s face was fully worth it.
“Holy fuck Beks. You’ve had that on the whole time?” He drops the bags in the middle of the hall almost runs to her, pulling Bekah up into his arms. Bringing her core right to his waist. She wraps her legs around him.
“I was hoping my declaration of love would be well received.” She breathes out. “And that TSA wouldn’t want to do a strip search.” Jon chuckles.
“I would have driven faster if I knew this was hiding under that cute dress.” Jon brings one hand up and behind him without letting her go. His hand pulls his shirt off his body then lets it fall to the floor with the slight switch of his hands on her ass. Bekah’s lips ghosting his pulse points and Adam’s apple then sucks along the base of his neck while Jon pulls her up his abs to remove his jeans.
“How are you undressing without putting me down?” Bekah leans back and takes in Jon’s lack of clothing. Without answering Jon presses Bekah into the wall and she feels how rock hard he is. “Tae.” She breathes in the heat that has ignited between them.
“Yes Beks?” Jon slides his lips from her ear to the top of the lace. Nibbling at her exposed breasts.
“Make love to me.” She smiles remembering Sedona and the way he looked at her then. Now she wonders in that instant how long she had been fighting this love they shared.
“Happily. Je vais prendre soin de vous, mon amour.” Jon whispers before capturing her lips in his.
“Translation please.” Bekah moans when he moves to peppering her jawline then back to her neck.
“I’ll take care of you, My Love.” Jon whispers and carries Bekah to his bed.
“Damnit I need to learn French.” Bekah sucks in as Jon lays on top of her.
“I’ll teach you Baby.” His concentration was on worshiping her body and less on their conversation. Each swipe of his lips and tongue caused a different sound to escape Bekah’s lips. “Do you want me to take this off...” his hand grazes the bottom of her breast and down the corset. “Or would you prefer to keep it on?” He moves lower running his finger between the delicate lace and her hip.
“Up to you Tae.” She breathes out. “It’s all for you.” His eyebrows furrowed for a moment then he lowers the panties and tosses them to the side.
“Definitely don’t need those.” His fingers slide down for a moment. “Now this...” his fingers run up the wire of the corset. Bekah’s muscles reacting to his touch. “this let me think about.” He smirks then kisses her hip moving across to her other hip then her core. All Bekah could think about on the plane ride was his reaction so her body was already all worked up. “Beks, you are so wet!” He licks through her folds and she melts under this touch. His hand glides back up to cup her breast. She captures it in hers and he looks up.
“I’ve been thinking about having you inside of me since the moment I put this on this morning. My clit has been throbbing since you held me in the airport.” Bekah breathes out and without responding, Jon pushes his boxers off his body and slides up to kiss her lips.
“As you wish.” Jon bites at her lip and thrusts in. Bekah moans as the familiar stretch sends a shock wave throughout her body. His hand pulls at her leg so he can deepen himself but doesn’t let his lips off her body for more than a second. Every thrust of his hips causes the room to be filled moans and grunts. Bekah grabs his back as she feels her orgasm build. “Let it go baby. I got you.” Jon’s hand snakes around Bekah’s back and holds her in place as she hits her high only slowing his motion for a moment before snapping his hips back into her with a force that moves both of them up the bed.
“Jon...”. Bekah moans loudly. Jon captures her lips on his again.
“I know Baby. I’m there, Love. Come with me.” Jon whispers and sends both of them reaching their highs. He rides them through it and crashes onto Bekah’s chest. Both gasping for air. Jon rolls over and pulls Bekah to his chest.
“Wow. If I knew telling you that I loved you would cause that...” Bekah finally breaks the blissed out silence. Jon laughs in her ear.
“And we can do this whenever we want since we don’t have to worry when one of us is leaving.” Jon kisses her temple. “Which sounds so damn amazing.” Bekah hums in agreement and her stomach growls. “Fuck, lunch. I’ll make lunch. Give me like 10 minutes.” He kisses her and slips out of bed. Bekah whistles as he bends over to pull on his briefs.
She slides out and grabs a t-shirt of Jon’s out of his drawer. She finds her way to his game room. Her fingers run along each jersey. Wondering what Jon was like playing in each one. “Whatcha doin’ there Beks?” Jon leans against the door frame with a sandwich for her.
