Doodles of some skeletons laughing and chortling and having a good time

My Game - Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Teachers Pet

SUMMARY: After Y/Ns little test, she takes Dr. Reid up on his offer. She also takes him back to the apartment. 

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SMUT, FEM READER, PROFFESOR-STUDENT, TEACHER REID, ORAL (FEMALE RECIEVING), PENATRATIVE SEX, SEMI DOM-SUB

It had been three days since Dr. Reid emailed me. I hadn’t texted him yet, too afraid of not knowing what to say. When I pulled that little stunt at his desk, I expected nothing to come of it. Just seeing his cute and pink face was enough of a reward. But it was obvious to me in the days following, he wanted to cross his finish line.

My phone sat comfortably in my hands, the series of numbers lining the top of my screen. I had not an inkling of an idea of what I would say. Should I go casual? Professional? Sexy? I mean, did anyone ever know how to aproach their crush?

Y: It’s Y/N, sorry I took so long. I’ve been kinda busy.

S: No worries, I was beginning to think I had read the room incorrectly. What are your plans for Saturday night? Theres a great Italian restaurant next to where I’m staying in DC.

Y: That sounds wonderful, actually. I’ll meet you there at 7?

S: Perfect.

I reluctantly pulled my figure from the sofa, and soon eagerly jumping into the shower. When the water hit my face the entire day melted away, and left only the anticipation of that night. I felt so special, I mean I was living my most vivid fantasies and not every woman gets to do it with a genius professor.

With my makeup carefully applied, and my dress matching my shoes, I started down the stairs. As my heels made a clicking noise, I started to feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. I was nervous; First date nervous. Though I had met him many times, and most recently met his body with mine, the event of a first date was a pâté of emotions.

The door of the restaurant was cold against my hand. I didn’t expect a high end dining experience, and when I walked in the entry way I was glad it wasn’t. The entry way was filled with cozy items. The faded rose pattern on the wallpaper complimented the display of family photos.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a tall brunette man, it was a table for two.” I said to the hostess. She paused for a second, tapping on her tablet as she checks the current table descriptions.

“Ah yes, party of two for Reid?”

I confirmed and she led me through a hallway to our left, which led into a small dining area. The room walls were a burgundy color, illuminated by the candle sitting at the head of each table.

I thanked the woman as I walked toward Spencer. He looked a tad bit cleaner than usual, his hair was combed and tucked away behind his ears.

“Oh, here let me get that for you.” He rose from his seat and rushed over to the chair across from him.

“How gentleman like, Doctor.” He laughed and we both took our seats.

“Please, call me Spencer.” His form was more relaxed than it usually was in class, giving him a calmer and peaceful demeanor.

Dinner progressed, a glass of wine was nursed, and he insisted on paying our check. Though I had been on dates before, this felt like my first real adult date.

“How did you get here?” He inquired as we stepped onto the rough parking lot terrain.

“I took a cab, I’m thinking I may catch the train though.” I said. His mouth spread into a displeased expression.

“Nonsense, please let me drive you home. I would hate for those statistics we learned last week be applied in this manor.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I hesitated to answer for a moment, instinctually I looked down and shifted my weight on my feet. The thought of him driving me home could end up in a number of ways; Mostly good. But, if I did take the train, it would end in a few ways; Mostly unmentionable.

“Alright, since you asked nicely.” His cheeks grew red as he avoided eye contact with me. I knew right then where our night would likely head.

“Would you like to come up? We can have a drink if you aren’t hell-bent on going to sleep before nine-thirty.” I joked with him.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything because I know that theres a certain expectation when-“

“Spencer, if I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t have asked you up.”

Sure, having to say it in blatant terms is less than sexy, but thats what I adored about our dynamic at that point; I led the relationship.

I leaned into my fridge, purposefully bending over so my skirt lifted to show my ass.

“Well...fuck,” I said, “As it would turn out, someone stole my wine bottle and filled my fucking vodka bottle with water.” I stood up and shut the door, walking over to the counter inches away.

“One time I took the drink turn when it came to our friend-team-dinner-night, the bottle was forty dollars, which granted is the cheap wine more or less. To this day I still have no idea who stole the bottle, because I wanted to take it home.” Spencer reminisced. I laughed at his unusual way of trying to understand.

“Wasn’t really mine to begin with,” I started walking over to the sofa where he patiently sat. “I’m not of legal drinking age. But of course it tastes better when its forbidden, everything does.” I stepped in front of the man, his knees only an inch from my shin. "Can I touch you, Spencer?” I said in a soft voice, the lids of my eyes relaxed in a sweet shift.

“Y-yes.” He gasped, obviously so turned on by the way I stood over him, in power of him. I threaded his hair through my fingers and tugged back, pushing his head as far up as I could. His eyelids fell and he was no longer looking at me.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see everything.” He opened his eyes, his irises were colored with lust and desperation. I connected our lips in a long a sweet kiss. Rather than just having a mess of tongues, the kiss was filled to the brim with emotion, of pleasure that this was happening again. His lips were slightly swollen when I pulled away to unbutton his shirt. While I fiddled with the garment, he put his hands on my hips firmly.

“Can I- can you sit on my lap?” he asked, a red tint forming on his face. I smiled and obliged, sliding his shirt off of his lean torso. I started kissing him once more, this time I made sure to press my dripping panties against the large tent in his trousers.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” I ask,hands resting comfortably on his neck.

“Please”, I stood and laced our hands together, leading him to my bedroom. Once we both entered through the doorway, I pushed him onto the bed, he fell softly.

I reached my hands behind my back to unzip my dress, as I felt it fall past my legs and onto the floor, I saw his eyes scan every detail of my body.

“One might say you were planning this.” He eyed my matching lace set.

“Wanted to make sure Spencer Reid had the best.” I replied, climbing on top of him so that I would be straddling him. I felt his hands connect to my waist as we kissed, his hands were warm and excited me even more. He pulled away, quickly pressing his lips to my neck and collarbone. My breath hitched in my throat as he bit down lightly on the skin. “Lets get these off, shall we?” I motioned to his pants, which had to be killing him right now. While he does that, I reach into my drawer and retrieve a condom, laying against the plush material of my pillows after I set it down on the table.

He gets on top of me , pressing his lips with mine as he rubs the back of my bra, signaling he wants me to take it off. I ,of course, reach back and unhook it, tossing it onto the floor. He grabs my tit while dancing his tongue with mine, making me more wet than I thought was possible. Usually, these actions signified a need for control, but when Spencer did it, it was like a desperate sixteen year old boy. Its clear he needed me.

“Can I...” he nods down to my cunt, still covered by the thin material of my panties.

“Can you what, Spencer?” I lace my fingers in his hair and pull, earning a soft groan from the man hovering over me.

“Can I please eat you out?” He begged. I smiled and pushed his head down, spreading my legs when his face met my stomach. He started by taking his thumb and rubbing over my clothed pussy. I bucked my hips, desperate for more friction. “Is it okay for me to take these off?” His eyes met mine, searching for confirmation. I smiled and nodded, moving my hands to stroke his hair rather than tug at it.

As his fingers latched onto the last piece of fabric that covered me, instinctually I pushed my hips upwards. He looked at me, silently asking if taking the garment off was still okay. When I bit my lip, a rose hue covered his face. He was flustered by me, by the escalation of us. But nevertheless, he slowly pulled off the last piece of modesty I had.

To re-assure him, I lightly tugged at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and licked a long stripe on my clit. My voice was caught in my throat as he continued making flat-tongued movements. I felt his hands slowly wrap around my thighs, pushing my heat into his face more than it already was.

He devoured me without hesitation, but when he pulled away for air he replaced it with two fingers and then when my stomach tensed and my eyes rolled back into my head, he used three. I finished with his mouth sucking on my bundle of nerves and his fingers buried inside me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He raised his head up and his thumb stroked my thigh, which he was still grasped onto.

“Yes, God yes please, Spencer.” I whined, the high fading away. He stood up off the bed and removed his strained boxers. He was beautiful; His lanky form was now a lean masculine type. I smiled at him, to which he obviously thought he was being laughed at. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, resulting to the floor instead. “Spencer,” I crawled towards the edge of my bed and placed my hands on his shoulders, “You are so gorgeous, the reason I’m smiling is because you always hide it in those sweater vests.” he relaxed.

“Thanks” he mumbles, still avoiding my eyes.

“Now please, come back here and let me take care of you.” He climbed back onto the bed while I rested against the pillows. He was nervous, and obviously he wanted to do it right. I could see his hands shaking as he unwrapped the condom and put it on.

“You’re sure?” He asks, the tip of his cock resting on the top of my inner thigh. He was easily six inches, my hand could probably wrap around and be too small.

“Yes, please fuck me.” He slowly inserted himself into my dripping cunt, causing me to let out a lewd string of words. Once again, my hands flung to his hair and tugged harshly, causing his arms to almost buckle beneath his own weight. I could feel his pelvis against mine, his muscular bottom torso pressed up against my clit. “Move, baby, its okay.” I reassure him. His hips pull away from mine, then snap back with a nice pressure. He quickly started to pick up his pace, small grunts escaping through his clenched jaw. “Do you like the feeling of your pathetic little cock inside my cunt? I bet you feel like a special little bitch now.” I moaned into his ear. “Well, are you going to tell me how much you enjoy my cunt?”.

“God, yes! I love it so fucking-“ his moan paused the sentence and he focused on getting his movements right.

“So fucking what? Go on, finish the sentence baby.”

“So fucking good, I love being inside of you so much!” He was practically whimpering in pleasure.

“Be a good boy and make me cum all over that pretty little cock of yours?” I struggled to contain my moans, I could not fall apart this quickly.

“Yes I will!” His fingers reached down to rub my clit, impressively keeping a steady rhythm. I felt the knot in my stomach becoming hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by.

“Oh my god, such a good- oh my god!” my eyes rolled back into my head as the impact of my orgasm was full forced. When my head cleared, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head so he could look me in the eye. “Gonna cum soon? Are you going to cum all inside of me?” his thrusts got off beat, he was close.

“Yes, I’m gonna-“

“Ask permission to cum, Spencer.”

“Can I please cum inside of you? Please?” He whines.

“Of course you can, baby.” With that he makes a strained moaning noise and his hips slowly stop moving. We’re both panting, while he flushes the condom I walk into the bathroom next to him. I turn to the shower and twist the hot water knob.

“We might as well get clean together, yeah?” I said.

“Yeah.” he smiles and kisses me once more.

Step three

Back with another spicy part while I wait for more tasty tasty asks! This one includes consent! Look at Illumi go!

cw: nsfw, possessiveness, mentions of murder, that’s about it honestly

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi enjoyed his new relationship, but he was also somewhat confused by it. He was never taught much about 'dating', marriage was about the only romantic dynamic he knew of in detail, but after 5 or so outings together with you, his mother had informed him that you two were officially a couple. However, when the dark haired assassin had assured her he'd be swift in getting a wedding band for you, she'd put a halt to his plans,           "Now now Illumi dear, you can't just jump to marriage with this girl." she'd chided gently, "She's shy, you'll overwhelm her with talk of marriage so soon. You still have wooing to do, so start out slow, 'boyfriend and girlfriend' status for now." The thought made the man grimace,          "Mother, I can further court her when she's my fiancee," His mother huffed at his stubborn tone,          "Dear, the titles of 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' are basically the same as fiance. The only difference is referring to this girl as your girlfriend will spook her less than calling her your wife. Trust me on this, your father was not the first man to date m-" He hung up on her before she could finish that thought. Nonetheless, he took her advice and refrained from calling you his fiancee, for now, though that's what you were to him in his mind. He'd confirmed his status on your next outing together, and it was reassuring for him to see how you turned pink at his inquiry and stuttered out your acceptance, it solidified the fact that you wouldn't be a wife he needed to worry about too much. However, this progression brought a new level of reluctance to leave you, to let Milluki watch you while he was on jobs. He very much wanted to just scoop you up now and take you to the safety of his family home, but Kikyo shot the idea down again, forcing him to 'take things slow' and 'ease (y/n) into things' . This issue was, of course, never a problem at work though. While it did bother him like a needle pressed too deeply into his shirt, he was a perfect professional, and didn't let his musings over what to do about you turn his work sloppy. If anything, his desire to return to you as soon as possible made him seek out more efficient methods of disposing of his targets, which permitted him some free time to pick off the meager few friends you had on his way back to his secondary home. That sort of detour is what earned him his current position. He'd returned home from a rather textbook assassination that had been simple to do and spared him a day or two to hunt down and kill your final remaining friend to you once again miserable.        "W-we're dating, right?" you'd asked, your voice shakey with anguish despite the (favorite flower) Illumi was standing on your porch offering to you. He nodded, hiding his disdain at the word behind a mask of his usual unchanging expression, "Than...do you mind staying the night with me? I've now l-lost all of mm-my friends and I've been so lonely..." you explained, physically shaking from the strain of fighting back tears. Illumi adored seeing you so isolated and alone, it was adorable in a dark way, and it meant he could finally be your only source of substantial human contact. You'd finally depend on him severely. Of course Illumi agreed to your demand, so the two of you spent the day together, and when evening fell, you snuggled into his side, squishing your form to him as if that would push out more of the attention you so craved. It was honestly hard for him not to smile in the dark living room while you watched a movie and clung to him while he played with your (h/l), (h/c) hair, you were just too cute when you were so needy for him. Just like she was the night I'd moved in. he thought, but than had to force himself not to recall the night you'd slept on the couch in nothing but your panties and a shirt, begging for him to claim you with the way you laid on your back, shirt pushed up just enough to preview a hint of your (r/c) panties. Now was not the time to rile himself up. He might not have much self-restraint. Luckily, he had the discipline to focus on something else aside from that night, and he found he rather enjoyed having you nestled beneath his arm, your own (s/c) arm draped loosely across his chest and, after a while, your leg thrown over his lap. The simple physical contact made Illumi burn with an addictive, yet not lustful, warmth. He couldn't place the feeling, but it made the ebony haired assassin tighten his grip on your dozing form. If he wasn't certain of your destiny as his wife, he was now. After that night, he admittedly lingered a tad. He came over quite a bit under the guise of checking on you while you were so vulnerable, but it seemed he wasn't as skilled at hiding such an unknown emotion.        "Illumi?" you hummed one night when he was over, laying between your legs with his head on your chest while you lounged on the couch with a tv show on as a way to keep you from being awkward in the silence,        "Yes, (y/n)?" he responded, moving to look up at you while you threaded your fingers through his silky black hair,       "I do enjoy you coming over and spending time with me, but you do realize you can just come over to hang out sometimes, right?" you asked, smiling slightly.        "Ah, I don't want to seem overbearing," he said, lying slightly, not wanting to try and explain this addiction to your soft, affectionate touches and cuddles. You giggled, blushing a bit as you spoke again,      "Well, I-I don't mind you being over, so as long as you ask first, I don't see how you'd be overbearing." you assured. Illumi hummed in response, looking at you curiously for a moment before he resituated himself so that he was propped up on his elbows, your face darkening in response to the shift causing his hips to be pressed more against yours, to look down at you. For a moment the two of you looked at one another, than he lowered his head and kissed you. He felt you tense in response, so he pulled away slightly, far enough to break the kiss, but close enough so that his warm breath gently fanned over your (s/c) face. However, you didn't complain, instead giggling and turning a darker shade of pink, so after a short moment, he pressed his lips to yours again in a quick kiss, pausing for a shorter time before doing it again. Much to his delight, you began kissing back. With that encouragement, he held the next kiss, leading you into a short make out session. After he pulled away again, you giggled again, your face now pretty red, which gave Illumi a spark of smug satisfaction, I'm the only man you'll be this vulnerable for. He mentally told you, but he refrained from verbalizing the thought at this moment. He could potentially get consent for sex, he couldn't risk it for his controlling urges.         "Um, 'lumi?" you asked, your voice a quiet, slightly breathy whisper, drawing the man out of his possessive thoughts and back to the moment, "d-do you think we could, I dunno, um, s-see how far this goes?" you asked, your (e/c) eyes now refusing to meet his, but this time it wasn't because of how empty they were, but because of your flustered nerves.          "Only if you want to," he assured, "though, you should know that I have a habit to get a bit rough," he warned, more to see how you'd react. Judging from your embarrassed silence, you weren't opposed to that.          Such a good girl, (y/n) He thought before going in for another kiss, moving one hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him possessively. You squeaked, but only wrapped your arms around his neck, wiggling your hips testingly against the growing bulge in his pants, mewling when he mindlessly rutted against you. After that, things swiftly got more heated. He snuck a hand up your shirt as he moved his mouth down to your neck, no longer hesitating to leave a trail of rather rough love-bites down to your collar bone. He relished the little noises each nip and bite brought, even if they were more pained than pleasurable whimpers, as he tugged your top off and let you tentatively remove your bra, willingly revealing the soft breasts he'd memorized the night he'd laid his claim on you. Something about you shyly removing your clothes made his dick throb more. He was rather eager to nibble and suck at the tender (s/c) skin until you were writhing and whining more, your noises encouraging his touches, especially when he snaked a hand between your bodies to press against your clit and you gasped, pressing your hips into his hand hungrily. With that, he tugged your bottoms off, getting up to shed his own pants but returning to station himself back between your legs before you could sit up. He pushed you back down onto the couch and kissed you again, this time more forceful in the way he claimed your mouth and ate the needy moans you gave in response. The way you clawed into his shirt and did your best to grind against his cock to achieve any friction you could woke that primal emotion he always failed to repress, threatening to drive him crazy.       "(y/n)," he breathed, not outwardly showing just how badly a possessive, neglected desire was burning him from the inside out beyond his stiff member and the tight grip he had on your thighs, "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, his urges mixing with his lust strong enough for him to realize the likelihood of him potentially crossing a line. With your shy nod, he positioned himself correctly and pushed into you. He hummed along with your slightly shocked moan at the feeling of his throbbing member pressing into the delicious warmth of your welcoming cunt until he was buried up to his hilt.        "I-Illumi!" you breathed, gripping his shirt desperately while your walls twitched and spasmed around him as you adjusted to the intrusion. He grunted and kissed you as he began moving, slowly at first, but it didn't take long for the pleasure to drive him to pushing your thighs up to your chest and speeding up until the only sounds he heard in the room was the slew of lascivious noises you made and the slapping of skin upon skin. The new position made you moan more, slurring out his name, drunk on the delectable sensations after only a short while, when you orgasmed and your walls tightened around the assassin. However, he didn't stop to give you a break, only letting one of your legs go to move his hand to your hip, keeping you in place as he now plowed into you, driven by the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rolled through him. Outwardly, he didn't seem terribly phased, making few noises, but if the rough pace didn't reveal his feelings, the burning urge to make you scream his name was a big piece of evidence.         "Tell me who you belong to," he ordered, his voice firm and steady as always, despite how he was skillfully thrusting into you to make your (e/c) eyes roll into the back of your head. "Say it" he repeated, gripping your hip so hard it'd bruise again until you managed,       "y-yours! I'm yours!" you whined, clawing into the couch since you could no longer reach his shoulders,       "Again," he ordered, making sure to hit your g-spot so that you once again arched your back and moaned his name loudly,      "I'm yours! I-I'm all yours Illumi!" you gasped out, beginning to whine and whimper from the creeping pain of overstimulation, though luckily for you, the sound of you saying you belonged to  him was the push the assassin needed. He locked his hips against yours, ensuring he was as deep as he could be before shooting ropes of cum into you with a groan. As he came down from his euphoria high, he realized he still held onto your thigh and hip so hard that your thigh at least was beginning to bleed under his nails. You, however, didn't seem to mind or notice. He could see that your (e/c) eyes were already beginning to drift shut, your brain more than likely fried from your own repeated orgasm. It wasn't a new sight to him, but he savored it and the thought that he was the only one who would give you such ecstasy from now on. Once he could regain his composure, the little he lost, the man was careful as he moved you to lay on him, his dick still nestled snugly inside you, ensuring none of his potent seed slipped out while the two of you dozed off to the sounds of the forgotten TV.

No One Lives Forever- CH9

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter   Next Chapter>

AN: warning- mentions of smoking, blood, fighting and injury/death in this chapter

As the rest of the pack clears the table of the hunters’ things and makes their way to the lounge, Joseph steps outside to the back porch to make his call. It doesn’t take more than a few rings for Caesar to pick up, “Hey! Caesarino! How are you and Suzi getting along without me?”

“Jojo! Checking up on me? Everything is under control! No need to worry!” Caesar greets, his accent thicker than usual and Joseph can tell he’s stressed about something.

“Under control? You mean it was out of control before I called?” Joseph frowns and stares out into the surrounding woods. “Never mind that for now, listen; we’ve had an… incident out here. We’re going to be cutting the trip short.”

“Jojo, tell me this is one of your idiotic jokes. Suzi already told you, didn’t she?” Caesar’s accent is even stronger now and Joseph can tell he’s made a face and pinched the bridge of his nose from his tone alone.

“I’m completely serious Caesar. What happened? Is everyone alright there?” Joseph can feel himself growling and his hair stand on end.

“Si, yes. Everyone is fine. We had an incident here as well. Frankie and Lucky caught some idioti sniffing around the main office. They put up a fight when the boys confronted them. Jojo, they were carrying silver weapons.”

“Shit. Are the boys alright?” Josephs eyes widen and he runs a hand through his hair.

“Yes, they’re fine. You know we Zeppelis don’t go down easy. Anyway, we covered up the issue from the police for now, but there was something else. Frankie said they both had a strange smell to them. Like nothing they’ve ever encountered before.” Joseph nearly drops his phone at this new information. “What happened to you guys out there. I thought it was just a vacation for you?”

“You’re not going to believe this Caesar. We ran into a group of werewolf hunters. Silver bullets, armed to the teeth, the whole she-bang. They weren’t after us though, they were chasing a girl through our territory. Jotaro stepped in and tool them out and looks like we gained a packmate from the whole situation. But Caesar,” Joseph leans forward on the porch rail and grips it with his free hand. He suddenly seems much older as he hunches over, “they were here to take her alive. Someone is trafficking wolves, not just near the city like we were worried about. And one of them, he smelled like magic.”

“Magic? You’re sure? The last time we encountered anything magic was…”

“I know. The Proto-Fae. Its not the same, similar but not the same. We’ll have to discuss this more in person though. We’re going to leave the cabin tomorrow, is it safe to meet at the main office?”

“No, best to stay away from that for now. But we did just close on that apartment building you had your eyes on for a while. The penthouse is vacant if we want to use that as a meeting point?”

“Perfect! Yeah, gather everyone there. Zeppelis and Joestars. Call up the furnishing rental place too, I want it set up before we get back in town.”

“So bossy.” Joseph hears Caesar sigh, “Alright, we’ll get it set up. See you soon Jojo. Ciao!”

“Ciao, Caesar.” Joseph takes a moment to compose himself. An attack in the city on their turf? At the shared headquarters with the Zeppelis no less. He has to get his emotions under control, if the others see him stressed its just going to cause more stress. Jotaro may be the alpha now, but the pack still takes cues from him as well. With one last fortifying breath he stands up straight and marches back into the cabin. “Jotaro, can I speak with you?” Joseph hovers by the back door, invitation open to take the conversation outside. Jotaro just nods and follows him out.

