#and on paper light is an adult by this time but we’re watching him in the process of becoming one

[himbo-kronk-stan]

Death Note Movies/ J-Drama Fans as the rest of the fandom has to decide if the lawlight age gap is predatory

#the story dose not really change much when you age Light up/L down a little #honestly I really get both sides and being uncomfortable is super valid #Like Light is 18 when they meet and a month away when the potato chip scene happens #so you kinda have to decide for your self if 18 is an adult to you #while L is in his 20’s #and on paper light is an adult by this time but we’re watching him in the process of becoming one #my fear low key is that I’ve noticed a lot of teenagers in the fandom #dose the tangled fandom have the same issue? bc I think the age gap is about the same- what’s the approach there? #og movies!lawlight shippers are stronger then any U.S. marine #there’s no rain or blue room scene just an alt timeline novelization

[smilesrobotlover]

AO3

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Chapter 3- Trip to Kakariko

It was dark outside by the time everyone was done with supper, and they all sat around the couch, speaking quietly while Kori began to doze off on Midna’s lap. Link watched them with a smile, his heart warm from having his family together again.

“Say Link,” Uli started, eyeing the sleepy birthday boy, “do you have any gifts for Kori?”

Kori’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, causing the adults to all laugh. “Gifts? For me?”

Link chuckled. “Well Kori, ten years old is a big deal. I figured that you should get a gift for this year.” Kori straightened his posture and excitedly listened to Link, which made him chuckle. “We figured that we could visit Kakariko tomorrow and you can pick out something from one of the shops there!”

Kori gasped. “We’re going to Kakariko tomorrow?”

Link nodded and Kori jumped with excitement. Midna giggled and hugged him close, but Link couldn’t help but notice a hint of sadness in her expression.

“We leave early in the morning,” Rusl said, ruffling his grandson’s head, “so you should get some sleep. You look tired anyways.”

Kori looked up at Midna and she nodded. The two got off the couch and bid their farewells to the family while Link got his lantern ready. Rusl followed the small family out of the house, and when they reached Link’s home, Rusl stopped him.

“Link, I need to talk to you about something,” he muttered, and Link looked at Midna and his son who stared back at him. Midna nodded at him and took Kori upstairs, leaving Link and Rusl alone.

“What’s going on, pa?” Link asked after a moment of silence, and his father pulled out a crumpled letter. Rusl handed it to Link and he read it, using the lantern to light up the words on the rough paper.

Dear Rusl,

I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope that you are able to share this with the hero. There have been a concerning number of disappearances across Hyrule, and I wish for you and the resistance to look into it. A woman from Kakariko village and a Goron from Death Mountain were among the missing, and I hope that you and Link could investigate their disappearances to find any leads. The others are investigating the other regions of Hyrule.

Meet me at Telma’s bar in a week from now to see if you find anything.

—Sheik.

Link frowned as he stared at the letter. He looked up at Rusl who was watching him intently, a serious look on his face.

“Huh,” was all Link was able to say.

“Luckily we’re already heading to Kakariko tomorrow, we can investigate the missing people from there.”

Link nodded, staring at the words on the letter in shock. How did he not know about any of this? He’s the hero of Hyrule. Even though Ganondorf was defeated so long ago, he still had a responsibility to Hyrule and its people.

“So! We’ll spend our time doing that while we get Kori his gift, alright?” Rusl said when Link stayed silent.

Link let out a heavy sigh, and Rusl rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Get some rest, we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Link nodded. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight son.”

Link watched as he went towards the village, and he walked towards his own home. Midna was snuggling with Kori who was dozing off in her arms, and she was humming a tune. Her bell-like voice rang through the air, and Link smiled as he watched her rock Kori back and forth. When she finished the song, she glanced up at Link and tilted her head.

“Are you gonna sit down, or will you continue to gawk at me?”

Link snorted and walked over to her, kissing her temple.

“If you don’t mind, I’d love to gawk at you all night. I missed you.”

Midna giggled, and kissed his nose. “I missed you too.” She smiled as he sat down next to her, and rested her head on his own. “So what were you and Rusl talking about?”

Link sighed, the small, blissful moment making way for the anxiety he had from him and Rusl’s conversation. “He got a letter from the resistance, apparently there’s been some disappearances throughout Hyrule. We’re going to investigate it when we go to Kakariko tomorrow.”

Midna frowned. “Well, that’s not good. Do you have any idea what’s causing these disappearances?”

Link shook his head. “I honestly don’t know the details, I just know that a goron and a woman from Kakariko are among the missing. So me and pa have some work to do.” He stared at the door blankly as Midna grew silent.

“How many missing people are there?” She finally asked, and Link shrugged.

“I don’t know the details, Midna. But according to the letter that was sent to pa, it’s been a lot of people.”

“Goddesses…”

The two were silent for a long moment as Kori snored silently. Link reached out and tucked a stray hair behind his ear. His little boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at the two confused.

“Hey kiddo, why don’t we put you to bed,” he whispered as Kori stared at him with sleepy eyes. Kori nuzzled his head into Midna’s neck and groaned.

“I don’t want to leave mommy,” he whimpered, and Midna gave Link a teasing look.

“My, he’s turning into you,” she said, and Link tilted his head.

“How so?”

“Always staying up late so you can spend every second with me?”

Link rolled his eyes and leaned away. “Ok ok, well we should put Kori to bed anyways. His little body needs sleep for healthy development, yeah?”

Kori grumbled and turned his head away, and Link chuckled, pulling him off of Midna.

“Come on kid, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

Kori groaned and hung onto Midna, who was pulling him away from Link. Link gave her a look and she grinned at him.

“He can stay here just like this Link, it’s his birthday!” She pleaded, and Link rolled his eyes, letting go. Kori quickly snuggled back into his mother and she began to rock him back and forth.

“You can carry him to bed then Midna,” he said as he sat back down, and Midna giggled at him.

“You’re lucky your father is such a softie, Kori,” Midna teased, and Link raised an eyebrow.

“You’re just as soft as I am.”

Midna smiled and they rested their heads against each other again as Kori fell asleep again.

“So, are you going to Kakariko with us, Midna?” He asked after a moment of silence.

Midna didn’t say anything, and Link looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not coming?”

“I– there’s something I need to talk to you about, Link,” she said quietly, “it’s why I was so late today.”

Link sat up and gave her his full attention, and she shrunk away a little.

“What is it, Midna?”

“Um… things have been getting… intense in the twilight realm. It was a miracle that I was able to get away when I did but… they want an heir, and they want her now.”

Link stared at her for a moment as the words sunk in, and his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh,” was all he was able to say. Midna let out a loud sigh and rested her head back.

“They’ve picked the guy that I’m gonna have the child with, and I just wanted to talk to you about it first. I’m not asking for permission, but I feel like you deserve to know.”

“I see.”

“Look nothing will ever come of it, after the child is conceived I won’t talk to him again because I hate him but—“

“Midna,” Link interrupted her, “it’s ok. I get it, you don’t need to explain yourself. I figured this time would come eventually.” he stared at Kori who was fast asleep in Midna’s arms. He remembered what happened when a half Twili was the heir. It was for the best that she gave birth to a fully fledged Twili, in order to ease the people’s minds. He stroked Kori’s hair with a smile. “I trust you Midna.”

Midna let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you do.”

“What are you gonna do when she’s born? Is she gonna come here with you?”

Midna frowned. “I don’t know. The light world is bearable because I have the fused shadows, but I’m not sure how it will be for her. I also don’t know how I’ll explain her to your parents. They might think that I’m… not loyal to you or something.”

Link was taken aback. “Oh… they won’t… they wont, don’t worry about it.” Midna gave him a look and he shrugged. “It wouldn’t be an issue if you told them that you’re the queen of the twilight realm. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Midna shook her head. “No, Link. They already know too much. It’s for the best that they don’t know who I truly am. I don’t want them to get hurt.”

Link sighed and rested his head against hers again. “Alright, fine. So I assume you’re not going to Kakariko then?”

“No, I can’t. I’m sorry Link.”

“There’s no reason to apologize. I understand.”

Midna smiled warmly and kissed him. Link smiled and kissed her back, lingering on the kiss for much longer. Midna pulled back and gave him a look.

“I know you and Rusl are leaving at the crack of dawn so don’t even bother staying up late.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve had sleepless nights before.”

“Yeah, and you nearly fell apart from them.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Midna giggled and started stroking his hair, humming a tune as she rocked both Link and Kori back and forth. Link smiled as he listened to her pretty voice, his eyelids starting to get heavy at Midna’s soothing voice and touch. Despite him trying to fight sleep, he eventually lost the battle, and he fell asleep peacefully in Midna’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Movement in his arms woke Link up. He opened his eyes and stared at the little boy snuggled up next to him confused. Clearly, the little light from the rising sun was beginning to bother him, but despite that, he stayed snuggled against Link’s chest. He smiled and rubbed his back, which finally got Kori to give up on trying to sleep. He looked up at him with sleepy eyes and smiled.

“Hi, papa.”

Link smiled and kissed his forehead. “Hi kiddo, can’t sleep?”

Kori shrugged. “I’m not tired.”

“Sure you’re not, you just can’t keep your eyes open.”

Kori nuzzled his head into the pillow and groaned at Link, resulting in a chuckle from him. Link ruffled Kori’s hair, then looked around. Midna wasn’t here, and the house felt more empty without her. He understood why she couldn’t stay all the time, but goddesses he wished she could. As if he read Link’s mind, Kori lifted his head and looked around.

“Is mommy not here?”

Link frowned, pulling him closer. “No, she had to go back home.”

Kori pouted. “But… she just got here!”

“I know, but she needed to deal with something.”

“So she’s not going to Kakariko with us?”

“No, unfortunately not.”

Kori’s little ears drooped, and he sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. Link watched him sadly as he stared blankly at the wall, and he sighed.

“Shall we get ready? We don’t want to keep grandpa Rusl waiting for us.”

Kori nodded silently, and he stood up, hopping down the ladder. Link got up as well and started packing enough clothes and supplies for a couple of days in Kakariko. He strapped it all to Epona and helped Kori pack his own things, making sure not to forget his precious Billy the Goat. The sky was a deep orange when he finished, and he heard chatter coming from the village as Rusl and the rest of the village kids entered his clearing, a carriage attached to his pa’s horse. Beth, Colin, Rela, and Malo were hanging off the carriage, and Colin hopped off, greeting his brother by attempting to wrestle him.

“Oh good! Y’all are ready!” Rusl said he got closer to Link, who already had his little brother in a headlock. “I was afraid that I’d have to wake you up!”

Kori smiled and slammed into his legs, causing him to grunt a little, but he still gave him a tight hug. Link chuckled and let Colin go, who pouted at being defeated in seconds.

“We’re ready, pa. Is everyone else good to go?

Rusl looked back at the others who were standing around impatiently.

“Do y’all have everything you need?” He asked them.

“Yep!” Beth proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Malo said.

Rela began to list off all the things she grabbed while Colin gave a thumbs up. Rusl gave Link a nod and rounded everyone up into the carriage. Kori stayed with Link on Epona, though he protested against it, Link promised to make it fun for him.

The group headed out just as the sun was slightly above the horizon, the sky being a beautiful deep blue. It was a lovely day, with hardly any monsters out and about, which made escorting easy. It was relieving to know that his son would be in a world without hordes of monsters threatening him in the field. His efforts in making a peaceful Hyrule weren’t entirely in vain.

Occasionally, Link would have Epona run and jump over different obstacles, which made Kori happy. He even got a little carried away and had Epona sprint towards a pond of water, causing Kori to squeal as he got wet. Rusl called for the two, and Link realized that he was a little too far away from the others. Though they didn’t know what was causing the disappearances, Rusl believed that if everyone stuck together, they would be safe, so Link had to at least stay close to him.

It was evening when they finally arrived at Kakariko. Though the sky was beginning to turn orange from the setting sun, the village was still bustling about. For the past few years, Renado had worked hard at reinventing Kakariko, and it had turned into a lovely little town. Not as big as castle town, but not as small as Ordon. Link had to admit that if he wasn’t so connected to Ordon, he’d probably move here. There was a horse stable where a cave used to be by the spring, and each abandoned building was fixed into homes and shops. Kori’s favorite shop was of course the toy shop, but he was also excited about a new clothing shop that recently opened. Link didn’t know why a boy his age loved clothes so much, but he supposed his abhorrent attitude towards the traditional men’s skirts of Ordon and love for pants had something to do with it. Link hopped off Epona and helped Kori down when he reached the new stable, sadly putting his steed in with other horses.

“I’m sorry girl, I know how much you love to roam,” he muttered, feeding her a sugar cube, which she gratefully ate from his hand, and Link gave Kori one. “You wanna give her a treat?”

“Yeah!” Kori took the sugar cube and held it to Epona with his palm up, which Epona ate as well. Kori giggled as her mouth tickled his hand, and she nibbled for a moment making sure the treat was fully gone. Kori gave her a pat and a small kiss on her nose. “Thanks for getting us here!”

“Ew, Kori kissed a horse,” Rela teased, holding her stuff in her arms.

“I’ve seen you kiss toads!” Kori rebutted, glaring at her. “At least I won’t get warts from a horse!”

“That was one time, Kori!” She snapped, and Colin led her away from the two, smirking.

Link rolled his eyes at the two kids, and grabbed his own things, handing some of it to Kori. “You excited to see Renado and Luda?”

Kori’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! It’s been so long since I’ve seen them!”

“It’s only been three weeks!”

“Yeah! That’s a long time!”

Link grinned as they walked out of the stable, dodging folks that were walking to their homes in a hurry. Link couldn’t help but pick up on the unease. People seemed rather anxious to get to their homes safe and sound, some glancing nervously at the new clothes shop.

That must be where the missing woman lives, Link thought sadly. Kori investigating the new shop would have to wait until she is found. What bothered him the most however were people glancing at Kori weirdly. He was out in public at Kakariko since he was so close to Renado and Luda, but some people didn’t know him, and as a result, they didn’t trust his presence. One lady didn’t hide the fact that she was eyeing Kori suspiciously, and Link wrapped his arm protectively around his son, glaring at the woman. As the group headed to the Elde Inn, Link noticed Barnes fixing his sign in front of his shop, and the two waved at each other.

“Link! Rusl! Kids! It’s always good to see ya!” He called out to them, and everyone waved back at him.

“How’s it going, Barnes?” Rusl called back.

“Oh, nothin’ much! A bunch of delinquents broke my sign though, so I gotta fix that!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t one of your experiments going wrong again?” Beth teased, leaning against the wall of the Elde inn. Barnes crossed his arms.

“It wasn’t an experiment goin’ wrong… not this time anyways.”

Beth laughed and Colin rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Where’s Renado and Luda?” Rusl asked. “We’re about to take over the village with our presence and I want them to know we’re here.”

“Oh!” Barnes glanced at the sanctuary. “Luda is pretty busy right now, bein’ the village’s healer is a lot of work! And Renado is…” he looked around the village and shrugged. “Who knows where he is! He’s constantly runnin’ around the village helpin’ people!”

Link gave a knowing nod. Renado had become the mayor of Kakariko, letting Luda take over his old role as a healer. Though he was a phenomenal mayor, Link could tell that he was a little overwhelmed from such a responsibility.

“Well tell them we’re here, we’re just gonna get a room,” Rusl said, beginning to head into the Elde Inn. Barnes nodded and gave them all one last wave as they all went inside.

It didn’t matter how many times he went inside the inn, the way the place looked shocked Link. He remembered when it was an old and crumbly place, with broken furniture scattered across the floor and dusty surfaces. Now it had a comforting air to it, with a warm light from the candles in the chandelier, the smell of food coming from the kitchen, and people chatting in the main area where comfy looking chairs were. It was a lovely place.

The woman behind the counter kindly gave them a big room for the large group, and they all headed up the stairs, picking their beds inside their room and stretching their legs.

“Let’s go to the shops!” Rela said, after everyone was unpacked. “I wanna see what stuff they have at the toy store!”

“Yeah!” Kori agreed, but Rusl shook his head.

“The stores are probably closed by now, it’s supper time.”

Rela pouted. “Well what are we supposed to do?”

Beth walked up to her and ruffled her hair. “Get supper of course! Hopefully Talo will be here!”

“Oh yeah!” Colin stood up. “Talo should be staying in this inn!”

Rusl gave Link a smile and stood up himself. “Well let’s go get some food and find Talo! Try not to give him a hard time though,” he looked specifically at Beth.

“I can’t make any promises,” she joked, and they all left their room, excited to get whatever was cooking in the kitchen.

#love at twilight #midlink #I forgot to upload this yesterday OOPS #oh well! #hope you like it! not a lot happens but that’s fine #next chapter will have some good stuff to it #smiles writes

[muertawrites]

Tenderness (Eddie Munson x Reader)

(is it weird that i named this after such an upbeat-sounding song? maybe. does it fit eddie’s vibe perfectly? yes. i’d like to think it’s a guilty pleasure song of his. parts one and two, also named after 80s songs i like.) 

(jesus christ that smile <3)

With Wayne Munson’s trailer reduced to nothing but a pile of twisted metal and shattered wood, the only place Eddie had to wait out the rest of his recovery was in your bedroom. 

Convincing your parents to let him stay was a hard sell. Your house didn’t have a spare room, and despite how respectful Eddie had always been - hell, despite you managing to get his murder accusation overturned - they couldn’t bring themselves to trust him. Especially not in your bedroom. With you. At night. With the lights off, the door closed, and a finite amount of inches between you. But, defiant as ever, you’d already sifted through the rubble of his bedroom, salvaged anything you could that meant anything to him (namely his guitar, his dice set, some of his favorite books and cassettes, and a few of the Polaroids he had of you together) and set up shop for him in your room. The day he was discharged, you marched him through the front door with confidence - or, as much confidence as a man on crutches with two black eyes and several hundred stitches in his body could manage - ignoring the knit brows and concerned whispers you were met with. 

“He’s staying,” you told your parents in no uncertain terms. “He isn’t in any kind of shape to be having sex with anyone, since that’s what you’re worried about. And we’re two consenting adults anyway so it’s none of your business.” 

Eddie chuckled as you maneuvered him up the stairs, leaning heavily on you for support. 

“Didn’t think you’d be that kind of nurse,” he teased, flashing you a flirtatious grin. 

You bit your lip as you smiled back, trying to hide just how appealing the idea really was to you. Eddie couldn’t help but lose his breath at the sight of your teeth sinking into the plush, velvety skin. 

“Shut up, Munson,” you bantered. “You didn’t even have any game when you were perfectly healthy.” 

Getting him comfortable on your bed was difficult. He was still incredibly sore, his torso bandaged and his ribs bruised; he moved like a man five times his age, groaning with any pronounced pressure or extended stretch of his limbs. You worked him into a sitting position, helping him out of his jacket and shirt so you had easy access to any dressings that would need to be changed. Once they were folded neatly on the mattress, you knelt before him, coaxing his jeans off his legs, the healing flesh beneath spotted sickening hues of purple and green. If he weren’t in so much pain, he’d have let himself indulge in the pleasurable image of you taking off his pants; instead, he watched you in a dreamy haze, zonked out on whatever meds the hospital pharmacy had provided him. 

After Eddie was leaned up against your headboard, nestled safely within a fortress of pillows and blankets, you presented him with what you managed to rescue from the remnants of his former home. 

“I didn’t find much,” you apologized, watching him run his fingers over the snapped strings of his guitar. “But I brought back what I could. Your porno mags were done for.” 

Eddie laughed, looking up at you with those wide, soulful eyes that made you want to float away into the atmosphere. A snarky retort danced to the tip of his tongue, but fell completely flat on his lips. He couldn’t even joke - he was just so thankful for what you’d done for him. Naturally, however, he couldn’t think of the words to actually come out and say that to you, so he occupied himself with sorting through his cassettes. 

“Oh.” 

He paused when he came to one without a label on the case; just a piece of notebook paper scribbled with the words FOR EMERGENCIES in red ink, his chaotic scrawl taking up as much space as it possibly could. 

“Uh... here.” 

He handed the cassette out to you. You furrowed your brow, hesitantly accepting it. 

“What's this?”

Eddie anxiously cleared his throat.

“It’s, uh... I made it. After Dustin told me music could help.” 

You opened the case, unraveling the crumpled piece of paper within. There was a list written on it, the black scratchings bleeding and hardly legible, but in a sequence you would recognize anywhere. 

They were songs. Your favorite songs. Twelve of them, each close to your heart for a different reason, but all earth-shatteringly personal in their own way. 

You gazed back up at him, blinking away the tears that had started to form in the corners of your eyes. 

“Eddie...” you whispered. Your voice cracked, words faltering and dissipating completely before you could get them out. He blushed, peering at you timidly from under his lashes. 

“I couldn’t let him get you,” he admitted. “The thought of losing you... fucking terrified me. Fuck, that’s why I even got up in the first place. I thought I was as good as dead, but then I thought of you... of leaving you alone with just Steve and those other dipshits to comfort you, of never seeing your face or... or hearing your laugh again. I couldn’t do it. So I got up and just... fucking ran. Ran for my fucking life.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. 

“I thought running made me a coward,” he whimpered. “But I ran for you when it would’ve been easier to just lay down let myself die. I ran for you because... because... I couldn’t leave you. Not without saying goodbye.” 

You sniffled, a baffled smile cracking across your features as you wiped at your face, fingers shaking as they dabbed at your tears.

"Eddie Munson," you breathed, "if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were in love with me."

He chuckled, blushing furiously. Both of you kept weeping, the sounds of hiccups and congested breaths filling the silent space around you.

"You know the nurse who discharged me thought we were married?" he told you.

You laughed, reaching out to brush a speck of saltwater from the round of his cheek.

"Really?"

He nodded, grinning.

"Yeah. Told me it was weird they didn't have a spouse listed on my chart. What's worse is I knew immediately she was talking about you."

You couldn't stop smiling. His hand found yours in his lap, taking it within his and kissing it, running his lips absently over your knuckles. His thumb grazed the back of your palm, his rough, calloused skin feeling softer than cotton. You could hold him like that forever.

"I love you," you whispered.

"Oh, thank god," Eddie gasped. He fell forward into you, clunking his forehead against yours, to which you could only laugh. "I didn't know if I should say it, I'm so sorry. I love you so fucking much."

You took his face in your hands and kissed him, your lips slotting together like they'd always been meant for one another, a key into a lock. He tasted of dry blood and weak hospital coffee, sweeter than anything you'd ever savored. His mouth was chapped, his kiss tender. When you pulled apart, he met you with the same gorgeous smile that stole your heart in the first place.

"Kiss me like that every day," you begged. "Promise me."