“Did I know you for any of these?” She points to his wall of jerseys. He nods and points. “And you have rings and medals and such somewhere, right?” Jon places the plate on his ping pong table and wraps his arms around Bekah.
“Yeah. I’m guessing you want to see?” Jon kisses the top of her head and leads her to a safe off in the corner. Punching in the code he opens it up to reveal his rings and medals and other priceless items.
“Wow Tae.” She laughs picking up the gold medal from Sochi with a nod of approval from him and places it around her neck. Jon tightens his grip around her.
“That medal has never looks so good.” He picks her up kissing her hard.
“You’ve got some serious hardware, Captain.” Bekah bites her lip and Jon’s eyes narrow.
“Want me to show you some hardware Baby?” He groans while pressing her again the wall. He pulls down his briefs and slides into her the gold from his medal cold on his abdomen.
“Oh. Tae.” Bekah kisses him hard and feels him deep inside her. She leans her head back against the wall as he rocks into her. She feels the weight of the medal and her orgasm as he presses her harder into the wall his head buried in her neck. He releases deep inside her and pumps slowly as she comes down from her high. Bekah grabs the medal as he kisses her softly and lowers her back down. Flicking his briefs back on Jon smirks down at her.
“Let me get that.” Jon slowly pulls the medal off her neck and places it back where it goes. Slowly he turns to look at her with a glimmer in his eye.
“What’s that look for?” Bekah walks towards her sandwich feeling her stomach about to start growling again.
“Nothin’” Jon follows her and wraps her up in his arms.
“That face doesn’t say nothing.” Bekah takes a bite and looks back at Jon.
“Well the boys were chirping me about you not really liking hockey or caring about all this.” He points to the things on the wall. “Kaner asked if you’ve even seen my gold medals yet?” Jon laughs a little. “Now that will be forever in my head when I talk about my Olympic wins.”
“Oh great.” Bekah huffed out and Jon laughs hard. “I’m sorry. Can we go back to the boys chirping you about me?” Bekah shifts her body to face Jon.
“Oh you caught that, eh?” Jon smiles.
“Ope...for sure I did.” Bekah’s eyes narrow.
“Beks, the team knows who you are because they’ve seen you and regardless of what we called this until now I haven’t shut up about you. They were all worried the spotlight was keeping you at a distance and you were going to break my heart.” Jon kisses her forehead.
“I... I... I don’t really know how to process that Tae.” Bekah looks up at him and places her chin on his chest.
“You don’t have to process it now. You will officially meet the guys and their wives and such slowly so don’t worry. Summer is here and we all spread out. Speaking of, let’s talk vacation.” Jon and Bekah’s eyes both light up at the thought of traveling.
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sophielovesbarnes · 4 years
Text
All or Nothing
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Winchester!reader
Warnings: none yet
Author note: Hello! ❤️ so this idea has been running on my mind for months and I hadn’t brought myself to write it, but due to the COVID my classes are cancelled which has me with a lot of spare time in my hands.
The story will make a kind of crossover with Supernatural, pretty much I will be using some of the characters in a AU.
Please let me know what do you think and dm me if you want to be tagged.
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Chapter one.
You’ve always loved this; the adrenaline that rushes through your veins when you are thrown into the air and you fly so high that it feels like you are going to touch the stars, the excitement that fills you with every jump, the rush you get when you listen to the joyful voices that surround you, cheering every move you make, the smile on your teammates' faces that assures you that they are as passionate about this as you are.
These are the great things about being a cheerleader, things that not many people see or understand; you’ve been called vain, bimbo, basic, the thing is that you don’t people that have never felt this emotion will ever understand.
They won’t understand the sacrifices needed to get there, to make every move coordinated, the weeks of practice behind fifteen minutes on the stage; they wouldn’t understand the permanent calluses and blisters covering your feet and hands, feeling your muscles so weak as noodles after practice, the hours of training devoted everyday, the sweat, the blood and the tears; but those fifteen minutes, God, they made you feel like heaven.
**
After the music ends, signalling the end of the halftime you and your squad head back to the edge of the field, waving hello and throwing kisses back and forward.
When you finally reach your bench, you throw yourself to your water bottle and feel the relief of it’s cold contents hydrating your throat.
"It went well." Ingrid says, you can see her chest going up and down rapidly and short black hairs sticking to her sweaty forehead. "Truth be told I really thought I was gonna mess up that basket."