Jotaro wastes no time waiting for his grandpa to start, “What’s wrong? I assume Caesar had bad news?” He pulls a cigarette pack out form his pocket and lights one before offering one to the older alpha. Joseph surprisingly accepts, he quit years ago but maybe it will help calm his nerves. Or at least hide his stressed scent from the others until they could put their plan in motion.

He takes a long drag and leans over the rail again. “Caesar’s boys caught some guys around the main office. Get this, they were also armed with silver.”

“Shit.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Joseph exclaims and throws his hands in the air. “Everyone is fine, but we gotta get back. Caesar’s setting up an apartment to crash in instead of going to headquarters or our own places. On the bright side, it looks like the building on Broadway finally closed.” He takes another long drag of the cigarette and flicks his ash over the rail.

“We’ll have to leave tomorrow then. Weather is supposed to turn to shit here anyway.” Jotaro finishes his own cigarette and stomps it out on the cement stair pad. He tugs his hat to cover his eyes and says, “And thanks. For getting this set up.” Joseph can read between the lines, getting an outright thankyou from Jotaro was rare enough but expecting him to just blurt out ‘thanks for respecting me as an alpha and guiding me through this’? Impossible.

They head back inside and quickly get the pack’s attention “We’re going to head back to the city tomorrow. We don’t have all the details yet but there was an incident at the business main office.”

Jotaro pauses for the gasps and exclamations, “Everyone there is alright, but we are concerned the issues we had here are connected. We’ll discuss with the Zeppelis what the plan is when we get there. Tonight we’ll prep the cabin and head out first thing tomorrow.” Everyone nods in understanding and gets to work with preparing the cabin for an extended leave.

You aren’t left with much to do as the guys divide up the various tasks until Joseph suggests you go through your car for the things you’ll be taking with you. Polnareff adds to take out any identifying effects or papers in case the cops do decide to investigate the van left parked down the road. By the time everyone is finished with their tasks its time for dinner, Jotaro and Joseph taking their turn to cook the rest of the food in the fridge so it wont spoil while the cabin is vacant.

Everyone winds down for the night and you are both relieved and dreading the fact that the number of beds hasn’t magically changed. Jotaro seems to feel the same way as you are both the last two remaining in the lounge for the night, trying to avoid the awkwardness that was to come. You eye the couch before he sighs and stands, offering you a hand up from your seat in a silent invitation to join him and share the bedroom again. You smile as you take his hand and head down the short hallway with him.

You quickly get changed into your own pajamas for the night. It’s a relief to not be swimming in extra fabric and fighting to keep from tripping over pants three sizes too big. Sitting on the edge of the bed you wait for Jotaro to finish his nightly routine and join you. Now is going to be the perfect chance to talk to him one on one, you noticed he was almost avoiding you while in the company of the rest of the pack.

He sees you waiting for him when he enters and for a moment looks like he’s going to turn right around and head for the lounge for the night. But he braces himself and sits stiffly next to you on the bed, back straight and not looking at you. “So…” you try and think of how to break the ice, “You’re the alpha, right? I’m guessing Mr. Joestar handed down the position?” He seems to relax slightly as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah, the old man decided to step down a couple of years ago. He’s still helping me get the hang of this, it’s still strange to be the one making the final decisions.” He’s more and more relaxed as he faces you while he talks, still bent forward over his legs.

You pull a pillow to your chest as you cross your legs on the bed. “Can you tell me more about everyone’s dynamics? I’d like to know what I’m getting into a little better…” you trail off as his expression becomes more solemn and you subconsciously copy his furrowed brow.

“Listen, about that. It looks like things are going to get worse before they get better, but as soon as it’s safe you’ll be free to go as you please again.” Even in the dimmed lamplight of the room his blue eyes are electrifying and cutting with his serious expression.

You lean back in surprise “’Go as I please?’ Listen, if you don’t want me around just say so Jotaro, I can take care of myself with the exception of trained wolf hunters. So drop me off in the next town and I’ll be out of your hair.” You stand up and toss the pillow while moving towards the door.

“Wait- that’s not…” he huffs loudly as he stands up and grabs your arm to stop your retreat, “I didn’t mean it like that. We do want you to stay. I… When Polnareff mentioned your car not being drivable, you had this look on your face like you were planning on riding off into the sunset and now you were trapped.” He lets go of your arm and you turn back to face him. “I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, I just want it to be your decision to stay, not because you’re stuck with us. Pretty useless to save you from being trapped by hunters to trap you in a pack instead.” He tangles his hand in his hair as he looks down at his feet, waiting for your response.

“I… that makes sense. Sorry, I thought you were…” You trail off as you think how to ease the misunderstanding. “I guess, I just feel like part of the pack already? You all remind me of my family – you’re a mix of serious and goofy guys.” You sit back down on the bed and reclaim your pillow. “I get what you mean though. I guess we’ll just have to see when this is all over, right?” You smile at him and the tension in his shoulders eases as he gives a small smile back.

You pat the empty space next to you, inviting him back to the bed. “You can still give me the rundown on the rest of the pack though, I’d like to get a feel for my place here.”

Instead of sitting back down next to you, he circles to his side of the bed and sits up with his back to the wall. “Why don’t you tell me what you think? I’ll tell you how close you are.”

You lean back next to him and count off on your fingers, “Well, Mr. Joestar is the previous alpha, Avdol I think is a delta, but I can’t tell between Polnareff and Kakyoin who is your beta.”

“Polnareff does a lot for us, but he tends to go back to his lone wolf tendencies a lot. It took a long time for gramps and Avdol to convince him to join up permanently. Kakyoin is my beta, we’ve been friends since college and I’d trust him with anything.” You nod and he looks at you, “Why don’t you tell me about your family, you said we remind you of them? Serous and silly?”

You laugh quietly and dive into your favorite memories of your parents and siblings and their shenanigans. Slowly you find you’re both laying down in the bed and can barely keep your eyes open as you talk and share stories. The last thing you remember before finally succumbing to sleep is Jotaro’s hand holding yours on top of the sheets as you both drift off.

 You are both woken up the next morning by Jotaro’s phone alarm. Not being much of a morning person you stubbornly keep your eyes closed even as you shuffle to the bathroom to brush your hair and teeth. Splashing some water on your face manages to wake you up fully so you grab your bag and make your way to the lounge. One by one the guys arrive with their own bags and the pack is ready to head out. Joseph sighs wistfully as he locks the front door and you reach out to put an hand on his arm.

He smiles at you but it’s a bittersweet expression, “Sorry, (Y/N). I was just really looking forward to staying in this place. I’m getting too old to be running all over the city anymore!” He laughs and reaches a hand behind his head.

Jotaro appears from behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder, “You’re not that old yet gramps. But I get it. It was nice while it lasted though.” Joseph just nods and you all make your way off the front porch to the grey Suburban waiting in the drive way. Your car had been hidden around back and covered with a spare tarp to further dissuade nosey troopers if they came out this far. Polnareff had been careful not to leave prints on the hunters’ van while he searched it so it was decided to leave it where it was.

Polnareff hops into the driver’s seat and Jotaro claims shotgun, Avdol and Kakyoin in the back leaving the middle row for Joseph and you. As soon as you are all settled the journey begins. Joseph immediately turns to you and asks, “Say, (Y/N), you said you’ve been traveling for a while now. Have you ever been to New York City before?”

You shake your head no, “I’ve been around it, through some of the boroughs, but never downtown and not for very long when I was close. I’m excited to see it up close though!”

“You are in for a treat young lady! Caesar’s getting it set up for us, you’ll get to meet him when we get there. We’ll all be staying in a downtown penthouse apartment my realty company recently acquired. The view from up there is just fantastic!” Joseph’s excited volume is a little loud for the small space but it’s endearing to see his arms wave about in his excitement.

“Do you guys normally all live together?”

Kakyoin speaks up from the back seat, “No, we all live in separate apartments on the same block, with the exception of Mr. Joestar and Jotaro live in the same building.” You nod and make a noise of understanding. That seems like a pretty good set up to not be constantly on top of each other from what you’ve heard about the size of New York apartments.

You’ve been traveling for about an hour down rural roads, chatting mostly with Joseph and the guys in the back seat when Polnareff announces you’ll be stopping at the next gas station before getting on the highway. “Great! That will give us a chance to get snacks for dinner and breakfast tomorrow. We’ll have to order some groceries to the apartment or something later.” Joseph says as he pulls out his phone, presumably to check which stores could fulfill the quick order. Soon the gas station comes into view and Polnareff pulls up to the pump. You unload yourselves and stretch out as you make your way inside for bathroom breaks and -as instructed by Joseph- ‘all the snacks you can carry’ as Polnareff fills the truck.

The guys automatically pair up and head for the bagged snack isles, so you grab a shopping basket and head back to the drink coolers. Kakyoin is about to walk down the chip isle when Avdol’s arm shoots out in front of him blocking his path. He’s startled by the abrupt action and turns to question Avdol, but he’s focused and staring at a point in the ceiling, specifically the air vent. “Avdol? What’s wrong?”

“Shh… Listen,” Kakyoin obeys and focuses his attention to the sounds coming from the vent. Tapping and scratching? It was faint though, “Hmm. Perhaps I’m just being over cautious. Sounds like this place has a rat problem though. Better check the packaging of what we buy is still intact.” The scratching fades, whatever it was probably using the vents to get around undetected.

There is a sudden shout and a loud thud from the isle between Kakyoin and Avdol and the others. The entire store goes silent as everyone stops to look around for the cause. Avdol gives a small nod to Jotaro and then to the isle between them. They both move to the opposite ends of the isle in a pincer movement to investigate whatever had happened. The smell of blood suddenly permeates the air and they rush to the isle, another customer is laying prone in a pool of their own blood either unconscious or dead.

On top of them though sits a small creature with comically large ears, bulging yellow eyes and protruding teeth that vaguely resemble some sort of predatory fish. It shrieks in glee at the sight of them and rushes behind the products on the shelf in an incredible burst of speed.

“Hey, is everything OK over here?” One of the other customers, the old man who was checking out hesitantly walks a few steps towards them. The cashier leans over the counter to get a better look as well.

“No! Stay back!” Is all Jotaro can get out before the creature has scurried through the display racks sending products flying in its wake. It leaps and aims at the old man’s face to attack with its teeth. The old man screams as he flails and falls backward managing to push the thing off but loosing a chunk of his cheek in the process. The cashier screams out a curse as he reaches for the gun under the counter. In a blink the little gremlin has disappeared again into the shelving.

The pack is on high alert, you are all vulnerable in your human forms, but it’s not worth the risk of transforming in public with witnesses present just yet. Even if the cashier seems too busy trying to drag the old man behind the checkout counter for shelter. Joseph runs to help them and the creature sets its sights on him, lunging out from the isle way. It gets distracted from its target when Avdol rushes it instead. Cackling, it launches itself at Avdol this time, swiping with sharp claws at his arms leaving bloody streaks as it attacks but thankfully not doing much damage.

Jotaro tries to intervene next and it zips away from Avdol to confront him. “Eeeeehhheeeee! Too slow! Too slow! You have no hope of catching me so just give up now!” It swipes at Jotaro’s leg as it passes him. You become its next target as you also move closer to try and help but it suddenly changes direction again when it sees Joseph moving the cashier and old man out the side door to safety. It swipes at him before turning back to you as you advance. Kakyoin can see that though it is very fast it is also not doing much damage when it gets within range before jumping to the next target. In fact, it seems to be easily distracted by the nearest moving thing.

Kakyoin tests his theory and throws a packet of candy at the gremlin and it immediately turns his way and advances. Avdol catches on as well and throws more junk food at it and causes it to turn yet again. “Heehehe! Just wait your turn! I’ll kill all of you so fast you won’t know you’re dead!” it shouts in its screeching voice before angrily shouting as Kakyoin hits it hard with a soda can. Enraged, it leaps in his direction again but you and Jotaro have caught onto the plan now and Jotaro hits it before it can get halfway to Kakyoin. You are all pelting bags of food and drinks at it when Kakyoin yells, “Now, Avdol!” From behind the creature Avdol jumps at it holding open a large travel cooler. It screeches in surprise but it is for once too slow to escape the trap set up for it. The cooler snaps shut with a bang and Kakyoin grabs the roll of duct tape he spotted earlier, going over and securing the lid to prevent the gremlin’s escape.

The cooler rattles and shakes as the gremlin throws itself against the walls of its makeshift prison. “Impossible! Let me out! LET ME OUT!” it howls and screeches and you’re glad the cooler doubles as a sound insulator as well.

“Looks like all that speed is useless if you can’t focus on a target.” Kakyoin laughs as he holds the container steady from the creature’s thrashing. It continues screaming gibberish, what you can safely assume are curses in its native tongue.

“Good job Kakyoin, figuring out its weakness so fast.” Jotaro praises as he walks up and leans against one of the shelves to keep off his wounded leg. You stand next to him as Joseph returns from helping the employee drag the wounded old man outside. The shaking of the cooler is starting to lessen, the thing either running out of energy or out of air.

“Wait! Wait! Please!” It wheezes and gasps, “I’ll tell you everything, just let me go and I’ll tell you who sent me!”

“Sent you? No deal, tell us who sent you first and then we’ll talk.” Joseph crosses his arms and glares down at the box.

It doesn’t hesitate before spilling its secrets. “If you promise to release me, I’ll tell you! It was Lord Dio who sent me! The hunters, they were under his command and failed him.” The pack looks at each other in shock for a moment then back at the box when the gremlin continues. “Lord Dio sent his scouts to investigate- imagine my luck and surprise when the Joestars turn up!” it cackles and thrashes some more, “Now release me! You promised! We have a deal!”

“We didn’t promise you shit. You just spilled your guts for nothing.” Jotaro scoffs before tuning out the enraged screams and turns to the pack. “Grab whatever is salvageable and some first aid stuff.” You all nod and start picking through the debris of the fight. “Kakyoin, you’re good with computers. See if you can delete the security footage.”

Avdol stands from where he had been kneeling next to the gremlin’s first victim, checking if there was anything he could do. But the surprise attack had hit a major vein or artery and they bled out quickly. “To think such a small creature was able to do so much damage in such a short amount of time.” He shakes his head and carefully wipes his hands of any of the victim’s blood. His own wounds on his arms still dripping but thankfully shallow enough they would only require bandages overnight before they healed completely. He looks around at the damage before picking through he items, searching for a decent first aid kit and extra bandages for the trip.

“What are we going to do with that thing? We can’t leave it for the humans to open up later.” You ask as you toss some packs of jerky into a shopping bag.

Jotaro takes over holding the cooler still by sitting on it while Kakyoin moves to the back room of the store. You shudder as you get a whiff of Jotaro’s blood for the first time, your senses zeroing in on the smell overpowering all the others in the store. You suppress a growl and feel your hair stand on end as you glare at the cooler.

“We’ll have to take it with us. It will run out of air eventually- especially if it keeps shouting like that. We’ll see if we can get any more info out of it and burry it.” You nod at his reasoning. It would be too dangerous to just leave it but the new detour puts your travel plans in a bind.

Kakyoin emerges from the back room and nods to Jotaro, “They were still using an old tape system. I took care of the footage.” Jotaro sighs and nods, then motions the beta to help him carry the cooler. They each grab a handle and lead the pack back outside where Polnareff is waiting, bored in the driver seat. There is no sign of the cashier and old man, now is the time for a clean exit.

“Jeeze! What took you guys so long? You fall into the toilets or something?” Polnareff mocks as the rest of the pack load the snacks into the car. He does a double take and gapes at the fresh wounds you are all sporting. “Guys?”

Jotaro just gives the cooler a little shake while loading it into the back and the gremlin screeches and rocks its makeshift trap. Polnareff jumps back in alarm as Jotaro says, “We ran into one of Dio’s scouts. We’ll fill you in on the way but we have to take a detour.” Polnareff just gulps and nods. Soon the pack is pulling out onto a side road, passing the ramp for the highway and heading back into the woods.

<Previous Chapter  Next Chapter>

Author’s Note:

I’m so proud of myself, actually keeping to my weekly schedule! Here we are, the first not-stand battle featuring the Tower of Grey! All the battles are going to be cryptids and mythical creatures and I figured a gremlin was perfect for this one. 1: he’s an ugly gross guy. 2: biggest influence I had for gremlins was the old episode of twilight zone where it is messing with the plane. 3: he somewhat follows cannon plot of showing up and causing an immediate detour.

Sour Cherry, Chapter 5

The way I just impulsively wrote this because I’ve had sleepy Kuvira stuck in my head for days and I couldn’t afford to let this go! It’s sooo short so that’s why there’s no preview (in addition to how fast it happened lol) but I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I loved writing it! Can’t wait to start getting through your requests this week ❤️ Check out chapter 5 on AO3 as well!

Since crossing paths, you had cemented a perception of Kuvira as a woman who was steadfast, undaunted, and more than a bit intimidating. Of course, you understood there was so much more that made up this profoundly and wonderfully complicated human — even in the days where you’d fawn from afar, you knew there were depths to her that ran far beyond what she displayed to the world. 

Nevertheless, it would be foolish to say those characteristics weren’t Kuvira’s dominant traits and she would be inclined to agree. From an early age, she had learned to confront the world in this manner and she has come to enjoy this way of being. She finds immense satisfaction in knowing the slightest movement, word, or sound from her can profoundly alter her surroundings and the demeanor of those around her. 

Therefore, you found it fabulously endearing the day she began floundering about when and how you’d start sharing the same room.

It all began about a month into your newfound relationship. Neither of you felt ready to share it with the world — what you had discovered with each other felt far too precious to fall upon oblivious ears and you wanted to treasure it amongst yourselves for as long as you could. 

So you continued to spend time together as you had for so many weeks, sharing meals together or going on walks once everyone had retired to their quarters. With time, you carefully found ways to share more moments throughout the day: walking to and from meetings together, “debriefing” in hallways, or working in the same space. 

On this particular day, you had been reviewing the details of an incoming shipment contract while Kuvira sifted through the latest prototype proposals from Varrick. Despite having worked well on your own for so long, in those few weeks you spent closer to Kuvira you found it increasingly difficult to focus without her solid presence. 

You had been working in comfortable silence for about an hour when she spoke. “When are you moving into my quarters?” she asked plainly. You were about halfway through a paragraph when the inquiry threw you off entirely. You looked up at her with startled eyes. 

“I’m sorry?” you stammered. Whereas her face had been entirely indifferent moments before, your response prompted a distressed expression in an instant. It may not have been obvious to most, but you knew she felt deeply uncomfortable when her eyes tightened and her lips grew taut. 

“Forget it. It was an imprudent comment,” she responded uneasily. “No Kuvira, it’s okay,” you reassured her, keeping your voice soft. “You just caught me off guard is all.”

She appeared hesitant to continue but eventually spoke again. “It has been four and a half weeks since we began our romantic relationship,” she stated. “People are talking,” you added. Kuvira inhaled deeply and momentarily closed her eyes. 

“Precisely,” she replied. “I may be approaching this incorrectly but I believe the next appropriate step would be for us to share quarters, correct?” You stared at her wonderingly for a moment, steepling your hands beneath your chin and observing the overly proper way she carried herself. 

“Do you want to move in together because of that? People talking?” you asked. You knew your response was slightly cruel — Kuvira had clearly struggled to even broach the subject and now you were squeezing this out of her. 

But you needed absolute certainty. You needed to know that she wanted this for the right reasons and not because of the questioning glances of their peers. 

“No,” she said firmly. “Frankly, I couldn’t care less about their opinions. The only thing holding me back is...this is important to me. More than they could ever possibly comprehend. And I want it to be accepted as such. But I also can’t bear the thought of spending many more nights apart from you.”

That final sentence is what knocked the wind out of you and sprung you from your seat, striding over to Kuvira and standing just above her as she remained seated. You brought your hands to her face and offered her a watery smile, coaxing your thumb across her cheekbone. 

“That’s all I needed to know,” you murmured. You felt the weight of her head relax into your palms as she covered your hands with hers. “So will you consider it? Moving into my quarters?” she asked. 

“I don’t need to because I already know I will.”

---

Not long after that afternoon (the following morning to be precise), Kuvira confirmed your relationship to her officers. “I will not have rumors overpowering the efficacy of my army. You have your confirmation, now cease from engaging in such infantile habits and focus your attention to the matters at hand.” 

Only Bolin had eyed you from his place across the table, holding back what you could only assume was a congratulatory smile. You nodded minutely and returned your attention to Kuvira, glad to have moved past the moment that had left you anxious all night. Though you had to admit you found great pleasure in the near-comical way everyone in the room suddenly had an incredibly difficult time glancing in your direction. 

The transition into Kuvira’s room was relatively fast but that was to be expected. That slow build up to a swift culmination of action seemed to be characteristic of your relationship and you had no qualms about it. You liked that about your dynamic — it made sense. 

You had insisted on moving your things into her quarters yourself over the course of several nights. It wasn’t like you had very many belongings to begin with. Kuvira, being the discreetly attentive woman she was, would not have any of it and took it upon herself to assist you. 

The move took about two nights — between the two of you, you took full advantage of the night’s cover and successfully moved everything over without the wandering gazes of privates and sergeants. 

That first night carried an energy comparable to an electric charge. It felt like a pleasant buzz had overtaken the room and settled within each pore of your body, carrying the sensation to your veins until it felt as though you would burst from the feeling alone. 

You were folding your minimal collection of clothes and storing them into Kuvira’s — well, now your shared — bureau. Kuvira sat on the bed, watching you silently. As you tucked away the final shirt, you took a deep breath and turned to face her. It was clear neither of you really knew what to say next.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. You looked down to your feet for a few moments before answering shakily, “Honestly? I’m really, really nervous. But...I think in the best possible way.” 

Breaking her expressionless face, Kuvira stretched her legs apart slightly and extended her arms. Immediately understanding the motion, you took the three extra steps that closed the space between you so you were standing above her. 

With a sheepish grin, she wrapped her arms around your hips and rested her head on your belly. “Okay. Me too,” she whispered and in an instant you were confident you had turned into a gooey pool of unadulterated happiness. 

---

Since then, you have grown to cherish the night, most particularly that lovely and sleepy stretch  of time where you both settle into your respective routines and prepare for the rest of the evening. 

Today had been a notably explosive day (in more ways than one...you’re relieved to hear there were no major injuries in today’s engineering incident) and you were looking forward to getting back to your quarters all afternoon. 

You change out of your robe, tossing your damp towels in the hamper before stepping into your favorite set of cotton loungewear and returning to the bathroom. Kuvira has finished bathing and there’s a cozy film of steam hanging over you. She smiles faintly as she dries her hair and you lean over to press a soft kiss to her cheek. 

In moments, you easily fall into your practices. You turn the faucet on and wash your face while Kuvira stands at your side, pulling a brush through her hair and detangling the sodden locks. It’s a comforting tune: the familiar rush of running water and bristles combing through hair, the humorous swish of a rinsing mouth and bottle caps snapping open and closed.  

As always, she finishes before you and briefly touches her hand to your lower back before exiting. You wrap up your final steps, flick the lights off, and join Kuvira in bed. She’s lying beneath the covers with her hands beneath her head, thoughtfully gazing up at the ceiling and no doubt plotting her moves for the next day. 