"Oh, angel," Eddie exhaled. "I would give you my soul if you asked for it."

The mattress you'd set up for yourself in the corner of your bedroom was promptly removed. Seeing how happy, how safe you were sleeping in Eddie's arms, your parents stopped questioning whether or not he should stay.

🌹💀 get your eddie fix 💀🌹

#idk why but chasing cars got stuck in my head while i was writing this?? #eddie munson #muerta's works #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fix it fic #i had no fuckin clue how to end this lmao

[lilaccrxsh]

let your heart be light - Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Description: Christmas eve with your boyfriend, Maverick, at the Bradshaw's :D

Content warnings: alcohol (wine), mentions of starting a family, mentions of sex but no actual sex

Word count: just a quick 1k

A/N: this started as a maladaptive daydream and I just had to quickly write it down :)

“Uncle Mav, Aunt Y/N, come and put cookies out for Santa with me!” 

Little Bradley’s voice rang out throughout the Bradshaw household as soon as you and your boyfriend stepped into the home. The kid raced to the front door, crashing into both of you in an attempt to hug your legs at the same time. Carole sighed at her son’s behaviour, but a wide smile was seen on her face regardless. 

“Hey, baby Goose.” Maverick leant down to hug the little boy as arms were thrown around his neck. “Someone seems excited…”

“It’s Christmas eve!” Bradley exclaimed. 

“I’d never have guessed.” Pete laughed as Bradley let go of him to show off the Christmas pajamas he was wearing. The rest of the house was equally Christmassy. Paper chains, supposedly made by Bradley, were hung around the ceiling. The warm glow from the lights on a Christmas tree flooded into the hall from the main room. 

“I’m so sorry we’re late.” You said to Carole, handing over the bottles of wine and bag of food you had brought with you. “The number of cars on the road…”

“Don’t apologise, Y/N! You’re here now, that's all that matters. Just in time to help Bradley with gifts for Santa.” She winked as her son grabbed you and Maverick, a larger hand in each one of his, and pulled you in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Mommy and I have made cookies!” 

There were indeed about a dozen chocolate chip cookies laid out on a plate on the table. 

“How many do you think Santa would like? One? Two? Three?”

“I think Santa may only manage one or two.“ Goose had joined the party in the kitchen. Bradley nodded in his father’s direction and chose the two largest to put onto a smaller plate. Carole and Goose shared a knowing look. 

“Milk! We need milk!” 

“Has he been this excited all day?” You whispered to Carole, feeling as if the excitement was infectious. 

“Try all week.” Carole replied. You chuckled, watching Goose help Bradley pour a glass of milk. 

“Mommy, what about the reindeer? They need to be fed too.” Bradley’s eyes were wide and imploring. 

“I’ve saved them some carrots.” There was a glint in Carole’s eyes. “Your dad will show you where they are.” 

It was only when a complete spread of cookies, a glass of milk, and three carrots (Bradley had wanted nine, one for each reindeer) were put out on the table, that Bradley’s energy started to waver. All five of you were in the sitting room, the adults with full wine glasses, Bradley curled up in between you and Pete on the sofa. His head was in your lap, your hand smoothing through the soft curls on the top of his head. You looked up and over to Pete, who was watching the both of you with the softest expression you had ever seen. 

“I think it’s time for bed…” Carole said, as Bradley’s eyes were fluttering open and closed in an attempt to stay awake. 

“But I want to stay here!” It was a weak plea as tiredness was evident in his voice. 

“But Santa won’t come if you aren’t asleep.” Goose piped up. 

“Ok…” He conceded. “But I want Uncle Mav to take me up.” 

Bradley sat up from your lap, making grabby hands at your boyfriend. Pete shuffled closer to you on the couch, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before scooping his God-son up into his arms, Bradley’s cheek squishing into his shoulder. Your heart swelled at the sight. All of you followed Pete up the stairs, watching as Pete gently lay the boy down onto his bed and tucked him under the covers.

“Goodnight baby Goose, sleep well, yeah?” Maverick smoothed his hand over Bradley’s curls. He then stepped back, joining you near the door so Carole and Goose could say goodnight to their son. You lent into Pete, allowing your head to rest comfortably onto his shoulder, his arm around your waist. Carole hooked a colourful stocking over the end of Bradley’s bed. The boy mumbled something that might have resembled ‘Goodnight’, before rolling over to sleep. 

The door was closed behind everyone, then Goose said, “Shall we get this party started then?” 

+ + +

It was later on, after deciding that following Bradley to bed was a good idea, you were laying with Pete on the Bradshaw’s guest bed. You were content, snuggling into Pete’s warm chest as you lay on your side. One of Pete’s hands was in your hair, fingers tangling within the strands. 

“Seeing you with Bradley…” Maverick trailed off, as if lost in thought. You hummed to prompt him to continue. You nestled your head further onto his torso. 

“I’m just imagining our children running around on Christmas eve.”

You bit down on your lip before saying, “That’s sweet.” 

“Don’t call me ‘sweet’.”

“Cute, then.” 

Even in the darkness, you could tell his cheeks had blushed with colour.

“But last time I checked, Mav, we didn’t have any children.” You joked, hoping you could hide just how happy Pete’s musings had made you. 

“You do know there’s an easy fix for that…” 

“Peter Mitchell, I am not having sex with you at the Bradshaw’s!” Your loud whisper was accompanied by a teasing slap aimed at his chest. You felt his laugh through your own body as he wrapped his arms around you tighter. You squealed as you were pulled on top of him, your legs naturally falling onto either side of his. 

“I will kiss you though.” Your voice was low and sultry, lips brushing over Maverick’s in a ghost of a kiss. He met you in the middle, kissing you properly. 

“Ok,” He said, moving to kiss your neck, “a new years resolution then.” 

"I shall hold you to that, Mitchell."

Merry Christmas guys! 🎄💖

#top gun #top gun fic #top gun x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader #lilaccrxsh

[beanzfandoms]

┃Coffee Please~┃☕

Pairing: Dean x Sister! reader x Sam 

Description: The youngest Winchester wakes up exhausted from an awful night of sleep. She has never had coffee before but seeing her brothers have a cup, she wants to see if it will help perk her up too.

Warnings: slight swearing

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

          (Name) opens her eyes as a hand around her shoulder begins to shake her lightly. Her older brother, Dean, hovers over the bed she slept in, his face dim compared to the sun coming through the window behind him. Wrinkles form at the end of his eyes as a smile quirks onto his lips.

          “Five more minutes,” (Name) mumbles while tugging the patterned quilt over her nose. Dean’s smile darkens, olive green eyes glimmering with mischief, and he took a step to the right. She hisses and shields herself from the beaming light with the back of her hand.

          “Sammy will be back in a few minutes,” Dean says, chuckling at his sister’s reaction.

          “So? Let me sleep until he gets here...” (Name) groans. She turns her back to him, hiding her face in the bicep of her arm.

          “Alright then, but we’re leaving right when he does. I just thought you would like a bit of time to do your girly stuff,” Dean replies, leaning against the window and looking out. “Oh, here comes Baby,” he lies after getting a grumble as a response. 

          (Name) throws her covers off, grabbing her bag by the handle, and flounces into the motel bathroom with a slam of the door.

          “Don’t stay in there too long,” Dean calls out.

          “Shut it!”

         (Name), back hunched forward, came out with a new set of clothes on. She throws her off-brand converse to the floor, taking a seat at the small dining table, and rubs her eyes harshly to rid of the tiredness.

          “How did you sleep?” Dean asks in a serious tone when noticing her exhausted state.

          “Like shit,” his sister replies while supporting her chin with the palm of her hands.

          “Swear.” 

          “You and Sammy cuss all the time,” (Name) said in defense, crossing her bare feet on the wooden chair. 

          “Because we’re adults, you’re just a baby.”

          “I’m fifteen!”

          “And?” Dean shrugs, sitting at the end of one of the beds. He tugs his jacket over his shoulders, looking at his sister with the most salient expression.

          “My god,”(Name) whispers to herself, trying to hide the small smile that twitched at the edge of her lips.

          Dean opens his mouth say something else; however, the front door opens to reveal Sam with two steaming cups of coffee. Shutting the door with the heel of his shoe, he then passes Dean one of the cups to drink.

          “Papers dating back to fifty years ago have retold occurrences where bodies were found mutilated on the outskirts of town, such as Emelia Roberts. A few locals reported to have seen a tall black entity hanging around the old gas station two miles north from the court house,” Sam explains before taking a sip of his beverage. 

          (Name) watched longingly at the perk up juice in his hand, wanting nothing more than to jug it down to wake herself up. She smacks her cheeks to help focus on her brothers’ conversation on the monster that has been terrorizing the people of the community they were inhabiting for a few days.

          “Should we start there?” Sam asks, giving his sister a confusing glance before turning his attention back to Dean. 

          “We need to go back into town and ask around for any info we can get. We’ll head for the gas station near dark to avoid any run-ins with the owner,” Dean said while grabbing his gun from the bedside drawer and placing it into his jean pocket. Sam began to gather his things as well but (Name) keeps her position in the chair. Her head is pressed on the surface of the table, taking glimpses at the cup Dean had set down in front of her.

          “(Name)-” Sam starts.

          “Can I have some coffee too?”

          The two brothers stopped in their tracks, looking at their sister with amusement. (Name) turns her head in their direction, a humdrum expression on her face.

          “Uh, why?” Sam asks, removing his cup’s lid from his mouth.

          “Because,” She replies with a lazy shrug.

          “Okay?” Sam looks at Dean with an arched eyebrow.

          “I’m exhausted,” she continues, “it seems to help you so maybe it will help me too.”

          They laugh, humored with her pensive mood. Dean extends his hand towards his cup in front of her, gesturing for her to pick it up. 

          “Is it good?” (Name) asks, holding the Styrofoam between her hands, relaxing under the warm touch.

          “I don’t know,” Dean says with a smirk, “You’re the one who wanted to try it so try it.”

          (Name) presses the tip to her mouth, flinching as the hot liquid goes down her throat. She looks up at her brothers with a broadening smile.

          “This is mine now,” She motions to the object in her hand before taking another sip.

          “I don’t think so, chick.” Dean snatches it from her and cradles it in his armpit. Sam laughs again as (Name) lets out a long-noted groan. 

          “Here,” Sam replies, motioning for her to take his. “You can have mine.”

          “No! You already drank half of yours,” she whines, slinging her arms like a child with a tantrum. “I want Dean’s.”

          “Not gonna happen,” Dean dismisses. 

          “Why not?” (Name) argues, standing up to press her jaw against his shoulder.

          “Cause it’s mine,” he responds, flicking her nose.

          (Name) glares at him before giving Sam the best puppy eyes she could muster.

          “There’s no need for that, (Name). When we head out, we’ll stop by somewhere and buy you one... and refill Dean’s now empty cup,” Sam says, pointing to their brother who was guzzling down the rest of his coffee.

          “What? She drank most of it,” He states.

          “You two are children,” Sam mutters, slipping his bag over his head.

          “Hey, She’s the child,” Dean said, walking out the door.

          “I’m fifteen!”

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#supernatural x reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester x sister reader

[dc418writes]

The Sweetest Treat

✨Pairing✨: CEO!Steve Rogersxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Looks like the gruff, businessman is a bit of a romantic after all

⚠️: 18+ ONLY!! MINORS DNI!!! Brief mention of nudity, allusions to adult happy fun times, pretty much all fluff

A/N🎙️: Hey guys☺️! This is a cute Valentine’s Day drabble that’s also gonna be a sneak peak/teaser into a new short series idea I’ve been thinking of that I hope you guys like💕!

Also in honor of it being love month🥰 I got a few stories I’m gonna try to put out (some typical and some not so much👀). No promises all of them will come out, but hopefully I can as part of a little Valentines Day celebration✨!

*Disclaimer!: although collage was made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found on Pinterest*

The mouse-like squeaks are the first to wake you, cracking open your eye to the dim room. Then the whispers from what sounds like two women are next to completely pull you from your slumber as they slide the curtains open to let the welcoming sun fill the once quiet space.

“Bonjour madame,” the blonde cheerfully smiles. Her burgundy pencil skirt suit pristine without a wrinkle in sight. “We’re here to assist with your day of pampering.”

A yawn slips past your lips as you sit up squinting from the sudden brightness. Sleep and confusion still heavy in your mind looking around to see a cart filled with toast, fruit, pancakes, and more. Steve didn’t tell you anything about an event yesterday.

“I um, think you have the wrong room.” Her eyebrows furrow looking down at her clipboard and skimming along whatever words were written.

“This is room 628, no? And you are Mr. Rogers’ guest, Y/N?”

“Well yea but-,”

“He ordered this for you. And left this note madame,” she adds handing you the small folded paper you can already tell is his handwriting.

I know a thing or two about romance lolli. See you tonight at 7

“Flowers for Miss Y/N,” another voice announces knocking at the door. The brunette next to the blonde - you assume the assistant - opens the door with a pleasant “thank you” before returning back to your bedroom with a bouquet of light purple tulips. You can’t stop your lips from curling as she places them in your hands. Their sweet smell immediately filling your nostrils while you delicately run the pad of your finger along one of the soft petals.

“First we do breakfast. Then shopping, followed by massage and facial, hair, makeup, and mani-pedi. This okay?”

“Yes, definitely more than.”

-

Sitting at the downstairs bar, Steve looks down at the black Rolex on his wrist for the tenth time in the span of five minutes. His usual calm demeanor, noticeably a bit antsy waiting for you to join him. He couldn’t even focus during his meetings constantly wondering if you were enjoying yourself. If those working were handling you with the care you deserved and granting your every wish.

Seven on the dot and you were nowhere to be found. Given, you were probably on your way down now, but what if you weren’t? What if you were actually offended by his gesture and misinterpreting his note to think he only did this for his ego?

He waits though, trying to calm his mind as he fixes his tie then adjusts the sleeves of his black tux.

7:05 and still nothing.

Just as his Italian leather dress shoes hit the tile ready to journey up to the room, he feels every ounce of oxygen leave his body watching you stride towards him. Your curls sat beautifully atop your head in a bun, while the pink satin dress clung to you like a glove. It’s high slit and deep v showing your smooth, shimmery skin tempting him - and probably every other man in sight - for just one touch.

“Sorry, I would’ve been down sooner but emergency potty break,” you shyly smile.

“S’alright, and definitely worth the wait.” His grin has you flustered and whole face heating. “You look beautiful Y/N.”

“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself Mr. Rogers.”

He chuckles a “thanks” before offering his bent arm to escort you out of the bar beginning to grow busier. “You ready?”

Nodding, you let him lead you through the grand lobby where eyes followed both of you out the double doors held open by the two men usually standing guard there. Whispers flowing with every step wondering who you were and in awe of your beauty.

The both of you, really.

Of course you saw how gazes lingered on Steve as if entranced by his walk dripping with confidence. His dominant aura holding them hostage and refusing to let them go.

Tightening your hold on his bicep ever so slightly, you remind yourself that you’re the one on his arm before your head tries to dip low letting that “fish out of water” feeling ruin your excitement.

“Mr. Rogers. Madam,” the chauffeur greets with a warm smile standing beside the all black sedan and holding open the back passenger side door for you both to enter. It’s interior black as well with smooth, leather seats and that new car smell still present along the lining.

“Where to sir?”

“Rêvasser please.” With a simple nod, the car carefully pulls onto the street while Steve rises the partition with the press of an overhead button.

“You know, you didn’t have to go through all this to prove you’re a romantic,” you state meeting his glacier like eyes serious as if he was about to make you a deal. Well, another one.

“I’m not doing this just to prove something Y/N. You’re part of this agreement too, and I wanna make sure I’m doing for you just as much as you’re doing for me - and no, not out of obligation. If I didn’t truly care, I wouldn’t have done anything at all. You know that.”

He was right. Steve was a no nonsense type of man who moved with intent.

What he said, he meant, and if he did something, he was all in.

There’s a sudden heaviness in the air as your gazes stay locked. You momentarily forget to breathe under the intensity - yet underlying softness - of his eyes before you can’t take it anymore. Shyly looking down to your fingers and painted nails in your lap.

“Well, um t-thank you,” you nervously smile. “So this place we’re going, you’ve been before?”

“Once or twice. It’s nice; I think you’ll love it.” You nod, but the way your knee bounces he can tell what flashes through your mind. “Hey, it’s just us. No associates or higher ups to impress.”

Besides you you think lifting your head to flash him a softer smile noticeably more relaxed.

It’s only a few minutes later that the car slows to stop in front of a building seemingly made of glass that stood just as high as the others around. The silver accents along the doors and walls in the form of frames and screens made it look futuristic as you and Steve were led through the dimly lit lobby to the large elevators towards the back.

“Are we eating on the moon?,” you jokingly ask taking note of the RFT button brightly lit at the top of the panel.

“Something like that,” Steve chuckles. His fingers slipping through yours by your side makes tingles spread up the entirety of your arm while anxiously waiting for the final ding to signal you’d arrived to whatever he had planned for you.

“Mr. Rogers. Miss,” the lean, suited man smiles extending his arm just as the metal doors slide open to reveal a runway of white petals leading to a circular table. The only table waiting on the quiet rooftop deck.

The sheer tablecloth - covered with two elegant place settings - lightly blows from the passing breeze appearing even more dreamy than before as you both step closer. A small smile spreads across Steve’s lips watching you take in everything with lips slightly parted and clear awe in your features. It surprisingly has a redness and heat creeping along his ears making him feel like a teenage boy.

Coincidentally, the last time he ever blushed.

“What do you think?”

“I honestly can’t right now,” you softly laugh looking from the table to the amazing view of clouds and a setting sun painting the sky a mix of orange and pink in front of you. “Steve this…I…it’s beautiful.”

That adorable smile, along with the little crinkles beside your eyes, will forever be ingrained in his mind. The way the setting sun complimented your skin making you look so ethereal and goddess-like, he’s seconds from picking up his old hobby of drawing again just so he can capture this moment to hold for himself.

God, your beauty was something that wasn’t found every day. Just a mere glimpse of you and Steve could feel his usual hard and unreadable composure falter.

And this wasn’t just about your physical features. The way your light personality made him stray from the calculated man his position created him to be - always looking for the next deal with no time for distractions - and brought a new burst of life he quickly wanted to chase after.

Pulling out your seat, he waits for you to get comfortable before helping to scoot in your chair; loving the faint whiff of your sweet perfume that tickles his nostrils. Your eyes stay glued to his chest where his white button down stretches against his pecs as he removes his suit jacket before taking his own seat to join you.

Mentally he’s smirking feeling your eyes pleasurably enjoying such a small task, and when he briefly looks up from his menu to see you quickly look down at yours, obviously flustered, he physically feels his ego grow twice it’s size.

“See anything you like?,” he asks feigning innocence and pure wonder as if referring to the list of gourmet dishes, but you both know otherwise.

-

Your giggles can surely be heard down the hall as Steve effortlessly carries you to your room. The two bottles of champagne and award worthy five course meal clearly enhancing your bubbly and playful mood.

At your mere casual comment of being ready to get out your heels, he took it upon himself to lift you in his bulky arms as soon as you entered the lobby. The receptionist, and a couple other onlookers, either quietly giggling or awing at the sweet gesture.

“Steve I can walk perfectly fine,” you whisper ducking your head into his neck trying to hide from the attention.

“I know,” he simply responds before nodding hello to the bellhop as the older gentleman hits the top button for the clearly occupied businessman.

“You two have a good night.”

When you finally reach your door, he gently places you on your feet to remove the keycard from his pocket. All the while, his large hand still on your waist keeping you close in front of him.

“Thank you,” you smile as he ushers you in the elegant suite. “And I better not get a bill from your chiropractor. I tried to get you to put me down in the elevator.”

He simply just held you tighter telling you to, “enjoy the ride.”

“You won’t,” he softly chuckles.

With a dramatic, euphoric sigh, you flop back on the bed with arms above your head as you let your body be comforted and caressed by the plush, Egyptian cotton. So incredibly soft and cool you just knew lying on a cloud would feel exactly the same. He knew you didn’t mean for it to, but watching you innocently lie there with all your curves and dress slightly rising as you gently squirmed getting more comfortable had his feet glued and front of his pants beginning to feel tighter wishing he was the reason for those little movements and moans.

Clearing his throat, he tries to distract himself with removing his tie but it’s embarrassingly more difficult than usual.

“Need some help there?”

“N-No..I guess I uh tied this knot a little too tight.”

“Here let me.” Before he can protest, you’re at his chest carefully working at the tightened knot - and his eyes unable to leave your lips pressed together in concentration - until it’s loose and able to be pulled through his collar. “Done.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Although finished you don’t move, and neither does Steve holding his tie by his side. Each of your eyes taking in every beautiful facial feature of the other until they fall to each other’s waiting lips. You’re the first to move slowly leaning in until your mouth’s make contact. Sparks tingling against your skin and tongue with every swipe only making you crave more as you press your body closer to his.

“Don’t feel like you have to do this,” he breaths resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t. And knowing you’d never expect anything in return only makes me want you more Stevie.”

He doesn’t even cringe on your use of his childhood nickname he’s that entranced by you. Plus it just sounds oh so sweet rolling off your tongue.

His left hand finds the side of your neck as the other slowly slides the strap of your dress down your shoulder so he’s able to kiss and nip with no barriers. You’re a mess of slick and whimpers already feeling his soft lips travel from your collarbone to the top of your breast. Soon he’s back to your lips as if trying to steal your breath - and ability to think clearly at this rate - until his body comfortably presses you into the mattress and your legs automatically wind around his hips. Your fingers move frantically trying to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, but then your wrists are locked above your head while Steve’s nimble finger teases between your slit dragging upwards until he reaches your needy little nub.

You try to suppress your moans in fear of being too loud as your back begins to arch, but the way he circles and rubs it just right you can’t help the way your lips slightly part allowing them to easily fill the warmly lit space.

“Tonight’s all about you Lolli, remember?”

#steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogersxblack!reader #steve rogersxreader #steve rogersxwoc #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Broken Pasts, Mental Lasts.

Ellie Williams x Reader

Summary - when Ellie doesn’t return from a patrol, you get worried.

Warnings - cannibals, blood, knives, past trauma, dead parents n shooting people obvi

A/N - it’s long and wordy and the plots messy and confusing and I hate it but imma post it anyway :’)

You politely smiled at Maria as you joined the three adults at the end of the bar. Tommy, Joel and Maria had met up for their weekly drinks and you were due to meet Ellie…2 hours ago.

“Have you guys seen Ellie?”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed, his wrinkles only deepening within the depths of his skin before he moved to look at his, still, very broken watch.

“She should be here. Patrol ended almost 3 hours ago.”

