#just kicks back and watches it all unfold internally laughing her ass off

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

#asks #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #yelan #furina #ei #THIS DIDNT SHOW UP IN MY INBOX UNTIL LIKE #NOVEMBERBIM SORRY IM ANSERRING IT SO LATE?????? #tumblr working right is a miracle that will never happen #anyway can u tell i have. biases. there r so many characters I wanted to write for this (shenhe.........) but I forced myself to limit it #to 4 for my own sanity and everyones elses #also didnt know if u wanted just yan or sagau so I went for my specialty 🧍‍♂️ #was gonna include my beloved cryo archon but decided against it #ei the pathetic lesbian that u r....mwah #I'm sorry this took so long it took me 50 yrs to figure out yelan.. 😭 #i am still not confident abt my characterization of her but shes so good at her job even im confused abt her #reading her lore crying and sobbing in the corner. shaking her like a can of soda #checks note idk uhh cocky doesnt let herself form personal relationships charismatic uhhhhhhhh #idk dont ask me i just started praying and hoping for the best here #i think she'd get a kick out of getting reader into like. fudging rolls and shit. create an absolute menace out of reader #set them loose and see what chaos happens #just kicks back and watches it all unfold internally laughing her ass off #i didnt know whether to just do headcanons in uh. bulleted list or like #full on drabbles

[saltybaltic]

hello! if you’re taking requests as of right now, could I request a fic involving an extremely shy avenger!reader having an enormous crush on Nat and it being a running joke among the team because she doesn’t have a clue when it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else? I don’t care how it ends, go wild.... (take that as you will)

Natasha Romanoff X Reader - CONFIDENCE

Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow X FemReader Fanfic

Synopsis: You have a huge crush on one of your team mates but you’re too shy to ever do anything about it. Fortunately, people have noticed and you might be about to get some help.

Warnings: None

Words: 989

“You know she likes you right?”

Natasha’s hands stilled on the keyboard for a second, looking up at her friend with a frown, “Who?”

Scoffing at her answer, Clint took a swig of his coffee before responding, “Who? Like you don’t know.”

“Forgive me, I thought everyone on this team liked me.” shot back Natasha, giving him a sarcastic smile and going back to her work on the laptop.

Clint rolled his eyes and placed his mug on the coffee table, flopping down onto the sofa beside the red head and nudging her computer playfully with his foot to get her attention again, “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“And you’re being deliberately annoying.” muttered Natasha, shifting over slightly on the sofa so she was nestled in the corner out of his reach.

“Fine, you win.” conceded Clint, raising his hands in surrender before reaching for his coffee again, “But you should do something about it and stop letting that poor girl work herself into a fluster around you.”

Of course Natasha knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone on the team seemed to know. In fact the only person who didn’t seem to realise you had a huge crush on The Black Widow was, well, you.

You had always been shy, and although joining The Avengers had succeeded in bringing you out of your shell a little, there was still certain social situations that you just couldn’t handle very well. So it was no surprise that when a beautiful woman flirted with you on occasion, you tended to find yourself reduced to a blushing, bumbling mess.

Natasha wasn’t cruel. She wasn���t deliberately toying with you or taking any pleasure in your squirming. Okay maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Did she find it cute when you would duck your head and fumble over your words whenever she sent a flirtatious comment your way? A little. But she wasn’t doing it to mess with you. She wanted to challenge you, encourage you, dare you to make a move. Because despite what you might be willing to believe, she liked you too. Ever since you had joined the team she had become quite fond of you, finding your quick wit, humour and kindness to others rather endearing. She saw the way you interacted with the others; laughing and making jokes, teasing one another playfully, and generally looking after each other. You had become something of a weakness of hers, finding her eyes drawn to you around the compound and just watching from a distance. All Natasha wanted was for you to finally gather the courage to interact with her in the same way, and she definitely wasn’t the only one on the team that was desperate for you to realise you had a crush.