You slide in and retrieve your book from the bedside table. It’s been a few nights since you’ve felt tranquil enough to read and you won’t pass up an opportunity to lose yourself in the refreshing verses of ancient Earth Kingdom poetry. You settle in close to Kuvira, pushing your fingers into her hair and delicately stroking through the tresses. 

A pleased hum vibrates in her throat so you continue the motion, using the other hand to keep your book up. It’s a challenge to turn the pages with your thumb alone but Kuvira is so comfortable and the thought of stopping sounds preposterous at this point. 

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes before she shifts beneath you, her eyes closed as her breath steadily slows down. You carefully pull your hand away from her head, bookmark your place, and switch off the lamp. When you slide onto the pillow, her eyelids barely flutter open and you can’t resist the dopey smile that curls along your mouth. 

You see this side of Kuvira every night and you have for months, yet the sight of those drowsy green eyes and locks of hair fanned across her pillow never ceases to make your heart clench in the most splendid way. It hadn’t taken long for you to decide this is one of your favorite sights in the entire world, only second to the way morning light filters through your curtains and casts an otherworldly glow to Kuvira���s slumbering face. Nothing on this side of the universe could possibly compare to that. 

As she watches you her eyelids blink slowly and she brings her fingertips to your face, sleepily dragging them across your cheekbones and your forehead. You breathe in deeply and notice the way your heart pounds harder against your chest, the way it only does this during these hushed pockets of time where nothing else exists except for Kuvira and the warm cradle of her limbs draped over yours. 

You press forward an inch until your knees touch hers and she looks at you expectantly. Ever the impatient one, she bridges the space between your faces and seals your mouths in a lazy kiss. It’s short and graceless but that makes it all the more marvelous to you. It’s your deep seated reverence for each other in its purest form and it conjures a stream of ecstasy to pulse through your body. 

It brings you back to that very first night, when Kuvira’s arms pulled you against her and you basked in the excitement of what this seemingly trivial change meant to you both. 

When she moves back, you are certain she is seconds away from falling asleep. You press a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose and pull the sheets higher over her shoulders. It takes a handful of moments before her face smooths out entirely and her breath falls into a heavy and consistent rhythm. It’s a marvel to see the stressors of the day literally melt off her face, replaced by the peaceful look only sleep can bring. Sometimes you wish you could offer her so many more hours of this undisturbed peace, away from the copious burdens she places upon herself...but instead you ensure she enjoys these few hours enveloped by the security you promise to always offer her. 

For now, you hope it’s enough. 

By the time you doze off yourself, your arm hangs across Kuvira’s waist — an ever present weight that reassures her you will be there in the morning and every morning after that.   

Fight or Flight

In both the past and in this life, Jane Seymour fled from fights. They didn’t even have to be her own fights, she would still flee the scene. She was trying to get better- she really was. But it was hard to shake old habits. 

-

“Catherine! Are you fucking kidding me?” Anne would shriek.

“Shut up Bo-loser! You’re just pissed I beat you at Monopoly again!”

“You were already going to beat me anyway! Why did you have to bankrupt me?”

“That’s just the business of the game Anne.”

“Jane!” Anne whined to the blonde. “Tell Catherine that’s not fair.”

“Jane!” Catherine drew out. “Tell Anne that’s just how you play the game and to stop being a sore loser!”

“Oh, I’m the sore loser? If I can remember correctly, up until recently, you were still pissed you lost Henry to me over 400 years ago!” Anne crossed her arms.

“Because you stole him from me! This is different Anne! It’s just a stupid game!”

“Don’t be bitter cause I’m fitter!” Anne quoted her song. The two continued to go back and forth arguing, not noticing that Jane was getting more and more panicked. Before the two could go any further, blonde fled the room and made her way to the car.

“Jane!” Catherine called after her. “Jane?” 

“You two need to figure this out before I come back,” The third queen sighed as she turned on the engine. 

“It's 12:30 querida. Don't you think it’s a little late to be driving around?” the first queen tried convincing the third to come back into the house.

“I just need to-” Jane pulled away. 

At 3:30 in the morning, the silver queen pulled into the driveway safely, much to the golden queen’s relief.

-

“Katherine, I thought I asked you to take the trash out three times already? And yet it’s still sitting here? This is ridiculous!” 

“I’m right in the middle of watching this movie though!” Kat argued back, not taking her eyes off of the screen.

“You weren’t the first two times I asked you to do it!” Jane refuted.

“Can’t you just back off? I’ll get to it when I get to it!” The fifth queen turned up the volume louder. 

“Katherine Howard!” Jane’s voice boomed. 

“I-” Katherine stood up immediately and went to take out the trash.

“Was that so hard?” the usually kind queen asked in a mocking tone.

“I know you’re frustrated, but you don’t have to be such an ass about it.”

“Fuck this,” Jane stormed out of the house, car keys in hand.

Three hours later, the blonde returned, visibly more relaxed.

“I’m sorry I called you an ass.”

“You were right love. I’m sorry I was being an ass.”

-

“Jane, come on. Can’t we talk this out?” The sixth queen pleaded with her less confrontational friend.

“Love, I don’t know what there is to talk about. I desperately pleaded with you not to continue to write into the night, and you did. Because of that, you slept in and missed the one breakfast I was really looking forward to making. It really hurt my feelings, and now I’m going to go on a drive and cool down before I lose it on you.”

“Jane, I apologized a million-” the front door closed.

The blonde got into her car and began to drive. She ended up three towns over before she broke down crying. Knowing it wasn’t safe to drive in the state she was in, she pulled over into a small parking lot and turned off the car.

“I just-” she began to talk to herself and talk out her feelings, something she rarely did despite what the fandom thought. She was rather reserved in her own feelings other than the show. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

She looked up at the place she had parked. On one side of the parking lot was a tattoo parlor, and on the other was a pet store.

If Anna could have a dog and Anne was allowed to have a tattoo, why couldn’t she?

The blonde returned home with a small “VI” on her ribcage because despite the fact that the other queens angered her quite often, she knew all she would need is six. It didn’t make it any less meaningful when she remembered that her Edward was also known as Edward VI of England. And she returned with a fish: a small white betta named Eddie who she spilled her feelings to on the car ride home.

“We remade breakfast,” Cathy offered with a guilty smile.

“Thank you love. All is forgiven though.”

“You bought a fish?” Aragon tilted her head to the side slightly.

“I did. Meet Eddie.”

“After...?” Kat smiled softly.

“Yes.”

“He’s perfect,” Cleves had already begun to take out the fish tank tucked under Jane’s arms.

“I expect him to stay in your room.”

Jane Seymour spoke to the fish quite often about anything and everything hoping that maybe, just maybe, Edward up in heaven could hear her. And she never ate fish again. She couldn’t bring herself to.

-

“Anne! That’s my chocolate milk! Stop trying to take it from me!” Kat whined.

“Well, I don’t see your damn name on it, now do I?” Anne teased her cousin.

“Mum!” They both yelled at the same time.

Jane, who was up in her room and had already heard the girls yelling, found her keys and walked down the steps. 

“Mum! Tell Anne to stop taking my chocolate milk!”

“Janey, tell Kit that I can drink whatever the hell I want in the house! It’s not just her chocolate milk!”

“Well, it would’ve been nice if you would’ve at least asked!”

“You don’t ask if you can drink Janey’s almondmilk!” Anne was getting more and more frustrated.

“I used to! Right Mum?” Kat batted her eyelashes, hoping she could use some of her Howard charm on the blonde.

“Kat! That’s not fair! You can’t do that when you know she’s going to take your side as soon as you give her that look and call her Mum!”

“What I’m saying is true!”

Jane had enough of hearing the girls’ bickering over something as stupid as chocolate milk, and half shouted, “Enough!” The other two were quite startled by this outburst. “This is a ridiculous argument to begin with. Kat, you know when you’re fighting you can’t drag me into this. You also know that since we’ve all gotten more comfortable living together that if it’s a drink or something small, it’s fair game. And Anne, you know that if it’s everyday, you should probably buy some more, but you never do. It’s always up to me. And yes Kat, you did used to ask, but you know now that what's mine is yours. That doesn’t just go for her, Anne. That applies to everyone. I just ask that everything gets replaced in a timely manner. Now, are we done arguing or...?”

“Well, I was going to grab the chocolate milk, but Anne took it before I could get to-” Jane held up a hand, signifying she heard enough. Without another word, she walked out the door.

The woman came back two hours later, two gallons of chocolate milk and a sharpie in hand. She had already labelled them for the two feuding queens. To her surprise though, there were already two brand new jugs of milk. It would last them a week before they began to fight again.

-

Jane may have had a tendency to flee from fights when it was between her own family, but if someone from the outside tried to come at any of the queens, she was the first one to fight. No one was to mess with her family.

The six were sitting down for an interview about a month before their show debuted. Yes, Jane was very nurturing to all of her sisters, but the love that she felt for them was much stronger than any of them had realized.

“So,” the reporter turned to face the first queen. “The first divorce. The one responsible for the Church of England. The one responsible for Bloody Mary. Why are you the best wife?”

“Sir, I do hope that you will try to conduct this interview as professionally and as kindly as possible,” Jane butted in before any other queen could, already noticing all of their discomfort. 

“Quiet down Miss Seymour. Right now, this is focused on Aragon.” Jane eyed the interviewer before glancing at Catherine. She obviously was getting uncomfortable and was looking for a way to evade the questions at all possible costs. After a few questions of unbelievable prying and disrespect, the third queen had enough.

“You know what sir, I do think this part of the interview is over. All you’ve done is degrade Catherine and her legacy, and I’m sure I don’t want to know what you’ll say to the rest of us.”

“Jane, we can-”

“No Catherine. This man is not going to try to put us in a box anymore. We came back and started our show to show people that we aren’t just who they thought we are. So, sir, let me tell you how this is going to go down. I’m going to be asking the questions to all of the other queens, and then afterwards, you can ask me anything you please. But mark my words, if you so much as try to box us in anymore, I will lose my temper. You don’t want that.” Jane said fiercely before she folded her arms in her lap, the fire in her eyes slowly dying as she reverted back to the mild mannered woman she normally was. 

“Yes ma’am,” the reporter gulped as he wrote down a few notes.

“Okay. Catherine, can you tell me what it’s like in our household?” Jane started off kindly.

“Well Jane, we’ve all grown quite a bit since we first came back. It’s been so wonderful watching each of us go on our own journeys and see how far we’ve come since we were first reincarnated. Our house is truly a home, and wherever I go, I know home is wherever you queens are.”

“Very nice. Now,” the third queen turned to Anne. “Because this is me conducting the interview now,” Jane laughed with a slightly bitter tone. “How has the dynamic of the group changed since we’ve all been together?”

“Oh?” Anne smirked a little, knowing that Jane was alluding to the fact that she could give details about how there are no rivalries anymore. They were done being pitted against each other; really, just simple politics if you were Anne. “Well, in history, we’ve always been put up against each other to see who is the best, who had it worst, who he loved more. And when we all came back, there was definitely some tension between a lot of us. For example, as you know Janey, Lina and I used to fight all the time. We still fight now, but it’s a lot more playful. And you and I had some tension, but now there’s no point to it. Cathy and Lina had some awkwardness but they sorted it out, and now Cath calls Lina ‘Madrina’. Kit thought Anna hated her, but there was no such hatred. At first, we all competed against each other, but in the end, we all realized-” she pointed to Cathy with a smirk.

“All we need is SiX,” Cathy quoted from the show.

“And Anna,” how do you think we all compare to each other?”

“Well Seymour, there really is no comparing us. We’re all our own people. We’re good at things, we’re bad at things, and at the end of the day, we’re all just human. None of us have to be better than anyone. As long as we’re being us, that’s more than enough for this family.” Anna emphasized the word ‘family’. 

“Katherine, do you have anything to add?”

“Uh, not really Mum,” she let a small smile slip.

“Hold up. She calls you Mum?” The interview cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s it matter to you?” Jane snorted. “We’re all a family.”

“Yeah, we’re all a family. We have a strange dynamic, but it works, and I for one, wouldn’t change it for the world,” Kat said earnestly. The blonde shot her a small thumbs up. It was wonderful watching her surrogate daughter break out of her shell once in a while.

“And Cath?” Jane faced the writer of the group.

“All we need is SiX. We don’t need anyone to tell us who we are, or how we should act and be perceived in the public. We’re all perfectly fine with being ourselves and rewriting our stories- the way they should have been told all along. We are so much more than the few things we’ve been remembered for in history.”

“And Mr. Williams, do you have any questions for me?”

“No Miss Seymour. I think I have all that I need.” The interviewer gave a curt nod.

“Very well. Thank you for having us.”

Two weeks later, the article came out.

A few weeks ago, I had the absolute honor and pleasure of meeting the six wives of Henry VIII. At first, I began to ask Miss Aragon questions about the past, to which Miss Jane Seymour quickly shut down. She began to conduct the interview, not based upon the past, but based on what happens now that they are back. 

I was able to sit back and listen to these six queens have a conversation, and let’s just say that they are here to reclaim their stories.

Catherine of Aragon, or “Lina” as she was referred to by the others, spoke with as much elegance as one would think, but her love for her fellow queens was clear. She stated that wherever the others are is where home is. She spoke highly of all of their self-journeys.

Anne Boleyn, master of politics, was able to explain that despite what happened in the past, all they truly need now is each other. While there were some rivalries in the beginning, the queens find no point in fighting over who was the most important queen or if one was better than the other. 

Anna of Cleves, also known as Anne of Cleves, was able to add onto this by saying that there is no comparing them anymore. They are all individual women with different life journeys. So long as everybody is doing their best, it’s enough for their family.

Katherine Howard, the youngest and most quiet, was able to contribute to the idea that they were family simply by calling Miss Seymour her “Mum”. At first, this struck me as quite odd, but the queens were well aware. The dynamic of the household is “strange”, as Miss Howard put it, but it is something that she “wouldn’t change for the world”. The other queens quickly agreed, Miss Seymour even giving her daughter a thumbs up. 

Catherine Parr, or Cathy, made it very clear that they were here to reclaim their stories. No more are they going to be put into the boxes or simple rhyme that we hold them to. These girls are going to reclaim their stories in the musical SiX, which debuts next month.

As for Jane Seymour, this queen herself lived up to what all of the others had said. Jane Seymour, widely known as the most demure queen, showed that this was her life. She did not shy away when I began to ask questions that were a bit too intrusive in hindsight. No longer should she be known as “bound to obey and serve”. No, she proved that to me quite quickly.

None of these women are bound to obey and serve the stories we’ve placed for them in history. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing what these queens have to share with us. SiX the Musical debuts in August. Be ready for the histo-remix.

As an addendum, I would like to address this to the queens themselves, if they decide to read this (I would not be offended if they chose not to). Queens: I am terribly sorry for my lack of privacy and the way I began to conduct that interview. You are all absolute treasures who I can not wait to see on stage. Thank you for this eye-opening experience, and best of luck to you all! Keep using your voices!

And to Miss Seymour: I’m terribly sorry for acting so out of line. Thank you for putting me in my place.

Jane smirked when she saw that last line. She found her voice, and she was determined to stop fleeting from confrontation. It had done the queens good.

Codename Cupid: Chapter 14

Previous: Justifying Jimin

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X OFC

Genre: Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Non-Consensual Sex, Mentions of Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recover, Rape Culture

Summary: Codename V and Codename Cupid begin their courtship, which ends rather quickly when Cupid crosses a line. 

TRIGGER WARNING: There is conversation regarding rape in this chapter. It does not glamorize, but does give modest details. 

PLEASE SKIP IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ 

Codename: Love Reimagined

Fall, One Year Post Grad

           Lee Euna met Kim Taehyung on a Wednesday. Both were attending a gallery opening, Taehyung as a friend of the artist, Euna as an investor. He knew the minute she walked into the gallery, the way her pearls glistened in the carefully planned lighting, her midnight locks curled to delicate tendrils cascading down her back. There were many adjectives to describe Lee Euna, and as a woman nearing the top of the largest company in the world, the one that was most often negated was beautiful. Lee Euna, a stunner, a total package, brilliant, kind, gorgeous. Taehyung could understand the draw to her, her demeanor was congenial, but her eyes were daring. They spoke when her lips didn’t, they saw what others tried to hide, they observed and recorded so that she could strike. To an untrained eye, in combination with the way tabloids depicted her, Euna wasn’t a threat.

           But Taehyung knew different.

           Armed with the knowledge of her last two relationships, Taehyung approached confidently.

           “The use of yellow is a fascinating commentary, don’t you think?” Taehyung asked.

           “Mm, I’m more intrigued by the abject use of black as negative space, particularly as it moves throughout the series, blurring ever so slightly with each piece,” Euna told him, eyes trained on the image in front of them.

           “Until you get to the end, completely white,” Taehyung finished.

           “You know the artist?” She asked him.

           “I do, and you?” He smiled brightly at her.

           “Let’s just say I have a piece in mind,” She smirked gently.

           “I’m Taehyung,”

           “Euna,”

           “It’s nice to meet you. May I walk with you to the next piece?” Taehyung asked, a gently smile dancing across his lips, the anticipation of understanding Cupid further, of getting to see the sides of her Codename Suga and Mr. Handsome, got to see. It was always exciting, he thought, getting to know a new mark, exploring the dynamics, flirting with the soon to be blurred lines. Ever the extrovert, he thrived when he was taken off surveillance and placed in the field, even when he ran missions on the ground, following marks, urging them in certain directions or to locations, the threat of being caught was high, and he loved it. Standing next to Cupid, waiting patiently for her response, he felt that first inkling of danger, of mystique, of upholding the narrative Namjoon had constructed for him.