You nodded and looked around, scanning your surroundings with the hope of catching the tiniest glimpse of the brunette you were getting so worried for. “I know. I was meant to be meeting her 2 hours ago. I’ve circled Jackson but not even Jessie’s seen her.”

“Have you checked the log book? Did she sign back in?” Maria asked, lifting her glass to her lips before swallowing the remainder of the alcohol.

You shook your head, already pushing your body off the bar and heading towards the main gates. You had to sign out and in every time you go out on patrol for safeguarding as well as identification reasons. It was introduced after a couple didn’t come back from their patrol, never to be found again.

“I’m coming with you.” Joel announced as you started walking away, jumping off of his stool, thanking Tommy and Maria, then jogging to keep up with your fast pace. “Who was she on patrol with?”

Joel finally managed to walk next to you, trying to think of every possible place Ellie could of gone if she has in fact returned from patrol. Ellie always returned. Always came back to you.

So why not today?

“Um…some dude called Jack, I think?” You climbed up the stairs to the look out where the book was kept over night. The sky was already darkening and clouds threatened to rain with how grey they were. Being stuck out of Jackson with the night approaching in the beginning of winter was not only dangerous but it decreased chance of survival significantly.

So, when you finally found the paper Ellie’s name was on, your heart sank faster than ever.

“Joel, she never came back.” You toughened your voice, words coming out monotonous as bile settlers in your stomach. Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? You could of been looking for her already.

You handed him the book with an expression which could only be described as terrified. You could see the slight change in his too; the way his eyebrows sunk, lips turned into a line before he threw the book to the side.

“You get the horses. I’ll run to tell Tommy we’re leaving.”

Without hesitation, you nodded and ran downstairs, heading immediately towards the stables where you’d tack up both yours and Joel’s horse.

You waited maybe 10 minutes before Joel came back, Tommy and Maria running after him to open the gates.

“We’ll wait for you at the look out until you come back.” Maria told you, handing you a bag with the essential first aid and some extra vital survival equipment. You nodded, opening the bag and scanning its content before thanking her again and placing it on your back.

You were already sat on yours, but Joel got into his horse and the second the gates started moving you were gone, galloping down towards the trail Ellie was meant to be doing.

It wasn’t until now that you’d realised how much your heart was beating. Regardless of how cold the weather was, the blood racing through your body was enough to warm you up. Your fingers were twitchy, eyes wide with adrenaline as you slowed down your horse to look over your surroundings.

“(Y/N).”

Your head snapped towards his voice, eyes moving from Joel and towards to where he was pointing.

“Fire?” You questioned, brows furrowed as you moved your horse so you could get a better view. It was light enough to see the smoke, but if you didn’t move now there’s be a high likelihood that you wouldn’t be able to find the building. “Let’s check it out.”

Not to mention the building being completely off the trail Ellie was taking. An ambush was looking like the most likely thing that happened, but nonetheless, you just wanted to find Ellie and go home.

“You been on this trail?” Joel asked with a little hesitation, getting off his horse to start walking towards the fairly large building.

You shook your head, taking out your knives into your palm. “No, it’s fairly new so it doesn’t even have a name yet.”

Joel hummed, both of you standing either side of the double doors that led into the building.

“Which means this ain’t been scouted yet.” He concluded with a breathy sigh, taking out his gun and loading it. The weather suddenly got a little cold, the squeaking of the old metal doors when Joel pushed them open made you nod sharply, crouching before entering the premises.

The second you stepped a foot in the rotting building the most revolting smell entered your nostrils. You looked over your shoulder at Joel, who was also cringing as he inhaled inside the building for the first time.

It was honestly sickening, but the more you looked at Joel, the more your understood. Although absolutely disgusting, the smell was familiar to both you and him. Memories flooding back of when you were a child, spending hours and hours, days on end in that God awful cage.

“Fucking cannibals.” You turned back and started walking again, slowly opening each and every door you came across to try and find Ellie. You secretly hoped she wasn’t actually here, and maybe stuck in some abandoned library because her horse was tired.

Hoping wasn’t going to get you of the situation you were currently in though. The stench only increased in strength the further you got into the building.

There was this one door which you opened, pushing the tip of your knife into the rotting wood in order for you to see the inside. What you saw made you stop, completely standing up from your crouching position in order to stand in the doorway, completely stunned at the scene in front of you.

Joel walked up behind you, looking over your shoulder and stopping in his tracks too.

Jars upon jars stacked on each other alongside broken boxes with just more jars in them lay scattered around the perimeter of the room. A surgical table, a half broken chair and a bucket stood in the middle, everything seemingly purposely placed as it is.

“What’s in the jars?” Joel asked in a quiet whisper.

“Body parts.” You responded, your top lip upturned in disgust. You didn’t want to remember your younger day as a cannibal prisoner. So getting in and out sounded absolutely amazing right now. “Come on, we have to-”

A loud bang caught your attention, the two do you immediately rushing to where the sound had come from. The closer you got, the louder the muffled sounds of voices became, a door being the only thing in between you and whoever was at the other side.

“Ellie.” You looked through the gap of the door, watching as two people started walking closer to her. She was sat on the floor, hands tied behind her back, a table leg stopping her from escaping.

“I said answer me.” One of the men couched in front of her, grabbing a handful of her hair and making her look up at him. Her face was covered in blood, eyes somewhat drowsy as she tried smirked at him.

You were about to push the door open up until your were grabbed by your shoulders.

“We’ve got two trespassers!” The one that grabbed you laughed, pushing you harshly against the wall next to the door. The two interrogating Ellie froze, starting to run towards the door to check what the commotion was about. Before they could reach it though, you clutched your knives tighter, slicing one right into the guys neck.

His blood oozed down your arm, and soon enough the other two guys walked though the door to see their guy on the floor bleeding. Joel was fighting off the other guy who attacked him when you were grabbed, so I’m total there were 4 visible ones.

Well 3 now.

You threw one of the knives towards the one strangling Joel, hitting him right in the back where he definitely wouldn’t wake up. Unfortunately, too occupied with Joel’s attacker, one of the other guys managed to grab you, spin you and push you through the now fully open door where Ellie was kept.

Your back collided with the floor, knocking every single oxygen particle there was in your lungs. The knives slipped out your grip, spilling just out of your reach as the man got on top of you, pinning you onto the floor with his hands around your neck.

“GET OFF OF THEM.” You heard Ellie shout, watching as you struggled against the man who was triple your weight.

“Did you go to the wrong house, sweetheart?” He laughed as your face turned red, your hands clutching onto his wrists as he only applied more pressure onto your throat.

“N- No, I di- didn’t.” You struggled against his grip, air quickly running out of your system. “The le- least you could d- do is reme…ber me.”

It was enough to catch him off guard. The second he realised who you were, and that he actually knew you from the past his grip faltered momentarily. You kicked his crotch and elbowed his face, inhaling deeply and coughing profusely as he fell beside you.

Quickly stretching your arm to grab your knives, you picked one up and threw it at his leg, hearing him scream in pain.

For massive, 6”8 men, they were pathetic all weak. You weren’t surprised though. A diet of only human meat would do that to you.

You looked over at where Joel was, still on the other side of the door, fighting the last guy standing.

You took your knives and stood up, spinning quickly to run towards your girlfriend, who was still unfortunately bloody and injured.

“Are you okay?” You asked, crouching down next to her to reach behind her, cutting the rope binding her wrists together with your knife. One of your hands instantly cupped her face as you were doing so, checking her for injuries in the mean time.

She nodded and you helped her stand, stretching your hand out for her to take.

“Where are you bleeding from?” You asked, hearing Joel finally walk in into the room you were in. He a was a little bloody but thankfully it wasn’t his, so as long as no more people arrive, you were okay.

All three heads turned when the guy who’d leg was bleeding started laughing, that shit eating grin plastered on his face as he true down to heavily lay on his back.

“Did you miss us, (Y/N)?” You clenched your jaw, walking a little towards him as he started talking again. Joel was next to Ellie now, watching as you talked with the person who just tried to kill you. “I’m sure Nick missed you. Oh wait, you stabbed him in the neck.”

You stood above his body, cringing when he smiled up at you.

“Daddy wouldn’t be proud of you, you know? All the hard work he put into building this community-”

“I don’t need dad to be proud of me.”

“What about mum? How proud would-”

You kicked his face, blood already escaping his nose. He only laughed after shaking it off, licking his lips as he turned back to face you. You didn’t give him chance to start talking again. You kneeled next to him, pulled out your gun and put in to his temple.

“You don’t get to talk about mum, not after what you did.”

He laughed again, and it was pissing you off. He didn’t deserve to speak.

“Shoot m-”

You did.

You pressed the trigger and you didn’t even look back at him, standing up and placing you gun back.

Ellie walked towards you, and grabbed your bicep, making sure you were okay.

“Who is that?” She asked, grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards her.

“That was my brother.”

THE END

#ellie x dina #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie #ellie the last of us #joel and ellie #tlou part two #tlou2 imagine #tlou imagine #tlou x reader #tlou show #tlou smut #tlou spoilers #tlou series #tlou2 smut #tlou2 x reader #the last of us #the last of us 2

[themsource]

Hi! This is Ruse from Cherished!

I was wanting to request Sans helping a young reader that he's SUPER attracted to with homework! With hair being a thing with him maybe? I love my hair and want to think he would too!

Please and thank you!!!

Aw! So sweet of you to actually send me something! Sure I can do that for you ^^ And given the way you found me I think I might know how you want this to go. My first request of 2024! WOOT! 🎉I'll place it below a cut so those that wish to avoid it can if they want!

(This is written by an Adult for Adults. Please don't read if below 18 and sensitive to taboo topics or anything of the sort.)

Rating: M

TW: Awfulness (?)

Your eyes were very pretty. 

He could see little flecks of gold within the irises if he looked hard enough, little highlights of shimmer to bring out the very beguiling color they rested in. One of the things he loved most about seeing you was the chance of having those mesmerizing sights set on him, being the center of their attention.

The scratching of you crossing off your answer drew his gaze down.

…your hands were so tiny.

He very appropriately looked away.

And then he remembered you were both alone in the house.

His eyelights very slowly drifted back over.

Briefly Sans wondered what the size comparison would be if���

“I don’t get it!” You shouted hopelessly, throwing down your pen with a pout. “I hate homework! Can we just throw it in the shredder?!”

He chuckled.

cute.

cute and a firecracker.

“aw kid, don’t be that way, it’s easy. look.” Sans reached for the pen and started to scribble on the paper, his thoughts temporarily going towards safer ground as his love of math took over. “let’s draw a line with zero in the middle. going right from zero, what comes next?”

You frowned. “One?”

“yep.” He nodded amused. “and then two and three…”

Sans made a mark and drew the number below it as he spoke, all the way up to ten. 

“now we’re going to go left from zero. this is where you get your opposites. the opposite of nothing is something, right? so back to the question: what’s opposite of one?” The way you stared at the paper as if you could will the understanding into your mind made his soul thrum.

“I don’t know…” You sighed, voice wobbly. 

…So hopeless. 

…So lost.

so adorable.

Sans forced himself to look away so he could concentrate on trying to come up with a good example. “think of it like a mirror. when you hold up your left hand, what do you see?”

The deadpanned look you gave him as he looked back nearly made him snicker.

“My left hand.”

“yes, good.” he nodded. “now pretend you’re the one in the mirror copying the one standing outside. what hand would you be holding up?”

Sans felt a heavy hot lick of arousal up his spine as you furrowed your brows and so innocently held up your hands, darting those golden flecked eyes between them in such a wonderfully naive confusion. 

First you raised your left and then lowered it to raise your right.

He could feel his magic coalescing from watching understanding light up your eyes as you found an answer. It became more solid when you aimed that confident understanding at him only to lose it in an uncertain waver, your tone so weak and sweet to his non-existent ears.

“My…right?”

“bingo~” He praised.

The way your cheeks turned pink felt like a victory, turned him smug as he watched your shy grin appear. “but it’s still your hand, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, just the other one.” 

Sans tapped the pen’s nub to the left of the zero he’d crudely drawn.

You glanced down at it and across the row on the other side before answering.

“The opposite of one…is minus one?” He chuckled and nodded. 

“heh, yeah, but it’s called ‘negative’ when it’s a number on its own kid.”

Another tap of the pen, this time at the first question. “opposite of one?”

“Negative one!” 

The way you said that, so quick and so enthusiastic, had him dry swallowing.

“right again kiddo.” Carefully he handed the pen back, making sure not to accidentally touch you, because he wasn’t sure what he would do if he got just a taste of what your velvet soft skin felt like against his bones.

Sans didn’t trust himself.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to look.

And that’s what he did. 

He stared at you as you went about answering every question, cutely double checking with him and only continuing on once he hummed his agreement or nodded. All while he took in how the light of the window danced around your head like a halo and shone through the stray strands of your locks like stained glass, savored the lasting bloom of color on the apples of your cheeks that had yet to vanish.

Avidly watched the way your tiny hand moved and how your even tinier wrist flicked.

The second you finished you held up the paper like a trophy as you declared it loud and proud.

…his pelvis ached.

“good job buddy, proud of you.” He gestured at the living room. “how about we binge some of that show you like as a reward?”

Your shoulders slumped, and he swore his soul dimmed with just how sad you looked.

“Mom said I can’t watch tv. Not until I pass my test.”

What he said next was said with an intent that was anything but innocent. Was more an innuendo than as a casual remark as it should have been. 

“i won’t tell if you won’t.”

Your eyes met his.

And it was almost as if there was something—

But just as quickly the feeling vanished as you hopped to your feet, and jumped up and down like an excited little rabbit begging for a carrot.

“Oh please! Please! I can keep a secret!”

The chuckle he gave was ironic.

“i’m sure you can kid. go put it on and i’ll make some popcorn yeah?”

He stood up and…paused.

Touching your skin might’ve been too much for him, but your hair…

Sans considered your pretty wide eyes and giddy fidgeting as you looked up at him with a confused head tilt the longer he stood there unmoving, silently debating with himself. 

His soul was thrumming, his thoughts racing.

Very slowly, afraid to frighten a wild animal, he took a deep breath…and raised his hand.

Nervously he watched you glance up at it and then back at him but you didn’t move. 

Gently as he could, he rested it on the top of your head. 

The contact made him draw a harsh breath that he forcefully played off as a chuckle. He dared to move his hand just a little to tussle it, and happily dwelled in just how wonderful and light it felt between his phalanges and against his metacarpals.

Delicate, pleasant like spider silk.

“seriously kid, good job on the homework.”

You blushed again and he felt as if his patellas were going to buckle.

Especially when you said oh so shyly, meek, “Thanks for helping me.”

He really couldn’t help it.

“sure thing pal, happy to give you a hand anytime.” Sans winced as soon as he said it but you didn’t even notice. You instead gave him a bewitching giggle he wished he could’ve recorded and used for a ringtone, before spinning around and rushing to the living room.

He stood there a moment trying to breathe.

A grunt and pinch of his nasal ridge. “heh…i’m terrible.” 

Sans made a quick stop to the bathroom before washing his hands and going to make the popcorn.

#ask #request #undertale #sans/reader #okay so about my restraint i mentioned before #as a demisexual i only experience attraction when i fall for someone #so when you say 'SUPER attracted' theres going to be some sexualness to it because attraction/emotions/sexual feelings are all mixed for me #that's the personal experience i have #and that was asked as a focus so I didn't gloss over it #My writing

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Ten: Hello?

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: not a lot of warnings here, language, brief mentions of Dahlia’s trauma, therapy, making up, mentions of sex, mentions of angst, etc

A/N: More of a filler chapter than anything, but it’s still important. We’re making some serious progress and it’s a big push forward so don’t miss it! Next chapter is going to be heavier, smuttier and have some angst thrown in for good measure. You’re not going to want to miss it! Thank you once again to @bisexual-horror-fan for your help, beta reading and editing this for me. I appreciate your help more than I can put into words!

@lizey-thornberry as you want to be tagged.

Therapy sucks. Therapy sucks even more when it wasn’t even your choice to attend sessions to begin with.

Sitting in front of a stranger staring at me with faux concern was agitating to say the least, especially when she’s getting paid a hundred dollars an hour to do just that, stare at me until I break and confess all my deep dark secrets and let my trauma seep through the cracks left behind from Woodsboro. The only reason I attended in the first place was due to my parents and my doctors.

I’d spent the first few sessions sitting in silence, watching as the arms of the clock ticked and tocked until an hour went by, and I could go back to moping in peace.

I was getting better now, slowly. That wasn’t down to the therapist, the doctors or my family. It wasn’t down to Sidney or Randy. It wasn’t even really down to Mickey as much as at the time I believed that to be the case. No, I now know it was down to me, giving myself the opportunity to be raw and open with another human being, completely vulnerable in ways I never had before.

Life’s too short for regrets, so I don’t regret it at all.

The one thing I did regret, however, was how I’d left things with Randy.

I’d been seriously neglecting my friendship with him, and I knew reconciliations had to be made sooner rather than later. The issue was the two of us were both too stubborn to make the first move into forgiveness. Even as kids, when we fought, we simply wouldn’t talk to one another until one of us would throw a toy at the other and hit them across the head. But we were adults now, and I don’t think I’d get very far if I threw a Barbie doll at him anymore, as amusing the image in my head was.

“Dahlia Levine?” The sweet looking receptionist called my name with a warm smile, to which I half-heartedly returned as I forced myself to stand up, making my way down the familiar hall to my therapist's office, Dr. Lorraine Galloway.

The door was already open, but I still tapped my knuckles lightly on the wood twice, and she twisted around in her chair, nodding and smiling politely when she saw me, loosely gesturing toward the huge armchair across from her. I obeyed quietly, settling down on the comfortable cushion and folded my hands in my lap.

“How are you doing today, Miss Levine?” She asked, the notebook already settled onto her lap, simple, small, lined paper and one of those curled metal spines that binds the pages together, looking like a coiled phone cord. Her hand rests on the page, holding her dark blue and gold fountain pen, her position in her chair is relaxed, one leg folded over the other as she observed me, waiting for my response.

I shrugged, eyes trained on my hands as I responded, “Better, I guess? And please call me Dahlia.” I’d already had a fair number of sessions with her and asked to be referred to by my first name every single time, it was beginning to annoy me and that must have been evident in my tone, judging how I heard the light scribble of pen to paper, making me suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Was she seriously making a note of that?

“How’s college treating you, Dahlia? I haven’t seen you in a little over two months.”

Shrugging again, fingers itching to twist my ring, I replied, “Things have been good. I haven’t felt the need to bother coming in.”

I could feel her eyes fixed on me, and it was already pissing me off. Dr. Galloway wasn’t like my old therapist back in Woodsboro. She actively tried to engage with me, try and get me to speak and fucking feel, although she learned fairly quickly I was completely unwilling to discuss Stu. No amount of therapy will ever make me want to consciously relive any of that.

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss or share? You have the whole hour, remember?”

I hesitated for a second, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Dr. Galloway seemed to grasp at the straws and quickly added, “I’m here to listen,” before lightly placing her notebook onto her desk, leaning back in her chair and pushing her glasses up her nose.

“I… Uh…” I shifted awkwardly in my seat, settling on playing with my ring to try to comfort myself, push myself into talking. “Could I talk about my friend, Randy?”

“You can talk about whatever and whoever you want to, Dahlia. These sessions are yours.” Her hands opened, as if inviting me to go on, to which I awkwardly did so.

With a small sigh, I began to tell her about the last few months. About Mickey and Randy, and how impossibly guilty I felt that I’d been neglecting my friendship with the latter, practically threw him aside for some guy I was dating. She listened intently, and it honestly felt good that someone was listening to what I had to say with no judgment, even if she was getting paid hundreds of dollars to do so.

“Has Mickey ever given you or any of your friends reason to think he’d hurt you?” Dr. Galloway asked once I’d told the tale. Hesitating again, I nodded my head once, and she rested her chin against her hand, eyes urging me to go on.

“Well, a few months ago, before we started dating, Mickey fucked-” I cringed slightly at the word choice before correcting myself, “-sorry, slept with this girl at a party. Tricked me into going into the bedroom, so I’d see it.” I physically flinched at the memory, seeing that girl's face twisted in pleasure and Mickey fucking her from behind, eyes fixed on my face with that sick smirk on his face.

I hadn’t thought about that in a while, suppressed it to the dark dusty corners in my mind along with my other painful memories I’d sooner forget all about.

“And did Randy know about that?”

“No, I never told him. But I think he had an idea because it was after that night he started having reservations about Mickey and I- I just don’t know what to do.” Fuck, is this why people went to therapy? I could feel so many suppressed emotions rushing to the surface so fast it was making my head spin.

“Maybe your friend has a reason to be concerned, then.” She suggested with a small shrug.

“He doesn’t.” I insisted firmly, halting the twisting of the ring and shaking my head, “Yeah, Mickey can be kind of a dick, but no one else sees the side of him that I do. How patient and gentle he can be.”

“Then maybe that’s something you need to talk about with Randy. Communication in friendships is important, and it’s clear that he’s important to you.”

Randy was important to me. I thought about it as I walked back to campus, shivering at the crisp air and silently cursing myself for forgetting to bring my jacket with me.

He was important to me, so was Mickey in a very different way. I thought about how much I missed Randy, discussing everything and anything with him until the day turned to night. How he was a huge part of the reason I was even able to recover, him staying at my bedside whilst I was in the hospital, doing everything he could to make me smile, the perfect friend.

Once on campus, I found myself making a beeline toward the one room I knew Randy would be in; the theatre. He enjoyed working on film projects there, so I wasn’t surprised to walk up the steps and see him perched on top of a prop wall, legs swinging and brows furrowed in concentration as he squinted into the lens of his camera.

“Hey, Rand.”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, camera nearly tumbling out of his hands as he looked at me, blue eyes wide. His face twisted to something akin to indifference as he eyed me up and down, lips pursed, before he mumbled, “Hey.”

I anxiously inched closer to him until I was leaning beside him, looking up at him seriously, “I’m sorry.”

His expression changed to shock as his head cocked to the side, and he exclaimed, “The fuck did you just say to me?”

The grin broke out across my face before I could even register it, playfully pushing Randy’s leg with a, “Shut up, dickhead.”

“Sorry, I just never thought I’d live to see the day Dahlia Levine apologizes to me.” His tone was only half teasing.

“It’s long overdue. I’m sorry, I’ve been a really shitty friend lately, Randy.” I said with a sigh, eyes dropping.

“Dahlia, it’s not you I blame, you know that.” His tone had an edge to it, and I instantly knew who he was in fact blaming.

I looked back up at him, practically pleading now as I spoke, “Randy, please, you don’t have anything to worry about. Mickey isn’t going to do anything.”