At much the same time as Clint was questioning Natasha upstairs, you found yourself being given the workout of your life in the gym with Steve. Now they weren’t exactly giving out slots on the team to anyone off the street so you knew you possessed some desirable abilities, but going toe to toe with Captain America was a challenge for anyone on their best day.

Gesturing with your hands for a time out, you sucked in a breath and gripped your waist where you could feel a stitch forming, “Jesus Steve, let’s take five, you’re kicking my ass.”

“You’re doing great though.” encouraged Steve with a small chuckle, tossing you a water bottle from the corner of the gym mat, “I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

You shrugged, “Well as the newest team member, I feel I had some catching up to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, you’re already where you need to be.” reassured Steve, walking closer as he seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding to speak, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more self confidence.”

“I have enough confidence.”

Steve nodded slowly, obviously not wanting to cross a line but still wanting to say something, “Around me? Sure. But you should be more confident around others.”

“Like who?” you asked, watching Steve carefully over your water bottle as you took a few gulps.

“Like Natasha.”

You almost choked on your water, “W-Why ... errr ... why do you say that?”

“You like her, right?”

Scratching at the back of your neck uncomfortably, you tossed the drink to one side, “That’s enough of a break, let’s go again.”

“Hey.” Steve grabbed your arm to stop you from heading back into the centre of the mat and offered a reassuring smile, “Look, I’m just saying. Try not to be so shy around her, she’s not as scary as she’d have you believe. Plus, between you and me? I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

“I don’t ...” you trailed off in thought for a second. Did you like Natasha? You definitely admired her. You envied her confidence and sass. She was an impressive woman, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. And you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed and flattered whenever she would flirt with you. It drove you crazy with frustration how shy you could be around her and that you were never able to say or do anything in response. It wasn’t lack of desire that was stopping you, of course you wanted to flirt back with her. Who wouldn’t?

A frown started to develop on your face the longer you thought about it, realisation suddenly dawning on you. It was so obvious now. You didn’t just admire Natasha, Steve was right - you did like her.

He seemed to see the lightbulb moment as it unfolded, patting you on the shoulder reassuringly with a small laugh as he motioned you back towards where you had been sparring, “Don’t worry about it, just something to think about. Now come on, show me what you’re made of.”

You let yourself process the discussion with Steve for a few days, keeping mostly to yourself as you thought about it in depth. You almost felt stupid for taking so long to realise, so much of the past few weeks making sense now. There had been more than a few occasions where a team mate had made a teasing comment, all in good fun of course, about your blushes and stuttering around Natasha. You had assumed it was just banter amongst friends about your chronic shyness but now it was painfully obvious that you were the last person in the building to realise you had a crush on Natasha.

Although you had given yourself adequate time to consider your revelation, you hadn’t exactly formulated a plan to deal with it. Unfortunately it seemed that you weren’t going to be given any more time to come up with something, when your quiet evening alone on the sofa was interrupted by the very woman who had been consuming your thoughts.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Natasha, plonking herself down on the sofa beside you without waiting for a response.

Shifting your attention from the movie on the television, you looked across at the other woman and swallowed, already feeling your mouth becoming dry as you silently shook your head.

“What you watching?”

You blinked, taking a moment to inhale a calming breath and internally encouraging yourself before engaging your brain to speak, “I-I don’t know really, it was just on and I kind of got sucked in.”

Natasha nodded, glancing at the television briefly as she leaned back against the sofa. Her arm lay across the cushions, bent at the elbow as she raised her hand and rested her chin on it. Her eyes drifted back to meet yours, watching you carefully, “The boys say I make you nervous. Is that true?”

Panic.

Your first instinct was to run, heart hammering against your rib cage as for the first time, Natasha put you on the spot. You could already feel the heat rising in your cheeks and there was a distinct possibility your palms were sweating.

“I errr ...” you took another breath to compose yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to remain calm, “I suppose it is, yeah.”

Natasha’s lips turned up slightly at that, her chin still balanced on her hand as she studied you, “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“I shouldn’t?”