           “That would be lovely,” Cupid smiled before turning to walk towards the next piece.

~~~~~

           Taehyung courted Cupid for the next few weeks, before she took him to dinner and into her bed. From there, it was a blur of museum openings, concerts, gala’s and drinks with friends. From the jump, Cupid was 100% in. She was immediately falling for Taehyung, making plans for their future, and bulldozing boundaries like traffic cones in drivers ed. Tired of being hurt, jaded from heartbreak, Cupid was already swimming in the deep end while he tiptoed in. Getting him to her side, though, proved difficult and frustrating. Taehyung tried to resist, to persistently put up new and more transparent boundaries, but they always seemed like a suggestion to Cupid. He allowed it to go on for a few months, until it became alarmingly clear that this was not acceptable, and she was going to move forward without asking him if it was okay.

           Taehyung scheduled a meeting with Namjoon, in the privacy of his fully walled office, and sulked in. The nerves at an all-time high, the panic he felt, the sickness in his stomach, the low taste of bile in his throat, loomed large over him.

           “Something’s not right,” Taehyung said to Namjoon. He sat opposite his brother on the couch Namjoon kept in his office for late night missions, or nights when he didn’t want to drive home.

           “Meaning?” Namjoon asked, confusion laced in his bespectacled eyes.

           “I think it’s getting out of hand,” Taehyung sat with his hands in his lap, eyes downcast as the tears began to fall. He’d shown minimal distress throughout their team meetings but was spending less and less free time in the office. A sign, that both Yoongi and Seokjin took to mean he was with Cupid, though transcripts weren’t showing up.

           Gently placing a hand on his forearm, Namjoon asked, “Tae, what’s wrong?”

           “I can’t do this, with Cupid,” He whispered.

           “What’s happened?” Namjoon asked, unsure where this was going.

           “She, she’s trying to get pregnant, Yoongi was right, she’s obsessed with it,” Taehyung inhaled slowly, rickety breaths leaving his quivering lips.

           “By you?” Namjoon was confused, it hadn’t been long enough for her to start making these claims, they’d only been seeing each other for a handful of months. Was she deviating from the pattern?

           “Yes,” Taehyung let out the sob he’d been trying and failing to hold. Namjoon had seen the man cry, in their years together, he’d seen everyone cry. They’d lost a mark, years ago, and Taehyung had just been a trainee. The man, in touch with his emotions and often lost in thought, took his job seriously, and worked diligently to do his best at all times. This, whatever was happening between Cupid and him, was abnormal.

           “Taehyung, what is she doing?” Namjoon’s voice was measured, gentle in tone and volume, deep resonance embracing Taehyung in support, in love, in familiarity, in understanding.

           “She’s scraping out condoms, not letting me pull out, and I’ve torn condoms before because there’s holes in them. Holes, Joon, I’ve found them in the wrapper!” Taehyung was shaking, tears still streaming from his emotive eyes.

           “Does she think you don’t know?”

           “I don’t know. She doesn’t care or she thinks I don’t care, or -

           “Is this nonconsensual?” Namjoon asked.

           A simple question, a measurement of balance of power, of two adults mutually agreeing on a set activity, of a designated maneuver, of an act, together, one not moving forward without the other, in tandem. Do you consent to this, or do you not?

           “Absolutely not. She has never asked, nor have I given any form of consent. I have actively tried to stop her, I have actively tried to not engage with her, I have said no and stop. She doesn’t.” The sobs return, shaking his entire body.

           Namjoon wrapped an arm around Taehyung and pulled him into his side. Taehyung didn’t need to look at Namjoon to know how incensed he was, how furious he was, how heartbroken and disgusted and devastated, he was. He felt it in the bear like hold he had over him, he heard it in his voice as he spoke again.

           “Your mission with Cupid is terminated immediately, get your phone, you will end your relationship right here and now.”

           “Will that ruin the plan?” Taehyung whispered.

           “What’s the number one rule?” Namjoon countered.

           “Our safety, and our emotional and physical health are more important than a mark or mission,” Taehyung didn’t need to think, it was written on his heart, he’d just hoped he’d never have to evoke it.

           “Exactly. Do you want to use your time off? I suggest you do, take a few days. Do you need to go back to your therapist, Dr. Aarons?” Namjoon rattled off the necessary measures Taehyung could take, knowing he would force him to rest and ease back into work.

           Nodding solemnly, Taehyung’s voice was a whisper. “Yeah, that might be a good place to start. I’m sorry,”

           “Sorry for what?” Namjoon shook his head, confusion in his tone.

           “For, I don’t know, disappointing the team.” Taehyung glanced up at Joon for the first time.

           “Taehyung, when have you ever disappointed the team?” Namjoon’s question was rhetorical. “You are risking yourself for a mission and it’s not worth it. She’s engaging in dangerous, illegal, immoral behavior. You have to look out for your personhood. I am so sorry that she has done this, and that you feel like you need to apologize to me at all. You are not at fault. I am only disappointed that when I noticed you pulling away, I didn’t seek you out to ensure you were okay. I am sorry for not doing my part as your leader.”

           Taehyung held Namjoon as they let the words float between them, Taehyung breathing them in as Namjoon’s softened gaze continued to hold him.

           “Thank you,” Taehyung whispered.

           “Do you want me to accompany you and Golden Maknae when you break up with her?” Namjoon stood up, stretching before sitting down at his desk.

           “Can’t I just ghost her?” Taehyung was surprised by the suggestion of doing this in person.

           Namjoon looked at him, realizing the suggestion he’d made. “Aren’t you past that point in your relationship?”

           “I don’t know, it’s only been four months?” Taehyung stood.

           “Four months and she already wants to procreate?” Namjoon was stunned again, nothing about Cupid predicted this. It wasn’t a pattern of behavior, but a hint at one, nothing had come to fruition and he wasn’t going to put another man on Cupid detail ever again.

           “You’ve seen my jaw,” Taehyung smirks.

           “Text her, don’t call, we know how that went for Yoongi,”

           “Can I do it in here?” He asks.

           “Conference room? I need to brief the team,”

           “Okay,”

           “You don’t have to stay. Once you break up with her, you can go home, Tae. You don’t need to stay for this at all, you aren’t required to,” Namjoon stood from his desk and guided Taehyung out of his office to the conference room.

           “I’ll stay,” Tae nodded, using the sleeve of his cardigan to blot his tears.

           “You do not to explain to them what happened,” Namjoon informed him.

           “I know,” Tae nodded again.

           “What’s up?” Hoseok asked sitting down at the conference table. He’d yet to finish his project, recreating a few false documents for Jimin.

           “Yeah, we’re having a full meeting at 3PM? Isn’t it almost quitting time?” Yoongi wondered as he twirled in his chair.

           “One step closer to Friday,” Seokjin reminded him.

           “We have an update on Codename, Hoseok, what did you name V’s mission?” Namjoon said, stuffing his hands in his suit pants.

           “Love Reimagined,” Answered Hoseok.

           “One of your shorter titles,” Yoongi quipped.

           “What was Yoongi’s?” Jimin asked.

           “Codename: Another Shot at Love,” Hoseok was proud of himself, beyond proud. He took great care to name each mission or task, ensuring it was fitting and catchy. He was waiting for their final mission on this case, a chance to reference one of his favorite Netflix Originals.

           “And Jimin’s?” Yoongi added.

           “The ongoing, Codename: The Mochi of it All,” Hoseok beamed.

           "What was mine?" Seokjin wondered.

           "Codename: The First Heartbreak," Hoseok couldn't stop smiling.

           “Why must you take the time to give such long names?” Seokjin laughed.

           “It’s part of my flair,” Hoseok giggled.

           “Alright, Codename: Love Reimagined is hereby closed, finished, completed.” Namjoon said redirecting the men. They all turned to face him, confusion and shock on their faces. This wasn’t the plan.

           “Really?” Hoseok asked.

           “Why?” Yoongi followed.

           “How come?” Seokjin rounded out the men.

           “It’s cancelled,” Namjoon’s voice was firm, a means to end the conversation.

           “Taehyung, are you okay?” Jimin asked. The two men shared an apartment, and Jimin had noticed on more than one occasion Taehyung retreating into himself. He felt it too, the absence of his best friend, his partner in work and in friendship, no longer wanting to spend time together like they always did. He hadn’t checked in as much as he wanted, his own mission filling his time as the relationship progressed consistently. Jimin spent time twirling his engagement ring on his finger, embarrassed by how much he liked the medal on his skin, the small encrusted diamonds twinkling in the light.  

           “No, I’m not okay,” Taehyung could always meet Jimin’s gaze, his hurt brown irises inked with tears told Jimin it was far worse than he realized.

           “You don’t have to tell us,” Yoongi said. “But if you do, I guarantee we’ll fuck them up.”            “Codename Cupid took advantage of me, more than once, in a sexual manner,” Taehyung pushed the words out of his mouth, the burden leaving his shoulders as he leaned into the comfort of his friends.

           “Are you fucking serious?” Yoongi yelled.

           “No, no,” Jimin shook his head, the tears already forming.

           “Tae,” Jin whispered.

           “You, are you, oh my god,” Hoseok couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of Taehyung’s mouth.

           “I’m done, cancel my mission,” Jimin declared.

           “We can’t cancel your mission,” Namjoon said.

           “Why not?” Jimin demanded, eyes on fire.

           “What good does that serve us?” Countered Namjoon.

           “I, you expect me to date this guy, be engaged to him, when his sister raped one of us? Are you fucking with me?” Jimin yelled again, standing to slam his hands against the table. Taehyung winced, not only at the volume, but because he hadn’t used the word yet, hadn’t thought it applied to what had happened to him… but maybe, it did.

           “I expect you to complete your mission as directed unless Codename Arrow is endangering your life,” Namjoon repeated.

           “I won’t,” Jimin said.

           “You will, you have what, three weeks left?” Namjoon asked.

           “The engagement party is December 21,” Jimin said.

           “Alright, it’s almost Thanksgiving. You just gotta make it until then,” Yoongi offered, a shrug of his shoulders. In Jimin’s place, he would absolutely end things with Arrow, but they needed the last set of Christmas bonus checks and the final 2020 financial reports, both of which wouldn’t populate on Arrow or Cupid’s computers until mid-December.

           “She abused him,” Jimin whispered, the tears falling down his cheeks.

           “Jiminie has a point,” Hoseok muttered.

           “We cannot let this slide,” Seokjin said. “I never thought, I never thought she’d do this.”

           “We will have justice when we bring them down,” Namjoon reminded them, his words hollow in the moment of their pain.

           “Do we have evidence of the, of the, fuck, I can’t say it,” Yoongi shook his head, the words stuck on his tongue.

           “You don’t have to say it,” Taehyung’s voice was raw, emotions bare. “I’ve documented what I can, bagged things, written a detailed report… I used one of Hobi’s forged Police Reports to document what I knew they’d ask and took pictures to accompany it. The evidence is sealed in my office.”

           Lifting his head to look at him, Yoongi asked, “Taehyung, how long have you been sitting on this?”

           “Not too long, a couple of weeks,” Taehyung shrugged. It had only happened three times, which is three times too many, and three times it shouldn’t have. He had been shocked the first time, unsure what had truly happened to him. The second time, she used a different tactic, and he knew what it was. The third time caught him off guard, unawares. He was embarrassed that he let it happened, mortified that he put himself in this situation, and angry that he was so mad at himself instead of being outraged, furious, loathing, towards her.

           “Tae,” Jimin said again.

           “We need to write an official report so we can put this into our official filing,” Namjoon’s voice had simmered, its resolute calm returning.

           “Not tonight,” Seokjin said, a reminder that Taehyung was still reeling from the trauma.

           “Have you broken up with her?” Yoongi asked Taehyung.

           “I texted when we sat down,” Taehyung fished his phone out of his pocket. “She responded.”

           “Do you want to read it out loud?” Namjoon questioned.

           “Hobi’s just going to send us a memo of it anyway,” Yoongi shrugged, his heart weighing down his entire body. “After this, can we call it a day?”

           “Absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “Taehyung, you want to read it?”

           “It says,” He scanned the message, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline, jaw slacking as he reread the message. “She says, she says she’s pregnant.”

Next: How Cricket Got Her Name

distraction

request: 28 and 55 with tyson jost pleaseee??? it can be both of them together or just one of them, thank you!

prompt: “Technically, this is illegal. But you look adorable, so I'll let it slide.” & “Anything for you, ‘cause you kinda scare me, not going to lie.” / numbers 28 & 55 off of this list with Tyson Jost.

summary: you find out your ex has been saying some unsavory things about you and Tyson helps to distract you.

warnings: none

word count: 2.5k

requested by: anon

If there was one thing you hated, it was liars. Another thing you couldn't stand was cheaters. Which is why you were so heated after you found out your ex was telling all of your mutual friends that you had cheated on him. With your best friend, of all people.

You were seeing red.

You had thought the relationship had ended on good terms nearly four month back. You simply realized that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, so instead of leading him on you broke with him. He had told he felt the same as you and you both went your separate ways.

Clearly, he had been lying about not being upset over the breakup, since you had just gotten off the phone with his sister. She had called you, and you sat in confusion listening to her yell at you for disrespecting her brother for all of forty seconds before you set the record straight. Then, you spent the next five minutes after the phone call ended contemplating the best ways to get back at him. 

You were flushed with anger, storming out of your apartment with your best friend Tyson hot on your heels. He had been hanging out at yours for a movie before he had to leave the next day for a road trip when you got the call, and he was the one your ex accused you of cheating on him with. The very one you had a massive crush on and who you really wouldn't mind hooking up with, but you were not a cheater. No one knew about your feelings for Tyson, so there really was no romantic relationship between the two fo you. 

“Where are we going?” Tyson asked, a hesitant grin shining through his confusion. He saw you get angry, and then curse out your ex, but you hadn't filled him in on what had gotten you so worked up so quickly. A glance over your shoulder told you he was checking to make sure your door was locked before making his way over to you by the elevator. You were almost mad enough to take the stairs, almost, but you were on the seventh floor and not everyone could be a professional athlete like Tyson.

“We’re going to kill my ex.” You spoke to him for the first time since the phone call as the elevator doors opened. Once you stepped in, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the back wall, allowing Tyson to push the button for the bottom floor. After doing so, he mimicked your position on the wall adjacent to you, with his arms crossed but less angry and more relaxed. You chastised yourself for the way your heart skipped a beat at how attractive he looked, even when he was grinning at you like he knew something you didn't. 

“Technically, this is illegal. But you look adorable, so I'll let it slide.” He teased, and you stuck your leg out to kick him gently in the shin as a punishment for his comment, his only reaction a chuckle. If your heart had skipped a beat by him just being attractive, it was surely racing at his comment. You hated how easily he was able to distract you from your anger. “Can I at least know why we’re about to go murder him?”

“He’s telling people I cheated on him.” You confessed, not expecting how fast Tyson’s happy-go-lucky smile would drop from his face and a frown would take its place. You almost regretted telling him what happened, because the frown did not suit him as much as the smile. But he needed to know, since he not only was your closest friend but the rumor involved him—the tiny detail you had left out and were now dreading telling him. 

“He’s a jerk.” Tyson commented and the juvenile comment almost made you crack a smile. Yes, your ex was a jerk, but you were focused more on trying to string together a way to tell Tyson the second part. You weren't sure how he’d react, and the idea of him getting even more upset had you shifting on your feet. 

“That’s not all.” You mumbled, anger suddenly replaced with unease. It wasn't that Tyson was unnerving you, but you were so in your own head about how your recently realized feelings for him were going to change the dynamic between you. Tyson raised his brow at you in silent question, but you didn't notice with your gaze trained on your shoes. “He’s telling everyone I cheated with, uh, you.”

You waited for a moment, trying to gauge Tyson’s response without having to actually look at him. When you reached the bottom floor and the doors dinged open, he still hadn't said anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you finally lifted your gaze to his, only to be disappointed to see an unreadable look on his face. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a line as he studied you.

“Come on.” He muttered, grabbing your wrist and tugging on it, getting you to follow him out of the elevator and across the lobby. His hold on you wasn't all the necessary, you were certain you would follow him across the world if he simply asked. 

“Now where are we going?” You prompted, following Tyson’s lead and climbing into the passenger side of his car that was parked outside your building. You didn't care much that he was taking you somewhere, you and him both knowing that you were far too annoyed to be sitting in your apartment. 

“You’ll see.” Part of you was glad he started driving in the opposite direction of your ex’s place, you really weren't up for confrontation now that your initial surge of anger dissipated. 

You watched as Tyson turn on the radio, recognizing it as being one the both of you know. He started to sign obnoxiously, exaggerating the pitch of the song and doing dances that made you giggle despite your horrible mood. You knew he was doing it on purpose, he always had a knack for knowing just when you needed cheering up. 

He looked so adorable, turning to serenade you at every red light, that you couldn't help but join in for the next song. 

“What’re we doing here?” You questioned, turning the volume down on the radio so he could actually hear you. You were facing out the window, watching the building he pulled in front of with amusement. It was a local ice rink, one that Tyson had taken you to a few times. 

“We’re going to do something fun, and not think about your jerk of an ex at all. A distraction.” Tyson stated matter of factly, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him. It was no surprise to you that Tyson had an extra pair of his skates in the back, and you waited for him as he pulled them out. When you headed towards the doors, Tyson did something that was a bit out of the ordinary—he laced his fingers through yours, tugging you closer to him by your interlocked hands. You weren't complaining, but you were almost certain he could hear your heart thumping in your chest.

Now, it was no secret that you were not the best skater. Tyson had tried to teach you, but the lessons almost always ended you with on your butt and him laughing at you. So after Tyson had paid for your tickets and rented your skates—he didn't even let you think about taking your wallet out to pay for yourself before he was handing the cash over—you didn't have to ask him to help you lace up your skates. 

“I’m going to embarrass myself in front of a bunch of families.” You groaned, holding your leg out as Tyson did up your skate. Your gaze was focused on the rink, seeing that there were dozens of people out there already. You watched a child whizz by, and you suddenly grew nervous, aware of just how much a fool you were going to look out there. 

“We could get you one of the walkers to like that kid.” Tyson teased, gesturing to small child desperately trying to stay upright as her parents stood nearby. You knew you weren't going to look nearly as adorable as her once you got out there. 

“I swear, Jost, if you ditch me out there like you usually do to show off your cool hockey skills, I will end you.” You threat fell short, the corners of your lips turning upwards and Tyson outright laughed at you. The sound was comforting, and you found yourself forgetting just why you had stormed out of your apartment just twenty minutes earlier. He had finished your skates and was doing up his own silently. When he finished, he was pulling you up out of your seat and you stumbled slightly. You weren't even on the ice yet and your balance was already off. “You better stay with me the whole time.”

“Anything for you, ‘cause you kinda scare me, not going to lie.” He teased and you moved to shove his shoulder playfully, but the action affected you more than him and he had to catch your waist to keep you on your feet. “Easy there, killer.” 

Learning your lesson rather quickly, you kept your hands to yourself and instead opted to glare at him. He chuckled, leaving his arm on your hip as he led you to the edge of the ice. He stepped on easily, disconnecting himself from you as he skated two paces away before turning back to face you. Your grip was tight on the edge of the wall, feet planted just outside the rink. 

“Come on, don’t you trust me?” Tyson teased, and by the grin on his face you knew he was planning something. You didn't think twice, responding out of instinct and honesty.

“Yeah, but—” Except you didn't get to finish, because suddenly Tyson had skated back towards you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest with your feet off the ground. And then he was setting you down on the ice just far enough that the wall was out of your reach. By then, your senses had come together enough for you reach a hand out and grip his forearm, not letting him get far. “What the hell was that for?”

“You were taking too long.” He said simply, a giddy smile on his face. You feigned offense at his comment, but you quickly had to turn all your attention to the skates sliding on the ice, making sure your feet didn't slide out from underneath you. Once you found your balance, you let go of Tyson’s arm. He had other plans, capturing your hands in his as he started to skate backwards, pulling you with him.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me.” You mumbled, using focusing on your feet as an excuse to hide you rosy cheeks from him. He was being extra touchy-feely today, and it was driving you crazy. 

“I’m always nice to you.” Tyson grinned, to which you rolled your eyes, despite knowing he was telling the truth. He was the sweetest person you knew, which was one of the many reasons you found yourself in the unfortunate situation of falling in love with your best friend. 

As you skated around the rink, Tyson kept his hands locked in yours and his gaze on you unless he was checking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't going to run someone over. It was nice, and it was a good distraction from what had started the whole afternoon. 

But that was Tyson, he was your best friend. He always knew how to get your mind off of what was bothering you. You knew you still had to deal with the rumors that your ex was spreading, but that wasn't what was important to you currently. You were skating around with your best friend that made you laugh at every one of his dumb comments, the one who held your heart and was doing excellent work taking care of it. If he was fishing for your smile, which you knew he was, he was doing a good job.

“Would it really be that bad if people thought we were together?” Tyson’s question was so casual, and he wasn't even facing you when he said it. He was looking over his shoulder when he caught you off guard, so when he turned back you saw the seriousness in his eyes. 

“People think I’m a cheater, Tyson.” You reasoned, watching with furrowed brows as his cheeks reddened. 

“Yeah, no, I get that’s bad and we definitely have to make sure people know nothing happened between us yet—” He cut himself off when his brain finally caught up with his words. Your eyes went wide, searching for the meaning behind what he said. 

“Yet?” You questioned his word choice and suddenly he was being shy. You were used to the goofy Tyson, so him suddenly hiding his face from you by looking down meant he had been thinking about the possibility of the two of you becoming more than friends. The thought had your heart racing and unable to string a coherent thought together, but when he tried to let go of your hands you just tightened your grip. His head shot up, his hopeful gaze meeting yours. 

You couldn't hold yourself back anymore. You used your conjoined hands to pull yourself flush against him, only then dropping his grip to instead wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down into a kiss. 

The kiss did not last long, at all, because when you pulled yourself to him, you did so with so much force your feet flew out from underneath you. Luckily, Tyson had already wrapped you in his arms so he caught you easily. You weren't hurt, but your ego was badly bruised when he let out a laugh at your expense.

“Shut up.” You groaned, dropping your head on his chest. Once his giggles died down, he moved one hand from around you to tilt your head up to face him. You face was bright red, but he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen him do, which was saying something. 

“I think we need to work on your skating.” He teased, and before you had the chance to come up with a response he silenced you with another kiss, one that didn't result on you almost landing on your butt, no matter how much your legs felt like jelly. When you pulled away you were breathless, despite the kiss not lasting very long since you were aware of the families skating around you. 

“You know, this was a pretty good distraction.”

Have you ever talked about/drawn/ have head among about c-136’s rick? His relationship w/ his family and morty? Is her better than other ricks or worse? Etc!

i’ve  never  talked  about  rick  c-136  much  extensively  come  to  think  of  it!  so  i  hope  you  don’t  mind  if  i  use  this  ask  as  an  opportunity  to  ramble  about  him  and  their  dynamic  and  their  dimension  in  general  a  little.  it’s  quite  divergent  from  what’s  typical  for  a  rick  and  morty  dynamic  in  places,  i  think.

first  off  i  wanna  lead  with:  morty  c-136  is  sixteen!  so  his  summer  is  of  course  older  too,  and  is  now  living  away  from  home  and  attending  college.  he  misses  her  a  lot,  but  they  still  call  a  few  times  a  week  and  bitch  about  their  parents  and  what’s  going  on  in  their  lives  and  bully  each  other  a  lot.  she  comes  home  sometimes,  usually  for  holidays  such  as  thanksgiving  or  whatever.  they’re  overly  sappy  for  a  minute  max  upon  reuniting,  then  she’s  kicking  him  in  the  balls  and  he’s  calling  her  a  dumb  bitch.

his  mom  and  dad  are  divorced,  and  have  been  since  he  was  ten,  so  jerry  is  not  really  in  the  picture.  rick  is  very  relieved  about  this  and  hates  jerry  about  as  much  as  is  typical  for  bastard  grandpas.  morty  was  sad  about  their  messy  break  up,  but  very  quickly  came  to  understand  it  was  for  the  best.  there’s  a  security  system  rick  set  up  to  kick  jerry  to  the  curb  if  he  ever  comes  around,  much  to  morty’s  aggravation,  but  it’s  not  put  to  much  use  anyway.  (usually  he  walks  over  to  his  dad’s  sad  studio  apartment  of  his  own  volition  for  custody  weekend  instead  of  being  picked  up,  because  his  dad  sleeps  until  late  noon,  so.  not  exactly  a  dependable  ride.  if  he  goes  himself  he  can  shake  jerry  awake  at  a  reasonable  hour  and ...  try  to  shake  some  sense  into  him  too.  so  he  doesn’t  come  to  the  house  much.)