Randy rolled his eyes with a scoff, carefully placing the camera down beside him, “So you actually are dating him? For fuck's sake, D.”

I was getting mad, but I kept it inside, taking his free hand that wasn’t gripping the camera slightly harder than was probably necessary into mine and squeezing it gently.

“Even if it is a mistake, it’s my mistake to make. He makes me happy, Randy.”

Randy frowned, looking down at me with his brows knitted together, “He really makes you happy?”

“Yes, he really does.” I spoke honestly, maintaining eye contact with him all the while. Randy knew I didn’t lie, so he had no reason to suspect otherwise. He simply sighed, placing the camera in his other hand down beside him before moving it to place over the top of mine and nodded his head, saying softly, “Fine. For God’s sake, I still think he’s a fucking dick, but if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

“So we’re friends again?” I asked hopefully, biting my lip as I awaited his response.

He rolled his eyes at me again, this time affectionately and released my hands, jumping down from the wall and pulling me into a tight hug. I closed my eyes, my arms wrapping around his waist as I hugged him back and his chin rested on the top of my head, the feeling comforting and familiar.

“Of course we are.” He said. I could tell he was smiling, but I know it didn’t quite reach his eyes in the way it should have, but at that moment, I was too happy to have my friend back to take much notice.

If only I’d noticed. If only I’d listened and was more critical.

After that, things were better, at least for a while. Mickey and I were growing closer with every passing day, listening to music in his dorm and just chatting mindlessly about anything and everything. He showed me some bands I’d never heard of when the movies got a little too much. I could tell his built-up wall was gradually beginning to crumble, allowing me to really get to know him, or the part of him he wanted me to know, but he was still always just a little distant. Not as much as before our night together, but a hint of detachment still lingered in the air.

Something was happening. I knew that was the case, something about it just spells it out, you know, like when a storm is coming in the summer? The lack of sound and the feeling in the air tattles on what is to come, announcing it long before a single flash of lightening or clap of thunder does.

One night, Mickey had already fallen asleep, but I simply couldn’t, so I just laid flat on my back, staring unseeing at the dully illuminated ceiling from the streetlights outside, when my phone began to buzz quietly on Mickey’s bedside table.

I glanced at his alarm clock, the bright letters stating it was three thirty in the morning.

Who the fuck would be calling me at this time.

I still felt uneasy about receiving phone calls and everybody in my life already knew that, but the anxiety that it could be an emergency got the better of my, so I flicked the phone open, taking in the unknown caller printed across the screen for a second before answering it, pressing the phone tentatively to my ear with a whispered, “Hello?”

No response.

I swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the lump forming in my throat before asking again, a little louder, “Hello?”

Nothing.

Mickey stirred next to me, rolling onto his side and groggily opening his eyes, lifting his hand to rub them gently.

I sat up, hand shaking as I repeatedly whispered “Hello?” into the speaker.

“Whose that?” Mickey's voice was thick with sleep and the minute the words were out of his mouth, the line went dead.

Read Chapter Eleven HERE

#chapter 10 already! #fuck me dude #next chapter is gonna be ittttt #but read this #it is important I promise #scream #mickey altieri #dahlia levine #mickey altieri x dahlia levine #his perfect victim

[ice-cap-k]

xB Noir in Hybrid Theory

Not me trying to turn what should be a multi-chapter fic into a one-shot because I don't have time to commit to a long-form fic. I would never...

Oh well. My sleep schedule is already toast anyway.

Cross-posted on AO3 here: xB Noir in Hybrid Theory

_____________________________________________

The rain pressed down an unrelenting torrent that pooled in the roads and left rivulets running down the window pane. Nobody in their right mind would walk these streets in this weather.  It was downright dreary out there. The kind of downpour that soaked through your best coats and set the chill in your bones after only a few steps. Its constant pitter-patter was pleasant on the ears.

And there I was, watching the storm through my office window when they decided to pay me a visit. The single bare bulb was more than enough to cast light on the two figures I saw approaching. They were skirting the edge of the building, trying their darndest to avoid what they could of the rain. Unlucky souls, to be out in that mess. At first I thought nothing of it. Just another couple unlucky enough to be caught in the rain on their way home. But then they slipped into a familiar doorway and the bell chimed. I had customers.

The two who stumbled through my office door that day were quite the pair. The woman threw open the door first. The rain hadn’t seemed to have done much to dampen a fire burning in the depth of her eyes. Bright as the orange of her hair poking out from beneath the brim of her hat. All it took was one look at her to know that she had come here meaning business. 

Her partner didn’t hold a candle to her in comparison. His suit was disheveled and his eyes roamed the room behind his spectacles like an animal caught in a trap. 

“We’re here to speak to a Detective xB.” Her voice was clipped. Self-assured. I could make out a little disdain as those fiery eyes raked over my measly office. What can I say, it was a mess. I was in between cases at the moment and most of the paperwork had been laid bare to be sorted out later. Or maybe she didn’t approve of how small it was, although I never needed much room for anything more than my desk, a few filing cabinets, and myself. 

“That’s my name on the door. At your service, Miss…” I wasn’t sitting, so I offered up my chair for her to sit on. There was only one, so her partner would have to make do. 

“Cleo. No miss. We’re all adults here.” She slips into the chair without so much as a blink. Those eyes are staring me down. Scrutinizing my every move as I set down the drink in my hand down on the corner of my desk. “And this is Joe.” The other man in the room tipped his hat before sliding behind the back of her chair. Fingertips rest against the leather backing. They’re twitchy. His eyes looked everywhere except at me. He struck me as the nervous kind, this Joe. Like a tinker toy wound up too tight, ready to pop into motion the moment you let go of the key.

Even his voice comes out sounding strained. “We were told that you were good at-”

“We were told-” Cleo cut him off. “That you were good at your job. From a handful of sources, actually. So we thought we’d meet you firsthand.” There was an edge to her voice. A fine line of scathing disbelief lurking beneath her words, made evident by the tilt of her brow. “You see, Detective, we’ve got something on our hands that requires a certain level of trust. Considering how highly recommended you were, we decided to come here first. But before we disclose anything about the potential case, we need to know how much we can trust you. Do you understand?”

“I think that’s a fair request.” I rounded the file cabinets, and prepared to pull out logs on previous cases. They must have heard about me from one of my previous customers, after all. Advertising for the local paper was out of my budget range. The business survived on word of mouth and good customer service alone. “I could go over some of my previous cases and some of my methods if you like.”

“Not that, actually.” Joe finally stopped his fidgeting and looked at me, really looked at me, as he took the hat off his head. “Although I’m sure that you have a perfectly fine track record. We’re talking about sensitive information. Can you be trusted with it?”

“Joe-” The angry hiss in the woman’s voice was not lost on me when the gentleman cut her off.

“No Cleo.” My hand dropped from the handle of the file cabinet. I was too engrossed in the power struggle between the two of them through exchanged looks. If I were to bet on the winner, my money would have been on redhead with the withering glare. To Joe’s credit, despite how uncomfortable he seemed to be at the thought of disagreeing with her, he gripped the rim of his fedora and buckled down. “I trust Beef. I have a really good feeling about this and I don’t like taking chances with our time.”

Now that was a name I hadn’t heard for a while. The last time I’d seen him had to have been the game shop case years ago. “You know Beef?”

“He’s a friend of ours,” Cleo huffed. She was glaring daggers at Joe, who had stepped away from her chair to put some distance between the two of them. “And it’s not a risk that’s yours to take, Joe.”

“No, but the longer we wait, the worse I feel about the situation.  I’m worried sick.”

“Well so am I.” 

They both fall silent.

I’m reluctant to intrude, but they don’t seem interested in starting back up the conversation. “So I gather it was Beef that sent you my way…” I spoke slowly, afraid I might startle them, or invite their wrath. “I don’t know what you folks’ situation is, but I can assure you that I am a professional. Beef can testify to this. Confidentiality is part of the reason I’m still in business. More information is valuable for understanding a case, but if there is something that you feel you can’t tell me, there’s no problem leaving out the finer details.”

They both exchanged a look. This time, when they made eye contact the frustration fizzled out. It was more of a shared look of helplessness. “It’s a pretty important detail,” Joe said, his voice so quiet I almost couldn’t hear.

Cleo looked like she wanted to argue, but eventually relented with a tired sigh. “Alright. Alright. I’ll leave out some of the finer details and give you a rundown on what we would like to hire you for. If I decide you’re worth the money, we’ll tell you everything. If I don’t, we move on with our lives like none of this ever happened. How does that sound?” 

I nodded. It was perfectly reasonable. Joe was nodding as well. He looked relieved as he sidled back up to his place behind her chair. The fedora in his hands looked hampered from the abuse his nervous fidgeting had wrought upon it. 

“Glad we are in agreement.” 

“So,” I prompted, leaning back until I was seated upon the corner of my desk. The mountain of papers beneath me threatened to come down in an avalanche of black and white print, but I could manage to keep the balance. Other than that, they had my full attention. I was downright intrigued. A case where the client didn’t feel comfortable kicking it off was new. Usually, people were chomping at the bit to tell me about the problems and how they needed him to fix it. So I leaned in as she folded her gloved hands in the lap of her pencil skirt.

“So indeed. Tell me, Detective, have you heard any of the stories on the recent disappearances?”

“You mean the hybrids?”

“Yes. The hybrids. How much do you know about them?”

“Only what they print in the papers.” It was a story that hadn’t quite made the cover, but had appeared in multiple journals across town. ‘Local Mutants Gone Missing.’ An influx of missing person reports had been made with one notable similarity; everyone reported had been some sort of hybrid. The kind of hybrid didn’t seem to matter. All sorts were going missing. Everything he read on it had boiled down to a general consensus: that nobody in the police department had an explanation. “What about you?”

“To start, I know that our friend is one of the names on the list of missing persons. And when I tried going to the police, they brushed it off.” She scowled at the memory. “Told me that I couldn’t file a report on him since he was an adult who had every right to go off the grid if he wanted to, except I know for a fact that he wouldn’t do that.”

“I see. So you need someone like me to find him?”

 It seemed simple enough. I had run more cases than I could count tracking people down for one reason or another. They were usually the harder puzzles to crack. If someone was able to cover their tracks so completely that even their friends and loved ones were left scratching their heads, it would be difficult to look for places nobody else had thought to check. And if it was a matter of kidnapping, that added an extra layer of potential risks.

“I need you to find the people who took him and find out why. Gather evidence. Bring him back if possible, but if you can’t then at least get me something that will make the police believe us.”

“And preferably report back your findings as you go.” Joe chimed in. “To us, I mean. Maybe not anyone else. Actually, nobody else. Just in case. We need to know anything you might find out about these guys. Where they are, who they are, what they are, how you found out all of it... Everything.”

Usually, my customers didn’t care about the details of his work, so long as by the end of the day he dug up the information they were looking for. “That sounds like you’ll need a pretty thorough report. To be clear, I’m going to need as much information as you can give me on your friend if I’m going to find him. I’m talking about his name, the names of the people in his life, where he lives, where he works, where he frequents. And just to be clear, that means information on you two as well.”  Joe nodded along as I listed everything off. Cleo frowned, but there was a grim understanding in the way her lips tightened into a thin line. “I’d understand if that doesn’t suit your fancy. I can try to work with whatever you’re willing to give me, but any fact you choose to leave out could make a world of difference. Any detective out there worth his salt will tell you the exact same thing.”

Joe reached over to nudge her shoulder. “See Cleo.” 

“And will any other detective out there worth his salt risk leaking sensitive information on his clients.” Her tone made me smile. She’s softened a bit since she first walked in. There’s still that air of warning, that look of scrutiny, but now there was room to be convinced. 

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. Beef could probably attest to that. Selling out potential customers never struck me as a good business model.”

The odd pair shared a look, then a nod. It seemed like they were on the same page. “Alright. What I am about to tell you stays strictly confidential,” she says. “Nothing I’m about to say from here on out leaves this room. Afterward, you can decide if you’re interested in the job or not. If I find out later that you’ve told someone else, I swear I will personally come for you.”

I didn’t plan on sharing whatever they planned on telling me anyway, but the way that fire in her eyes turned on me… I don’t know why, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she had a way of making good on the promise. But I waved it off like no big deal. “Cross my heart.”

She still didn’t look fully convinced. “To start, the friend we are looking for, his name is Bdubs. He is part phantom, although you’d never know by looking at him. He’s really good about staying on top of his sleeping habits, so that side of him never really comes out. I brought a picture if that helps.”

I snatched up a pen and pad from under a pile of papers. This was all good information to keep track of. The picture she handed me depicted a man with the biggest, most genuine smile I had ever seen. By all means, he really did look human. It would be enough to do some cross-reference searches and dig up any information I could get on my own. 

“The thing is, Bdubs didn’t really broadcast his hybrid status, but someone still found out. However, that information became known to his kidnappers is pretty important to me and Joe here. Almost as important as making sure he’s alright. Which is why I said we would need you to report all of your findings and how you found out.”

“And may I ask why that information is particularly important to the two of you?”

Joe opened his mouth to say something, but Cleo answered first. “Oh, it’s mostly just important to me.” With a roll of her shoulders, her coat slipped down her arms to reveal lines of long thin scars puckered and discolored where mismatched flesh had been sown together. Some skin patches were even starting to green with early onset rot. It surprisingly didn’t smell as unpleasant as it looked. “I’m an unregistered zombie hybrid. If they could somehow manage to find Bdubs, I’m worried that it won’t take them long to find me next.”

______________________________________________________

“xB! Hey man!”

“Hey bud, it’s been a while.”

Hypno was waiting for me at the bar with the leatherback stool already pulled out. The sun was setting, the birds were chirping, and people were out enjoying their evening anywhere other than this dank old bar. But to me and Hypno, it was the perfect meeting place. Just as enjoyable as the fresh air outside. Our old stomping ground when we were younger. 

“Sorry about keeping things so short on the phone. I’m glad you could make it out here.”

“No problem, dude.” I could tell by the smile on his face that he meant those words. He looked as happy to see me as I was to see him. “It’s been too long since you’re last call. I was starting to think you didn’t need me anymore.”

“No man.” The bartender walked by, and I held up two fingers. They spotted my signal and slid two fresh glasses down the countertop. They both came to rest directly in front of us. “You know I’ll always go to you first about cases. I’ve just been going through a bit of a dry spell. Haven’t had a new job in a while. I couldn’t pass up a chance to get to the bottom of this one in particular. You’ve heard what’s happening to the hybrids around town, right?” The pop of a new bottle opening punctuates the end of my sentence. The two glasses are filled with a clatter of ice and a level of translucent brown. 

Hypno grabs his first. He always was the bigger drinker of the two of us. “Heard of it? Pfft. It’s all the gossip column is talking about these days. Not that there’s anything more they’re allowed to put to print yet. It’s all wild speculation right now. One guy I’m working with is convinced the hybrids aren’t even disappearing.”

“And what’s the alternative?”

“Not sure. He never goes into detail when I ask.”

“What about you?”

He laughed at that one. “What about me, dude?”

“Do you have any thoughts on what’s happening? Why hybrids? Why so many, and all different types? I have a few of my own ideas, but I’m curious about what you think.”

“I don’t know. There are a lot of reasons why people would be interested in hybrids. Seems like there are always going to be people out there who think that just because hybrids aren’t human, that means they aren’t people either. They can do all sorts of things normal people can’t, and you can’t rule out those crazies that are always coming up with some hair-brained remedies made with ‘exotic ingredients.’ Or exotic pets… ew. You know what? Scratch that thought. I hate that my brain even went there. What about you and your new client? Any running theories.”

Of course, I had my theories. And Cleo had made it clear her running theory was ‘kidnapping’ even if she didn’t have a clue what could possibly be the reason behind it. Under normal circumstances, I would have happily shared some of these thoughts with the man at his side. It was Hypno, of all people. He was practically my partner considering how often he helped me with investigations. But Cleo and Joe had been clear about the need for confidentiality. 

“It’s too early to rule out anything right now.”

“Darn.” He didn’t sound all that disappointed. “By the way, here’s the pictures you asked for.”

The manilla envelope he slides my way is bulging. Stacks of them come sliding out when I slide the flap open. “I didn’t realize there were this many people missing.” Static faces stared up at the overhanging light fixture from the waxy printout. Some of them looked like your average human like Bdubs had. Unassuming smiles and eyes that gave no indication of the truth of the person behind them. Most, though, had some clear indication of what they were. They wore oddly colored eyes, extra limbs, and discolored skin that almost looked like the result of some camera defect rather than something they lived with on the daily. There were blazes, creepers, avians, even an enderian. That one had to have caused problems for any ‘would-be’ kidnappers. The names of the victims were scribbled on the back of each photo, along with the phone number of the person who had submitted it. Presumably, the person who had reported them missing.

“This is just what I can get at my job. Working for the tabloids has its perks, but there are plenty of people on the list that didn’t get a photo submitted. Some of ‘em didn’t have people left in their lives to report them or send in photos. There’s a few that had family members who outright refused to send in photos.”

“Really?”

“Really. You should have heard them over the phone. They didn’t want their friends or family found. Talking to those people was the worst.”

“Sounds like it. Thanks, Hypno. This is a huge help. I can start building a background on some of these people and see if they have anything in common.”

Hypno smirked. I had known the man for years, so I knew when a Hypno smirk is just a smirk, and when a Hypo smirk meant business. Right then, he meant business. “Think I can help you there too, man.” I lifted my brow, but Hypno knew he had me hooked. He relished in it, making me wait as he raised his glass to his mouth. I took a sip of my own drink as I waited for him to drain his glass. “Aaaaah.” Clank. He brought the glass down onto the counter with a clatter. The bartender promptly filled it back up. “I’m a journalist, B. You know I do my research. What if I told you I already did some digging?”

“You have a lead?”

“I have a place.”

“How?”

“Same way you would eventually find out,” he said with a shrug. I asked as many people as I could about the people in those photos. Their favorite places to go, where they worked, where they lived, the whole spiel. You know the one.”

I nodded. Of course I did. I was the one who taught it to him. 

“Well, the more I asked around, the more one place in particular popped up in people’s backstories. Ever visit Hermit Row?”

I shook my head. The place didn’t ring a bell to me. 

“No shame in that. I didn’t know about it either, but that’s because the two of us are human. Apparently, the street is the biggest hub of hybrid activity in the city. Think along the lines of a Chinatown. Even if the people in those pictures didn’t live there, they had all visited at one point or another. It’s one of the few places in town with shops catering to a variety of non-human needs. Sounds to me like the perfect place for any potential kidnapper to scope out someone to grab. It’s actually going to be the subject of my latest article now that I’ve had a chance to learn a bit about it.” 

And there it was. That was what the sudden smugness was all about. It made sense that Hypno had another angle he was looking to write into a story for the papers. “I can’t report back details of the investigation if I go there. You realize this, right?”

The smile dropped off Hypno’s face. “Come on, man. I literally just gave you everything we have at the press on the Hybrid story. Is it really that bad to give me a little insider scoop?”

“My client is very adamant about the need for privacy. I’ll let you know about any general observations I might happen to make, but anything that pertains directly to the case is off the table.”

He sighed in annoyance. “Fine, I guess I can work with that.”

_________________________________________________________

I know I’m not the biggest partier around the block, but even I knew that brass knuckles weren’t part of the dress code for your average bouncer. And weren’t bouncers supposed to stand guard at the front of an establishment?

It had taken a week to investigate Hermit Row. Learning the ins and outs of the residents. Picking up on some of the familiar faces of the hybrids who frequented and getting a feel for the shops lining the street. I didn’t even stick out like a sore thumb like I was afraid I would. Other people walked the streets in broad daylight looking completely human like me. There was no way to know for sure they were actually human, but at least nobody stared at me like an oddball out of place as long as I minded my own business.

The street was awe-inspiring to me. At least somewhat. They had shops for things I would never have thought to dream of. Storefronts selling horn and hoof polish targeting sheep and ram hybrids had displays painstakingly set up in their large windows. Wing grooming salons advertising the latest toiletries had their doors open for incoming customers. Even the food stalls with their owners crying out their wares carried everything from charcoal to fresh grass bundles. And yes, the owners of said stalls insisted their products were intended to be eaten. I suppose I had never put much thought into whether or not hybrids would subsist on a different diet than me. 

But there were few places where most of the people who looked like normal humans tended to frequent. Especially late at night. One of those places happened to be ‘Club EX.’ To the untrained eye, it was your typical late-night dance club, complete with a jazz band and under-the-table sales of alcohol. You’re typical hole-in-the-wall people frequented to forget the rest of the world. 

But after a few nights of careful observation, it became clear that there was something else going on here. Odd back door dealings where workers met with important-looking customers and led them to back rooms to discuss business of some sort. People slipping out of the back alleyway, rushing into a van left parked back there every night. I spent one night counting every person who entered the building, only to come up three people short when it came to keeping track of everyone who left. It was entirely possible I had miscounted, but unlikely. 

I told Cleo and Joe about it in my last report. Went into detail about everything I noticed on Hermit Row and the club in particular. Cleo had taken the hint and steered clear of the establishment, but now I was looking for specifics. There wasn’t any easy way to sneak in on one of those private meetings with guests who came in with a large entourage and all the money in the world to burn. I could stake out the back, though, where an unusual-looking bouncer was running their thumb along the edge of the metal lining their knuckles. 

He didn’t move for a while. I watched. I waited. Eventually, the back door flung open. Two figures came out into the alleyway. 

One shouting nonsense hysterically. Hooves click clack against the pavement. Garbled words and sounds muffled under a black bag covering their head. They couldn’t exactly reach up to take it off, considering the knot of rope binding their arms behind their back.  I could make out a tail swishing back and forth in wild panic, but it didn’t seem prehensile. It would do them no good to get them out of the bind they found themselves in. 

The other person was shoving them forward harshly. 

“Will you shut him up already,” the bouncer hissed at the other man passing through. “Someone’s gonna hear.” 

“I already tried gagging him and look what good that did me. Why don’t you knock his lights out for me and make both our lives easier.”

“Fine.” With a snort, the bouncer reeled back and slammed his fist into the black back, directly where a cheek or nose would be. Shivers ran down my back as his target let out a muffled howl of pain. Another blow to the head, and their legs crumpled beneath them. 

At that point, I wasn’t thinking to clearly. I just knew that the guy with the brass knuckles was squaring up for another hit and I didn’t have the stomach to watch no more. So I pulled the pistol out of my pocket and slid from the roof down the gutter to the ground below.

Luckily for me, I landed directly behind the second man who had come out with the man on the ground. I threw all the force I could muster into bashing the but of my gun into the back of his skull. He was instantly out like a light and dropped like a stone. The bouncer turned on me, confused and scowling. “Why don’t you pick on someone who can fight back,” I goaded. 