"Double kicks are a bitch." You agree and take one last sip from your water bottle, after you both catch your breath and both football teams are on their spot ready to start the next time you put down your bottle and grab your pom poms, preparing yourself to keep everyone's spirits up until the end of the game. "Ready?"
"Let’s do this." She smiles, and you both go back to position chanting and cheering for your team.
Forty-five minutes later, the crowd erupts into claps and screams when your team scores their last touchdown making them victors of this game, the squad jumps into hugs celebrating your victory.
The game is over and everyone starts to abandon the bleachers, so you take your bag and head to the locker rooms followed by the rest of the team, discussing what went well and wrong on the routine, the pre-spring break stress that’s building up, how cute the linebreaker looked, but mostly everyone is talking about the upcoming celebration party.
When you get to your locker, you untie your ponytail, letting your head recover it’s proper blood flow, you get undressed, carefully folding your uniform and proceed to step into the shower. The hot water loosens up your muscles and brings you to a sleepy point of relaxation. You finish showering and step out, wrapping your body with a fluffy white towel.
"Are you sure you’re not going to Liam’s party?" A tall brunette girl asks as she walks behind you. “It’s the event of the year.”
"Thanks Alice but I really want to attend the FBI lecture tomorrow and a hangover would keep me from actually paying attention." You reply simply as you get dressed and pack the rest of your stuff into your bag.
"Well I’m sure Liam will miss you." She implies. "He was very enthusiastic about having you there."
"He’ll survive." You give her a playful smile and throw the strap of your bag over your shoulder. "Night girls see you tomorrow."
They reply almost in chorus and, you wave goodbye walking out from the locker room, spinning your car keys on your finger. The parking lot is almost empty, most people are either back on their dorm rooms or on their way to Liam’s party, so the way back to your apartment is peaceful, just the sound of the wheels rolling on the road and the wind running through the windows.
Originally you lived on the dorm rooms like most of the squad, but at the beginning of this school year your brothers had surprised you buying an apartment just for you, quoting Dean's words it was easier to concentrate on your own space and you deserved a nice and private place to live, after all, you had a full scholarship ride so you didn’t have to worry about paying tuition.
Truth be told, you really liked the apartment; the building is fifteen minutes away from your school, and your neighbors are nice and quiet. When you first got the place, you, Dean, Sam, and Adam had spent an entire weekend painting the walls, decorating and equipping the place so it could fit all your necessities.
The kitchen is right next to the entrance door, behind it it’s the living room, there’s only one loveseat and the tv is in front of it, there are photographs everywhere, your brothers are on the most of them, there’s one from your first competition, you are sitting on Dean’s shoulders, holding high the trophy you and your squad won, Sam and Adam hugging Dean from each side, there’s one from your graduation, the KU game where Dean finally decided to introduce you to and your brothers to Castiel, next to it is the one from their wedding, there’s also one from your prom where you and your ex where crowned king and queen for the last time; you still keep the crown and the band displayed on your room.
You love the apartment, even though you live alone and far from Kansas and your brothers, they made it feel like home.
You leave your keys and your bag next to the door and then head to your bedroom where you strip out of your clothes and put on your pjs, you fall asleep the second your head touches the pillow.
The next morning your alarm starts beeping exactly at 6 o’clock, you have made a cocoon in the blankets that’s so warm and comfortable that you refuse to move, but eventually the beeping sound off the alarm becomes unbearable and you know for a fact that if you don’t get up from your bed soon you are going to be late for class; so you begrudgingly get up from the bed and slam the button of the alarm turning it off.
One hour later your hair and your makeup are neatly done, you have replaced your pajamas with jeans and a white bustier with puff sleeves, and you are ready to step out if the door, bag on one hand and coffee on the other one.
When you get to the auditorium, your best friend Maia is already there saving a seat for you, you distinguish her from her curly hair and her cinnamon skin, she smiles at you when she sees you.
“You’re late.” You drop your bag on the chair next to her and then take a seat.
“My bed and I were too comfortable together this morning.”
“I getcha.” She replies, her New York accent marked on her words. “Are you excited?”
“Totally, I’ve been looking towards this lecture for weeks.”