c-136′s rick has a complex relationship with his beth.  she’s  still  very  much  wrapped  up  in  his  opinion  of  her  and  works  to  please,  impress  and  ultimately  attain  his  attention  whenever  she  can.  an  easy  way  to  do  this  is  back  rick  up  when  morty  backtalks  him.  if  morty  angrily  says  “shut  the  fuck  up,  rick”  within  earshot  of  his  mother,  she’s  very  quick  to  fly  to  her  father’s  defence  as  apposed  to  her  son’s-  “morty,  don’t  speak  to  my  dad  like  that!”  rick  plays  off  this,  recognizing  an  opportunity  to  make  beth  feel  like  it’s  them  versus  morty,  and  says  “thank  you,  sweetie.”  the  two  then  delve  into  conversation  about  how  morty  is  “out  of  hand”  as  if  he’s  not  even  there,  which  understandably  infuriates  him  further.  

it  hurts  him  a  lot  that  his  mom  is  so  desperate  to  feel  like  her  and  her  dad  get  along,  and  for  him  to  acknowledge  her  existence,  that  she’ll  invalidate  his  feelings  and  bitch  about  his  behavior  with  rick  to  get  it.  he  very  much  feels  like  his  mom  values  having  a  positive  relationship  with  her  dad  over  him  as  a  result.  morty  continues  to  love  and  care  about  her  even  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  feels  largely  nonreciprocal  at  the  best  of  times,  but  can  come  across  quite  cold,  dismissive  and  clearly  subconsciously  angry  with  beth  when  talking  about  her  at  times  as  a  result.  don’t  get  me  wrong,  they  go  see  the  occasional  movie  together  and  morty ��helps  her  out  preparing  dinner  very  often.  he  cares  deeply  about  his  mom  and  he  loves  her,  of  course  he  does,  but  he's  also  felt  incredibly  estranged  from  her  for  most  of  his  life.  if  nothing  else,  they  can  always  at  least  bond  over  an  eyeroll  at  one  of  his  dad's  latest  fuck  ups  or  stupid  statuses  on  facebook.  there’s  some  stuff  about  his  childhood  i  could  tack  in  here  that’s  relevant,  but  i’m  very  conscious  of  how  long  this  is  and  i  haven’t  even  talked  about  rick  and  morty’s  dynamic  yet ...  adjaskjdfaksf  sorry!

her  alcoholism  worries  morty  whereas  rick  seems  a  little  indifferent  to  it,  or  considers  it  not  a  big  deal.  likely  because  he  knows  it  invites  accusations  of  hypocrisy  if  he  calls  out  her  self  destruction  via  these  vices.  

in  the  past,  morty’s  tried  talking  with  her,  watering  down  and  pouring  out  her  alcohol  stashes,  and  even  pleaded  for  rick  try  and  make  her  see  reason-  to  no  avail.  (his  grandpa  ended  up  cracking  a  joke  about  what  a  fucking  buzzkill  morty  is,  they  laughed  it  off  together,  and  they  both  went  out  for,  you  guessed  it,  a  fucking  drink,  or  more  likely  ten  of  them,  directly  after  the  fact.)

right  now,  beth  c-136  has  been  seeing  a  bartender  for  eleven  months.  rick  seems  to  idly  approve  of  him-  at  the  very  least,  doesn’t  hate  him  like  he  did  jerry,  which  delights  beth.  her  father  deeming  anything  in  her  life  a  good  choice  means  everything  to  her  because  she  fights  so  hard  to  impress  him  while  also  trying  not  to  look  overtly  clingy  and  needy,  because  that  seems  to  repel  him.  also,  he’s  her  genius  father  who  doesn’t  like  anyone,  so  how  the  hell  can  his  judgement  be  wrong,  right?  him  approving  of  this  guy  has  locked  him  into  her  life  for  the  forseeable  future.  again,  this  pisses  morty  off,  because  this  bartender  guy  encourages  his  mom’s  worst  vice  of  daydrinking  with  his  job  and  lifestyle.  he  makes  her  happy,  but  he’s  the  fucking  worst,  and  it  makes  morty  want  to  tear  his  hair  out.  him  and  summer  frequently  snipe  about  the  guy  in  private.  sharing  distaste  for  their  parents’  prospective  partners  is  very  valid  bonding  they  think.

c-136  rick  and  morty's  relationship  is  emotionally  flexible  at  the  best  of  times.  some  days,  so  very  rarely,  they  get  along  just  great.

to  name  one  wholesome  headcanon  before  we  Get  Into  It.  occasionally,  rick  will  pretend  to  know  absolutely  jack  shit  about  one  of  the  plants  in  morty’s  greenhouse  just  to  let  him  go  off  about  it  and  suddenly  seem  excitably  sure  of  himself  for  about  twenty  minutes  of  nonstop  infodumping.  95%  of  the  time  he  knows  absolutely  everything  about  the  plant  he’s  asking  about,  actually,  and  on  some  level  morty  is  absolutely  aware  of  it.  the  smartest  man  in  the  universe  apparently  doesn’t  know  what  a  flaxtius  olcum  is?  right.  but ...  he  still  appreciates  the  gesture  a  lot,  and  it  cheers  him  up  after  a  shitshow  adventure.

it's  not  too  clear  what  allows  these  occasions  of  treating  one  another  with  basic  respect  and  almost  fondness  to  arise-  maybe  his  grandfather's  in  an  uncommonly  gracious  mood,  maybe  they're  playing  minecraft  or  bashing  animal  crossing  together,  maybe  they're  snickering  and  exchanging  incredulous  glances  during  some  cartoonishly  evil  alien's  monologue  of  a  plan  as  it's  dictated  to  them  in  painstaking  detail …  regardless,  those  come  around  less  and  less  often,  these  days.

rick  secretly  considers  morty  to  be  very  capable  and  alarmingly  more  competent  as  of  late,  and  he's  not  sure  whether  to  feel  almost  proud  or  work  to  scramble  to  unravel  all  this progress  lest  morty  start  pulling  away  from  him  and  revelling  in  his  own  independence.  

they're  a  kickass duo  when  adventuring, very  in  sync.  morty's  less  of  a  whiny  burden  or  wide-eyed,  unremarkable  sidekick,  and  more  of  a  borderline  asset  at  this  point.  which  again,  makes  rick  feel  very  conflicted  over  how  that  skews  their  dynamic  in  a  way  that's  less  favorable  for  him,  because  morty  doesn't  need  to  lean  on  him  as  heavily  or  stick  as  close  anymore.  but  at  the  same  time,  there’s  less  inherent  risk  of  him  dying  while  they  adventure,  because  he  handles  himself  so  well.  they  can  split  up  as  needed  to  get  shit  done  faster.  morty  frequently  solo  adventures,  or  as  he  calls  it,  “runs  rick’s  goddamn  errands,  actually.”  he’s  outgrown  the  concept  of  getting  to  choose  an  adventure  and  instead  claims  the  portal  gun  every  twelve  adventures  they  have  together,  and  goes  off  for  one  of  his  own.

morty  speaks  his  mind  very  bluntly  with  rick  and  isn't  really  afraid  to  tell  him  to  get  fucked  when  he's  being  an  unreasonable  dick.  he  resents  rick  immensely  for  putting  him  down  and  pushing  him  around  all  the  time.

morty's  more  assertive,  yet  still  very  much  resigned  to  their  irrefutably  imbalanced  companionship ;  there  are  countless  factors  as  to  why.  but  primarily,  it  tends  to  boil  down  to  feeling  like  he  owes  a  lot  to  rick.  were  it  not  for  his  presence  in  his  life,  morty  knows  deep  down  that  he  wouldn't  be  half  as  interesting  or  even  marginally  as  intelligent  as  he's  capable  of  being  now.  he’d  still  be  stupid,  and  mediocre,  and  uninteresting.  unremarkable.  unworthy  of  anyone’s  attention  or  time  because  of  how  dull  he  is.

he's  at  a  point  where  (to  an  extent)  he  feels  distant  from  his  life  on  earth  at  the  best  of  times,  because  space  and  the  infinite  multiverse  has  encompassed  his  daily  life  for  so  long  and  on  some  level,  he  handles  himself  far  better  fighting  for  his  life  on  the  edge  of  the  universe  than  trapped  in  a  school  full  of  sweaty  teenagers  and  material  he  either  blitzes  through  or  can  barely  grasp.  plus,  rick  was  the  closest  thing  he  ever  had  to  a  friend  while  he  was  growing  up.  morty  cares  about  rick,  even  if  the  older  constantly  cites  reasons  as  to  why  attachment  is  moronic  and  sentiment  is  stupid,  and  he's  aware  that  rick  has  come  to  care  for  him  too-  even  if  all  his  pointed  jabs  about  not  giving  a  shit  and  aloof  front  makes  it  hard  to  believe  that  all  the  time.

the  issue  is,  once  morty  seems  to  waver  in  feeling  that  he  has  to  constantly  acquiesce  to  rick  and  falters  in  tolerating  rick  as  an  result  of  this  obligated  feeling  of  familial  love,  no  matter  how  slightly,  rick  then  begins  to  exert  control  over  their  relationship  by  other  means,  such  as  emotionally  manipulating,  gaslighting  and  outright  blackmailing  him  to  keep  him  in  line  with  what  he  wants  out  of  their  dynamic:  rick  and  morty,  a  hundred  years,  the  only  two  people  in  the  infinite  multiverse  that  truly  matter-  theretofore,  they  should  both  solely  consider  one  another  as  important,  and  worthwhile.  he's  willing  to  tarnish  any  other  connections  morty  might  form  beyond  their  duo  for  fear  of  losing  him.

he  grows  out  of  this  irrational  attachment  a  little  more  each  time  his  grandfather  lets  him  down,  disillusions  him  ever  further,  hurts  him  or  traumatizes  him  or  actively  fucking  experiments  on  him-  slowly  but  surely.  he'll  snap,  in  some  sense,  sometime.  when  exactly  can't  be  known.  what  precise  actions  he  might  take  to  pry  himself  free  of  their  codependent  dynamic  is  unclear.  but  the  way  things  are  headed,  the  two  of  them  splintering  apart  is  inevitable,  and  it's  unlikely  to  be  an  amicable  thing  at  all.  rick  often  actively  renounces  and  appears  repulsed  by  the  very  concept  of  familial  love  and  basic  attachment,  constantly  rants  and  raves  in  his  drunken  stupors  about  how  replaceable  everyone  in  his  life  is,  and  it's  hard  for  morty  to  bite  his  tongue  when  he's  behaving  like  that.

he  just  hates  that  he  feels  badly  about  himself  and  second  guesses  himself  around  rick.  strangely  enough,  when  he’s  having  to  push  through  crazy  shit  alone,  he  does  fine.  great,  even.  sure,  he’s  freaking  out,  making  everything  up  as  he  goes  along,  and  secretly  wishing  rick  was  around  to  guide  him  out  of  the  chaos  because  he  knows  in  his  heart  rick  would  probably  do  it  smarter.  but  once  he’s  with  rick,  he  feels  incapable  and  stupid  beside  him.  like,  being  apart  from  him  makes  him  feel  so  much  lighter,  allows  him  to  lean  on  the  intelligence  he  very  much  does  possess,  without  being  berated,  second  guessing  it,  and  reminded  it’ll  never  match  up  to  rick’s,  so  there’s  really  no  point  in  even  trying.

Idk, I never posted one of my fics here but guess I'll try ~

Also, English is not my first language so feel free to correct me QwQ

Fandom: Psycho-Pass -season 1- (is this still a thing?)

Characters: Kogami Shinya, Sasayama Mitsuru, OC

Prompt (it was in Italian, so I'll translate): write a story using three among these words: cloud, dusk, thunderstorm, storm, hull, bay, shelter, sail, night

Title: Log date: 2110/02/28 (Friday) 22:04

---

The lights of the bay flicker dynamically before your eyes.

They dance hypnotically, of the same cyan colour of your office’s walls, but with a whole different beat. They drink the red and white trails from the traffic, they shatter and multiply in the tears of an inclement rain. I know how much you hate it, you just can’t stand going on recon with an umbrella. On the other hand, I love it.

Rain brings us close together under the waterproof cloth and I manage to observe details that neon lights often hide from me: the precise way you part your hair, the last few drops of the jasmine perfume on your jacket, your long lashes. Shion thinks they’re fake. We always fight over it, can you believe me?

After all, you’ve never been the kind of woman to wear such frills. 

A notification arrives, the acid light of your impalpable PC breaks through the sacred dark from where you pretend you don’t see me. It digs your silhouette and paints you like a ghost on the huge windows of the Public Safety Bureau.

Your jet-black hair lay on your back like varnish pouring over the white silk of your blouse.

“Pulling an all-nighter, Inspector Matou?” I ask casually, exposed. With you, after all, I always am: you’re the only one that can shush my shitty jokes.

But this time you laugh slightly: nothing more than a spike, a trembling breath that shakes your ribs and lips.

“The forecasts say that the storm won’t stop until tomorrow morning,” you tell me, sitting at your desk, “also, I’ve been delaying this paperwork through all week, it's about time I get it done. Might as well do some overtime and get rid of it, don’t you think?”

“You’re such a workaholic.” I label you, realizing how lucky I am being allowed to do it: Ginoza, that prude, would have never let it slide “You should leave some for the rest of the precinct: make 'em earn their wages.”

A tired smile crosses your face as you tap your fingers on the keyboard. It’s so clear you’re trying to avoid my glance.

You used to look for it.

You looked for my eyes at briefings, in that discrete way that eventually shocked everyone. You looked for them among alleys, as soon as you heard a gunshot or the chocked sound of a fight.

And when you found me, it felt like a 7 miles free fall.

“How are the legs going?” I dare to ask. I see the hollow structure of your new shins below the hem of your pencil skirt. They swing a bit underneath the glass of your desk. You didn’t lose your damn tic, your right heel shakes like the needle of a sewing machine even when you seem calm.

You shrug and drink the bottom of an already empty glass of water.

I shouldn’t have asked. It breaks my heart, to see you like this.

You don’t give me an answer and massage the back of your knee with a sigh. Lately, I feel like you’re avoiding me.

You’re turning back into the one you were before: uncompromising, cold and distant. I wonder if the bunch of ingrates downstairs have been calling you Dobermann again. I wonder if you’re still as relentless.

You worry me: your stress level is getting darker and darker. You don’t want old Kasei to take issues with you, not again.

I can imagine how you must have felt, the night when this mess happened.

You most likely got pissed, if I do know you.

I mean, did they really think I got away on my own? I bet you never doubted me: no one knows an Enforcer better than its Inspector.

“Runaway?! Have you lost your minds?” Sasayama?!”

Those were the first words you said when they rescued you. You spoke them way before cleansing your lungs from the rotten water of the river, way before asking Masaoka if you’d have ever got back to feeling your lower legs. They hurt like hell and you had to pull them around like sandbags.

“They got him” you panted, holding tight on your mentor’s coat “They took him away, I tell you!” The one that kidnapped him wasn’t a latent criminal. The Dominator didn’t activate, not even when they shot me. Please, believe me. Check on the log files, please.”

Crime coefficient: 0.

I know that bug still haunts you.

Cause, after all, it’s can’t be anything else: who on earth is that Makishima to fly under the Sibyl Sistem’s radar? Who can fool a network that knows your crimes before you do? And how is it possible that the silhouette that kneecapped you and threw you into a river could possibly be innocent?

You haven’t lost your mind, Inspector: the Dominator betrayed me, too.

Don’t think I don’t know how pitiful must have been, the next three days.

Makishima isn’t real. Forget it, it was just a delirium. You were in shock.

It was the trauma, dear. It was a breakdown. It was burnout syndrome.

You’d use some holiday, darling. Take a week. Take two. Go somewhere far, no, better: just stay at home. Go to therapy. Keep yourself busy, don’t think about it. Work. Also, don’t work: it wears you out!

They put you back on your feet in less than six hours, but nobody allowed you to join search parties. Heaven forbid your stress level getting any darker. Heaven forbid that yet another good Inspector gets demoted among those damn Enforcers. But, still, in the whole IT section, there wasn’t a single nerd that could get that night's logs. That's one funny thing, ain't it?

Woman, sometimes I wish your damn head wasn't that hard. I wish you didn't follow the Forensics to get a lift, so soon after the deed.

At least, you could have listened to Kogami. Shit, didn't you see how pale he was? You didn't even need the Dominator to read him, his stress level was mindblowing!

You should have believed him when he told you you didn't want to enter that alley. First off, it was already full of other detectives and analysts. I have no idea what kind of business you had to do in there. Second thing second, Kogami has an eye for certain matters. Do you think he didn't notice I’ve always been all over you? Not gonna lie, maybe I told him about you, once or twice.

But no, of course, you had to get in.

The software that taught you how to walk on those carbon stilts made you stand your ground and bark a "For fuck's sake, Shinya, move!" worthy of the Dobermann’s reputation. Even those who hadn't been called out made way.

But your new legs didn't hold you, when you saw what they had made of my corpse.

I'm sorry, Katsumi, I never wanted to upset you like that. 

You know how much I would have rather have a more heroic death. I don't know, like, in the middle of a shooting, saving the day. It would have been much classier, less tacky, less trash. I think I deserved it, that's all.

You stop typing and rub your temples. You shelter what’s left of your lipstick behind your hand. I wish I could kiss it off, instead of watching you consume it in a ruby red halo in the notch between your thumb and your index.

You lift your eyes only for Kogami, who’s passing by your office like a nurse in its night shift.

“So?” he asks in a whisper, putting more care in that question than I could have ever done. More than anybody could have ever done, because he’s the only one that gets you, right now. You two seem like the only ones who lost something.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the monitor and the dangerously high Crime Coefficient on the display.

“It's not working” you wail softly, misty-eyed. I can’t believe it, is it still you?

“They’re gonna kick me out anyway, if it doesn’t lower quickly” you continue, with that realism of yours. I used to call you a jinx for that but, at the end of the day, you always got our backs. “It’s for the best if I just resign. I’m gonna keep what's left of my dignity, at least.” 

The dark profile of my best friend looks through me, as he sits on the armchair next to mine. He would like to say something, a word of encouragement maybe, we all know it in this damn room, but numbers shut our mouths. 

“You could become an Enforcer” he proposes.

Goddammit, Shinya, did we work with the same person? Katsumi as an Enforcer?

And there you go, shaking your head. You hold your face in your hands and let your raven hair hide your visage. 

“Can you imagine me, following orders? I do know how to work, I can do it better than three-quarters of our colleagues and I’ve never had problems remarking it. They’d eat me alive if they had the chance. Dogs celebrate on the corpses of lions.”

“But lions remain lions and dogs stay dogs.” Kogami finishes, stealing my lines. 

I notice the slight trembling of your finger, as you tap your touchpad to send that last confirm.

In a few moments, the system will have your resignation registered. Your profile won’t unlock your Dominator anymore and in a few days time, just enough for you to collect your belongings, you won’t even manage to enter the office.

Who’s gonna explain to old Kasei that there's more of your stuff here than in your apartment?

I’d ask you what do you plan on doing with your life, but tonight’s decision seems definitely brave enough to call it a day.

I look at the tabs you open in your browser, they mirror in the windows behind you.

Air travel.

Argentina, Cuba, States, New Zealand, Germany, Kenya. You go around the world in 80 seconds flat, you multiply your chances and spread them all through the air in front of you, in a complex diagram that doesn’t lead anywhere.

I never wanted to take you away from your home, you don’t deserve this. 

You cover your eyes with a hand and use the other one to pick a random selection from your atlas.

Greece.

“Well, at least it’s on the sea.” you wrap up, condensing in a handful of words the only satisfaction you can find in starting a brand new life.

You two stare at the transparent screenshot of your flight, the countdown on the web page seems way too joyful.

“It’s so exciting, Katsumi Matou! Check-in your luggage. Your journey will begin in: 06 days: 17 hours: 34 minutes: 21 seconds”

20.

19.

18.

Seconds pass by, in complete silence.

“Do you think it would be a burden to him?” you ask Shinya, “Do you think he’d understand?”

Who would have guessed that a cynic one like yourself could believe in the afterlife? I wish I were here to ask you. I wish we could have spoken about life, death, sex, about things long gone and things yet to be.

His hand squeezes yours gently, as he looks at you in the eye, hoping to stop the train to Paranoidland from setting off.

“It’s not your fault” he reassures you as he can: the both of you wouldn’t make the average person’s empathy.

But he’s right, though, it really isn’t: I know you’ve done anything you could. It’s always been like that.

“Maybe I owe him” you draft “Even if they don’t believe in Makishima, maybe one day I could have proved he exists.”

The teal of your Psycho-Pass would suit you wonderfully, if it wasn’t a description of your mental health.

What could you possibly do in these conditions? You’d have ended up in a cubicle, filing loss and theft reports. You would have never made it to the dossiers, surely not to those of such a controversial case. Making you end up in a study room would have been my final bullshit. I’m happy with your choice, really. I would have loved visiting Europe someday.

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Kogami rebukes you, externalizing what I’ve been thinking all along: “I’m going to look out for your man: your team has already given way too much. I’m gonna find him, Matou, cold case or not.”

You nod, but it’s clear you don’t believe him. I can read through you, you’re a terrible liar.

I don’t think you don’t trust him, most likely you’ve done the math and figured that working on an independent case is far too difficult for an Inspector, let alone for an Enforcer.

And there it is, my fall. After an exhausting chase, you finally look into my eyes, even though -according to Shinya- you’re most likely staring at the void.

Despite being used to such races, believe me, I’ve missed you.

“I’m just so sorry.” you finally whisper, giving me a bitter smile. 

Try and stop me, Ginoza, tell me once again how inappropriate it is: I don’t mind anymore. I get up and I don’t hesitate while holding you and leaving a kiss on your hair, shamelessly.

“I’m going to grab some coffee” I announce, walking backwards to the door like a shrimp, just to look at my dearest friends a bit longer. “I’d get you one, but I’m short on coins. Maybe next time.”

“See you, Inspector.”, Kogami greets you, leaving alongside me.

“Be good.” you wave back, as we were all to meet again tomorrow.

Walking through the dark alley, I can hear an excerpt from our last conversation through the opaque glass of your office.

“You’re jerk, Sasayama!”

I can hear you laughing out loud, through the crackly recording. You laughed at my gall, with that warm, strong, sweet voice of yours, mocking me. Admit it: mine, after all, were the only compliments that could make you blush.

It’s incredible how we managed to joke even inside a car that was taking us on a crime scene. To an external eye, we might have looked disrespectful. Truth is I’ve always feared death so much I just had to laugh at the reaper.

“Oh, come on, what would it take? Come with me to the Precinct’s New Year’s dinner, the 17th is around the corner!” I kept annoying you, as you were too busy driving to mind my dumb flirt attempts. I still can’t get how we never had an accident. “Be good, Katsumi, give me a joy to live for!”

“You could always ask Shion, you know? You always give her more attention, after all.”

I hear the subtle sound of the wheels stopping, the parking brake cracking and it’s like Ogishima’s outskirts appear before my eyes, in that same January night. That place gave me goosebumps, but I would have hated if you understood it.

“Here we are” you announced, with still a bit of resentment in your voice. You unlocked the passenger’s door and I remember I left your Dominator in the car’s trunk: I didn’t want you to follow me. Not that time.

“You scare me when you pay so much attention” you commented, noticing how serious I got “will you tell me why are you insisting so much to keep on searching? Kogami got the guy. Tomorrow we go, we arrest him and it's thank you, next.”

My answer has been recorded as a distant and muffled noise, but I still can trace it: “He’s not the one, I tell you. I have another suspect, but I need a more solid base. And you’re staying, Inspector.”

“Staying?! You’ve gone crazy!” you laughed, locking the corporate sedan behind you “If something were to happen to you, or worse if you didn’t come back, Kasei would…”

“I said you’re staying: it’s dangerous.”

“Sasayama, our work is dangerous,” you replied, contemptuous, understanding that clearly among the gear I brought I didn’t count yours and going back to the car to get it “One more risk won’t make a difference: if I have to drop dead, it can either be here, at home or god knows where.”

“Will you join me for the precinct’s dinner, though?”

And here is a sequence that the voice recorder surely can’t have grasped, but that I could remember even in a thousand years. You cast an outraged glance over me from above the trunk’s door, panting through a half-smile. You shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear. And finally, after refusing my invitations since 17th November, during lunch break, you smiled shrugging.

“Deal, come on, just make way” you sighed, as your heels echoed on the wet concrete “Still, you’re a jerk.”

“I recorded it: you have no excu-”

The audio file interrupts.

End of recording.

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Eleven || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: fucking finally lol hope y’all are ready

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst :)

What I listened to while writing: the Bad Times at the El Royale soundtrack

Word Count: 3.1k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten

“Speak of the devil,” Haz said as Tom jogged over to the two of you and you couldn’t help the ‘literally’ that slipped out of your mouth automatically. Force of habit.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked you, still breathing heavily from the scene they’d just been shooting.

“Like you give a shit,” Haz scoffed and Tom shot him a look.

“What’s your problem, mate?” Harrison shrugged and pursed his lips, looking off at the water. “Harrison?”

“You don’t actually care one way or the other, mate, don’t pretend like you do. It’s tacky.”

You and Tom shot Harrison identical looks of shock. Sure, everyone knew you and Tom had a bit of a Road Runner/Wile E Coyote dynamic, and no one knew it better than Harrison, but you didn’t think you’d ever heard him snap at Tom before. Especially not in your defense.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tom asked, having moved past shock and on to annoyance.

“God, you’ve always been kind of an asshole to y/n, and I never said anything, but you’re not even going to acknowledge how shitty it was of you to ditch her in her hotel room alone after you dropped her off last night?”

Tom shot an accusatory glance in your direction. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“No one had to tell me, Tom. You know you could’ve texted me before running off to fuck some random Italian girl that way at least somebody could have taken care of her.”

You watched as Tom’s gaze turned icy and his jaw clenched. “Why d’you assume that’s what I was doing?”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Haz sneered bitterly.

Wouldn’t be the first time? When the fuck had Tom lied about doing something when really he’d gone off to get laid? Had it been under your watch? Had he ever lied to your face and laughed about it behind your back with Harrison? A feeling of dread settled in your stomach at the implication. You shouldn’t care, but you did. Your mind told you that it was completely natural to be upset. Tom had possibly lied to you. But your heart told you that it was what he’d lied to you about that was making your stomach churn.

If either of the boys remembered you were still sitting there, they didn’t make an effort to include you in the conversation.