And he took the bait, hook, line and sinker. Never mind whether or not he realized that I had a gun. There was no hesitation as he rushed at me, fist at the ready, golden glint of the knuckles catching the lamplight. The edge of his fist caught the edge of my shoulder. Pain bloomed where it crushed my muscle and tore the skin, but it was a glancing blow. With the other hand, I fired once at the ground. The bullet blew a hole in his shoe. Not sure if I took off a toe or something, but I definitely hit him, because he let out a howl that rivaled that of the man with a bag over his head. He leaned over, instinctively reaching for his wounded foot. It gave me a clear opening to slam the butt of my gun into his head too. He joined his buddy and slumped on the ground.

“Awwww yeah.” That had been surprisingly easier than expected.

A groan came from a few feet away. “Are you okay,” I called, not really sure of the man they had beaten could even hear me. His tail was still twitching, but he didn’t stir from the ground. “Here, let me try to help.” I gently pulled at the edges of the bag. The seem caught on something on the way up, and when the fabric came clear I realized it was because the threads had caught on the edge of a set of horns poking out from a head of light blond hair. The face they framed was a bit bloody. The skin below his eye was just starting to develop the purplish hue of an oncoming bruise. The bottom lip was split, leaving blood pooling around the base of a rag tied around his mouth. I managed to undo the knots on his mouth first, then got to work on his hands.

He coughed at first. Then spit to get the flecks of blood and taste of the rag out of his mouth. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know who you are, but I could never repay you for what you just did.”

“Don’t worry about it. What was even happening? Why did they want you, uh…” 

“Zedaph,” the hybrid clarified as the rope fell away from his wrists. There were nasty marks where the fibers had dug into the skin, and he rubbed at them as if it would make them go away. “My name’s Zedaph.”

“Well, do you know what they wanted with you, Zedaph? It looks like you might have made the wrong people mad.”

“Well if I did, I don’t know what I possibly could have done. I just came here looking for my friends. The last time I saw them, they had come here to celebrate some new project at work. No luck finding them, so I was heading towards the exit.  Next thing I know, security is pulling me away saying there’s someone important who wanted to see me. They drag me in a room, won’t let me go as some weirdo gets a good look at me, and then next thing I know they’re tying my hands behind my back without so much as an explanation.”

“They were dragging you to that van…” I helped him up. He was still unsteady on his feet, er, hooves, but as long as he could rest his hand against my shoulder to lean on when his legs started to wobble, he could manage to walk. “One second while I take a look.” 

Sure enough, the van was unlocked.

Bingo.

__________________________________________

The amount of evidence I had to report to Cleo after that had been immense. Notes of names and species crossed out on lists had been tucked away in the glove box, along with a map with a location circled along the harbor. 

And guns. Turns out those men had guns of their own, and I had been lucky that they had been foolish enough to leave them in the vehicle. 

Most of it had to be turned in to the police for obvious reasons, but not before I had given everything a thorough look-through. It would take the precinct officials to properly process the evidence. Even longer to get the warrants to act on it. Although Zedaph's testimonial would help to speed things along.

The sheep hybrid was the first witness to come of this. An actual hybrid that had almost been made to vanish like the others was quite the font of information. That made him valuable to the officers working on the case. It also made him a dangerous loose end for whoever was behind this. Up until now, there was no real understanding as to ‘why’ hybrids were going missing. Now that Zedaph had gotten away, all eyes and ears were on the lookout for potential snatchers. That club was currently closed for an ongoing investigation

 Zedaph had at least been kind enough to tell me everything he could on the way to the station. He told me in better detail about the men who had grabbed him. How they had been human. I tried asking him if he was sure they weren’t just hybrids that looked human, he insisted he had a sense for these sorts of things. I took his word at face value.

The person whom they had brought him to, though, that was a different matter. He couldn’t really tell. There was no way to see their face. It was hidden behind a mask. Their body was fully clothed, complete with a set of gloves that covered their hands. Not even an inch of skin showed. The voice was difficult to make out considering the mask. “Possibly modulated.” Those were Zedaph’s words. Not mine.

Considering all the clues now at my disposal, I figured my next lead was the location circled on that map. I could feel it deep within my bones that there was where they had been planning on taking Zedaph. That was likely where the other hybrids had gone as well. 

Again, I went at night. There were fewer workers at the dock past sundown. The boats were gone for the night. The empty warfs reached out into the water, waiting for the next fleet of ships to arrive with a load of cargo.

The harbor itself was massive. Shipping crates were stacked up along the sea’s edge, leaving temporary alleys winding between rows and rows of steel boxes. 

I didn’t know where to start, so I just picked a random warehouse and started walking towards it. There wasn’t much to see there besides more crates and spare boat parts, so I kept going to the next one. And then the next one after that. And then the one after that.

Honestly, there was a lot of ground to cover here and I was already starting to get tired. I was just starting to consider calling it a night and coming back tomorrow when I heard something that sounded a little out of place for the harbor this late at night. Talking.

“Hurry up before someone sees you.”

“Lighten up, will ya? Nobody’s going to see me. There’s nobody out here but us.” 

I followed the voices into the maze of stacks of shipping crates. Would they post guards at a shipping storage lot? It didn’t seem likely considering the lot didn’t even have so much as a chain link fence. 

“Come on. X is looking at the merchandise tonight. They want to make sure everyone is healthy before they run the first shipment on Friday.” 

“What are they going to do at the auction anyway?”

“Whatever the buyer wants ‘em for. Everyone loves hybrids for one reason or another. Not my business to find out what that reason is.”

Hybrids, huh? 

It sounded like I was on the right track. 

_____________________________________________________________________

I picked up a copy of the local newspaper the day after. 

The front page story declared, ‘Devious Gangster Evil X Behind Hybrid Disappearances.’

The big picture they had used depicted three hybrids embracing in front of the police department. Two of them had a set of horns, though their shape and location on the skull varied between both people. The third had glowing red eyes and what looked like fire flickering at the ends of his spiked blond hair. I recognized Zedaph’s bruised face and curved horns, but not the other two men in the picture. They must have been the friends he was looking for back at Club X. I was glad that it had all ended up working out for the three of them.

Sure, I had given Hypno a quick call about what had happened to all the missing hybrids, but I never expected him to be able to work this fast. It was quite impressive actually, seeing just how detailed and accurate the article was. Hypno didn’t just work fast. He was thorough. He truly was a professional.

I tossed it across my desk for Cleo and Joe to read for themselves. “Just to be clear, I might have told a friend that I found where they were hiding everyone. I did NOT provide any details regarding you, the case, or how I found where they had been hiding them.”

Cleo picked up the paper. She was shocked. Truly shocked. She flipped each page with careful hands as if afraid of ripping it. 

“You did all this?” Joe asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a look. “It wasn’t just Bdubs you saved last night… you really found all of them?”

“I did.”

“Wait a minute,” Cleo said, pulling the paper closer to her face. “It says here that Evil X wasn’t apprehended.”

“They did not.”

“So he is still at large?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. That wasn’t an answer I had at the moment, but I could probably figure it out if I had enough time. “But his entire trafficking ring was overturned in one night. And your friend is back home safe and sound. Everyone else for that matter. Maybe I’m just a glass-half-full kind of guy, but to me, that sounds like a pretty good way for things to have panned out.”

Cleo didn’t say anything. She turned back to the paper with a frown. At least Joe patted me on the back. “Why, I couldn’t agree more.”

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no. 18 #alternative prompt #“Brass knuckles” #hermitcraft #creative writing #mentioned alchohol #guns #kidnapping #attempted kidnapping #human trafficking #xbcrafted #zombiecleo #joe hills #hypnotized #zedaph #mentioned Bdouble0100 #alternate universe - noir #detective noir #never thought I'd write a story with 'human trafficking' in the tags but here we are

[justasparkwritings]

The Littlest Dumpling {7}

Previous: The Littlest Dumpling {6}

Pairing: Min Yoongi x OFC

Genre: Non Idol AU / Author AU

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Swearing! Talking About Sex! Kissing! Making Out! SEX! P-In-V-Consensual-Sex

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Yoongi decides to be an adult and face multiple fears. And the history of a long standing feud comes to light. 

Master List

Tag List: @4ksj, @jagiya, @ot7nem, @knjkitten, @teamtardis-notdead​

Tag List

        “Your highness, what do you want to do?” Hyun-Woo asked.

        “Fight.”

        “Fight?”

        “I will fight for my kingdom. I will fight for our freedom. I will fight to keep our land safe and welcome to everyone. We will fight for what is dear to us. That is this land, and that is our kingdom. Ready the troops,” The Lil King instructed.

        “But sir,” Chin-Hae tried to stop him. “Sir, we aren’t ready for battle. The armor isn’t made, the weapons –

        “Call on every person in the land, offer them grain for a year and clothing for winter. Every person that can help should help.”

        “Okay,” Chin-Hae said, satisfied by the King’s answer.

        “And call on my grandmother. We will need her magic.”

        The Lil King disappeared into his chamber, shutting the door and sitting at his desk. He stared at the papers in front of him, spells and projections that were being written for this occasion. But they’re untested, how will they work when the forces are surrounding his kingdom, threatening his people? How will he fight?

Lil King Yoongi Vol. 3

October

        “Are you sure?” Yoongi whispers, lips against your collarbone, hands toying with the hem of your underwear.

        “Yoongi,” You mewl, raising your hips lightly to grind against him. His hardened cock presses into you, pushing all reason and judgment from your mind.

        “What?” He asks, pulling away to stare at you, lust in his blown irises.

        “We’ve been doing this, dating, for months…. Haven’t we waited long enough?” You ask.

        His chest is still pressed to yours, breasts marking him in invisible lust that’s potency is building, drawing him deeper and deeper into your orbit.

        “You aren’t officially my girlfriend, I didn’t know if you wanted to wait until we talked to HR.”

        “Yoongi, you fingered me last week.”

        “I – okay yeah so that’s a form of sex but it’s different.”

        “You know how I taste, Yoongi,” You remind him, nails scraping down his neck.

        “Yeah, and I’d like another to drink you in, but I want us to be on the same page,” Yoongi says.

        “I want to have sex with you, right now.”

        “Okay.”

        “That’s my enthusiastic consent. Do you want to have sex with me right now?”

        “More than you realize,” Yoongi answers.

        “Great, there’s condoms in the drawer,” You point towards your nightstand and watch as he rolls off of you and slips his boxers off. His tears the condom open and sheaths himself before turning back to you.

        “Oh shit,” You mutter, staring at a completely naked Yoongi.

        “Is my body weird?” Is his first thought, and first thought is best thought.

        “No! God, sorry! You’re really sexy, and I’m even hornier for you now that you’re naked on my bed than I was when you were pressed against me.”

        “Okay that’s a good ego boost,” He says and slips back to his position between your thighs. His lips find yours, passion and heat building as his lips toy with yours. He’s the best kisser you’ve experienced, or maybe you care about him so much that it makes every ministration feel like fireworks. “Are you okay like this?”

        “Missionary?” You ask.

        “Yeah,”

        “Yeah, I kind of like that for our first time we’re keeping it classic.”

        “I just want to feel you, every part of you,” Yoongi says and kisses you again.

        Your legs wrap around his waist, opening yourself up to him whenever he’s ready to take that step. It’s hard to resist, when he can feel your wetness against him, creating a smooth glide as your hips buck into his.

        “Yoongi, you’re killing me,” You moan, tilting your head to the side to catch your breath.

        “Okay, okay,” He laughs and slips a hand between you. His deft fingers swirl your clit as he lowers himself to your entrance. “You good?”

        “Please just fuck me,” You groan.

        Yoongi kisses you again as his hand glides his hardened cock to your entrance.

        There’s something thrilling about having sex with someone for the first time, particularly someone you care about. It’s both exciting, promising, and terrifying. This is what Yoongi was scared of, the intimacy that comes with sex, the vulnerability of bearing yourself completely to another person. Of your bodies joining and being unable to hide that birthmark or the scar from when you fell off your bike. The pressure to perform, to be present and there for your partner and bring them relief and bliss as they try to do the same for you. And then, it’s all consuming. The scents, the sensations across every one of your senses in all parts of your body. The way it takes over your mind and all you can think of is their name, over and over again. A prayer. A wish. A command.

        “Oh my god,” You mutter as he bottoms out, cock fully inside you, hips stilling to let you adjust to him. “Yoongi.”

        “What?” He asks, panicked.

        “I have a very good feeling about this,” You say, and use one of your hands to tilt his jaw to you. You lean up to kiss him, and Yoongi begins to set a pace. He pulls out gently at first, slowly stretching you as he begins to rock back and forth.

        “Tell me if it’s too much.”

        “It’s not, I want more,” you moan.

        Yoongi takes your direction and begins to move his hips faster, snapping harder with every thrust. It’s powerful and potent, the way his body conforms to fit into yours, his gentle touch on your face, his lips still pillows of comfort and wanting on your burning skin.

        This is sex, Yoongi thinks. This, this is good sex.

        Yoongi lays next to you, breath finally returning to nowhere as he pushes hair off his sweaty forehead. Crawling into bed next to him, you snuggle onto his sticky chest, draping a leg across his body.

        “So that was,” You start.

        “Yeah, that was,” Yoongi laughs.

        “I’m glad we waited,” You say.

        “You are?”

        “Yeah, that way we could spend too much time talking about it and figuring out how we feel about each other.”

        “Me too, time’s made me like you even more,” Yoongi says.  

        “Me too.”

        Yoongi kisses your forehead tenderly and hugs you close.

        “Can I ask you something?” You ask.

        “Yes.”

        “What exactly happened with you and Seokjin?”

        “I – that’s a long story.”

        “Will you tell me?” You ask. It’s more than that. It isn’t a simple request, tell me about this past hurt. It’s a deep sign of connection. Do you trust me enough to tell me? Can you be vulnerable enough to share with me? Give me a piece of yourself?

        “Okay.” Yoongi says. “But first, we need water.”

       The Kim household was strict, fair but hard on the two boys that were raised within it. Bedtime was the rule, honoring their father and mother was not simply biblical, but expected. Disobeying would result in grounding and punishment so severe they didn’t speak about it at school. Both Kim sons, Seok-Joong and Seokjin, grew steadfast in their parents’ guidance. They were patient and measured like their mother, genial and charming like their father. They dabbled in so many clubs and athletics it was a wonder they had time for homework, let alone Korean school on the weekends. The brothers Kim became well rounded and thus, well respected.

       Except for the problem with the Mins.

       Yoongi Min and his older brother, Geum-jae, grew in almost parallel lives to the Kim’s. They obeyed their parents, were in many clubs and sports and were respected. Well the eldest was. Yoongi was too busy with art classes and creative writing workshops to play sports. But that didn’t stop him from excelling at everything he tried.

       The problem with the Mins, was also the problem with the Kim’s.

       Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Min had met when they were pregnant with their first sons and created a sisterhood of the traveling pants type friendship. Their pregnancies, both with sons, created a deep bond between them. One they maintained when they both became pregnant with their second sons as well. They felt like the other could see them, could understand their plights and the pressures of being a mom and provider. They discussed, in hushed voices, their marital problems and shared recipes for traditional Korean dishes and laughed over soju when the kids were asleep or at sleep away camp.

       For Mrs. Kim, there was no one more elegant and commanding of respect as Mrs. min.

       For Mrs. min, there was no one more poised and put together as Mrs. Kim.

       And thus, without ever saying so, they raised their boys in direct competition with each other.

       “Yoongi-ah got straight As this semester, how can you explain your B in world history, Seokjin-ah?”

       “Seokjin-ah you’re in the same classes as Yoongi-ah, why is he getting 100% and you aren’t making a solid A? Maybe he should tutor you.”

       Both phrases were used, edited, and reused so many times Jin knew when his mother was going to say them. He knew the exact score that would elicit a comparison, the exact comment from a teacher that would provoke a comment on how smart or incompetent he was.

       At the Min household, the other side of the coin was: “You did better than Seokjin-ah this semester, good job Yoongi-ah.”

       These interactions naturally created a resentment and frustration between the two once very close friends. So close Seokjin and Yoongi had called each other brother for years, though in the presence of their parents Yoongi was expected to address Seokjin with the honorific, hyung. They had been inseparable. Fast friends, best friends who at one time knew everything about the other, despite the constant competition their mothers refused to acknowledge they put them through. Their older brothers got off fairly easily, they were the first borns and more in tandem with each other than Yoongi and Seokjin.

       Like all friendships, there comes a point where friendship and hormones meet… often to disastrous consequences.

       In high school, Yoongi was known throughout their school as the quiet, studious artist. He didn’t make waves; he rode them casually and with ease. Internally, he was a duck paddling under water. That was Yoongi, calm on the outside, panicking on the outside.

       Yoongi’s saving grace was how funny he was, hilarious even. Jokes for days that flowed quietly out of his lips and fell on the only person who ever actively sat next to him, Seokjin.

       Now, it wasn’t so much that Seokjin hadn’t discovered his humor and comedy yet… well, frankly he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure how to be funny, or what he could say that would make the popular kids he hung out with find him more interesting than just his pretty face. Which is how his habit taking whatever it was Yoongi said and repeating it to a larger, more willing audience began.

       Seokjin was popular. Very. Very. Popular. Walk down the halls having multiple people try to high five him, popular. Girls calling his name and waving like a 90s romcom popular. And thus, the comments and jokes Yoongi made circulated to a wider audience. A much wider audience. He didn’t mind, the first or second time. But my junior year, he began to pull away from Jin. Why talk to a friend when they have such loose lips? Didn’t Seokjin know that’s what sunk ships? And would, inevitably sink their friendship? He didn’t seem to realize it, or care that much that he was stealing the comments and intellectual property right out of Yoongi’s mouth to fan the flames of his high school stardom.

       The incident occurred in the middle of senior year. Yoongi was walking through the halls, headphones half in, playing nothing of consequence. He rounded the corner, and there was Seokjin with his usual set of fawners. They stared at him, bewildered and beguiled by his handsome face and hilarious retelling of what happened in AP lit. It wasn’t anything exciting, presentations on whatever topic they’d picked for their main thesis essay of the year. It was American lit, so naturally Yoongi was exploring the difference in narrative from a Japanese American and a white American during the internment. He’d found two novels set in the same time period, in the same city that he could compare. Seokjin wanted to know the American fascination with Steinbeck, weren’t there female authors of the same time doing the same thing but better?

       But the way Jin told it, it sounded more like a farce a La On the Way to the Forum.

       Regardless, as Yoongi rounded the corner, they gawkers started whispering, his name he caught, then from Seokjin

       “He hasn’t even kissed a girl. Did you know he steals my jokes? Copies them for his well, parents I guess. He doesn’t have friends. Probably because they know he’s a fucking loser.”

       Yoongi was shocked, weren’t they once best friends?

       “Did you know he wet the bed until he was 10?” Jin said, telling Yoongi’s secret to these random people. “Apparently, he slept in his brother’s bed too. Until he was twelve.”

       Yoongi went home, slammed the door, and never spoke to Jin again. He didn’t answer his parents’ questions about the Kim’s, he didn’t sit near him in class. He didn’t do anything that would involve spending time with Seokjin.

       That was a decade ago.  He still hasn’t forgiven him.

        “Yoongi,” You whisper, feeling all kinds of guilt wash over you.

        “Y/N,” He says. “I don’t want your pity.”

        “No, I’m not pitying you. I’m sorry.”

        “Sorry?”

        “When you first started the editing, you didn’t want to work with Jin and I forced you to. I was cold and unsympathetic. I didn’t give it the time or space you needed, I forced it. I’m sorry.”

        Yoongi wasn’t expecting an apology, truthfully, he’d forgotten about the conversation almost completely. You were pretty firm with him, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for a publisher dealing with a stubborn author.

        “Thank you,” Yoongi says.

        “I, he completely destroyed your trust. I flitted about like it was nothing but that’s not fair, it was something. Something major.”

        “Yeah, it was traumatizing. Took me a while to even talk about it.”

        “I’m so sorry honey,” You say, stroking his face.

        “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

        “I know, but I could’ve been nicer, kinder to you.”

        “I appreciate that.”

        “You know,” You say. “I kind of want you to stay.”

        “You want me to stay?”

        “I want you to stay the night.”

        “Oh,” Yoongi’s surprised. “You do?”

        “Fuck, you don’t have to. It’s just an idea.”

        “I don’t have a toothbrush,” He says. That’s his first thought, his greatest fear. Like he can’t run home and get clothes and come back.

        “I have an idea,”

        “Okay?”

        “Why don’t you go home and get clothes, and your toothbrush, and I’ll change the sheets?”

        “Did you just read my mind?” He laughs.

        “I did,” You answer, kissing his cheek.

        Waking up next to Yoongi is an experience. His hair a little mussed, eyes closed and lips gently parted, he’s so beautiful and soft.

        “Stop staring,” He mutters.

        “Why?”

        “It’s weird.”

        “I’ve only been doing it for maybe thirty seconds.”

        “Is that a way of saying we haven’t crossed into the weird territory yet?”

        “Yes.”

        “Mm,” Yoongi reaches for you and you scoot towards him. His arm around your waist, you’re drifting back to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the breath inflating his lungs.

        “Brunch?” You mutter.

        “Yeah, in like two hours.”

        The Ruby Poppy doesn’t have brunch, however its sister restaurant, Sunflowers & Daffodils does. They don’t have a cozy corner booth for you to snuggle into, but instead offer cute tables exploding with flowers.

        Yoongi pulls your chair out and you sit, hand leaving his as he moves to his own chair.

        “I really want French toast,” You declare.

        “Wanna split French toast and an omelette?” Yoongi asks.

        “Oo, best of both worlds. Yes.”

        “I think going to The Ruby Poppy weekly has helped me figure out your food preferences.”

        “That and you’ve cooked me dinner multiple times a week for at least two months, so that probably helps too.”

        “I like cooking for you.”

        “I like it when you cook for me.”

        “Yoongi?” A voice calls, and it stops Yoongi as he’s about to take your hand.

        “God fucking damnit,” Yoongi mutters and stares up at the ceiling. “Fuck me.”

        “Y/N?” The voice says as it approaches, a woman following close behind.

        “Seokjin!” You say and stand. “Wow.”

        He hugs you gently and stares at Yoongi. “Mr. Min.”

        “Mr. Kim,” Yoongi rolls his eyes.

        You’re not quite sure what to do, their relationship is strained and stunted at the moment Jin decided to betray Yoongi and never apologize. Now that you know, do you still view Jin the same?

        “This is my girlfriend, Violette,” Jin introduces the woman with him.