A few minutes later three men step on the stage, accompanied by the principal, there’s a man in his sixties, with black hair and a kind smile, you know he is David Rossi, you have re-read his book over and over since you were little. There’s also a bald black man, and you can almost see his muscles through his shirt.
But the third man is the one who has your complete attention.
You’re completely fascinated with him from the second he steps into the podium, there’s something on his messy brown hair, his shy smile, and the way he fidgets nervously with his fingers that makes your heart flutter.
A few moments later the room starts to fill and when every seat is taken the older man takes a spot on the podium and clears his throat.
“Good morning, I am Agent David Rossi, and these are my partners, agent Derek Morgan and Doctor Reid.” He points at each of the men and they both give a courteous nod.
“Research, casework, and training to hunt down monsters, rapists, terrorists, pedophiles, and our specialty, serial killers.” Agent Rossi turns his back and lets agent Morgan continue.
“Does anybody here know what a serial killer is and what makes it different from a spree killer or a mass murderer?” He asks, and you raise your hand almost immediately, he grants you the word and you smile.
“A mass murderer is someone who kills four or more people on the same location and on the same time period, spree killers murder two or more victims on different locations and they don’t have a cooling period.” You reply. “Serial killers have three or more victims; they usually select the victim with anticipation and there is a cooling period between each murder.”
“It’s very good, by statue three is the magic number, and it’s actually more qualitative than quantitative for us.”
“Today we’re gonna talk about how some serial killers get made.” Rossi continues, “Because if you can understand that, then you can figure out a way to catch them.”
After that Morgan proceeds to introduce two girls, both victims of the same serial killer; whom as Rossi describes as the most prolific killer they’ve had.
“One thing you should understand is that no two killers are the same, they each occupy their own point on the behavioral spectrum.” After listening to agent’s Reid’s rapid voice, you officially consider yourself a goner. “Genetics, brain chemistry, psychology, and environment are all factors.”
“We believe that this particular killer grew up in an environment so adverse that he never had a chance.” Morgan adds. “He endured years of cruel and abject physical abuse as well as horribly profound psychological abuse.”
“Now let me be clear, most abused kids do not turn into killers, but this particular unknown subject, or unsub suffered extreme abuse and it has everything to do with why he does what he does.” Agent Rossi explains, after that they project the images from the unsub’s murder scenes and they give the details of his MO.
“I’m gonna be sick.” Maia whispers to you as she covers her eyes and retreats into her seat to avoid watching the gruesome pictures displayed on the wall.
When they finish explaining the case, sharing the details and the profiling process they open the podium for questions, again you are the first and only one to raise your hand.
“Yes? Miss…”
“Winchester.” You complete “So, you said that not all abused kids become killers, but what is the breaking point where some of them do and some don’t?”
“The majority of the most prolific and dangerous serial killers were genetically disposed to behave antisocially and furthermore grew up in an environment that cultivated a disregard for the lives of others.” Agent Reid answers “One gene in particular is linked with an increased risk of violent or aggressive behavior; monoamine oxidase A, it controls the production of a protein that breaks down brain-signaling chemicals like dopamine, noradrenalin, and serotonin, which all influence mood, there’s a variant of the gene called MAOA-L, it causes people to produce less
of the protein that breaks down these signaling chemicals, which in turn causes them to build up. An excess of these chemicals, leads to impulsive behavior; such as hypersexuality, sleep disorders, mood swings, and violent tendencies.
“So it can be inherited?”
“The heritability of the antisocial personality disorder is estimated to be 0.38. Heritability is the proportion of differences in traits in a population that are due to genetic differences as opposed to differences in the environment. A heritability of 0.38 tells us that, on average, about 38 percent of the individual differences that we observe in degree of “sociability” or “anti-sociability" are in some way attributable to individual genetic differences.”
“Thank you.” You smile at him, and you can swear there’s a pink blush coloring his cheeks as he smiles back at you.
There are just a couple more questions, most of them directed to morbid curiosity about the case, when they are done answering, agent Rossi opens an invitation to all the attendees to join the FBI, which brings a query about the requirements and the preparation his team had; again, Spencer is the one who answers.
“Most of us have done extensive postgraduate work in areas such as abnormal psychology, and sociology, as well as an intensive study of relative casework and existing literature.” He keeps his hands in the pocket of his navy blue pants.