“Oh, fuck off, Osterfield.” Tom laughed angrily and ran a hand through his hair. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Well if you weren’t screwing some girl, what were you doing?”

As if he was suddenly reminded of your existence Tom looked over at you. You locked eyes with him and you could tell he was torn between lying to his best friend and telling Haz the truth, but you both knew what would happen if he came clean. You pleaded with your eyes for him not to. He needed to say something else. Anything else.

“Fine,” Tom spat. “I was with someone.” Anything but that.

Harrison looked equally surprised and furious. “You’re kidding.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Are you that dense? Y/n was nearly blacked out and you left her alone!”

“I made sure she got to the hotel safe. That was all anyone asked me to do.”

“I can’t believe you.”

Tom didn’t respond, but he didn’t back down. He just stood in front of Harrison with his hands in his pockets, glaring at him. You wished you could disappear. Or be anywhere but here, but you were frozen to the spot. They weren’t just bickering, they were fighting, and they were fighting because of you and you suddenly wished you could take everything back.

“Who was she?” Harrison asked.

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. “I never got a name.”

“Bullshit.”

He smirked slightly. “Just because she was screaming my name doesn’t mean I returned the favor.” God he was good at this, too good. You’d heard enough.

“Always a class act, Tom,” Haz rolled his eyes.

“Harrison, it’s fine,” you interjected finally, something you clearly should have done ages ago. Harrison tore his eyes away from Tom, his anger softening only slightly when he looked at you. “I’m an adult I can take care of myself.”

“You were really sick, y/n. Something could’ve happened,” he reasoned, now ignoring Tom who was still standing in front of both of you with his arms crossed.

“I only had, what, four or five drinks? I’ve handled much worse, trust me.”

Harrison didn’t look convinced. “You weren’t blacked out?” You shook your head, hoping he’d just drop it. Tom was due back on set any minute and he’d wasted his entire break arguing with his best friend. “What was the last thing I said to you?”

Fuck. “Um,”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Harrison, mate, drop it,” Tom sighed. “She’s still hungover can we talk about this later?”

All three of your pagers buzzed at the same time, meaning there wasn’t another choice anyway. Tom had to be back on set and you and Harrison had to get back to work.

“Yeah, whatever,” Haz muttered and watched Tom jog back off.

“What the fuck was that about?” you hissed lowly so that none of the other crew members could hear. “Tom’s your boss too, you know.”

“It’s fine,” Harrison brushed you off, not even looking at you now. “It’s not like he’s going to try to fire me.”

Ouch. You couldn’t even pretend that didn’t hurt. “Fuck you.” You stood and brushed off your shorts. “Come talk to me when you’ve decided to stop being an asshole.”

You couldn’t even focus on Tom’s schedule in front of you because you were still so put off by what had just happened. It had left a bitter taste in your mouth. The color coded highlighting jumbled together on the page and you couldn’t remember what any of the neon shades stood for.

The weirdest part of it all was that Tom was the one being nice to you? And Harrison was being a dick? You couldn’t make sense of it and your hangover wasn’t helping.

The remainder of the afternoon passed by in a blur. Somehow you were able to breeze through work without having to give anyone your full attention for the rest of the day. For probably the first time ever, Tom got where he needed to be when he needed to be there without you having to nag him. You half-wished someone had documented it.

You actually wore your headset for once, just to tune everyone out. You didn’t even have it switched to a channel.

The evening presented itself much more serenely than the morning had. You watched on from your spot with the other PAs by the canal as the sun sank below the stone buildings dramatically, painting the sky brilliant hues of orange and pink, eventually giving way to dusty shades of purple as dusk settled along the horizon.

“It’s time for more pills,” Tom leaned over and whispered, ignoring some of the glances from the rest of the table.The long day of filming had ended with a cast and crew dinner. There were only a few scheduled for the abroad legs of filming, but they were all mandatory, not that you could complain. You weren’t one to turn down free food, especially free food from Marvel.

“So you’re my drug dealer now?”

“Lower your voice,” Tom hissed and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Can’t have everyone knowing about my part-time gig.”

He passed two more ibuprofen over to you under the table which you fumbled, nearly dropping them, before actually bringing them to your mouth and swallowing with a sip of your lemonade.

“How are you keeping track of when I should take more painkillers better than I am?” You wondered aloud, looking at Tom intently.

He blinked like the question had caught him off-guard, but shrugged it off. “Easy. You’re hungover.”

You shrugged and let it go, but a little part of you wondered if that was really all. You couldn’t imagine Tom reminding you to tie your fucking shoes even just two days ago much less, remind you to take your medicine for a headache.

You noticed that Harrison had somehow managed to escape the mandatory dinner and you wondered where he could possibly be and how he’d charmed his way out of it. You were reminded, not for the first time, that you were surrounded by children disguised as adults. He couldn’t still be mad at Tom, could he? Was he mad at you? You wished he’d just grow up and get over it.

“So, I heard you had some fun last night, Tom,” Remy piped up from a few seats down with a smirk.

“Who told you that?” Jacob asked in confusion, looking over to Tom who apparently hadn’t told him yet.

“Not revealing my sources,” Remy insisted. “Journalistic integrity and all that.”

Tom chuckled and put his hands up defensively. “Alright, guilty.” He had all of the cast’s attention now. Everyone suddenly wanted to hear all about his night, about his conquest. You didn’t know if you could sit through it again.

“Think you’ll see her again?”

“Nah,” he said casually and stretched his arms out behind him.

You listened to Tom talk and watched as he settled into character. He spoke about sleeping with this woman he’d made up as if it was just another Tuesday night. Somehow it turned into a game of twenty questions and everyone wanted all the details. You wondered why they all cared so much, probably because he was acting like he didn’t. He was so perfect for the role, you weren’t sure why Hollywood kept casting him as these sweet, innocent, characters when he played fuckboy so well. Maybe because it hit a little too close to home. He appeared completely relaxed, and was joking around with the cast who were all eating out of the palm of his hand. The only thing that gave him away were the tips of his ears which you had noticed turned bright red as he talked.

You weren’t sure who asked, but someone at the table prodded Tom about what she was like. He didn’t hesitate to describe how gorgeous this mystery woman was and for a second you forgot it was all an act. If you hadn’t known better you’d say he was purposely going out of his way to describe someone who was everything you weren’t. It made you sink in your chair just a little.

“Sounds a lot like what happened in back in London,” Remy pointed out.

Tom froze for just a second, but long enough for you to catch it. “Yeah I guess so,” he said and kind of laughed it off, but rubbed his neck awkwardly.

Back in London. So Harrison was right, lying and then fucking a random girl was something Tom would totally do. It had been under your watch and apparently everyone knew, but you. Fantastic.

“Oh right, when was that?” you asked and you could swear every head at the table turned towards you. You realized you hadn’t contributed anything to the conversation yet and that most people probably hadn’t even known you were sitting there at all. But you figured the easiest way to get the truth was from someone who didn’t know you were the one who had been lied to.

“I think it was sometime around the filming of the bus scene, right?”

“Yeah,” Tom confirmed softly, with just a hint of edge in his voice.

“Right.” You nodded and pursed your lips tightly, afraid you might say something you didn’t mean if you didn’t.

Remy went on to tell the story, and everyone’s attention was back on him. If anyone noticed Tom’s eyes burning on you, they didn’t say anything. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored him, pretending to be wrapped up in Remy’s story, who was still blissfully ignorant to the tension at the table.

You remembered the day the bus scene was shot. They had put Tom and the rest of the cast on one of those double decker buses on one of the hottest days of the summer and then spent the entire day trying to figure out how to rig the camera so that it could swing smoothly between decks. There had been a two and a half hour break, mostly for safety since it was so warm out and they were still having technical difficulties.

Tom had made his way over to where and you Haz were sitting and interrupted your game of cards.

“I’m going to run to a quick PR meeting, kay?” It was more of a statement than a question and he ran a hand through his sweaty hair impatiently as he waited for you to pull up his schedule.

“You don’t have one today,” you said, squinting at your phone screen in the sunlight looking over the spreadsheet again just in case. “Press is months away.”

“It’s a last minute thing, only just got notified about it. They scheduled it because we have the break.”

“Okay,” you shrugged and put your sunglasses back on. “Just be back when we start again, and let security know.”

He ran off without a goodbye or thank you, but that was typical. You only spoke to each other when you had to. Haz dealt a new hand and you forgot about Tom for a while, until you realized Tom had gone and Harrison had stayed. One didn’t go somewhere without the other following closely behind, especially to meetings. That was Harrison’s thing, always had been, and you were glad he already had that down before you showed up because being trapped in a conference room with Tom talking numbers was your literal worst nightmare.

“Do you need to be at that meeting Tom’s at?” you asked as you drew from the deck. He looked up at you with confusion.

“Hm?”

“The PR meeting Tom’s at, shouldn’t you be there?”

“Oh, right. No, it’s confidential Marvel stuff I guess,” Haz explained simply before turning his attention back to the game. You were a little offended that Harrison had obviously known about the meeting beforehand and not bothered to say anything to you, making you look like an idiot, yet again, in front of Tom, but ultimately let is slide.

Tom had come back late, of course, out of costume, hair a mess, and cheeks pink. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realized it then. That he’d lied to you, used you. You’d filled the hole in his online schedule so that no one would wonder where he was, when in reality, you had no clue where the fuck he had actually been.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment now at the recollection of it all. How had you been so blind?

“You okay, y/n?” Zendaya asked, putting her hand on yours, pulling you out of the memory.

You looked up and realized food had been put in front of you, who knows how long ago, and you hadn’t even touched it.

“Yeah, sorry, still feeling the last of the hangover.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Z nodded knowingly. “Eat. It’ll help.”

You forced a smile. “Thanks.”

The conversation at the table had moved past Tom’s one night stand some time ago and everyone was lost in their own smaller groups, passing bread around and trying each other’s drinks. At least you wouldn't have to pretend to be interested in who Tom was fucking anymore.

Everyone clapped when one of the producers, you couldn’t remember his name, ordered a round of champagne for all of you, collected the check for the night and slapped down Marvel’s credit card. It was tradition.

You didn’t hesitate to take a glass when it was offered to you. The bubbles felt good on your throat and the crystal felt cool in your hands.

Tom nudged your shoulder. “Hey, if you’re still not feeling well maybe you should...” his sentence died off as he watched you chug the rest in spite. “You’re gonna regret that.” You shrugged. “Are you not talking to me now?” Another shrug. He sighed and rubbed his mouth with his thumb. “For fucks sake, y/n. You’re impossible.”

Everyone was still mingling and hugging around you, chatting about how the scenes went today and how the party was last night. The room had grown warm and stuffy and you wished you could slip away without being noticed, but you had nowhere to slip off to. Venice was still unfamiliar to you and you had no idea how to get back to the hotel from here.

Eventually, after most of the cast had already gone back to the hotel or off to wherever, Tom asked if you were ready to go and you followed him out of the restaurant and into the cool evening air. The sky was speckled with stars now, and the sidewalk was empty. It felt a little like last night, except you weren’t talking.

Tom led the way through winding, narrow cobblestone alleyways and you trusted he knew where he was going because you were lost in your own thoughts about what Harrison had said about Tom and what had happened back in London. You were still trying to make sense of it all.

“I’m sorry for sleeping with that girl back in London,” Tom said, breaking the silence finally and you stopped in your tracks.

“That's...not what I’m upset about Tom. I don’t care who you’re sleeping with.”

“Sure you don’t,” he scoffed and shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m upset that you lied to me about it,” you continued, aware of how your voice was growing firmer.

“Why is that such a big deal?”

You looked at him, hard. “Fuck off.”

“No, I’m serious!”

“You could have just told me you were going to see someone, but you lied to me. You had Haz lie to me, you let me believe it for months!”

“Right, like you haven’t lied to me before. And how is London any different from what I’m doing here?”

“It’s not the same thing!” you cried.

“How so?”

“You’re lying to your friends. I am your handler. Something happens to you, it’s on me. Don’t you get that?!”

“Yeah, I am lying to my friends. My best friend. And I’m lying to him, to all of them for you, y/n. It’s your ass on the line, not mine.”

You took a step closer to him. “Are you fucking threatening me?”

Tom took a step forward in turn. “Should I be?”

You wanted to scream. “You’re unbelievable, Tom! God, I can’t believe I ever took this job, I can’t believe I haven’t fucking quit yet, I can’t believe I’m halfway around the fucking world with you of all people-” then suddenly, out of nowhere, Tom leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, effectively cutting you off.

ok wow finally in part eleven they fucking kiss lol also remy stans wherever u are I added him in for y’all :) anyway lmk what u think, I always appreciate feedback!

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Five Times Kurt Weller Wanted To Kiss Jane Doe (and the one time he finally did)

I’m going to assume the title is pretty self evident for what this fic is about. 

i.

               He’d come too close to losing her again today. He couldn’t fight that fear that kept rising in his chest whenever he thought about it. His job meant that he put his life on the line every day. But Jane – Jane was a victim. She was Taylor. He had to protect her, he’d failed her enough already.

               Kurt couldn’t forget the look in Carter’s eyes at the cemetery; that cold, heartless glare as he negotiated with Mayfair, treating Jane and Dodi as pieces in a chess match. Except that Kurt knew that whoever went with the CIA wouldn’t ever come back. And that was what scared him the most – they may have won today, but Carter wasn’t the type to give up.

               He offered to drive Jane back to her safe house himself. He couldn’t let her go, not just yet. He knew that she could protect herself, probably better than he ever could. But, at the same time, he couldn’t shake that feeling whenever he left her alone. She had faced too much in too short a time, it wouldn’t hurt just to make sure she got home safely, not after a day like this.

               “It’s more for you than me,” he said honestly. “I just wanna check out the new place. Make sure it’s okay. Make sure you’re okay.” He turned to face her for the first time since they walked in.

               “I’m fine, I... I was just a little… I’ll be fine,” she settled on. “I’m sorry I lost it today.”

               “It’s okay. It happens.” After all that she’d been through, she had every right. He started towards the door, not ready to leave, but not able to think of a reason to stay. “You’ve been through so much. And if I’m making this harder for you, then just tell me. ‘Cause that’s the last thing I want. All these expectations…I should have never put you in that situation.”

               He stepped closer, and suddenly he wasn’t talking about today anymore. “I should have never let them take you. I’m… I’m sorry.” All the pain and guilt for the past twenty five years started coming to the surface. He’d never grieved Taylor – after it happened, his fight turned inward, holding in the hatred and anger for years. But now, for the first time, the tears were threatening to flow as he stared into her eyes.

               When Jane said that it wasn’t his fault, he wanted to ignore it, same as he always had. But then she stepped closer, repeating it, and it was as if he was hearing it for the first time, and the weight started lifting. He was staring into her eyes and there was nothing else in the world.

               “You told me Taylor was my starting point. I think you’re wrong.”

               Her hand was warm and soft. As she laid his hand on her chest, he couldn’t remember ever feeling this close to anyone before.

               “You… you’re my starting point.”

               The words washed over him, and her eyes were staring up at him, looking longingly at him, and when they flickered, he knew that she felt it also – the connection. All he wanted was to lean down, to close that gap, and bring his lips to hers.

               All it took was a second, not even that, for the moment to end. He had to pull away. She was a victim, an asset. No matter what he felt, he couldn’t act on it. It wasn’t appropriate, especially not on a day like today. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he turned, unable to look at her heartbroken expression for any longer.

               She was safe. That’s all that matters.

ii.

              He would have gone alone. Before, that was exactly what would have happened. He would have taken the tracker, and Reade and Zapata would have dealt with Guerrero. That would give them the best change to get Guerrero out alive, no matter what the cost. There wouldn’t have even been a question.

              But Jane changed things.

              The second Jane offered – pleaded – to go with him, Kurt froze. The tracker made him – and whoever was with him – a target. That’s why he said he would be the one to take it in the first place. Kurt knew that Jane could handle herself in the field, that was exactly what he told Mayfair just days earlier. But this was different; it wasn’t like getting caught in a gunfight while pursuing a lead. There were two options – the dangerous one, and the safe one. He wouldn’t put any of his team in danger, and certainly not Jane.

              He tried not to care as the flash of disappointment crossed her face. He wanted to explain, but at the same time, he couldn’t. What would he say even? She’s got stronger instincts than half the agents out of Quantico, and had saved his life more often than he did hers. The excuses were weak, but that didn’t matter.

              Zapata noticed, of course she did. In the few days that Jane had been around, their dynamic had shifted so much that it would be impossible not to. Kurt had made it clear that Jane was a part of their team, and rarely left her behind. He hadn’t expected her to call him out on it though.

              Jane was just an asset. No matter what Zapata tried to hint at. Sure, he might have known Taylor twenty five years ago, but he would protect any civilian. And Zapata had more training. Jane had the best instincts of anyone he knew, but she was a wild card. Just yesterday she had her holster in the wrong position. If that happened today, out here, that split second could mean the difference between life and death.

              She was just an asset.

              It wasn’t until they got back to the air field and got Guerrero into custody that he had another moment to think about it. He was finishing the paperwork on Guerrero and Jane was hanging around, looking back at him as she walking towards the plane. Kurt remembered how she looked this morning, how scared she had been on the plane. There was none of that in the field, not even when she was piloting a helicopter.

              He scribbled the rest of the information, shoving the paperwork into the field agent’s hands. “Hey, Jane,” he called, rushing to catch up to her. This morning, Mayfair’s warning still fresh in his mind, he’d walked right past her, sitting next to Reade, going over the case details. He wouldn’t do that this time.

              “We’re in this together.”

              He couldn’t help but smile as he reached out for her hands. They may never know what happened to her in the past, but he couldn’t help but smile at the woman she had become.

              He scooted close to her after that, showing her pictures on his phone, telling stories about Sawyer’s baseball game and when he first moved to the city. As long as he was talking, she was relaxed, the light turbulence barely noticeable. So he kept talking, pulling up memories and stories he had long forgotten about.

              They were nearly back to the city when her head started dropping. “Uh… sorry,” he started mumbling, suddenly embarrassed. But Jane didn’t acknowledge him, her eyes already flickering sleepily. Before Kurt could even think about what to do next, he felt her head leaning against his shoulder. He froze. He couldn’t wake her up – she must have been so tired. Besides, they would be landing in less than 30 minutes, might as well let her get some sleep while she could, right?

              As he watched her sleeping, he couldn’t stop thinking about that time a few days ago, when he almost kissed her in the safe house. He stopped himself then, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t replayed that moment in his head. He was painfully aware how close she was now, that he wouldn’t even have to really move, just twist a little bit, and he would be kissing her. Just a gentle one, on top of her head.

              GRKZZZTZZZTZ

              The pilot’s radio cracked to life, preparing them for descent, and Jane’s head shot up before she remembered where she was. She turned to Kurt, offering an apologetic smile as she straightened in her seat.

              Kurt smiled for a moment then stopped as Zapata’s words echoed in his head.

              She was just an asset, right?

iii.

               It was pure jealousy that caused him to push the security guy. Kurt tried to pass it off as playing the part (although if they weren’t on a case, he knew there would be no stopping him – that sleazy guard would have gotten a lot worse than just a push), but he knew it was jealousy. He was supposed to be the husband, and that guy had touched Jane more intimately than he ever had.  

               Once they were inside, it was almost too easy to forget they were on a mission. She was inches away from him, and all he could think was how perfectly her body fit into his arms. Kurt had never been one for dancing – in fact the last time he could remember dancing at all was at a wedding years ago. His girlfriend at the time had dragged him on to the dance floor a few times, each time more reluctantly than the last.

               But with Jane, it was different. Not only had he been the one to convince her to dance, but it was instinctual between them. There were no awkward steps as they tried to find the rhythm, no crushed toes when they stepped on each other’s feet, it was as if their bodies’ met and instantly knew how to move as one.

              It was more intimate than he could have prepared himself for – seeing her just inches from him, their bodies moving rhythmically to the music. It was almost too easy to forget that they were on a mission.

               Kurt noticed things he hadn’t allowed himself to notice before. He’d always pictured her eyes as green, but they were really hazel. Every time he looked into those eyes, he felt as if he would get lost in them, they were so deep and full of emotion. Her skin was smooth, and he found himself gently moving his fingers over her hand just because he could. Her hair had a slightly fruity smell, one he tried to commit to memory, in case he never was able to get this close again.

               Talking to her was easy, so easy that he almost laughed when he remembered what had happened with Allie. He’d cared for Allie, and he was glad to see her again. But compared to Jane – well, there was no comparison. They hadn’t been the best at communicating that much was for sure. She was always trying to get him to open up, to talk and share his emotions. It never felt right with Allie. But with Jane, he wanted to talk to her. Maybe it was because so much of it was her history too, but he never felt any hesitation.

               So when she admitted that she thought that she was engaged before, there was a pause as he tried to process what that meant. He knew she must have a past, somewhere she had been those 25 years. It wasn’t unexpected that she would have fallen in love during that time. As an agent, he knew that could be a lead – another person who knew her, who could help solve the mystery of what happened. But as a man, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of – jealousy? that someone loved her and was planning on sharing his life with her.

               “It all seems so far away from where I am now.”

               Kurt searched her eyes, getting lost in them once again. She was so beautiful, and he found himself leaning even closer to her. He wanted to – no he needed to – kiss her, to prove she was really here with him now. There might have been others in the past, but this was now and they were together.

               “He’s ready for you.”

               The moment broken, Kurt pulled away. They were there on a case. First and foremost, he was an FBI agent, and there was a job to be done.

iv.

               Kurt took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. If the plane kept climbing, those rockets would launch. And a lot more people would die. It was as simple as that.

              Kurt never regretted his choice to be an FBI agent. And he knew that even if he wasn’t an agent, if he was somehow in this same position, he wouldn’t even hesitate. Sacrificing his life to save the millions at risk wasn’t just his duty, it was who he was.

               He only wished Jane wasn’t on board also. He wished there was some way to protect her, as well as everyone else. He’d seen her panicked expression as she looked at him for a solution. Jane hadn’t wanted to come. She’d never hesitated before today – the opposite, in fact. But now that David had died, Jane had learned the real cost of their job, the unescapable dangers of it. Through it all, though, Jane had counted on him to protect her, and no wonder. Kurt had promised it, that very first day. He told her that she would be okay, that they would find answers. She’d saved his life, and now he was ending hers.

               “We’ve gotta do something.”

               Kurt couldn’t even look at her when he replied. “One shot in the fuel tank. That’ll cause an explosion big enough to bring this plane down.” He grabbed her hand, afraid to let her go now that he’d spoken it out loud. “Jane, I’m sorry that I brought you here, alright? I chose this life, you didn’t.” He paused, staring into her eyes, the sadness evident in his voice. “You never had a choice.”

               “Yes, I did. Kurt – ” she was staring at him with such utter conviction and certainty – and trust.

              He hated that. Kurt almost wished she’d fight him. If she said “no,” he wouldn’t do it. He knew the greater good was what mattered – that two civilian losses were far better than untold causalities on the ground. But in that moment, he knew all that mattered was Jane. If she protested, even just for a moment, he didn’t think he would be able to pull that trigger, no matter what the cost.

              But Jane wasn’t like that. She knew as well as him what would happen if the plane reached 60,000 feet. And she was willing to sacrifice herself, even though she was as much a victim as anyone else.