        “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” You say. “Hi Violette, I’m Y/N, Jin’s boss. And this grump is Yoongi, an author at –

        “You’re Lil King Yoongi!”

        “I – yeah.”

        “The kids I work with, at my gallery love your books. There’s one kid who draws a little king in all his pieces at art camp. You’re a legend,” Violette smiles.

        It occurs to Yoongi that Violette has no idea how vile Seokjin can be. It also occurs to him, more potently than before, that Seokjin exists in a world where his decision to betray Yoongi doesn’t weigh heavily on his life at all. He probably forgot about it, moved on so quickly it would’ve given Yoongi whiplash. How fucking unfair.

        “Oh, thank you,” Yoongi says, voice stiff and posture equally as rigid.

        “What are you two doing here?” Jin asks. His eyes drift from Yoongi’s hand, awkwardly resting on the table, to the relaxed nature he walked up on.

        “Having brunch,” You answer.

        “A working brunch? On a Saturday? Wow Y/N, really burning the candle at both ends,” Jin laughs.

        “We’re discussing what I need to do to get you fired from books two and three,” Yoongi answers. “Apparently, it’s a lot of sabotage and telling of secrets.”

        “Ah, yes, probably would require blackmail of some sort. Would you really do that Yoongi, and disappoint our mothers?” Seokjin asks.

        “My mother would understand.”

        After the incident, Mrs. Min and Mr. Min sat down to discuss what to do. They hadn’t realized the contempt brewing between Yoongi and Seokjin, though they realized they should’ve seen it coming. Mrs. Min began to separate herself from Mrs. Kim, which broke her heart. But Yoongi wasn’t speaking to them, after his initial breakdown, and how could she continue a friendship when her friend’s son, wounded hers?

        “Surely she wouldn’t,” Seokjin argues.

        “How long have you two known each other?” Violette asks.

        “Birth,” Yoongi answers.

        “Oh wow,”

        “Our brothers are friends, our moms met when they were pregnant with them.” Seokjin tells her.

        “But you two?”

        “Used to be friends, now we’re enemies,” Yoongi answers.

        “Enemies is a bit strong,” Seokjin says, pacifying Yoongi’s attitude. “I’m your editor, you’re my author. We’re coworkers if anything.”

        “Unfortunately.”

        “Their working on Yoongi’s next project, and shockingly, it’s going well,” You step in to course correct the conversation, which is failing dismally.

        “Well, we don’t need to talk shop on a Saturday. It was fun running into you,” Jin says.

        “Yes, I’ll see you this week.”

        “It was nice to meet you, Violette,” Yoongi says. He doesn’t acknowledge Seokjin.

        The couple walks away, leaving you with a disgruntled and frustrated Yoongi.

        “Can’t you let it go, just for brunch?” You ask.

        “No.”

        “So we’re going to eat in silence?”

        “No, we can talk.”

        “Okay –

        “Do you think Violette knows?”

        “About his youthful indiscretion?”

        “It’s not an indiscretion, he publicly humiliated me.”

        “Right.”

        “I wonder if she knows he’s a monster.”

        “Could it be possible that he’s grown up?”

        “He’s never apologized, he’s never told his parents what happened. My mother lost her best friend because he hasn’t owned up to it.”

        “At what point do you leave it in the past?”

        “I – if I knew the answer to that I probably wouldn’t be so uptight about it.”

        “Maybe it’s something you need to explore.”

        Yoongi can take the hint, and quiets himself over his cup of coffee. He can see it, the chasm this fight with Seokjin is beginning to create between them, a rift that if he doesn’t get it under control, will doom them.

        He reaches his hand for yours. “I’ll talk to Seokjin, okay?”

        “You will?”

        “I will.”

        “Okay, I’m proud of you.”

        “I haven’t done it yet. Odds are I chicken out and never speak to him outside of the office again.”

        “Yoongi,” You sigh.

        “No, I’ll figure it out, promise.”

        “You don’t have to do it for me.”

        “I know, but, I don’t want my dislike and distrust of him, on a personal level, to affect us.” Yoongi says.

        “Us?” You ask.

        “Don’t do that,” Yoongi blushes.

        You smile. “Do what?”

        “Act like we’re separate people, and not a couple.”

        “Are we, a couple?”

        “You’re my secret girlfriend, aren’t you?”

        “I, yes.” It’s your turn to blush.

        “Then we’re a couple.”

        Yoongi and Hoseok sit on Namjoon’s couch, watching as he paces back and forth, back and forth. Yoongi can’t believe it’s taken him over a month from when he found out to fess up to Hoseok, it seems ridiculous to wait that long over information that could easily be sent in a text. But Namjoon insisted on telling him in person, so now Yoongi is impatiently waiting for this conversation to start.

        “What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks.

        “I have to tell you something, and it’s not a big deal,” Namjoon says.

        “Is this about your secret girlfriend?” Hoseok asks.

        “Yes.”

        “It’s Jane, isn’t it?”

        “How’d you know?” Namjoon asks, stopping in his tracks.

        Hoseok shrugs. “I’m psychic.”

        “You are not,” Yoongi laughs.

        “I just knew, how could you not? You talk about her constantly, and it’s exhausting. You wouldn’t be talking about her that much if you haven’t seen her naked,” He explains.

        “Shit,” Yoongi says.

        “Yeah, damn. How long have you known?”

        “Six months at least,” Hoseok says.

        “And you didn’t tell me?” Yoongi asks, outraged.

        “I thought you knew!”

        “You thought dense little Yoongi knew?” Namjoon laughs.

        “I caught them, that’s how I found out,” Yoongi says.

        “Oh shit, naked?” Hoseok asks.

        “Post,” Yoongi clarifies.

        “Oh, so kind of like if I showed up at your apartment any evening after 8pm?” Hoseok teases.

        “And Y/N was there, naked in his bed?” Namjoon adds.

        “Fuck you both,” Yoongi says.

        “Very protective over your non-HR sanctioned secret girlfriend,” Hoseok teases.

        “Of course, he is, he’s got love in his eyes, can’t you tell?” Namjoon says.

        “I hate you both.”

        “Joon – who said I love you first, you or Jane?” Hoseok asks.

        “Jane,” Namjoon answers. “She knew, not before me, but she said it before I did.”

        “Let’s really think about it,” Yoongi starts. “If Namjoon said it first, would Janie have accepted it, or just made fun of him?”

        “Made fun of him for sure,” Hoseok says.

        “So maybe it worked out that you let her take the lead.”

        “Did you kiss her first?”

        “Yes, I did. She sat next to me, but I kissed her first.”

        “Good, with consent I’m assuming.”

        “Yes, dad, with consent.”

        “Good,” Hoseok nods. Jane would’ve castrated him if he made an unwarranted advance. Rightfully so, he would’ve deserved it.

        “And your anniversary?”

        “October 3rd.”

        The silence is brief, because Yoongi needs to talk to his friends about what happened at brunch.

“I told Y/N I’d talk to Seokjin,” He says.

        “About high school?” Namjoon asks.

        “Yeah.”

        Hoseok is surprised. “What are you going to say to him?”

        “I’m going to ask if he remembers it and ask if it ever crossed his mind how that day affected me and my life. Which I know it didn’t, because he’s a narcissistic asshole.”

        “He could’ve evolved,” Namjoon suggests.

        “That’s what Y/N said too. He could’ve evolved. But how does he get to be in love and have a successful relationship after how awful he was?” Yoongi asks.

        “The same way that you get to, Yoongi.”

        “But, I was the victim. He bullied me. He stole my jokes and comments for his own popularity, he took from me.”

        “Yeah, and you’ve made it very difficult for him to show you that he’s changed,” Hoseok says.

        “I don’t believe he has.”

        “How would you know?” Namjoon asks.

        “That’s fair.”

        “Maybe Seokjin has totally changed and is an evolved person. But he also might not remember that incident in high school.”

        Yoongi sighs, this is a new low he hadn’t quite examined. “How pathetic does that make me if he doesn’t remember it?”

        “Seems like it’d make him the insane one. He can’t remember being a bully? That’s sociopathic,” Hoseok says. He rises from his spot on the couch and retreats to the bathroom to grab more water for himself and Yoongi.  

        “I don’t want this to ruin what Y/N and I have,” Yoongi tells them. “I can feel it, this fucking thunder just off the horizon. I can see her giving me an ultimatum, a fix it or we’re over… I don’t want that.”

        “If your relationship ends, you want it to be because you’re a neurotic mess, right?” Namjoon asks.

        “Yes.”

        “Well, you’re making the real step towards not letting it,” Hoseok says.  

        “Unrelated – did you find the answer you were looking for?” Namjoon asks Yoongi, smirking mischievously.

        “What question?” Hoseok asks.

        “What is good sex?” Namjoon asks.

        “Oh, that’s a good question,” Hoseok says.

        “Thank you!” Yoongi cheers. “Vindicated!”

        “It’s a good question that I’m not sure has an answer,” Hoseok says. “More of a nebulous idea.”

        “Aren’t you sex negative?”

        “Yes, but this is a universal question anyone having sex is asking. What does it mean to have good sex, or mind-blowing sex, or insane sex?” He asks.

        “Namjoon said insane sex first!” Yoongi cheers, so glad he’s not the only one who thinks it’s worth asking.

        “Yeah, what qualifies it? Namjoon, how was your anniversary sex?” Hoseok asks.

        “It was,” Namjoon pauses. “I understand the error of my ways.”

        “The error?” Yoongi howls, laughing hysterically.

        “It wasn’t an error! Good sex is… My anniversary sex was really good. It wasn’t like, Pam and Tommy sex. It was tender and romantic, which can fall into the category of good sex.”

        “So, it’s an umbrella with lots of little facets?” Hoseok asks.

        “That makes so much more sense,” Yoongi says. “See, syntax matters.”

        Namjoon and Hoseok roll their eyes.

       “No one said it didn’t.”

       “Good sex can’t just be about orgasms, because some people, a lot of women, don’t reach climax during sex. So whatever good sex is has to be measured by individual people,” Hoseok explains.

       “Sex negative but sex knowledgeable,” Yoongi says.

       “Yeah. Think about sex with Jimin, that was good sex, but wasn’t sex with Y/N also good?”

       Yoongi blushes, bright pink and red across his cheeks and neck. “Yeah.”

       “They both can exist, different experiences, with different aspects, all good sex.”

       “Hoseokie is a genius,” Namjoon laughs.

       “That, gentlemen, is a fact you should already know.”

You: I miss you

Yoongi: I miss you too

You: How was your boys night?

Yoongi: It was fun, not as fun as making out with you, but fun

You: Things can be different kinds of fun

Yoongi: Can I ask you something?

You: Anything

Yoongi: What’s good sex?

You: Do you mean do we have good sex, or are you asking what good sex is in the broader sense?

Yoongi: I guess both, if my embarrassment can take the answer to the former

You: I think we have good sex… I think we might be headed towards great sex

Yoongi: Oh thank god

You: For me, good sex depends on my mood. Lately, with you, it’s so good because I feel connected to you, engrossed in you… but it’s also good because you make me feel like … it’s indescribable. We’ll have moments where good sex is defined by a quickie in the bathroom while we’re at dinner… it just depends

Yoongi: I want to have sex with you, right fucking now

Yoongi: (I can’t believe I just typed that)

You: What’s stopping you?

Next: The Littlest Dumpling {8}

#justasparkwritings #justasparkmaster #the littlest dumpling #min yoongi #houseofddaeng #purplearmynet #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #kpopccc #OT7 series #BTS series #Min yoongi x reader #Min Yoongi x you #lil king yoongi

[sweetarethediscords]

“Fool Me Once” - Part 4

Pairing: Kacchako, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako

CW: Cheating, Underage Drinking

<- Previous Part | From the Beginning

~~~~~~~

To throw an all out rager on campus was an absolute no go.

To throw a ranger at one of the many nearby houses a certain rich kid third year’s parents owned however…

It was perhaps one of the few times being a landlord was a good thing.

Momo had decorated the hell out of it. 

Cotton spiderwebs, paper bats, dry ice fog, and low, Halloween colored lighting. By the time Katsuki had made his way over to the house the party was well underway.

Mineta already had his head in a trash can. Hitoshi and Neito were playing tug-o-tongue with Denki. 

The smell of booze threatened to strip his nostrils of every hair inside them. A bunch of gasps and wolf whistles greeted him as he entered, his costume drawing nearly every eye.

Most of these were underclassmen though, his real target was downstairs. 

Shoji had been updating him all night. Apparently with out Deku’s attention, Melissa had take up flip cup, beer pong, whatever game would keep her distracted and drunk. Ei even made sure to take over the beer pong table from her to have a “couples match” against Deku and Ochako. 

Now she’d been leaning up against the wall for a while, bobbing her head to the music, pretending to listen to Mei ramble on as she obviously watched Deku from a far.

“Bakubro!” Hanta howled, starting off an avalanche of cheers, hoots, hollers, drawing every eye towards him. 

Katsuki caught Melissa’s eye briefly, adjusted his glasses with a smirk, then continued on to meet Hanta by the keg and grab a beer.

“Looking hot dude!” he said.

“Nice Vincent costume,” Shoto added. “I don’t remember him wearing a bedsheet in the game though.”

“Vincent?” 

“From Silent Hill 3.” Shoto pointed to his glasses. “He wears glasses like that.”

Katsuki sneered. “I ain’t no Vincent, Icyhot, I’m—”

“Milo Thatch,” Melissa slurred flirty, running a hand across the blue swirls of body paint highlighting the bulge of his biceps. 

Katsuki’s sneer turned into a smirk. “In the flesh.” He let his eyes roam across the old school librarian costume she was sporting, feigning interest when really he seeing all of the booze and sweat stains on her blouse.

“Evie from The Mummy!” she shouted over the music. 

“We’re Bert and Ernie,” Shoto added unnecessarily. He must have had a few shots himself too. “He’s Ernie, I’m Bert.”

Melissa smiled at him and used her other hand to rub his bicep. “This sweater is sooo soft.”

“It’s very warm,” he replied. 

“Speaking of warm,” Hanta lifted her hand off of Shoto and placed a cup of beer in it. “Why don’t you two go warm up the dance floor a bit? There’s some good looking couples out there, but no one nearly as hot as you two.”

“Oooo yes!” Melissa cooed and tugged Katsuki’s arm. 

“You sure?” Katsuki teased. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle my moves.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Like I don’t have moves of my own.”

He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Alright. You asked for it.” 

He threaded his arm out of her grip and made his way to the dance floor.

Whether she followed him or not was unimportant. This was all about the tease. The bait.

Later she was sure to bite.

Kyoka had set up her DJ booth, a brilliant set up that could knock a house down at 11 

Katsuki locked eyes with her and gave her a subtle nod to switch the music to one of the songs he’d texted her about.

With insane skill she mixed the current bright bouncy pop song into a dirty, grinding dance song that switched the entire vibe of the dance floor. 

Katsuki knew how to move, that was no secret. With how he fought with his quirk he had to be as agile and precise as possible.

As a kid, hip hop lessons were a way for him to let out his access energy. As an adult they kept him sharp, giving him an edge against villains. 

And now, well…

They had a drunken blonde in a librarian costume practically drooling as she watched him gyrate.

After a bit of peacocking, Katsuki wound up pulling her into the dance with him, hooking an arm around the small of her waist and holding her close. 

He guided her hips with his own, keeping them flush together and in time with the music. He let his nose brush against hers every now and again but wouldn’t let himself linger.

Instead he would subtly shift his gaze away, keeping an eye out for tuft of green hair. 

Which he found pretty quickly, tucked under some sort of brown leather fedora, glancing their way every now and again as he pretended to pay attention to the pretty pink power ranger chatting excitedly beside him.

Katsuki spun Melissa around making sure her ass was against him. 

He draped his arms around her hips and dipped his head down to have his chin rest against the curve of her neck. Holding her like he possessed her.

Izuku’s glance became a full on stare at that. Ochako’s gaze was pulled along with it, finding Katsuki just as the song ended. 

Katsuki pretended not to see her grab Izuku’s arm and start to drag him over.

“Oh my god! Look at you!” Ochako squealed in greeting.

Katsuki untangled himself from Melissa as they approached. “Sup, Cheeks. See you can’t shake the spandex, huh?” 

“Really?” She smirked and looked down at his chest. “See you found Atlantis but lost your shirt along the way.”

Katsuki smiled genuinely at that before turning smug as he looked Deku’s way. “Guess you found a power ranger in the Temple of Doom there, huh, Izuku?” 

Izuku laughed tightly as he smiled. “Guess so. I didn’t know you and Melissa were so close, Kacchan.”

“Yeah. I’ve been helping Specs out with her apprenticeship project,” he said, nudging Melissa slightly. “She really likes what I can do with my hands.” 

“The sweat,” Melissa blurted out suddenly. “I’m trying to see how my universal quirk enhancer would work with physically manifested emitter quirks.”

“Sure,” Ochako teased. “Just don’t play with his hands too much. You’ll wind up with a heart condition.”

She winked at Katsuki. 

“Speaking of sweat,” Ochako continued. “You two vs. us two. Ultimate beer pong championship. With you two in the mix one of us are sure to beat Kiri and Mina.”

“In a bit, Cheeks,” he said. “I gotta go piss first.” He patted Melissa on the head and looked at Izuku. 

“Keep an eye on her for me, will ya?”

Izuku nodded curtly with a tight smile. “You got it.”

Katsuki headed upstairs, catching Eijirou calling, “Midoriya! Uraraka! Rematch?”

Just as planned.

Katsuki didn’t head to the bathroom. Instead he made his way to the roof, took out his phone, and started scrolling through his phone. Enjoying the peace, quiet, and night sky as he killed time waiting to hear—

“He have you seen Bakugou?” Melissa asked Hanta on the patio below him, prompting him to rise and make his way back into the house. 

Katsuki made his way back down to the first floor, conveniently waiting to round the right corner.

“There you are!” Melissa said, hurrying over towards him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked, playing dumb.

Melissa grabbed his hand. 

“I really want to dance with you some more,” she said. Her eyes kept glancing towards his lips, lingering over his body. “Please?”

Katsuki smiled. Knowing for certain what would happen next. “Lead the way.”

She all but tore his arm out of his socket as she led him downstairs. 

She wasted no time pulling him onto the dance floor and grinding against him, touching every inch of bare skin on him, leading his hands to grab her waist, her ass.

Keeping her face barely an inch away from his.

“You look sooo good tonight,” Melissa panted lightly. 

“You look pretty good too,” he said. “I like that shade of lipstick.”

“Do you?” she cooed.

“Mhmm.” He brushed his nose against hers. “Does it taste good?”

Melissa threaded her fingers in his hair. “Let’s find out.”

She kissed him. Hard, clumsy, needy. 

It was more teeth than lips. More cheap beer than cherry.

Honestly it was one of the worst kisses he ever had, but he stuck with it. Deepening it, making her fumbled mess loom good as applause erupted around them. The music even switched to something celebratory and gloating. 

They parted to find the entire basement crowd watching them, applauding…

…save for one person, in an Indiana Jones costume, watching on from just a few feet in front of them. Katsuki kept Melissa’s attention away from Deku, pulling her to dance and jump along with the crowd until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey dude. Sorry to interrupt,” Eijirou said. “But I need your help with Tetsu, man. He ain’t doing well.”

“Fucking hell, Shitty Hair.” He turned to Melissa. “Sorry. I gotta take care of this.”

“It’s fine,” she slurred a bit, lost in the kiss still.

Perfect.

Katsuki followed Eijirou back upstairs and into “the recovery room”— the master bedroom of the house that had been deemed a safe zone for those who partied too much because of its huge bed and easy bathroom access.

Tetsu was waiting, completely sober. 

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“It went off without a hitch,” Katsuki replied. “Now we just wait.”

“That kiss was pretty fucking epic though. With the music and the cheering?!” Ei recalled excitedly.

“Yeah and she chewed my lips like they were a fucking roast beef the entire time.” 

“Not so cool.” Tetsu said. “Wanna play Kings while we wait? I brought a deck of cards and the Mineta finally stopped puking.”

“Yeah sure. Why the fuck not? It ain’t like—”

Their phones all pinged.

S: Midoriya left.

They all shared a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. 

Before they could say another word their phones pinged again.

S: Melissa’s leaving now too. Mei’s helping her get her stuff.

Footsteps thundered down the hall and past their room.

“I can’t believe I did that to him!” Melissa sobbed. “I just— I couldn’t—” 

“Shhhh. It’s okay. You’ll get him, you just have to put a coat on okay? I can’t let you freeze out there—”

“He’s so mad at me and I— He was the one with—”

Melissa's blubbering faded as they walked away, leaving the room all too silent.

“Holy shit,” Tetsu said. “You did it.” 

Ei’s phone began to ring. “Shit it’s Mina. I gotta fucking go. Tetsu?”

He stood. “Right, acting shitfaced.” He grabbed a half finished bottle of liquor some poor soul left behind and gargled it around his mouth, “Let’s go, bro.”

Tetsu slung his arm over Ei’s shoulders and hung his head as Ei answered his phone with a stained grunt and left the room. 

Katsuki sat in the quiet. In disbelief.

He could hear the chaos unfold just outside the door. Chaos he caused. Because his plan worked.

The fucker and fuckette were dealing with the consequences of their actions and he…

…heard sniffling outside of the window. 

He got up off the bed and looked outside of it, but found no one.

He opened it, screen and all, and leaned his head out to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.

He wasn’t, but the crying was up, not just out. A queasy knot twisted in his stomach. 

He snuck through the halls as quickly as possible and made his way up to the second story towards the little patch of roof he often snuck out onto when the parties got too much.

The sniffling grew louder as he walked closer, turning into a soft cry. 

He opened the window quietly, curious dread getting the better of him and leaned out to find the last thing he wanted to find.

A crying pink power ranger.

“Cheeks?” he asked softly, knowing better to announce himself than surprise her.

Big brown eyes turned towards him, teary. 

“Bakugou,” Ochako whined quietly, voice breaking as a fresh stream of tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Katsuki climbed through the window and sat down beside her. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because you finally got to kiss her and now she— she— she—” 

Katsuki pulled her into a hug, catching her before she could collapse into herself.

“I know, Cheeks. I know.” He held her tight, his own heart feeling like it was breaking in the process. His own anger building.

“Y-you said it too. You said you thought she wanted someone else but Deku? Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t l-l-like me? I would have understood!”she sobbed. “I’m not as pretty as her or as smart as her or as talented—”

“Uraraka stop it ain’t about that.”

“ I thought she— Why would she have kissed you if he was there?” 

Katsuki’s stomach sank. “What?”

“Was she just using you this entire time to make him jealous? Was this all just some game to them?” She looked up at him, eyes swollen and searching for answers he had but couldn’t give. “Make it make sense. It doesn’t make sense.” 

She fell into an incoherent mess in his lap, each heaving sob and broken-hearted utterance twisting a dagger of guilt into his gut.

He had to tell her.

How could he tell her?

Tell her that he had known Deku would leave her for Melissa and didn’t warn her? 

Tell her he cared more about getting even, about winning, because for some reason he thought it better to be her white knight than warn her.

To try and prevent the class from taking side when he could already tell from the broken murmurs below them that people already were? 

He had to tell her.

He had to confess.

Ochako reached for his hand and held it, her soft finger pads clinging on him desperately for comfort.

Just not tonight. 