“But that is after the selection to the unit, first you have to be an agent, work in a field, and that’s what we are here to talk about.” Spencer retreats himself to the back of the stage, almost leaning against the wall. “For that, the academics are wide open, everyone in this room, once you graduate; regardless of your course study; is eligible to apply to the FBI.”
“What did you study?” The guy wearing the Cardinals hoodie, sitting two rows behind you asks.
“Criminal justice, but sports appreciation was all full up at my Community College.” There’s a soft general laugh, but you can’t take your eyes from the Doctor.
“And you Doctor Reid?” You ask, looking him straight in the eyes. “What did you study?”
“I-I hold doctorates in Chemistry, Mathematics and Engineering, as well as BAs in psychology and sociology.”
“You’re drooling.” Maia mocks in a whispered tone, causing you to blush.
“Shut it.” You whisper as you try to slow down your heart rhythm. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-four as of last month, thirty-four; I, I also completed an additional BA in Philosophy, which reminds me that I have a joke.” He chuckles nervously and keeps talking “How many existentialists take to screw in a lightbulb? Two, one to change the lightbulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in another world of cosmic nothingness.”
You giggle softly, but the rest of the room seems to remain silent, Maia looks at you with an eyebrow raised like she is trying to figure you out.
“It’s fun, you know? Because that’s what existentialists do.” You explain on a murmur.
The silence of the spectators makes Spencer shift timidly and he starts to speak again, trying to explain the joke when he gets cut off by agent Rossi.
“Okay, before he does his Quantum Physics knock-knock joke.” This is what makes the class laugh while you stay quiet “Do we have any other questions about opportunities in the FBI?”
There are only a couple more questions, and when the lecture is over Morgan and Rossi find themselves surrounded by curious students, and girls fussing over them, Spencer stays alone and he starts to pack his things on his bag, you take a deep breath and make your way down towards him.
“That was really interesting.” Your voice seems to startle him, he turns around and runs his fingers through his hair messing it up just a bit more. “I really enjoyed it.”
“Uh thanks, Miss Winchester.”
“Y/N is fine.”
“Y/N.” He repeats and changes his weight from one foot to the other. “You seemed interested in the BAU.”
“I am, I mean, I still have a couple years left in college but joining the FBI does sound interesting.”
“Well, if you have any more doubts, you can... you know, call.” He hands you a white card with the FBI emblem on it, as well as his name and phone number; you take the card without breaking eye contact and give him a coy smile.
“Will do.”
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A/N: so that’s it, please let me know what do you think ❤️
358 notes · View notes
stusbunker · 3 years
Text
AGA: Cornered
A Supernatural AU Series
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Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny LaFitte​
Other Characters: Sam, Bobby, Mick, Ash, Castiel
Written for: @thoughtslikeaminefield​
Word Count: ~2700
A/N: No kink square this chapter, just backstory and bowling. Mention of drug use. General flirty banter. xoxo
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    The crack and rumble of balls striking pins rang throughout the bowling alley; the consistent soundtrack of Dean’s Wednesday nights. He had gotten there early, just after six, to claim their alley and get himself dinner before the rest of the team arrived. Dean shrugged into the simple black and red collared Singer’s Slingers bowling shirt with his name on his left pec. As he sipped his beer and waited for his burger basket, he wondered how late Sam would be this week.
    Ash and Bobby showed up just as Dean had a greasy mouthful. He managed to murmur his greetings as they bypassed the bar for the row of vinyl chairs, changing out of their street shoes. They were followed shortly by Mick, who always seemed to swagger in, no matter how ill fitted his bowling shirt. Dean continued to devour his burger and fries as the team ordered their drinks one after the other. It was 6:25 and the other team were toweling off their balls, eyeing them while glancing at their watches. 
    “C’mon Sam,” Dean urged under his breath.
    “Sam, I expect, but where the hell is Cas?” Bobby wondered, squinting towards the entrance.
    “Told you, you should have asked someone else to take the old man’s spot,” Dean smiled smugly, before popping another fry in his mouth.
    “Yeah, well, most my friends are too old or too tired for this shit. Can you imagine Rufus out here each week?” Bobby sighed, shaking his head before taking a sip of his whiskey.
    “Bobby, can I ask you something?” Dean started. “Are you still bowling because you enjoy it or because it’s a night out of the house?”