              Kurt knew what he had to do. “I’m sorry,” his voice was barely above a whisper. He had made the choice, but they both would live with the consequences. In that moment, he knew that wasn’t going to let her go, not now, not when they only had moments left. He’d hold her hand; pull her close, anything to let her know she wasn’t alone. He leaned forward, determined to kiss her one last time. They hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk about what happened, but he knew he couldn’t fire the shot without it. One last kiss, before they had to end it all.

              “PA 921, this is Special Agent Patterson from the FBI New York Office, do you copy?”

v.

              It felt so comfortable with her again. That was what he missed the most, he realized. How easy it was with her. He liked Allie, of course, but still, some times it felt like work. He wasn’t trying enough, or he was trying too hard, or he said the wrong thing, or a million other things that just made it feel harder than he should.

              Kurt had never cared before, or never really noticed this. Certainly not the last time they had gone out, or with any previous girlfriends. It was only since Jane he could tell the difference. Everything had just been so… easy with her. Since the beginning, he’d felt a connection; at first he assumed it was because of Taylor, but no, it was because she was Jane. It just felt right with her in a way that it never had with anyone else.

              The two hour drive to Borden’s cabin gave them plenty of alone time. It felt like just the two of them, and he felt closer to her than he had in weeks. The conversation just flowed, first they talked books (Kurt had accidentally left an audiobook in the CD player, which Jane instantly started teasing him about), music (Patterson had been trying to expand Jane’s musical knowledge), and even nature (Kurt made a mental note to take Jane to Central Park, she was so enamored with the trees she saw along the road).

              By the time they talked about kids, it felt like a natural flow of the conversation. Kurt had never seriously thought about having kids. His relationships never really lasted long enough to get to that point, and even the ones that did, it never came up. He liked hanging out with Sawyer, and although he gave his sister a hard time, he never really minded having babysitting duty. Kurt would take him to the park for a game of catch, telling jokes, stopping for ice cream on the way home. Sawyer’s dad was across the country, and Kurt didn’t want him to have the same crappy childhood he had.

              But actually having kids himself, Kurt had never really given it serious thought. It just didn’t seem like it was in the cards, and Kurt had made peace with it.

              Or so he thought.

              “I think you’d make a great dad. For what it’s worth.”

              Kurt suddenly thought it was possible. Not just possible, he found he wanted it. The house, the yard, everything. He could even see the kids – playing catch, running around, being chased by a dog. They were happy, laughing, and it was more than he could have imagined. Then he noticed Jane – Jane was in his dream, ticking the little boy with her hazel eyes and his brown hair.

              It felt more right than Kurt could have ever imagined.

              He looked over at Jane, who was staring out the window again. He thought about what it would be like, if they were together. He imagined being able to grab her hand, holding it between the two of them as he drove. Maybe even pulling it closer, kissing it before dropping it back to the center console. He could almost hear their kids in the back – probably squabbling like him and Sarah used to do – but it still felt so full of love, it didn’t bother him. Maybe he’d tell them the same stories about how him and Jane used to go out camping, teasing Jane about she liked to play with the fire.

              Kurt glanced down at Jane’s left hand, resting next to her as she looked ahead. How easy it would be, to just reach out and take it, intertwining their fingers together, just for this short time.

              “Oh, turn here!” Jane’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “We’ve gotta be getting close, Borden said it was only a few hours away, and we’ve been on the road for a while now.”

              “Oh yeah,” Kurt mumbled, shaking the daydream from his head. “I think Borden said it was at the end of this road,” he said as he turned. With one last glance over at Jane, he reminded himself they were on a case. This was no time for daydreams.

vi.

              Kurt was exhausted by the end of the day. And what a day it had been – between his dad, Mayfair, Pellington, the case, and Jane…. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to losing her. When he saw her lying on the floor, his heart nearly stopped. His mind raced as instinct kicked in and started CPR. He couldn’t focus on anything except for her, and he prayed that somehow she would be alright. As she came back with the first gasping breaths, he nearly collapsed in relief.

              He heard her in the locker room as he shut his locker. He’d come to recognize her – she moved differently than the other agents. Her steps… lighter, the hesitation as she gathered things from her locker. Kurt knew this would be the last time. Pellington had made that clear. Jane was already sent to security as soon as they came back from the facility.

              Kurt didn’t know which was worse – losing Mayfair, or losing Jane. Mayfair had been his mentor for years. The fact that he would now be sitting in her office was inconceivable to him. But losing Jane – not seeing her smile in the morning, not seeing her determined face as they tracked down killers, or hearing her laugh, or a million other things he realized he had taken for granted.

              It had only been a few months since Jane had come into his life, and already he didn’t know how he was going to survive even one day without her.

              “What am I supposed to do now?” she looked so lost. The same way she had those first days. “I mean, ever since I came out of that bag, I’ve woken up with a purpose. I come here. We save the world.” Jane let out a halfhearted laugh. “Then I go home. But what do I do when I wake up tomorrow?”

              Kurt chuckled. Little did she know he was thinking the exact same thing. “Whatever you want.” He paused, realizing something. “Speaking of which… Now that we’re not working together, that sort of means I can do this.”

              There was no hesitation when he stepped forward. He’d thought about this far too long, faced too many close calls, too many interruptions to let anything ruin this moment.

              The taste of her lips nearly drove him mad. Her hand was on his neck, pulling her closer, urging him not to stop. As if he could have even thought about stopping. They had come so far, and he wasn’t going to let anything change that. Even after they pulled apart to catch their breath, he couldn’t resist kissing her forehead one last time.

                 Kurt couldn’t stop smiling. No longer exhausted, he felt elated. Maybe he didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but, at least with Jane, he knew it would be alright.

Blue — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: Hey-yo to anyone reading! This is my first time posting my work ever and it’s about the king maker, D. Dobrik. I hope you all enjoy it, I’m open to all criticism. Lemme know if the posting is weird or off. Un-beta’d rn, but I try to heavily edit. This is the first part of prolly a few parts that are in the works. I almost have the second part done, so we’ll see how this goes. Anywho, Kisses!

Warnings: slight dub-con, dom/sub, lack of communication, roughness, language, slightly smutty.

Summary: You never did claim you were smart when it comes to David. He’s turning in his seat to look at you and, of course, you shudder slightly.

You won’t leave until he tells you to...

It really was a simple arrangement at first.

—- x —-

Blue.

You liked blue the best. Green was a close second though.

You could lose track of time while staring at the deep blue that the bruise on your upper thigh was changing into. The bruise that started as a murky, ink water looking black color, was now blossoming into a sickly navy around the edges, the center of it still dark and swampy.

The green would appear in the next half day, ease its way next to the bluish, blackish mess. The green would make itself a home where the blue began, right along the edge. Maybe they would mix and create a painful yellow, a yellow you’d push at.

Hard.

Deep.

Angry.

Yellow was pretty, but you couldn’t accept it. No. Because yellow meant almost healed. Yellow meant in recovery. And there was no way in hell you’d allow your bruises to heal.

No, not when the rest of you was so, so not ready to get better.

Not if this was what being hurt meant.

You loved blue.

—- x —-

The hands gripping your upper thighs is too much. Too painful. Too heavy.

You let out a whimper, even though your whole body is shaking as you try holding it back.

“Oh,” he says, emotionless, “Oh no,” then his hands are gone. Pushing back off your thighs, pushing so your balance sways from where you are seated on the edge of the black upholstered pool table. Your legs still spread from where he stood just moments before.

David stands in front of you, an arms reach or two away, still and unmoving. His eyes hold the same anger you’ve become use to with him, hands clenched at his sides. His lips are swollen, but probably not as red or obvious as the trail of biting, stinging kisses he was just leaving from your collarbone and up your neck.

“You made a sound. I thought we discussed this earlier”, he murmurs through almost closed lips. His eyes never waver, never blink. All you can do is try to lessen the squirm that makes its way out of you.

Disappointment radiates down his body as he tips his head to the left, cracking his neck, and bring his arms crossed on his chest.

“We- you did. I’m sor-“ and the words tumble out before you can stop them.

He hates apologies. He also hates when you disobey the very clear cut rules he has started laying out at the beginning of each of these visits.

“Eh!” He tuts, livid, successfully shushing whatever your half baked excuse was going to be. Then he’s moving forwards, faster than you can comprehend, to grip your jaw in his left hand. He uses enough force that his fingers slip up and make your lips purse, eyes going wide. You can’t stop them from tearing up.

You have a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Your Uber will be here in a bit. Make sure you wait outside.”

His words hang in the air as he drops his hand from you, retracting sharply. Then there’s this sneer, slightly over drawn on his lips, but spitting venom nonetheless.

Then, there’s his back turned to you, walking across the living space and down his hallway.

Then there’s you, perched on the edge of a pool table, alone.

This is the first time he leaves bruises.

—- x —-

The only concealer that worked to cover the slight bruise on your jaw was expensive and you’re damn glad the worst of it was on your thighs. ‘Cause fuck, this is not something you wanted to add to your routine, financially or physical.

Your phone dings when a new message comes in. You finish wiping off the last of your days makeup, the deep yellow bruise appearing fully on the bottom half of your face.

Picking you up at 4am. Don’t make me wait.

It was fifteen past seven in the evening. You had a late lunch around four, and to be honest, your appetite hadn’t been right since you had been kicked out by him three nights ago. But, you weren’t ready for bed. You weren’t even that tired yet, but also, not nearly amped enough to stay up until the earliest of morning hours.

No. No way.

Fuck.

You’re already making your way to find pajamas to lay out, as you finished the internal struggle in your head. Why fight? It’s obvious which side wins.

Fuck him.

The octave skipping groan you let out into your bedroom does makes you feel a little bit better. It’s just slightly cathartic. It make you feel a little more in control of this evening.

Then, you’re walking briskly back to the bathroom to have a quick shower and jump into bed.

Fuck me.

Your desire to finish what was stopped so abruptly, is waaay out weighing your need to stand up for yourself. Not tonight.

Tonight, you’ll listen if it kills you.

—- x —-

The crisp air of the early morning makes your skin prickle. It charges every atom in your body for what you hope happens tonight... this morning. Whatever. It also helps wake your ass up.

It’s twenty til four. You had set your alarm for fifteen past three, because you’re pathetic and desperate. But you’ve never pretended to be anything less with David. Otherwise, this whole dynamic would never work.

Your hands itch for a cigarette, the menthol ones sitting in front of you on the sleek, white outdoor table on your balcony. They’re only a slight reach away, but that’s a fifty/fifty gamble, isn’t it?

David’s pulled a cigarette from between your lips and thrown it to the ground before. All while whispering obscenities about pretty girls who taste like tar in your ear. But later that night, he was licking into your mouth trying to chase the taste and then he fucked you stupid.

So, all bets are off.

You decide to not tempt fate as your phone starts beeping three shrill notes before pausing, getting ready to beep again. It’s sad how fast you answer, pathetic really.

“Are you up?”

It’s ten til four now. You breathe a sigh of relief and say, “Yeah, I’m waiting on my balcony. I’ve been up for half an hour.”

You literally cringe at yourself, so forthcoming with him, down to the most mundane details. You shrink in your seat and bring you legs up to your chest, and then back down, jittery with nerves. His deep, ringing laughter sounds through the phone and doesn’t help you relax at all.

“Good girl,” he purrs, amusement still thick in his low growling voice. “Now, get downstairs.”

The line dies before you can reply, thankfully. You would have betrayed yourself again, a sheepish Yes Sir bound to have come out of you weakly. And knowing your luck, he would be in a Yes Daddy mood and your night would start with a punishment that would get you off, but leave you empty.

You’re up, grabbing your phone and keys, bee lining for the door. With your old white Vans slipped on and black zip up hoodie pulled around your frame, you glance to the mirror just right of your front door. Your jaw bruise is more faded than a couple hours ago, but still noticeable. Your hair is tamed, but still a mess and there’s not a bit of makeup on your sleepy face. David doesn’t like make up on you. He hates the way the mascara and tears stain your cheeks.

The walk out your door and down to him feels equally like a short journey to salvation and a long crawl towards hell. You are always torn, it’s what you want, but not quite. He’s not enough and far too much, and you’re addicted.

As you make your way to the edges of the parking lot, you can see his blue light illuminated face tilted down towards his phone. His brow is furrowed and you have a feeling you’re in for it tonight. He doesn’t glance up as you wait for him to open the passenger side door of his white, shiny Tesla, but his fingers push the button. He doesn’t acknowledge you while you get seated and start to buckle up, except to prod at the same button to close the door. He pulls at neck of his red hoodie, and sits up to drive.

You could speak first, but the fear of setting him off stops you. He’s pulling out of the parking space, phone haphazardly being thrown into the center console. It’s when you’re pulling the seatbelt the final few inches around your body to secure, that he reaches over to grab your wrist, stopping you.

“You don’t trust my driving?”

What a loaded fucking question. It’s like he’s trying to get you to piss him off, and that’s a bad sign in itself. You’re stuck staring at his profile while he gazes out onto the road.

He means, you don’t trust me?

No. Not particularly. You barely trust him with your orgasms (and that has shown to be a bad idea lately), let alone your life.

But that’s not a wise answer. That’s a very stupid answer. Especially since his knuckles are slowly growing white as his grip tightens on the wheel. He’s growing impatient while waiting for a response.

You drop the seat belt from your hand, the hand David hadn’t dropped yet, and let it snap back to where it rests near the door. The beginnings of a smirk make his lips tilt up. He still doesn’t look at you as he pulls his hand back. You want the ground to swallow you whole.

The red imprint of his fingers around your wrist where his hand had held you moments ago was already fading away. Not a bruise this time. Why did that make you ache?

“Besides, you can’t blow me with your seat belt on,” he says so, so casually, you have to stop yourself from recoiling.

He still doesn’t fucking look at you. And you have to make your eyes stop being so god damn wide as his left hand goes to push down his black sweatpants, past his hips to settle on his upper thighs. He’s just slightly hard, and you salivate. You’re pushing your self up on the seat and across the console in two long blinks (and far too quickly to be called anything other than needy). Your eyes look down to his growing member and then up to his face, over and over. You’re licking your lips before pooling the saliva in your mouth to the front, getting ready to sloppily and messy take him in.

His right hand sharply stops you, quickly tangling itself in the back of your hair and pulling you to a stop. There might have been a beep from the car signaling self drive mode was activated while you made your way over the console, but you can’t be sure. What you are aware of is the hand still gripped in your hair and the other reaching to your jaw, fitting nicely onto the bruise still lingering, to pull your face level with his.

He looks right through you.

“I didn’t say you could start,” he says with an adoring tilt to his voice that is counter active to the way he pulls at your hair harder and grips your jaw tighter. You’re being pushed forcefully back into the passenger seat like a rag doll and then he’s back to his natural position at the wheel. Staring straight ahead as goes to enable control of the vehicle and swiftly pull up the waistband of his pants. His amused, smitten voice unchanging when he says, “So eager that you don’t wait for my orders. Should I turn around, drop you back off?”

His left index and middle finger tap the wheel pointedly, staggered. The sound looms in your silence. You shake your head and murmur the quietest No you can muster. You back is flat against the passenger door where he tossed you. You can only stare ahead at him. Frozen.

“Tonight, you do not take initiative, you do what I tell you. You don’t speak or make noises unless I allow you to. You don’t think for yourself, at all. Starting now.”

You think his words should be a question. You think there should be a negotiation and an open line of communication. You think, this is the moment where you should be able to say “no,” and “please, not tonight,” and “I just want to make you feel good, I want to be good for you but I can’t under those terms.”

But that’s not how this works. That’s not how this had ever worked.

He watches you, from the corner of his eye, nod twice in your seat. His tilted smirk lights his face up with mischief. He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the ride to his house.

—- x —-

This whole arrangement had been perfect for the both of you, and casual as hell. It was the ideal way to compartmentalize the hectic schedules you both survived every day. You each had your own busy lives that neither of you felt the need to mix and complicate with a full functioning relationship. Not when it was really only the lack of sex that put you both on edge and unable to focus on your own lives and careers. The two of you were similar in this aspect, workaholics with control and self care issues.

This though, the pain and dominance or whatever, this was newer.

He had started this several weeks ago, with a simple request to not move a fucking muscle after he changed positions. He repositioned you on your knees, elbows bracing your weight under you and ass pulled up high. Even after his brutal thrusts had returned, you didn’t tremble or shake. You didn’t shift your weight or adjust your elbows. You were still. And David came embarrassingly fast.

But you’re one to talk, you came twice before he did, sweating profusely with the exertion of not moving.

From then, it was in everything you did. The requests became bolder and started appearing earlier in the nights you spent together. His requests quickly turned to orders over the course of three and a half weeks to the point you’re at now.

Just waiting, silently, in his car for the instructions to get out and follow him as he kills the engine.

You can’t remember the last time you were able to ask him how his day was. Even if it was an empty pleasantry, you did kind of miss it. You missed feeling like every thing you did around him wasn’t a fuck up.

You’re not sure if he’s gotten angrier or just accepted himself more, but the sudden changes in him has given you emotional whiplash along side the marks he physically left. You hated this as much as you loved it.

And if you were smart, you’d cut this shit off right now. You’d get out, call your own Uber and fucking wait for it at the curb outside the gates to his property, like you did last night. You’d cut your losses and high tail it before you broke completely under his will.

Well, you never did claim you were smart when it comes to David.

He’s turning in his seat to look at you and, of course, you shudder slightly. You won’t leave until he tells you to.

It really was a simple arrangement at first.

—- x —-

Part Two — Part Three — Part Four — Part Five

Hey if you're still doing session analysis stuff, can you do one for a Witch of Heart, Prince of Space, Rogue of Life, and Heir of Time? (Extra details if necessary: Prince and Witch are siblings with Rogue as their mutual friend. The Heir and Prince have a tense situation of wanting to work together but having disagreements all the time) Love your blog btw!

I haven’t been doing it long enough to give it up quite yet, and this blog is also one of my more successful things so I’ll keep going at it as long as I’m not pulled away from it. Besides all that it’s fun so, you know. The details aren’t really necessary as I’ll do analysis with pure classpects but honestly I’m happy to try and take it into account to give me a slightly better perspective on the session than just the list of player’s titles. Now I’m not sure if you mean they’re ecto-biologic siblings but I’m going to assume you mean grew up as siblings together before the session. I notice that this session has my own classpect in it, I’ll try my best to keep that aspect of this session analysis neutral. (And thanks, I’m glad people are enjoying this blog :3 )

Witch of Heart - One who makes changes to Heart or changes things through Heart

Prince of Space - One who destroys Space or destroys using Space

Rogue of Life - One who takes Life or takes using Life for others

Heir of Time - One who causes Time to change or causes things to change through Time

You have a space player, required to breed the genesis frog. You have a time player, required to scratch the session. You also have a heart and a life player, which seems like an interesting and potentially synergy filled duo of aspects. The four classes seem like a good mix as well, at first glance they seem balanced and probably won’t have any of them go too far off the rails.

As usual, now that I’ve covered the basics let’s get into strengths and weaknesses of each player by themselves, then the combinations of each player.

A witch of heart changes the self, feelings, and souls. This player will be the one best capable of making people have “a change of heart”, as their hero title is basically synonomous with that phrase. Any enemy you want or need to change sides, the witch is your best bet. They’ll also be able to change the very basic fundamentals of what a soul is, so have fun with that. The witch will be the type to change who they are as a person on a regular basis and encourage others to do the same, which is basically a gamble for how good or bad it is for your session quests. Because they grew up with the prince of space they’ll be more likely to not be as creative when they switch to a new ‘self’, and will more likely imitate others to create new identities. They’re also more likely to ‘roleplay’ as other classpects than most people, and the prince being a big influence would lead the witch to being more logical minded and not too 'out of the box’, something they should break away from to deal with paradox space shenanigans.

A prince of space destroys creativity, planets, and beginnings. A destruction class with a space player is always a touchy situation considering the space player’s quest is also the main quest of any regular session. The prince will need a LOT of guidance to not either end up destroying their genesis frog or turning it into some kind of weapon (though an alchemized genesis frog strife specibus would look pretty damn sweet. Note to self, maybe play with that idea on my main HS blog…). If the prince is under control in their main quest line, they’ll be a strong force as they’ll be able to defeat armies with the power of ALL OF SPACE and be able to crush planets on the slightest whim. And again…. guide the prince right because we don’t need a planet destroying maniac. Growing up with the witch of heart will make the prince more prone to changes to personalty over time, best case scenario this’ll be a lot of personal growth, worse case scenario they’ll be confused on who they really are and no one else will have a handle on this destructive person either. If they end up roleplaying as their sibling’s classpect, expect them to use their destruction in a way that directly influences people and changes the core of their being. This can be a good weapon for your team but can lead to some traumatized consorts and carapacians.

A rogue of life steals healing, hobbies, and being alive. They’ll be able to revive others more often than typical life players, but additional revives will be trade offs that require some sort of sacrifice of life for the one being brought back. On a more abstract level they can swap out people’s places in life, say getting some arch agents fired and having dersite rebels wishing for democracy take their place. One of their biggest flaws is they’re the type to give healing away to everyone else to the point they don’t get enough/any so it’d be a good idea to make sure they’re getting their needs met too or you might end up with a dead rogue.

An heir of time causes change to events, pacing, and endings. Just by being around at all this heir will make the alpha timeline of your session very flexible. They’ll skip around the timeline causing butterfly effects everywhere. Time travel is already confusing enough as it is without someone changing things all the time so the heir will leave people wondering which version of history is currently applicable.

Entering the medium will probably cause a change in the witch of heart and prince of space’s dynamic, as the prince’s classpect means they don’t believe in personal space and the witch would be used to being around them all the time and having little to no privacy. The witch will probably explore the medium and get more time away from the prince than they’re used to. Even if the relationship between the siblings is healthy and stable this time apart will probably be a good thing for the witch. Whenever they do eventually cross paths again the prince will be a good combat backup to their sibling since the witch’s role leans more on diplomacy, the two bringing something to the combination that they lack individually. The rogue of life will help the witch out even further with their journey of self discovery, being friends already they’d have probably taken ideas of lifestyles for the witch to apply to themselves over the years but in the session this’ll probably go even further than before. Taking people from around the medium out of their current situation and putting the witch in their place to give them a new perspective and a chance to grow further. Finally the heir would help the witch change people over the course of time, or even back in time too.

Whenever the witch of heart isn’t off on their own quest, they could help their sibling by converting any would-be assassins into more helpers for the frog breeding cause. Your session’s rogue of life would be a great substitute for the missing knight class. Not only are rogues naturally predisposed to helping others out, but considering the prince will kill most of their frogs having the rogue steal the living frogs away or putting life back into murdered frogs is a great synergy to help fix the prince’s destruction of their own quest. The heir of time will try to fill the knight role as well given the extra info you’ve told me, and the disagreements you mention could stem from the heir telling the prince that if you give things /time/ that the situation will change but the prince believes in a more active and immediate approach. Their success as a pair will entirely depend at how well they learn to meet in the middle over the course of the session. Best case scenario is the prince learns to be more patient and choose the right moment to strike and to save their efforts for the right targets, while the heir would learn to be a little more active in changing destiny as acting faster to help with frog breeding will be necessary to keep the prince from just wiping out everything needed for the ecto-biology. If they don’t learn from each other and keep disagreeing constantly, it won’t be the end of the session but the rogue will have to pick up the heir’s slack when the prince ignores the heir’s advice and just goes frog killing again. Since the rogue is the prince’s friend they’ll probably know they’ll need to help out.