~~~~~~~

Next Part ->

#kacchako #kacchako fic #angst #cheating #romance #friends to lovers #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #uraraka ochako #uraraka #bnha #third years #aged up characters #fool me once

[buttybarnes1917]

Sahsahlah, or “The Land of Wise Fools”

Chapter 1

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan stepped off the ship, squinting in the bright Coruscant sun. The sixteen hour flight from Alderaan in the dark spaceship that he and Bail Organa had traveled in had caused his eyes to be a little sensitive to the light, but as usual, it didn’t take him long to adjust. He looked around, pulling his brown robe around him as he walked to the edge of the landing platform, looking over the city he had spent so much of his life in. It was a bit surreal to be coming back now, as both an adult and as a Knight, although somehow it did feel like home.

“Obi-Wan,” Bail called from the elevator at the side of the landing platform. “Will you be joining us?” Obi-Wan, torn from his thoughts, turned and smiled at his friend.

“In a moment,” Obi-Wan called. “I’ll meet you up there.” Bail nodded and turned, closing the doors to the elevator. Obi-Wan admired Bail Organa, with his strong commitment to his people, and his rational mind. These past few months had been filled with days of peace talks, watched over by Obi-Wan of course, but Bail had obviously done the brunt of the work.

“Obi-Wan!” He heard a child’s voice call his name and turned just in time to catch a scrambling Anakin Skywalker. The boy had grown at least two inches since he had last seen him, his legs and arms getting to the point where they were too long for his body. Even though he had grown, he still barely came up to Obi-Wan’s chest, his sun-kissed blonde hair turning a bit more brown in the light of the Coruscanti day. Obi-Wan hugged the smaller boy, chuckling as he ruffled his hair up fondly, setting him down on the ground.

“Good to see you, Anakin,” he said and the boy scowled up at him, running a hand through his hair to try and fix it. “You’ve grown,” he added, chuckling softly.

“It’ll be my life day next week, and I’ll be twelve” the boy said, finishing fixing his hair and beaming up at him. “Master Qui-Gon says next year will be a really big birthday.”

“Ah yes,” Obi-Wan nodded. “Your thirteenth birthday is an important one in the Order, and will require much preparation. Hopefully Master Qui-Gon will actually remember yours,” he chuckled teasingly as the older man approached.

“Funny, I seem to remember your gift saving your life,” Qui-Gon retorted gently, chuckling as he walked over. “Welcome back to Coruscant, Obi-Wan. Your old quarters are ready for you in the Temple if you should need them.”

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan grinned at him and they embraced for a moment. Obi-Wan pulled away. “Do we have any more information on our assignment? All I know is that it involves a Senator—the Chancellor sounded rather panicked when he holoed.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not aware of his thoughts on this—I believe Ani and I are to shadow you as you take the lead on this meeting, Negotiator,” Qui-Gon smiled teasingly at him. Obi-Wan felt a warmth come to his cheeks as Qui-Gon patted his back gently as the three of them headed towards the Chancellor’s quarters. Even though he was no longer a Padawan, it always felt good to know he had Qui-Gon’s respect, and that it was well earned. “Anakin is learning about the Senate and the history of the Republic currently in his classes,” the older Jedi added, “and Master Yoda thought that this would be a good learning experience for the young one.”

“Master Qui-Gon says you’re really good with politics,” Anakin chimed in, scrambling to keep up with the older men’s longer strides. “How come? They seem so boring. I keep falling asleep in class when we’re talking about it.” He grimaced and rubbed his knuckles gently. “Then Master Yoda makes me regret it and I have to write so many papers…”

“It’s just something that is interesting to me,” Obi-Wan said, slowing down so the boy could keep up. “I’ve always been curious about people and communicating. I’d rather hear people's thoughts and concerns rather than fight everything out. Most people just want to be heard.”

“But fighting is more fun,” Anakin grinned mischievously up at him. “And some day, I’ll be better at duels than even you!”

“We’ll see,” Obi-Wan chuckled as they entered the elevator. “You have to come up to at least my shoulder first,” he teased and ruffled the boy’s hair up again. Anakin whined a little and fixed his hair back again, grumbling under his breath. Qui-Gon chuckled softly and shook his head at the two of them.

Obi-Wan shifted as the elevator door shifted open and he and Qui-Gon stepped out, Anakin trailing behind. The chancellor looked up and the group of Senators around him turned, making way for the Jedi. Obi-Wan recognized Bail of course, Orn Free Taa from Ryloth, Garm Bel Iblis from Corellia, and Nee Alaver from Stewjon. Among them, however, was someone Obi-Wan did not recognize immediately. She sat nearest to the chancellor, lost in thought as she stared out the large window behind the chancellor's chair. Her shiny white-blonde hair lay in an intricate braid down her back. She wore a long blue dress with a lacy print that bared her collarbones, adorned with thin shoulder straps, and sleeves that did not cover her pale arms but still fell down to her fingertips. She blinked a few times as the Senators around her shifted, and she pushed herself up from the chair, straightening, making eye contact with Obi-Wan.

Ellia?

It felt like time stopped the second their eyes met; he could count every freckle on her face, see the stray eyelash that landed on the top of her cheek, notice the way her skin fit perfectly into the tight dress she wore. He could feel her heartbeat increase as they looked at each other, and he wondered if she felt the same way as she did at that moment. Too afraid his voice would betray him, he nodded at her and she did not respond, only staring at him, a frown on her plump lips as she tilted his head.

Skin pressed against skin as the loud bass moved the entire club, but neither of them could hear anything; they were only caught up in each other, their lips moving together like they had been kissing all their lives, fingers gripping cloaks and hair and skin and whatever they could to just hold each other as close as possible—

“Chancellor,” Obi-Wan said respectfully, taking his attention away from the woman before his thoughts entirely betrayed him, and bowing to the man behind the desk. Qui-Gon and Anakin followed his lead behind him. Obi-Wan had never liked Chancellor Palpatine, even when he was a Senator.

“Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi,” The Chancellor smiled, his thin lips somehow always making even the most sincere smile look like a sneer. There was something about him that was untrustworthy. Qui-Gon would say that it was because he was a politician and that he should be expected to be a bit untrustworthy, but Obi-Wan felt different around him than he did around other senators and politicians. Palpatine made Obi-Wan feel uneasy, so he kept the chancellor at arms length.

“I’d like to introduce you to Representative Ellia Bel Iblis from Corellia. Or, perhaps it’s not really an introduction—I’ve been told you’ve worked together before?” He motioned to the blonde haired woman, who nodded at Obi-Wan finally.

“Yes, years ago, when I was still a Padawan, on a mission to Corellia. My lady, it’s good to see you again,” he said, bowing again. She stared at him, her green eyes piercing, just as they were all those years ago.

“Kenobi,” She smirked just a little and Obi-Wan felt his heart rate pick up a bit. “So they call you the negotiator now,” she said. Her voice was not at all like the rest of the senators and aides that lived on Coruscant for so long. She still had that signature slow Corellian drawl, just like her father. “The Jedi who would be a Senator.” She added and Obi-Wan blinked for a moment.

“I don't believe I could ever be on the same level of a diplomat as you or any of the Senators in this room, my lady,” Obi-Wan answered carefully. She clearly had grown in her dislike of Jedi, that much was clear.

“No,” She said quietly, her eyes trained on him for a moment. “But you certainly do try, don't you?” Bail hid a chuckle behind a cough and Obi-Wan glanced at him, feeling his cheeks turn a bit red as Senator Bel Iblis sighed at Ellia and said something to her quietly. Obi-Wan chose not to respond as she turned to the Chancellor.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I must, once again, object to bringing the Jedi into this situation,” Ellia said quickly, jumping on the awkward silence in the room. “Myself and my bodyguards have been able to handle this—“

“Representative Bel Iblis, with all due respect, that was before a bomb threat was called into the Senate building this afternoon.” Chancellor Palpatine sighed. “Master Jedi, Ellia has received multiple death threats recently, and I am concerned for her safety.” Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak but—

“If you are concerned for my safety, then perhaps we should get the bill my father and I wrote to a vote instead of continuing to allow the Banking Clan to take advantage of poor families in my system and in other systems who have no other way to get credits,” Representative Bel Iblis interrupted angrily. Her father started to speak but Ellia continued, not allowing him to get a word in edgewise. “You know this is Nix Card and his cronies trying to frighten my father and other Senators into dropping our bill, and I won't have it. This is an attempt at intimidation, clear and simple,” she stated, slamming her hands down on the chancellor's desk loud enough that Anakin jumped. “Your Excellency, if you truly wish to help me, then add our bill to the next Senate session, so it may be discussed and voted upon.” She pleaded. The chancellor sighed again and pushed himself up, moving closer to her and taking her hand in his. She immediately stiffened and Obi-Wan thought to himself that everyone in the room would be able to feel her discomfort.

“Ellia, you are important to Senator Bel Iblis, so you are important to me,” the chancellor said, his voice as gentle as he could muster. “Regardless if this is an intimidation tactic by the Muuns, which it may very well be, your life could be in danger and it is not a stretch to ask for Jedi assistance.”

“And I thank you for that, Chancellor, but there is no reason to involve Jedi-“ She started, pulling away and discreetly wiping her hand on her skirt. Obi-Wan tilted his head, noticing how she seemingly spit the word out. The chancellor cut her off.

“And the Jedi are trained as warriors and protectors of the Republic, and of its servants,” he turned in a swish of robes to Obi-Wan and his former master. “Is that not correct, Master Jedi?”

“That is correct, your Excellency,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “But if Representative Bel Iblis would rather that we not get involved, I believe it best to abide by her wishes.”

“Ah, there’s the smooth talker I was warned about,” the senator mumbled under her breath and Obi-Wan frowned a bit.

“Of course, if the Senator thinks it might be a good idea to have some added protection at this time, then perhaps that is the correct course of action as I believe him to be the senior in this matter,” He added and Ellia turned, her green eyes glaring daggers into his soul. Obi-Wan noticed her hands balled up into fists and for a moment, he truly thought she would take a swing at the Chancellor. Or perhaps at him, who really knew? He turned his gaze to her father, who looked over at her.

“I’m sorry, Ellia,” Senator Bel Iblis said softly. “Your safety is my number one priority. You will have the Jedi escort.”

“Father—“ she pleaded but the chancellor clapped his hands together once.

“That settles it,” he said almost cheerfully. “Master Kenobi, it would put peace in my heart if you would accompany Representative Bel Iblis until we get all this horrible business sorted out.”

“Chancellor, I really must object,” Representative Bel Iblis started but the Chancellor shook his head.

“The decision has been made,” He stated firmly. She sputtered angrily then turned, storming out, her blonde hair flowing behind her almost as an exclamation point to her anger as she rushed out the door. Bail moved closer to Obi-Wan, chuckling softly.

“Have fun with that one,” he said softly. “They don't call her Senator Spitfire for nothing.” Obi-Wan ran a hand over his chin nervously as he glanced at Senator Bel Iblis, who offered him an apologetic shrug.

“I still don't understand politics,” Anakin sighed forlornly and Qui-Gon chuckled as he led the young Padawan out.

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan star wars #obi wan fanfiction #anakin skywalker #young anakin skywalker #anakin and obi wan #qui gon jinn #qui gon lives #qui gon and obi wan #obiwan x femaleoc #sahsahlah #corellia

[thesomewhatliterateaxolotl]

@thelocalmuffin requested a hug between Kazuma and Iris, #37 or without a motive! Beware of spoilers, including for the second game

Also, sorry about the snail pace with which I've been getting to these prompts :( Trying to be a more responsible adult and it's going chaotically

The snowfall that’s turned London to a blur all week finally abates, leaving the sky looking rather dreary. Clouds hang low over the city, over the piles of snow and the two snowmen Iris made with Hurley yesterday.

Iris pushes him out the door “to get some thread.” It’s based on a complete lie, of course (there are more than a few spools left), which her father sees straight through. 

Still, with a quick bow and a smile, Hurley takes his leave. The shop is a good forty-minute omnibus ride away, and he’ll be sure to get distracted by whatever oddities catch his eye there.

Satisfied, Iris pulls on her warmest coat, then her favourite scarf: a light pink one adorned with hearts at the ends. She steps out into the chilly morning air.

It’s 6 January, and Iris Sholmes has a mission.

*

“You want my help?”

“Mm-hm!” Iris says, smoke gun in hand.

The Sholmes kitchen is small, like his, but so different in every other way. Where his kitchen has scarcely the essentials, theirs is stocked with pots and pans of numerous sizes, hanging dried herbs, and tea sets in Iris’ signature pink. It isn’t empty and bare like his flat, which he still hasn’t fully settled into, nor is it pretentious like the places he has seen on the posh side of London.

Iris, that eccentric little girl, tugs at his coat.

It’s been years, yet all the same he can’t help but see a younger Susato tugging at his sleeve, urging him to help her make sweets. It would end in disaster every time, but Susato’s grown into an expert now.

Kazuma crosses his arms over his chest, cautiously watching Iris put her smoke gun away. “Fine, but mind you, I’m not exactly on Miss Mikotoba’s level. And I’ve been told I’m not the most serene chef in existence.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Iris says cheerfully. “This kitchen has blown up before, so whatever happens, it’s nothing we haven’t dealt with at some point.”

“What?!”

“Well, we all got out before anyone could get hurt. But the landlady charged Daddy so much for the property damage…” Iris gives a shrug. She hands him first an apron, then a leaf of paper. “Anyways, this is the recipe we’re going to use.”

On the paper is a sketch of some kind of western cake, a recipe handwritten beneath it in cursive. “Red…velvet?”

Iris beams. “I invented this one! The red colour is caused by a chemical reaction between the baking soda and baking powder, which are alkaline, and the cocoa, vinegar, and buttermilk, which are acidic.” She pauses to pull her metal goggles over her eyes (Ryuunosuke has a pair, too, Kazuma recalls). “His favourite is strawberry, but they’re out of season. And he likes any flavour, really!”

“Have you ever had western-style cake, Kazzie?” the girl hums, setting out two round pans and a few mixing bowls. 

(Kazzie?)

Kazuma isn’t sure how to feel about the nickname, but it’s so casual, so familiar, the way Iris says it. Like she doesn’t have a single doubt in her mind that Kazuma is her friend.

Iris studies him, eyes wide. She opens her mouth to apologise, perhaps thinking he doesn’t like the name—but then Kazuma’s laugh rings out. “I haven’t. Not a real one, that is. I tried to make a cake myself once, and it was disgraceful! No one but Ryuunosuke ate it willingly.”

“Oh!” The concern on Iris’ face turns to a grin. “That sounds like Runo!”

*

The process is arduous. Time and time again, Kazuma finds himself slamming a hand on the counter in frustration as if it were his desk in court. And the frosting tests his patience like nothing else.

“I ruined it!”

“Wait! You don’t have to start all over, just add more sugar…”

But after what feels like an eternity, the tiers of cake are arranged in a pretty tower, with a layer of frosting in the middle and another coating the outside. Kazuma can’t help a beam of pride at the cake’s presentation; as it happens, the gear and flower motifs Iris asked him to pipe onto the cake have turned out remarkably well. Iris is clapping her hands in delight, and that’s the most rewarding part.

“I can’t wait for you to try it at dinner.”

Then, it hits him. He hasn’t been helping with this cake to just go home right after—that wouldn’t be proper etiquette. He’ll be dining with Mr. Sholmes and Iris. He’s been invited before, but shrugged it off each time to bury himself in work.

His train of thought is interrupted by a sudden flurry of pink as Iris jumps up to hug him. 

“Wha—” 

“—Oh, I just felt like giving you a hug!” Iris’ voice is muffled, and Kazuma thinks he almost hears a sniffle. “You’re so silly, but I like you.”

Kazuma doesn’t know what to say to that.

But the way Iris crushes him with her hug—it kindles a sense of comfort he hasn’t felt since stepping foot on the rainy shore at Dover. Not under the high ceiling of the prosecutor’s office, not in the court of law he thought himself made for. Certainly not in his hollow flat that suffices for a home.

He’ll stay for dinner, he decides, and feel welcome as he sings with Iris and helps her light all thirty-five candles. He’ll watch a bit awkwardly as Iris brings her present, remembering that he has none to offer. But Iris will hug him again before he goes home, and Mr. Sholmes will tell him to come back whenever he likes.

That's exactly what they do. They don’t push him, but he tells them he will, a slight smile on his face.

#my writing #dgs #dgs2 spoilers #tgaa spoilers #kazuma asogi #iris wilson

[stevesbestgirl]

Their Girl - Christmas Special

Soft!Daddy!Stucky x Little!Reader

5098 Words

A/N: Shameless, self-indulgent fluff. This is long and I haven’t had time to proofread it, but I doubt I’ll have time tomorrow to get it up, so I’ll try to give it a read through tomorrow. Enjoy! And Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

You fidgeted with the fluffy skirt of your dress, toying with the fuzzy white trim around the sleeves. You were half-hiding behind Bucky’s legs- luckily for you, he wasn’t really one for parties either. Steve was across the room, sipping a beer and laughing with Natasha and Sam. Wanda and Peter were camped out, coloring by the enormous Christmas tree at the center of the room. Their crayons were moving over the paper, but the two of them were obviously  eyeing the presents wrapped in sparkly paper. Loki was pretending to read a book in the corner, but his eyes were shifty, no doubt scanning the room for opportunities to toy with someone. 

The room was lavishly decorated with lights and garland and Christmas music drifted lazily from F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s speaker system. You loved Christmas- the decorations, the food, the parties, the music, you name it. But this was a boring grown-up party. And you weren’t quite used to being around everyone all at the same time. You were nervous.

Bucky draped his arm over your shoulders, “Are you sure you don’t want to go play, babydoll?” He pointed at Wanda and Peter, “I see some new coloring books over there.” 

You shook your head, “Nuh-uh.”

He gave your shoulder a squeeze, “How about something to drink then, hm? I’m kind of thirsty.”

“Okay.” You stayed close to Bucky as he made his way to the bar, grabbing a beer for himself and filling a cup with chocolate milk for you. “Thank you, Daddy,” you chimed, clutching his hand in yours. 

“You’re welcome, doll. Do you want anything else?” He leaned in and kissed your forehead. You shook your head; you just wanted to stay with Bucky until it was time to go home.

“How are my two favorite Scrooges doing?” Steve’s voice floated over as he crossed the room.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “We’re doing just fine, thanks for asking Stevie.”

“I need to borrow Daddy for a minute, okay angel?” Steve slung an arm over Bucky’s shoulders and began to steer him away.

Unwilling to let go of Bucky’s hand, you trailed after them with a faint whimper. Bucky shooed Steve away, promising to catch up in a minute before crouching in front of you, “I’ve gotta go socialize a little bit, okay? Why don’t you go play, just for a few minutes?”

Instead of answering, you whined again, shuffling in between his knees and burying your face in his neck. He gave a bemused chuckle, “Oh, babydoll, you’ll be okay. I promise.” He led you over to Wanda and Peter and left you with another kiss on the forehead. You watched him take a long swig of his beer before making his way over to the other adults.

You looked at Peter and Wanda for a second; they were animatedly discussing what could be in the presents. Wanda’s oversized sweater was covered in stray glitter and Peter had tinsel stuck in his hair. Instead of joining them, you shuffled over toward Loki, sidling up next to him.

“What are you reading?”

“Hm?” Loki tore his gaze from the crowd of grown-ups, “Oh, this? That’s nothing.”

“Then what are you doing?” you asked.

“Same as you. Avoiding them,” he tipped his chin at Wanda and Peter.

“How come?”

“Why are you?”

“I asked first.”

He heaved a sigh, “Look at them; all they care about is gifts. This whole holiday is pointless.”

“It is not!”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you huffed. 

“Then what is the point?” he asked scornfully. “And if you say Santa Clause, I’m leaving.”

“Making people happy. And being nice.” You crossed your arms, “You don’t get it. You just like to tease.”

He smirked a little, “Yeah, I do. But I can be nice too.”

“Prove it,” you challenged.

“Fine,” he huffed. He stood, grabbing your hand, “Come on.”

“Wait, where are we going?” You frantically looked back over your shoulder at your daddies, but they were still engaged in conversation.

“We’re going to do something nice.”

He led you to the kitchen, where he began rifling through the pantry with single-minded determination.

You glanced around, waiting nervously for an adult to catch you somewhere you shouldn’t be, “What are you getting?” 

He continued to dig, clearly looking for something in particular, “Mother always told me food is what makes people happy. Whenever we had visitors in Asgard, we would have a feast for them.”

Your eyes grew wide; you were always fascinated when Thor and Loki talked about Asgard, “Really?”

“Yes- it always works.” He emerged from the pantry, triumphantly brandishing a package of oreo cookies, “We can make some of those holiday treats you Midgardians are so fond of.”

That actually wasn’t a bad idea. “But we need frosting. They can’t be Christmas cookies if they don’t have red and green frosting.”

“In the fridge- I think there’s some leftover from when Natasha and Wanda were baking yesterday.” 

You nodded, hurrying to the fridge while Loki unsleeved cookies and laid them out on a plate. You grabbed the nearly empty frosting bag from the shelf and held it up, “D’you think it’s enough?”

He nodded, “Bring it over.” He took the bag and squeezed some out while you dug through the drawers for a spoon. Spreading the frosting over the cookies, you licked a little bit from your fingers, giggling. This was way more fun than the party.

Loki glanced at you, grinning toothily at the sound of your laughter, “See? I can be nice.” You nodded, unwilling to vocally admit that you’d been wrong. He squeezed some frosting onto a finger, “And I can still tease too.” 

Too slowly, you realized his intent, and then you had frosting down the bridge of your nose. Swiping the bulk of it off, you lunged at him, but he deftly dodged out of the way, laughing.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” you pouted.

He considered for a moment, “Fine. But you can’t tell anyone.” 

You nodded your agreement and he tucked his hands behind his back to show you he wouldn’t fight back. Dragging green frosting down his nose was satisfying, pulling more giggles from you.