    “You work with your wife for twenty years and tell me if you wouldn’t be out here every chance you got.” Bobby eyed Dean like he was slow. A burning grin pulled across Dean’s face, he almost choked on his last bite he was laughing so hard. Dean took a swig of his beer and Bobby rolled his eyes.
     “Singer! Let’s go!” Roy Wilkinson called from down on the lane.
     “What a jackass,” Bobby whispered to Dean, before turning to the opposing team’s captain. “Yeah, I’m getting there.”
     It was 6:31.
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      Dean had learned by now to place Sam last in the line up, but Cas usually went second. With a quick scramble, Dean adjusted their bowling order and sent Cas and Sam their own personalized texts of annoyance. It shouldn’t be that much of a deal, but he was embarrassed. Plus, Dean didn’t want to see Bobby continue to take shit for their tardiness.
    At 6:44, a sheepish Castiel and an annoyed Sam walked into the alley together. Sam still had his suit on, his bowling bag slung over his shoulder. 
    “Dude, what the hell?” Dean asked once his brother sat down to swap shoes.
    “The hoopty bit it, Cas called me because he figured I was closest,” Sam explained, knowing that would have been Dean’s next question.
    “Did he hit anybody or did it just die?” Dean asked, eyes raking over Cas’s body for signs of injury.
    “It killed while he was driving. Not sure if it’s electrical or if he just ran out of fucking gas,” Sam whispered, frustration evident.
    “Well, you guys missed the first frame, but you got yourself a hot minute to catch your breath and grab a beer,” Ash butt in. Mick came back from picking up a spare and the story got told all over again.
    “I’m really sorry, Bobby,” Cas explained.
    “You bowl for a mechanic’s team, boy. You shouldn’t have let it get that bad in the first place,” Bobby dismissed the clueless man as he made his way to the ball return.
    “Dean?” Cas asked, leaning over Dean’s shoulder at the now useless scorer keeper’s spot.
    “Yeah?” Dean replied.
    “Do you think, could you give me a ride to the bar? And home after I do my nightly paperwork?” Cas explained, his blue eyes beseeching and all too familiar.
    Dean groaned and closed his eyes. “How late? I’ve got a day job I need to be at, too, man.”
    “Wednesday’s are Ladies’ Night, so it could be awhile,” Cas pondered aloud. “But you don’t have to stay, I can ask at the bar, maybe Ana wouldn’t mind.”
    Dean’s stomach instantly knotted with guilt, knowing how the waitress would feel to be trapped with Cas duty after a long shift. He shouldn’t have been so short with him, his car problems probably weren’t his fault. 
    “Nah, man, I got you. Let’s just bowl, get out of here as soon as possible,” Dean suggested, chin jutting out toward the lanes. Cas was up.
    “You’re a lifesaver,” Cas grinned in relief. Dean swallowed and nodded, biting back the smile that crept up whenever Cas looked at him like that. A sour taste settled in the back of his throat as he watched Cas barely clip the 6 and 10 pins. Ignoring the rest of the frame, Dean went back for another drink before it was his turn.
    Losing the first game was inevitable, but the Winchester brothers had a reputation to uphold and they rallied the team for the final two games. Together, they gave the opposing team some much deserved karma. Dean racked seven strikes in a row, but missed the 7 pin on his last ball. Sam, looking utterly ridiculous in his dress shirt and bowling shoes, followed up his tenth frame with a shaky spare. Then he pulled a strike out of thin air with the third ball.
    The lane erupted.
     Mick and Ash hooted and bumped chests. Dean jumped at his brother, nearly tackling him, before lifting him off the floor by his waist in celebration. Bobby, proud as ever, gave everyone a high five before he shook hands with the now salty Roy. Then Bobby ensured his team followed suit, as a sign of good sportsmanship, even if their faces didn’t hide the smugness of victory.
    The champion’s high was short lived for Dean, because reality reared its ugly head when Cas awkwardly started to shadow him as they cleaned up their equipment. Dean towelled off his ball and slipped it into his bag, trying not to let the disappointment of missing out on a drink with the team to cart Cas’s ass across town show. Or the phantom nervousness of being alone with him that Dean had to tell himself to shake.
    Cas was just his friend. He had only ever been his friend. No matter how many times Dean craved to be alone with him, it had never meant anything more than friendship to Cas.