Having the witch of heart change the rogue would give them a better chance to have the personal growth to realize that they should allow themselves to keep more of their own aspect and not just give everything away. Having a little more self care, and enough life energy to heal themselves during battle will make for a much stronger rogue friend. The prince of space will keep the rogue from distancing themselves from others, forcing them to have more of a social life. Since the rogue already probably has a little experience with this being friends with the siblings, this won’t be so big of a shock to them and it’ll probably be more positive and just reinforce the prince/rogue/heir frog hunting trio. The rogue would learn how to use the heir to steal years of life off of the enemy to extend the player’s lifespans. If anyone’s going to be confused by the heir’s timeline changing antics the rogue will probably be the one hardest hit.

The witch’s influence on the heir would make them more likely to adapt better to helping out the prince. The prince of space would leave less space for the heir to manipulate time over, and less creative options to do it to. Basically meaning more likely than not there will need to be more time loops made than necessary for basic time travel tasks. Rogue of life could either be pretty helpful by reviving failed time loop versions of the heir giving more looping possibility… or use the fact there’s so many heirs hopping through time to just use one or two spare ones to revive someone else. Best to prepare yourself to see a lot of dead heir of times.

This session looks pretty good, and none of the player match ups look disastrous. One of my biggest overall concerns is how much will the prince of space’s destruction of creativity effect the other players? Creative solutions are kind of essential to winning sburb so this might be your biggest hurdle, maybe coming close to the prince’s nature of destroying the very thing they need to create. The witch has some of the best support for their own personal quest I’ve seen.

I’d put the chance of actually getting a genesis frog made at like, 65%-ish and having it not end up as some sort of bomb or sword and not useful at all for inhabiting life is about half of that. Considering you’ve got a destruction class space player these are pretty good odds (and specific even though I have no data/science to back up the number). I feel like the possibility of getting a successful session is higher than the genesis frog, due to the group seeming good for overall survival and capable of crossing over with another session for a double completion rather than singular. But hey 2/3rds ain’t bad for a session like this even if they do end up on their own, the rogue and heir are fantastic players to keep the prince from going too far and undoing any doomed timeline mistakes that might be made.

Comforting Kisses

continuation of first (and second) kisses but can be read on its own.

next part: morning kisses

Summary: comforting kisses prompt- B takes A’s hands first, kissing their knuckles and palms. Then B reaches up to hold A’s face, pressing soft kisses around their cheeks, their lips, murmuring “it’s okay” and “you’re alright” and “I’m here” in between.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: language, slightly angsty, slightly fluff, sad bucky

A/N: that gif has nothing to do with the fic but he’s sad in it and he’s sad in this fic so. it works. also i love him in that gif bye. ALSO this is likely my favorite fic i’ve ever written n if it doesn’t do numbers i’ll be angry. im sorry if the read more break is acting up, but it’s on there.

The clear plastic binder sat open in your lap, laminated script pages barely readable in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Only the six-foot tall standing lamp beside the velvet loveseat upon which you sat and the far-too-expensive Jo Malone lime basil and mandarin candles constituted your sources of light, the soft chimy music you’d asked FRIDAY to play pouring through the overhead speakers as the only sounds aside from the calming voice you spoke in.

The air smelled divine and you were tempted to stop your scripted speech to tell Sam as such, though you were still unsure as to if the candles were worth their hefty price tag. But you stayed on-book— Sam needed the guided meditation and you promised to deliver.

“Now focus on your breathing. Notice each breath but only observe. Do not try to change your breathing in any way.”

You looked up at Sam when you paused. Smiling at the slow rising and falling of his chest as he sat perched in the center of your unnecessarily plush and large bed, you took a deep breath of your own before continuing. “If any thoughts arise, acknowledge them and let them go softly and calmly. Return your attention to your breathing.”

You did this for one another often. Sometimes Sam would sit in the exact place you were with a similar script, ocean soundscapes emitting from the speakers as he read and you focused on your breathing, on imagining the mist of waves sprinkling across your skin soothingly, on the wind and salt tangling your hair and making your eyelashes dewy.

Other times, such as this very moment, you would read lines to Sam with the intention of doing away his anxiety. You would tell him to focus on his breathing, on the feeling of the wind washing over him as if he were flying— but without the carbon fiber wings, without the red-tinted goggles and the itchy tactical trousers. Without the pressure of a mission, without the tension of a mission, without the voices and grunts and screams shaking his eardrums as they droned from the comms.

Of course, the two of you never told the others. Though you knew it was far from likely that any of the universe’s mightiest heroes would poke fun, something about your deepest insecurities being broadcasted to a large set of super-people, even super-people that would understand, burrowed itself under your skin and made you feel itchy.

After all, as an Avenger, you were expected to behave a certain way, look a certain way, feel a certain way— and while each of you deviated from that media-enforced norm, you kept up the image. For your own sanity’s sake and for everyone else’s, you weren’t going to be the reason Steve Rogers lost his hair after a hundred years and Natasha Romanoff lost her cool for the first time in thirty.

You’d known Sam a while, however. You knew about Riley, about the nightmares that sometimes still kept him up at night, about the heartbreak he repeatedly experienced at the VA— he knew he couldn’t save everyone as the Falcon or Sam Wilson, but somehow he still expected himself to. He knew about your demons as well, about the scars that lay scattered over and under your skin, and was the only person for which you’d allowed such a thing.

He’d told you countless times to allow Bucky the same courtesy, especially now that the two of you were… whatever you were. He assured you that Bucky cared for you just as you cared for him, that Bucky would want to hear what you had to say, that Bucky would want to help you in any way he could.

But he never pressured you. He knew Bucky was busy working past the shackles that may have no longer physically restrained him but were still digging sharply into every one of his cells, and he couldn’t imagine what it must have taken Bucky to allow you to come so close. Obviously he was not knowledgeable on the finite details of your… whatever you were with Bucky, but he had an inkling of the limits each of you had set from just knowing both parties. Both stubborn as fuck, scared as fuck, touch-starved as fuck but terrified of the outcome of trying to change that parties.

You thought Bucky’s hands and lips alone almost broke the dam— and the inclusion of anything else, of having him literally bury himself inside you, would desecrate it. You knew once you’d crossed that line once, it would never be enough. But you also knew that, for him, it likely would be. After all, he looked pained enough after every single soft kiss. You couldn’t imagine his agony, his fear, his utter misery at even the prospect of anything more.

It was when you seamlessly flowed into the lines about soaring through a perfect night sky with stars and glittering far-off planets that a scream cut through the calm atmosphere.

After a brief and painful squeeze, your heartbeat immediately picked up so the tired organ slammed against your ribs hard enough to make your bones shake. You swallowed over a dry throat and narrowed your eyes at the pages.

You didn’t speak for some time as another scream was torn the floor above you. You found yourself unable to read the pages— blurriness occluded your vision and you were unable to blink or will it away.

Sam said your name softly and you jumped, eyes wide as they met his. He offered you a small smile that glowed even in the limited lighting. “Go.”

Staring at him for a moment only led to shaking your head. You cleared your throat and squinted at the pages. “The, um— The stars surround— The—”

“FRIDAY, lights, please. Dim,” he requested gently. As the lights came up slowly, he tilted his head and he inspected your expression. “Baby girl, go upstairs. He needs you.”

Incredulously, you shook your head. “He doesn’t want me there.”

“He doesn’t wan—” Sam scoffed. “He wants you there, he wants you wherever he is.”

“He recoils when I touch him, Sam. That first kiss is all I’ve gotten out of him that’s made me feel remotely wanted.”

Sam offered you a disbelieving, dry look of his own. “Trick, get your ass upstairs.”

Your laugh was borne of a gasp, your smile easy as you shut the binder and climbed off the loveseat. “Blow the candles out and put them away before you leave.”

You heard him hum curtly and saw him wave a dismissive hand as you walked out of the room, socks sliding across sealed concrete floors to the stairs.

You nodded once in greeting at a visibly shaken Wanda, her emerald eyes wide as if she’d given into temptation and looked for even a millisecond into Bucky’s mind as he whimpered from behind the door she stood beside, the screams done and over but the heartbreak of the softer sounds not any less.

You set your hand on her shoulder and winced to yourself when she jumped. “Wan, angel, I can handle it from here.”

Glistening eyes, still disoriented, met yours and she nodded stiffly. “He’s— There’s so much.”

“I know there is, I know.” When she leant into your touch, you wrapped her in a hug, running a smooth hand over her back. “Will you be okay?”

She nodded a little more fluidly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just— Take care.”

You smiled at her retreating figure. “I will.”

A steadying breath filled your lungs and you pushed Bucky’s door open, limited compound ground lights streaming through thin, gauzy drapes and bleeding across his sweat-soaked skin.

He sat, shoulders hunched, in his bed with the blankets pooled at his waist and his legs outstretched before him. You could remember Steve telling you something about Bucky’s internal thermostat. Though his temperature ran warmer than the norm, he always felt too cold— as if still trapped in the nightmare of cryofreeze— so he rolled himself in a few blankets and the comforter when he tried to sleep.

You shut the door behind you and Bucky looked up from the hands in which he’d dropped his head. His features were grief and fear stricken, a weight you couldn’t imagine pulling at the corners of his bitten lips and it seemed to only grow heavier as you neared him cautiously.

You sat at the edge of the bed, folding one leg atop the mattress and saying quietly, “Bucky, —”

Something inside of him seemed to break at the mere sound of his name on your tongue, features crumpling and eyes leaving yours only to find you again as tears fell and rolled down his cheeks.

As he lifted his flesh hand to reach for you, you reflexively moved to kneel beside him and took both his hands instead. Your thumbs brushed across vibranium and his skin as you brought them to your lips, lightly kissing his knuckles and palms.

You knew the kisses you pressed to the metal wouldn’t feel the same for him, you knew he could only perceive the pressure and the relative temperature, yet his heart seemed to break even more at the gesture.

This was the person he’d been pushing away, the person he’d been deathly afraid to show his heart to, the person, that in all honesty, his battered heart belonged to. And because you held whatever power there was to wield, it was overwhelming that you were using that power, that influence and dynamism to express warmth. It made his mind grapple with his previous definition of power, of influence that was only used to torture, to pick apart his senses and toy with them like he was disposable. His tears came quicker, it made him fall back to Earth.

He occupied his body now, that disembodied existence subsiding for a single, addictive minute. Still, a broken voice asked, “You’re here, right? I’m— I’m here, with you?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Yeah, you are.”

Reluctantly, he let go of your hands and fisted either side of your shirt to pull you closer, coaxing you to straddle his lap so his arms could wind tightly enough around you to make your breathing difficult. But you didn’t seem to mind, hands holding his face to brush your thumbs against his skin again.

You then leant forward to press soft kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his temples, whispering placatingly, “It’s okay, Bucky. You’re okay, you’re alright.”

His arms tightened further as a result, an almost bruising strength in the fingers that sat below your ribs. You thought fleetingly that if he needed a reminder of your presence, of his own, you could show him the marks.

“I’m here,” you continued between each kiss, feather-light kisses now pressed to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your fingers combed through his long hair and nails lightly scraped his scalp— it seemed to help him relax in your arms. You sighed out almost inaudibly as he turned to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said against your skin after what felt like hours but was likely a few handfuls of minutes, hands adjusting your legs to wrap around his waist so you sat more comfortably and as close as possible. “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers stopped and Bucky winced to himself. “Why are you— There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

He let you sit back so you could look at him and he could look at you. Slate blue eyes with a degree of weakness you wished you could alleviate stared at you openly, the hands on you in stark contrast to anything you’d experienced with Bucky over the last few weeks.

You took his hands in yours again, lacing your fingers through his so your palms sat against his. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You’ve been so—” he took a breath. “You’ve been so patient with me.”

Shrugging a shoulder, you frowned in consideration briefly. “You’re worth that.”

There was a renewed tightness in his throat as he looked at you. A groan rumbled in his chest as he surged forward, catching you from losing your balance with his palms at your back as he claimed your lips with his. He seemed to want to pull you closer, to assimilate you even more as you tongue tangled with his and you crossed your ankles behind him.

His lips stayed upon your skin even as you broke the kiss to fill your lungs, kisses pressed to your cheek and jaw before his teeth, tongue, and lips marked the skin you would have tattooed his traces onto if he ever needed proof again.

Tongue against your pulsepoint, he felt your fluttering heartbeat and thought he might have imagined your quick breathing that matched his.

Part of him wanted to flip the two of you over so you were beneath him, tear the t-shirt and leggings from your skin after doing away with his own shirt and boxers so heated skin was pressed to heated skin. He wanted to taste every inch of you, hear every reaction from you, see you as you came undone.

But he knew this wasn’t the time.

Now was a time for him to hold you and for you to hold him, to ground him in the moment, to anchor him to Earth.

Now was a time for him to feel blanketed and to wrap you in that warmth as well, still turning both of you so you lay facing each other.

Now was a time for him to throw a protective arm made of vibranium over your waist, to pull you into his chest and rest his chin atop your head.

Now was a time for him to love you, but to hide just how much.

Monumental [Kaid/Oz]

They sailed across the Stillwater Sea on their way to the Crystal City once again, its glittering reflection almost unbroken on the surface, like a mirror. Kaid munched on some of the mushroom jerky the new ferryman Cheech had given to him as he gazed through rose-coloured spectacles. The Dwarf ferry driver puffed up and blew into the sails with quite a waft of some kind of smoke—piloting the craft same way his predecessor Merren did—propelling the boat across the glass-like surface.

Merren's snack mix had been a little bit more to Kaid's taste than the dried mushrooms, but, well, what can you do? The Daddies had elected him as a government official and so the Warlock doubted that the former ferry driver had much time for making copious amounts of munchies.

Hans and Charlie were kicking back in the small boat, watching the clear water.

It wasn't too long before they arrived in the port and jumped onto the docks. If they had thought the city was thriving the last time they were there, they were mistaken—it was easily twice as bustling this time, and their fans were out in full force. The Daddies were notorious, and that hadn't changed.

Saving a city does wonders for your reputation.

Kaid didn't like to let it go to his head too much, preferring to be a little less infamous, especially with his continued... interest in the Crystal City. Speaking of which...

"Hey guys, do you mind if we, uh... head to the Temple District?" Kaid asked Hans and Charlie, darting his eyes to avoid eye contact. "Maybe we could try and be a little more subtle, too?"

Hans was sauntering in a satisfied manner, his posture tall. Maybe basking in the praises of the fans a little bit? For such a sneaky Rogue he could sure draw attention, Kaid thought.

"No problem, Kaid. Wouldn't want to keep you from your BF." Charlie grinned and nudged him with an elbow. "Can't tone this down though." He gestured to Hans, whose red cape was billowing, a severed and preserved Drow priestess head on each hip.

In fact, subtlety was quite out of the question, as they would soon find when they arrived in the Temple District. They found that their modest group statue was gone. The one that had been constructed soon after they eliminated the Crystal Cult from the city, effectively saving it from destruction.

In its place was something new. This was way bigger. The smaller monument had been replaced with a huge metal sculpture of the three of them, easily twice their height. Posed in the midst of battle, the three of them looked heroic and magnificent.

That being said, the posing was a little... unusual, for someone aware of the group dynamic. To start, their tallest and most imposing, Hans. Giant metal Hans was crouched at the bottom front, daggers ready to strike. Looking intense, of course, but still. 

Charlie was next up, the surprisingly beefy former Ranger, now Blood Hunter. Dealer of massive damage. Giant metal Charlie had an arrow knocked, bow pulled taut, about to loose. That typical aloof and relaxed expression on his metal face.

Last, typically found in a corner to cover his back, or about 120 feet away from a threat, was the Tiefling Warlock Kaid. Metal Kaid was posed at the top of the monument, his hair still long, hands casting a familiar spell. Looking… actually kind of badass? Little, real Kaid squinted upwards. Hold up a second, did this monument look kinda handsomer than would be accurate?

"Huh, that's interesting." The Warlock heard Charlie, who was taking a look at the affixed plaque’s inscription.

"What is it?" Kaid jogged over.

"Look here, 'Sponsored and built by Oz, the Shepherd of Ermath.'" The Dhampir pointed out, his chill expression curling into a little smile.

Hans crossed his arms, looking at the inscription and then back at how the statue was posed. He threw a little side eye at the shorter Tiefling, "I see how it is."

Kaid threw up his hands, flushing a little. "Look there's some clear favouritism here... and I'm not mad about it," he declared suddenly. As much as he liked flying under the radar, he was honestly extremely touched by this masterpiece.

Charlie clapped him on the back and Kaid jumped. "Go find Oz. Let's hit the bar, we'll meet you there!"

"Crystal Mug. See you there," Hans nodded Kaid's way. He turned and his cape swirled around him. God that guy was cool. Charlie gave the Warlock a wink and a lazy salute as he strode to catch up with the taller Half Elf.

Kaid took another admiring look at the massive piece of art and then hustled off to find his favourite Cleric.

The Warlock guesstimated that it was about evening time so he headed directly for Oz's cottage. Knock or unlock. Knock or unlock... he fiddled with the key around his neck on the way over. The one Oz had given him last time.

Unlock. Came a command inside his mind.

Kaid sighed slightly. The voice of his Patron was harder and harder to ignore.

Look Zathog, I'm not soliciting relationship advice from you.

...

The staticky and warped “silence” spoke volumes.

You know what? Unlock sounds alright. Kaid thought better of pressing this issue, palming the key, and flipping it towards the lock in a little flourish.

He opened the door noisily, trying to make it obvious that someone was coming in. Kaid coughed. "Honey, I'm home...?" he tried the phrase on for size. Fuck, that sounded dumb—

Too late to overthink it, the familiar and beaming face of Oz popped around the wall from the living room, toothy grin widening as he visually confirmed the situation. "Kaid! You're back!"

"It's me, haha, in the flesh, it's so good to see yo—" he had been awkwardly turning to shut the door and found himself interrupted by a tight hug.

Oh my god, why do I ever leave? The fleeting thought came to him as he relaxed, momentarily loosening the taller Tiefling's grip to turn to face him and return the embrace.

"From your letters I wasn't sure if you were heading back here at any point, or just going to send me another message telling me you almost died..." Oz's expression looked amused, but Kaid could tell there was some legitimate concern there.

"I didn't want to worry you, but it's been rough. For me. I'm not as strong as Charlie and Hans." Kaid recalled a couple of near brushes with death, in the ziggurat, against the Dracolich. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them."

"Well, we should celebrate, then!" Oz smiled. "Where are our other heroes?"

"Actually, I came to whisk you away to the bar. They're waiting for us! But, uh, first I wanted to say something." Kaid paused briefly, taking a breath, "Thank you, for the monument. I didn't know you were into such grand gestures."

"For the heroes of the city? It's nothing." Oz winked. Kaid could always tell, even with the one eye scarred and unopening.

"You know what I mean, Oz." Kaid grabbed his shirt lightly then pulled him in for a kiss.

  They weren't as late to the bar as you might have expected, but maybe not as punctual as Hans or Charlie would have liked. And it was hard for them not to get started… the patrons of the bar, I mean, when all the Dwarves at the bar were supplying the Daddies with drinks.

"Ozzie! Egg boy!" Charlie waved them over to the corner table. There were already a few empty glasses in front of him.

Oz shot Kaid an amused look. Egg boy?

Uhh, I'll explain later, came Kaid's telepathic response.

They slid into the booth, and Oz put an arm over Kaid's shoulders. "Welcome back to town, Daddies! I see you're being treated right already."

Raoul plopped two more glasses down on the table, sliding one in front of each of the Tieflings. Kaid eyeballed the size of the mug. What an absolute unit.

"Cheers, to your return!" Oz raised his glass, and the three Daddies toasted with the Cleric.

"Cheers, to your fine work on that monument," said Hans, starting the second toast and finishing his drink.

"Fuck, yeah, dude," Charlie nodded at Oz. "It's massive! How do you even make something that size?"

"Time and effort," Oz chuckled. "Plus, you've been gone a while, I had some free time on my hands." He squeezed Kaid's shoulder.

The smaller Tiefling took a big gulp of his drink, pointedly avoiding making a quippy comment for once in his goddamned life.

"What can we say, we've been pretty busy saving the world," the Rogue answered confidently. Raoul was already bringing over the next round of drinks. Kaid was not going to be able to keep up and keep his wits.

"No doubt! Tell me all about it! Kaid leaves out most of the juicy details in his letters. I suspect that he doesn't want me to know how much trouble he gets up to."

That was all it took to get Charlie and Hans into the tales of their battles, infiltrations, and espionage in the stretch since they'd left. It had been an eventful period, and the two strongest Daddies wasted no time getting into it, complete with gestures and re-enactments.

Charlie had undergone a complete transfusion, and transformation to a Blood Hunter. They'd faced off against hordes of the undead, against a Lich—not once, but twice! (Though, to be fair, the second time was because they botched the job the first time. Phylacteries are tricky business.)

They had gone on a side quest to the Faewild... maybe? That may have been a dream or a mass hallucination. But… then again they did have some souvenirs to prove it.

Dodging lightning through the desert, making deals with Djinn and dragons. Infiltrating the Vampire city stronghold. Collecting vials of exotic blood via Vampire B&Bs.

Oh wait, the vials… That struck a chord of fear into Kaid's heart, but at the moment he was too far gone to remember why.

They'd gone deep into the snowy mountains and made allies with a Storm Giant to take on a Dracolich, and then they'd gone deep into Kaid's mind, to the darkly Eldritch yet still glimmering halls of Glamathyst.

As their power grew exponentially, so did the dangers. At this point, everyone was quite drunk, and the whole bar was tuned in to the tale. Kaid figured that they were just about to become even more infamous here, as this epic was sure to make it out to husbands and wives and children in the Crystal City.

"Oz," Kaid whispered dizzily into Oz's ear, "we're legends."

Kaid remembered Oz kissed him then, but the next thing he knew distinctly was curling up in a cozy bed at home and drifting off to sleep. In between: darkness, stars.

  "...d? Kaid?" Oz was lightly touching his shoulder. The Warlock grimaced slightly, head pounding.

"Are you alright? I had to carry you home yesterday." The Cleric sounded amused yet somewhat concerned.

"Ughh... remind me to stick to cocoa next time." Kaid rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore his churning stomach.

"We probably should have cut you off. I'm used to drinking with my work buddies and they go hard. Also, they're Dwarves."

"Nnnhmmm," was about all Kaid could manage.

"I'm going to make some coffee, come down when you feel up to it, okay? Or do I have to brew up some Remove Curse for this hangover?" 

This time Kaid felt an otherworldly chuckle in his head, which made him even more queasy than before.

"Mm—be back—" is all he accomplished, before staggering off to the bathroom.

  Kaid stared down at the coffee he was slowly sipping.

"You're looking a little less green," Oz remarked. "Feeling any better?"

"Mmm, a bit. Better than getting sliced six ways to Sunday or being blasted to unconsciousness by freezing Dracolich breath."

"Most people couldn't draw that comparison from personal experience."

"Ugh, sometimes I wish I couldn't either."

"And yet... when are you leaving?"

Kaid sighed, "There's still things I want to do... need to do, in spite of myself. It's scary, but the power... has appeal." He looked up seriously, and found Oz staring at him with his good eye. It wasn’t a judgmental gaze, but it was evaluating.

"You have good friends. You take good care of each other... even though it often seems like you're protecting each other from bears, or rather, dragons that you didn't have to poke."

"Oz, you're not wrong," Kaid caught himself smirking a little bit, then tried to look serious. "Look, uh, I have something I want to talk about... but I don't know if the time is right. Or if it's right for me to ask."

Kaid pushed down the wavering feeling in his gut, trying to blame it on the hangover rather than nerves.

"Oz. There's a big battle coming. That I know for sure. It's going to be dangerous, and I'm afraid. There's so many variables I can't account for, and I hate those risks. Right now the only things I'm certain of in my life are my team... and you. I don't want to be apart any longer than we have to."

The Warlock took a big gulp of coffee.

"I want you by my side."