“What’s going on in here?” You whirled around at the sound of Steve’s voice, your guilt literally right on your face. 

“We wanted to make Christmas cookies for the party,” Loki said smoothly. 

You picked up one of the oreos smeared with frosting and held it out, “Do you want one, Papa?” You were hopeful; maybe the cookies would make him forget that you’d snuck out of the party.

“Y/N, you know better than to wander off.” He’d used your real name; that wasn’t a good sign. He grabbed a paper towel from the counter and cleaned off your nose, “And you’ve got frosting all over your face.” He urged Loki over and did the same for him.

“That’s my fault,” Loki spoke up. “I made her come with me. And I put frosting on her.” You stared at Loki; it was unlike him to take the blame. But he was trying to be nice.

“Is that true?” Steve asked, gazing at you intently.

You bit your lip; you didn’t want to get in trouble. Even less so today, of all days. But it was Christmas Eve. “No, Papa. I wanted to teach him about Christmas. It was me.”

He hoisted you up on his hip, “Then we’ll talk about this later. For now, let’s get back.”

You gave him your best doe eyes, “But Papa, what about the cookies? We made ‘em.”

He sighed, glancing back at the messy plate of frosting covered oreos, “Fine. You can bring them back with us, Loki.” 

Beaming triumphantly, Loki grabbed the plate and trailed after you and Steve to the party. Everything was as you’d left it, though Thor and Bucky approached as you came in.

Bucky reached for you, “Where’d you get to, doll?”

Steve handed you over and spoke before you could, “She and Loki were in the kitchen. They were making cookies.” He tilted his head at the plate of cookies Loki was still holding, though this time, a hint of a smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.

Bucky gave an exaggerated gasp, “You made those?”

“Yeah! Do you want one, Daddy?”

“I sure do.” He took a cookie, giving you a little nudge on his hip, “Did you offer one to Papa?”

“Papa doesn’t like Christmas cookies,” you glanced at Steve. It was why you hadn’t asked to bake any.

Steve seemed to realize this, brushing your hair back from your face, “I would have made some for you, angel. I didn’t realize you liked them so much.”

“Steve Rogers, you dislike cookies?” Thor asked, brow furrowed. 

“I don’t, I just don’t like having so many sweets around,” Steve answered guiltily. He turned back to you, “Of course I’ll have one, sweetheart. And if you want, we can make some tomorrow and share them with everyone.”

You instantly brightened, “Really?”

He took a cookie from Loki and bit off half of it, making sure to hum his approval before he fed you the other half, “Absolutely.”

Thor glanced at Loki, “He wasn’t up to anything, was he?”

Steve shook his head, “Not that I could tell. It seemed like they were just frosting cookies. Though they both had frosting on their faces.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, but he seemed satisfied with that, patting Loki on the back and ushering him over to the snack table to put the plate down.

Bucky toted you over to the Christmas tree, setting you down by Peter and Wanda, who had moved significantly closer to the tree and were discussing something in hushed tones. Tony came striding over, one eyebrow raised, “Do we have all of our rugrats now?”

“Present and accounted for,” Bucky chuckled.

“Alright, anklebiters, gather round. It’s time for a Stark family tradition: the Christmas pickle.”

Steve snorted a laugh, “Are you telling me that Howard Stark used to hide a pickle in his Christmas tree?”

“Absolutely not. He hated the pickle. But my mom would sneak it in there every year before the Christmas party. Drove the old man mad. So it only seems appropriate to keep it going.”

You looked around at the others; no one else looked confused. “What’s Christmas pickle?” You murmured the question to Wanda, hoping she would subtly explain it to you.

Instead, she blurted it out, “Y/N has never played before!”

Your face got hot, but Tony knelt beside you, “It’s really easy, squirt. Somewhere in the tree, there’s an ornament that looks like a pickle. First person to find it wins an extra present. Got it?”

You nodded, glancing back at Bucky and Steve for reassurance. They urged you closer to the tree, whispering encouragement in your ear.

“Alright, everybody ready?” Everyone nodded, though Loki didn’t look particularly interested. You guessed he was only participating because Thor had insisted.

Tony gave the go-ahead and you carefully examined the tree, unwilling to wreck the decorations in the process. But it didn’t matter; it seemed like mere seconds before Wanda was jumping up and down, “I found it!”

“Guess I should have made it a little more difficult,” Tony mused. He plucked one of the gifts from under the tree- a white gift bag with shiny, silver tissue paper.

But before he could hand it to Wanda, Peter cried out, stamping his foot, “Wanda cheated!”

“What do you mean, Pete?” Tony asked, curiosity piqued.

“She was looking for the pickle while we were coloring,” Peter protested.

Wanda looked aghast at Peter’s betrayal, “Peter knew too! He’s just mad he didn’t get it first!”

Now Tony looked disappointed, “That true, Petie?”

Peter’s face flushed and he didn’t answer, instead running off to hide under the snack table. You weren’t sure what to make of all of this; what was the big deal? It was just a pickle. 

Tony sighed, “Okay then. All the kids join Peter under the snack table. I’m re-hiding the pickle. And if I see anyone peeking- and I will see- you’re out of the game.”

Seemingly relieved to not be in trouble, although Natasha looked quite annoyed, Wanda grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the snack table. Once you were under the cover of the tablecloth, you waited until Tony gave the okay again. Wanda dragged you back out with her, though once you were back in front of the tree, she released your hand- it was every man for themselves. 

Now that you were on even footing, you felt more comfortable playing the game. You looked with a bit more enthusiasm, though you were still mindful of the decorations. 

Seconds ticked by and you felt sure that someone else was going to shout their victory at any moment. But Wanda and Peter were just as focused on their search as you. 

“Switch places with me?” Loki’s voice broke your musing.

You hesitated for a second; it would be like Loki to toy with you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt, nodding and swapping places. Wanda and Peter noticed the switch and followed suit, seeming to grow frustrated with their lack of results.

You began to look in your new spot, but you didn’t have to look far; there it was. Right on the front centermost branch. You cupped it in your hand, glancing at Loki; there was no way he could have missed it. He caught your eye, only offering a half-hearted shrug in response. 

Taking it carefully off the tree, you held it up to Tony, who was supervising Peter and Wanda this time. “That’s the game folks, we have our winner.” He seemed relieved to be done with it at that point. He traded you the gift bag for the pickle while Wanda sulked in the background, although Natasha was quick to remedy that.

Steve and Bucky approached and knelt beside you, “What did you get, sweetheart?”

Removing the paper, you pulled out a gift card with Donkey Kong emblazoned on the front. Bucky examined the text, making a face, “We might have to swap it out for something else, doll.”

“What is it?”

“Something wrong?” Tony asked, approaching with a pouty Peter on his hip.

“She doesn’t have one of those game systems,” Steve explained.

“No worries. I’ll replace it, alright squirt?” You nodded; you were disappointed, although you weren’t sure if it was because you couldn’t use your gift or because it was for the game you wanted.

“Well, now that the first gift is opened, how about we tear into the rest of these? Hm?” Tony set Peter down, who immediately cheered up. 

Bucky and Steve sat beside you on the floor while Tony distributed gifts. You had three; one from Tony and Peter, one from Thor and Loki, and one from Natasha and Wanda.

“Go ahead, baby,” Bucky urged, putting the present from Nat and Wanda in your lap. Peter and Wanda were already tearing into their own gifts. 

Tearing off the glittery paper revealed a gift basket. It was full to the brim with bath stuff; bubble bath, toys, bath bombs, a waterproof shower speaker, a hooded towel, and a set of cozy pajamas, complete with fuzzy socks.

Steve pushed over Tony and Peter’s gift next. It was a large box, decorated in red wrapping paper with a gold bow. You tore off the paper, pulling out an easel, complete with real canvases and paints. There was also an art kit, full of crayons and markers and pastels and pretty colored paper to use them on.

Last was Thor and Loki’s gift. It was smaller than the other two, wrapped  in shiny gold paper. Unwrapping the box, you gasped audibly as you caught a glimpse of what was inside.

“What is it, angel?” Steve moved the frayed paper out of the way, revealing the image on the front of the box. “I thought we set a price limit.” He sounded a little annoyed, but you were too over the moon to notice. 

“Daddy! Daddy, d’you see? It’s a game, just like everyone else has!”

“I see, doll,” Bucky chuckled softly. “Stevie,” he squeezed the back of Steve’s  neck, “Let’s not be rude, hm?”

Oblivious to Steve’s frustration, Thor clapped Bucky and Steve on the shoulder, “Quite the idea Loki had, isn’t it? There was some new version he just had to have, so we thought there was no better place for the old one to go. He said she was quite taken with it.”

“That was very thoughtful,” Bucky replied, rubbing Steve’s back reassuringly. 

Beaming, your gaze fell on Loki across the room. He was deliberately not looking your way, it seemed. But it seemed to catch his eye when your face fell; he finally glanced your way, offering a small smile. 

“Can I play right now?” 

“No sweetheart, that would be rude.”

“Later?” you offered hopefully.

“Maybe later.”

“Will you play with me, Papa? I can show you.”

His face softened, if only a little, “Sure, angel.”

Bucky held out a hand, “Here doll, let me hang onto that. Why don’t you go talk to everyone else? See how they liked their presents.”

You were reluctant to part with your new game so quickly, but you knew your daddy would keep it safe. You handed it over and hurried over to Wanda and Peter, excited to tell them you would be able to join them. 

You nodded, giddy with excitement, “Okay! Guess what I got!” You didn’t wait for her to guess, “I got a game, just like you guys! Now I can come visit you and we can play together!”

“Y/N, look! I got a bunch of new movies! We can watch them next time you come visit!”

Wanda squealed and Peter chimed in, “Me too?”

“Yeah!” 

You noticed Loki back in his corner, alone since Thor was still talking to Bucky and Steve. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

You left Wanda and Peter to their gifts and made your way over, clutching your hands behind your back, “Did you like the blankie we got you? I picked it out.” You glanced at the half-opened gravity blanket on the floor by his other gifts. 

He nodded, uncharacteristically shy, “It’s nice. Thanks.”

You rocked on your heels, “Thank you. For the game. ‘M really excited.”

That drew a smile from him, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Did you really get a new one?”

“Not yet. But it’ll be here soon.”

“Then we can play together.” He nodded. You opened your mouth to say more, but you heard your name. 

“Babydoll, come on back. It’s almost time to go.”

You glanced at Loki, “I gotta go. See you.” You waved, “Merry Christmas!”

He smiled wryly, “Merry Christmas.”

You practically skipped back to Steve and Bucky, though Steve wandered off to help clean up the stray wrapping paper. 

“You ready to go, doll?” Bucky squeezed your hand. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, excited to get home. 

Bucky knelt, “Alright, doll. I’m working on Papa, okay? But you gotta play it cool. I know you wanna play your new game, but tonight, I know Papa wants to watch a movie before bedtime. Do you think you can do me a big favor and wait until tomorrow to play?”

Your face fell, “But Papa said-”

“I know he said maybe later. But it would make him really happy if you watched a movie with us tonight.” He cupped your cheek, “Please?”

You gave a reluctant nod, “Okay. I can play tomorrow?”

“I’ll do my best.”

He kissed your nose, “That’s my girl.”

 Steve came back over, “We ready to get going?” You raised your arms and he scooped you up, chuckling, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bucky gathered up your gifts, somehow managing to juggle them all, “Tell everyone goodbye, babydoll.”

You waved goodbye to everyone as they were gathering up their own things, following up with thank yous for your presents. Wanda and Peter called cheerful goodbyes back and a chorus of Merry Christmases followed the three of you out the door.

“Did you have fun, sweetness?” Steve brushed his hand over your leg, giving you a little squeeze.

You nodded, “Can we watch a movie at home, Papa?”

He seemed surprised at that, “Of course we can, angel.” Bucky gave you a subtle nod of approval over Steve’s shoulder. “What do you say to a bath first?”

Once you were home, bathed, and into your new Christmas pajamas, you climbed onto the couch while Steve and Bucky took seats on either side of you. The opening credits rolled and you accepted your paci from Bucky, feeling content and excited for tomorrow.

*

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you woke up, you were in bed. Steve’s arm was draped over your waist and Bucky’s soft, even breathing was warm on your forehead. It didn’t take long for you to remember that today was Christmas, a small gasp escaping your lips. 

You wriggled carefully out of bed, slinking out the bedroom door, too focused on your destination to hear the soft chuckle that left Steve’s lips. You padded out to the living room, eyes growing wide the sight of the Christmas tree, lit up and surrounded by presents. You were proud of the Christmas tree; you’d all decorated it together, with Steve’s Christmas record playing in the background. You’d even put the star on top, after Steve had hoisted you up on his shoulders so you could reach. 

Now, candy canes hung from the branches and the wrapped gifts waited for you to open them. You darted back down the hallway, throwing yourself onto the bed, “Santa came! Daddy, wake up!” You grabbed Steve’s arm and gave him a little shake, squealing when he grabbed you and pulled you back into his grasp.

He gave an exaggerated yawn, “I don’t know sweetheart, I’m pretty sleepy. Maybe we’ll sleep for another couple of hours. What do you think, Buck?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky mumbed, snaking his arms around your waist.

You wiggled in their arms, “No Papa, it’s Christmas! You gotta wake up! It’s time to open presents!”

“Oh, is it Christmas?” Steve teased. “I completely forgot. Good thing we have you here to remind us.” 

“Are you coming?” you pleaded, jutting your lower lip.

“I suppose so,” Steve chuckled. “You comin’, Buck?”

“‘M comin’.” 

Steve released you, though you were still trapped by Bucky, kissing your forehead before getting out of bed, “Make sure Daddy gets up, okay? I’ll meet you out there, sweetheart.”

“Daddy, c’mon,” you pleaded. 

He yawned, a real yawn, before brushing your cheek with a finger, “Merry Christmas, doll.”

“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

By the time you finally tugged him out of the bed, Steve had music going in the background and the kitchen smelled like coffee. A groggy Bucky followed you down the hall and Steve handed him a steaming mug. Bucky murmured a thank you and kissed Steve on the cheek before heading into the living room and plopping down on the couch.

“You want some cocoa, angel?” Steve offered you a sippy cup.

“Thank you, Papa. Can we open presents now?”

“Yes, we can open presents now,” he chuckled. Steve followed you into the living room and took a seat on the couch next to Bucky, finally giving you the go-ahead.

 An hour later, all of the gifts had been opened and Steve had finally given the okay for you to play your game while he and Bucky made breakfast. Wrapping paper was strewn across the living room floor, though your gifts were set aside: several new stuffies, a few new outfits, some records of your own for the record player, and a new set of crayons and a coloring book to go with it. You were using a fuzzy new blanket and a custom paci designed with Captain America’s shield on it while you played. 

“Sweetheart, time for breakfast,” Steve called from the kitchen. You carefully put your game down and scurried out to the kitchen, unwilling to risk having it taken away so soon. 

“Do you need help, Papa?” you chirped, hovering at his elbow. 

Bucky ushered you over to the table, hoisting you into your chair, “Everything’s all ready, doll.” He kissed your forehead before he took his own seat. Steve set down a plate piled with pancakes and took his own seat before dishing food out, first for you and then for himself. Bucky cut your pancakes for you.

“Can I play my game some more after breakfast?”

“I was gonna say we should make cookies,” Bucky countered. “That sound good?”

You nodded, “Yeah! And then we can take them to Wanda and Loki and Peter?”

“Sure thing, angel,” Steve agreed, seemingly relieved at the distraction from the video game. 

So, after breakfast, Bucky got out a bowl and gathered everything you needed for cookies. He sat you up on his lap and let you mix the dough until it became too hard for you to stir, taking over and mixing with ease. Once he was satisfied with it, he floured the table and rolled the dough out, setting you to work with the cookie cutters. Pretty soon, you were covered from head to toe in flour, despite how careful you’d been with your cutouts. 

“Doll, you’re supposed to bake with flour, not wear it,” Bucky teased, flicking a bit more in your direction.

“Buck-” Steve sounded exasperated, but he was too late. You squealed a laugh and climbed into his lap, smearing white all down the front of his shirt. You giggled as you buried your fingers in the scruff of his beard, leaving white streaks of flour over his cheeks.

Bucky’s mouth fell open in mock surprise, “Did you just get me all messy?”

“You did first!” you laughed.

Bucky leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I think Papa is a little too clean over there, what do you think?”

You grinned and clamored off Bucky’s lap, scurrying over to Steve, who was working on mixing frosting, “Can I help, Papa?”

“I heard that, Bucky,” Steve rolled his eyes. But still, you lifted your arms and shuffled closer. Steve sighed, “Come on then. Get up here.”

He hoisted you into his lap and let you stir the food coloring into the frosting while Bucky loaded the cookies into the oven. Steve watched you stir the frosting with a look of blissful exasperation; you were dusting him with flour, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Once the cookies were baking, they wiped you off and you helped Steve clean up the living room while Bucky manned the kitchen. You helped Bucky frost the cookies as they were cooled and then you got another bath to get the remaining flour and frosting off you before delivering the cookies. 

First up was Thor and Loki. You knocked on the door, rocking on your heels while you waited. When Thor opened the door, you beamed, “Merry Christmas! We brought cookies!”

Thor accepted the tupperware, “Thank you very much, little one. Loki! Y/N has brought us cookies.”

Loki shuffled into the doorway behind Thor, muttering a thank you. Your brow furrowed, “Are you okay?”

Thor chuckled softly, “We are a bit grumpy today. Pay him no mind.”

You bit your lip, “I hope the cookies make you feel better!”

Steve squeezed your shoulder, “I’m sure they will, sweetheart. You ready to give Natasha and Wanda theirs?” You nodded, waving goodbye to Thor and Loki before trotting after Steve down the hall.

When Natasha opened the door to their apartment, she smiled, “Merry Christmas, you guys.”

“Merry Christmas, Nat,” Steve replied.

You still felt guilty whenever you went to Nat’s, remembering when you’d run away. “We brought you cookies,” you offered, holding out the dish.

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you so much,” Natasha trilled. “Wanda, do you want to come say ‘hi’?”

Wanda’s head poked up from the couch and she hurried over, her game clutched in her hand, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Wanda!”

She held up her game, “Do you wanna play with me when you get home?”

You looked to Steve, “Can I, Papa?”

He stifled a sigh and Natasha snickered, “For a little bit.”

You beamed, “Okay, let’s go see Petey!” You were in a hurry now.

Wanda nodded her approval and Nat clapped Steve on the shoulder, “I’ll text you Wanda’s friend code.”

“Her what?”

“I’ll explain it later.”

Finally was Peter. Tony opened the door, with Peter on his hip, “To what do we owe this patriotic pleasure?”

“We brought cookies!” You offered them up and Peter was quick to accept.

“What do we say, Pete?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Steve chuckled.

“I’m gonna play my game with Wanda when we get home. Do you wanna play too, Peter?”

“Can I, Daddy?” Peter turned his doe eyes on Tony.

“Sure thing, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?

Peter cheered, “Okay, I’m gonna go get ready!”

Tony released the now-wriggling Peter with a chuckle, “I guess that’s that. Thanks for the cookies, guys.”

“Merry Christmas,” you offered shyly.

Tony nodded, “Merry Christmas, squirt. Merry Christmas, Cap.”

“Merry Christmas, Tony.”

One more stop to Bruce, who seemed pleasantly surprised to have visitors today, and you were ready to go home. Once you were finished, Steve hoisted you up onto his hip, “You can play for an hour, okay? Because you were good and used your manners.”

“Okay! Thank you, Papa!” You hugged his neck and he gave you a little squeeze as you returned home. 

You played with Wanda and Peter while Steve and Bucky cleaned up the kitchen. Bucky had started dinner while you two were gone and the smell of honied ham was permeating the apartment. By the time your hour was up, it was time for dinner and before you knew it, the day was over. 

Dressed in clean pajamas, your teeth brushed, belly full, and paci in your mouth, you climbed into bed with Steve and Bucky. “Did you have a good Christmas, doll?” Bucky murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You nodded, already growing sleepy, your words sloppy around the paci, “The best Christmas, Daddy.”

Steve hummed, tracing circles on your back and pressing a kiss to your cheek before settling in, “We love you, sweetheart.”

You cuddled close, closing your eyes, “Love you guys too.”

#daddy!stucky #daddy!stucky x little!reader #little!reader #soft!dark!stucky x little!reader #christmas special

[returntobeaconhills]

Hale vs. Stilinski

“Isaac goes to you, obviously,” Stiles said, making a note on the paper in front of him.

“Obviously,” Isaac chimed in from where he was stretched out on the couch.

Derek just nodded his acceptance.

“Erica and Boyd are a package deal. We can’t separate them,” Stiles said. He chewed on his pen until lighting up with an idea. “We’ll alternate weekends. That’s fair.”

Derek just huffed and rolled his eyes.

Scott came into the loft just as he heard Stiles say, “I get to keep Scott.”

“Good, I don’t want him,” Derek answered. 

“What’s happening?” Scott asked, moving Isaac’s legs to sit down on the couch before placing them back on his lap.

“They had a fight so now they’re dividing up custody of us, it seems,” Boyd said as he scrolled through Netflix.

“Hey!” Scott said, twisting on the couch to look at Derek. “You don’t want me? That’s rude.”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever had to listen to,” Erica groaned. “Just kiss and make up already. We all know you’re going to.”

“Not this time. This time it’s unforgivable,” Stiles insisted.

“What are you even fighting about?” Scott maneuvered out from under Isaac to go over to the negotiation taking place at the dining room table.

“I said I didn’t think George Clooney was that bad of a Batman,” Derek said on a sigh.

“He said it right to my face, Scott! Like it was nothing at all!” Stiles nearly whacked Scott in the eye with his flailing. “How can I share my bed with someone that can watch that movie and think Clooney was an acceptable Batman?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about it because you are definitely on the couch tonight,” Derek grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stiles, you do understand we are all adults in our 20’s, and no one gets custody, right?” Scott told him.

“I changed my mind. You can have Scott,” Stiles told Derek.

Derek shook his head. “You made your choice. He’s yours.”

Stiles tore the paper in front of him in half. “I guess we gotta stay together. For the kids. But we are going to watch Batman & Robin right now so I can point out everything wrong with it.”

“And we’re sure divorce is off the table?” Derek asked cracking a smirk at Stiles’s offended reaction.

Stiles poked Derek in the chest. “No way. You’re stuck with me forever.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Derek said softly, pulling Stiles into his lap.

“Annnnnd that’s our cue to go,” Erica said. “I’m taking fifty out of your wallet and we’re all getting ice cream,” she told Derek but he and Stiles were already too distracted to notice.  

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