    Dean had nothing to feel guilty about. But when Cas dropped onto the bench seat beside him in the impala, Dean’s heart started to race. He felt like he was walking a dangerous line between ambiguity and cheating.
    “Thanks again, Dean,” Cas’s deep voice croaked.
    Plastering on a company smile, Dean brushed him off. “It was only a matter of time for that jalopy anyway, now if you just trust me and sell the damned thing, maybe you could get a reliable set of wheels.”
    “Ash says he can have it at the shop by tomorrow afternoon,” Cas threw out there tentatively. 
    Dean gave Cas the side eye. “You’re calling Ellen first thing and BEGGING her to work you in, cuz I am no good at weaseling somebody onto the schedule.”
    “I know, Bobby warned me. And Ash.”Cas squinted in thought. “And Mick, now that I think about it.” 
     Dean told himself to keep his eyes on the road. And to ignore the suddenly crushing weight of his phone against his thigh. He felt like he should be letting Benny know what he was doing, somehow. Like if he didn’t tell Benny where he was and with who, then he was asking to get dumped. 
    Dean, no stranger to self-sabotage, overthought until his head hurt. He couldn’t cheat if they weren’t dating. Driving a friend home wasn’t cheating. It didn’t matter that he had had feelings for Cas for as long as he could remember. Benny wasn’t his boyfriend. Officially. Right?
    Cas turned to look at Dean. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
    Again with the inopportune observations.
    “Just got a lot on my mind,” Dean dismissed Cas’s concern and leaned over to turn on the radio, close enough that Dean got a whiff of Cas’s familiar cologne. The scent flooded Dean’s senses with bittersweet memories and he had to clear his throat to clear the haze of desire that was always associated with it, with Cas himself. Dean drummed his thumb against the steering wheel and held onto the music for as long as he could.
    They arrived at The Pearly Gates just before ten, cars and suvs filled the small parking lot and spilled over onto the narrow side street. Dean cursed and backed into the narrow alley, unwilling to risk his paint job among the other vehicles.    
    “Alright, I’ll wait here, go do your busy work.” Dean cranked the car into park.
    Cas gave Dean a cautious look before he crawled out of the passenger seat, mindful of the space between the building and his door. Dean didn’t want to think about whatever Cas thought was going on with him. And Dean really didn’t need him prying all of the sudden.
    Dean thought about how oblivious Cas used to be and how much he had changed since they’d been friends. He was still Cas, but he wasn’t the same.
    They’d met at a party on campus, which Dean always seemed to find despite not attending. A very drunk Cas had been locked out of his house by his asshole roommates, which were mostly his brother Gabe’s friends. Dean sat on a half-broken picnic table in the backyard toking, as Cas yelled to be let in. It was barely above freezing, but Dean didn’t want to share with the asshole college crowd he’d seen so far.
     Cas was in black jeans and a tee shirt, shivering.
    “Hey buddy?” Dean called out. “Look, give me a sec and I’ll pick the lock for ya, alright? Cool it.”
    “What?” Cas looked at him like he had three heads.
    Dean chuckled. “Stop yelling. I’ll get you in. Just let me finish my joint.”
    Cas walked over, rubbing his arms with his hands before he started blowing on his hands. Dean had stared, the buzz slowed his thoughts. He just took in the details of Cas’s hands and the way his meaty lips probably looked as the hot air left them. 
    “You want a hit before I pinch it off?” Dean offered, hand extended in selfish offering.
    “I’m good.” Cas waved him off, smiling without teeth. A good kid, Dean thought, or a dweeb.
    Dean sucked in the last puff of smoke and carried it in his chest as he crossed the lawn to the backdoor. As he squatted, he exhaled, letting himself completely relax before he dug for his small set of tools. 
    “I’m sorry, but my roommates are---,” Cas started.
    “Dicks?” Dean guessed.
    Cas sighed in agreement, and that moment Dean probably will never forget as long as he lives. Dean looked up to see Cas in the yellow glow from the porch light, his blue eyes distinguishable for the first time.
    “Uh?” Cas squinted in confusion.
    “Right.” Dean sighed and shook his head, fitting the pick into the lock.
    “You’re sure you can do this?” Cas continued, disbelief clung to every syllable.
    But Dean didn’t have to answer, because just then Dean cackled in triumph, “Yahtzee!” and the door swung open. 
    Cas marched past him and into the warmth of the overpacked house. He turned just before he got swallowed by the crowd and nodded his thanks, eyes deep enough for Dean to get lost in.
    Dean couldn’t remember much else from that specific party, but meeting Cas. They weren’t friends until a few more chance encounters and a flat tire, but it was their beginning. 
     Dean hadn’t told Benny about Cas, other than he was a friend that he helped out. He didn’t have labels for what Cas meant to him, he’d never let it solidify from thought and feeling into word or definition. There had been something there and if he wasn’t careful, Dean could get lost in the familiarity, the lingering hope of perpetual possibility.
     Dean probably should say something, eventually.
     The car had gotten cold while he waited for Cas to finish the deposit. Dean had turned off the engine to save the gas, but was starting to regret it when his phone rang. 
     “Heya, gorgeous, how’d ya bowl?” Benny drawled before Dean could finish his greeting.
    “Alright, just around my average, but I tanked the last game. You off work already?” Dean asked, knowing Benny usually worked well past mall hours if he was in the middle of something. 
    “Yeah, leaving it for another day. You at home?” Benny continued.
    “No, at the bar, killing time,” Dean inaccurately summarized. “Why? You miss me?”
    “Well not if you’re gonna be like that, I don’t,” Benny teased.
    “What days are you off again?” Dean sidestepped.
    “Tomorrow and Sunday. You wanna come over?” Benny asked.
    “I do, but I can’t, I’m wiped. Six am is early enough on a good night,” Dean apologized. “I can roll in after my shift at the bar on Saturday though, if you don’t mind me showing up close to three.”
    “That could work. I’ve gotta be somewhere at eleven, but you’re welcome to join me,” Benny offered.
    “That depends, is it a church service? I need to prepare myself for the smiting showing up after a night with you,” Dean countered.
    Benny laughed, “Not a’tall. Me and some buddies do brunch every week.”
    Dean sobered up, but he couldn’t stop the snark. “You do brunch?”
    “Yeah?” Benny replied, not giving Dean anything more. Dean licked his lips and gaped at the offer. Benny wanted to introduce him to his friends. “You alright, cher?”
    “Yeah, just got distracted, sorry,” Dean lied horribly. “I don’t want to crash your plans. We’ll see, alright?”
    Benny inhaled audibly. “Yeah, I understand. You’ll still stay over though?”
    “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Dean agreed.
    “Hey, maybe, if you don’t mind I could slip in for a drink after my shift Friday?” Benny suggested.
    Dean smiled. “That’d be great. Gives me something to look forward to on a double shift.”
    “You alright?” Benny almost whispered.
    “Yeah, just tired, sorry, not my usual charismatic self,” Dean huffed.
    “Nothing to be sorry for, sugar. Just checkin’ in on ya,” Benny soothed. Dean closed his eyes and relished in the sound of Benny’s calming voice.
    “Tell me something,” Dean asked, not wanting to end the conversation.
    “What do you want to know?” Benny chuckled, deep and genuine.
    “I don’t know, just keep talking. What were you working on tonight?” Dean said.
    “A pair of saddle bags for a custom bike,” Benny started. “Real nice ones too. Sturdy, but soft. Got some staining to do then the branding. But I got everything cut and measured for now. You ride?”
     Dean hummed, then remembered he was asked a question. “Sorry, on occasion, I don’t have a bike of my own anymore. Do you?”
     “Well, they don’t call me a leather daddy just for my outfits, cher,” Benny teased. “Before it snows, I’ll see if we can get the bike out for a spin.”
     “Now I’ve got that visual burning through my thoughts,” Dean murmured suggestively. 
     “Happy to oblige,” Benny goads. 
     “I’m sure you would,” Dean huffs. “Thanks, it was just nice to hear your voice.”
     “Anytime, Dean, all you have to do is call. You know that right?” Benny pressed.
     “Yeah, I know, I know.” Dean agreed, when an extra blast of cold air hit his side. Cas was back. “I better go. I’ll see you soon.”
      “Dean?” Cas interrupted.
      “Okay, well, enjoy the bar,” Benny sounded like he’d heard Cas. “Bye, darlin’.”
     “Night,” Dean ended the call.
     “Who was that?” Cas asked, tugging at his trenchcoat to get the seatbelt on.
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