Shaking her head, Natasha broke out into a proper smile, “I mean don’t get me wrong, you look cute when you’re nervous.”

At her comment you had to look away, biting down on your lip and pressing the back of your hand to your cheek to confirm the fact that yes, you were definitely getting flushed now.

Natasha chuckled quietly, “Yeah, there it is.”

Hoping to take Steve’s advice and scrambling for all the courage you could muster, you looked back at the other woman and cocked your head curiously, “Do you just enjoy toying with me or ...?”

“Or what?” asked Natasha, the subtle smirk on her face suggesting she knew exactly what you were asking. After a few seconds of silence, she took the initiative and filled in the blanks for you, not wanting to put you on the spot too much given that this was already the longest the two of you had ever spoken, “I’m not toying with you ... I was just trying to gauge whether the rumours were true and if I should ask you out on a date.”

You had to fight not to gasp in surprise, sure that it would probably be the most embarrassing response you could have, “A ... a date? With me?”

“Well I don’t see anyone else around.” joked Natasha, gesturing around the empty room, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Shaking your head perhaps a little too eagerly, you turned your body to face her properly, “No that. Um. That would be nice.”

“Great.” answered Natasha, shooting you a reassuring smile as she went to get up from the sofa, “How does tomorrow night sound?”

“I ... that would. Err. Sure. Tomorrow. Good. Yes.” you could barely speak now, sure this must be some kind of fever dream and it couldn’t actually be happening.

Natasha simply laughed, standing up and leaning over to squeeze your shoulder gently before turning to make her way out of the room, “Yeah you’re still cute. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Unable to do or say anything else, you silently watched her walk away, unable to quite believe what had just unfolded. Natasha Romanoff had asked you out on a date.

As if finally realising what had just happened, you couldn’t help but break out into a smile. If it meant Natasha had finally asked you out, maybe all that teasing from the rest of the team had been good for something after all.

#Natasha Romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow #black widow x reader #Natasha Romanoff fanfiction

[cocosstories]

Bucky Barnes One Shot

absolutely love you’re writing!!! *internal squeal* so what about a tfatws!Bucky x reader one shot, where John walker tries to hit on reader (and Y/n is having non of that nonsense). Bucky doesn’t hear the reader turn John down and he gets really jealous? Kinda angsty ending in the floof?

You were on mission with Bucky and Sam when Walker and Hoskins had showed up thinking they were God's gift to superheroes and messed up the whole plan.

"You really know how to show up where you aren't wanted don't you?"

Sam says as you all make your way back into Zemo's apartment.

"It's my job Sam. I am Captain America."

A loud and exaggerated scoff comes from Bucky who was in the kitchen, helping himself to some of Zemo's top shelf liquor.

"You got something to say?"

Walker says, turning to Bucky.

"Oh, I have plenty to say..."

Bucky slams the drink and glares at Walker.

"Alright macho men, calm down. We don't have time for you two to measure and decide whose bigger right now. We need to figure out what our next step is."

You say getting in between the two men then look to Sam.

"What do you think? The funeral is over is Karli going to run or do you think she has a reason to stick around?"

Sam sighs.

"I don't know. I felt like I was getting through to her for a minute but I got nothing to tell me what the next part of her plan is. I'm going to call Sharon and see if maybe she can get me some satellite access."

He says then leaves to make the call.

"Thank you for deactivating the super soldier over there. I really appreciate it. Bucky is a good guy and I would have hated to have had to go up against him."

Walker says after he walks up to you, Bucky watching from the kitchen the whole time.

You laugh at his comments.

"Bucky would have kicked your ass in a heartbeat and Sam and I would have let him."

Walker chuckles, shaking his head.

"I think it's nice that you stick by him. Steve would really appreciate that. You're a really good friend to him and just a good person in general."

Walker begins, taking a step closer to you.

"You know, I was thinking maybe once this is all over and we are back in D.C. we could grab dinner or something."

Bucky hears the entire conversation, fuming as Walker places his hand lightly on your arm and storms out of the apartment.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you."

You begin, grabbing walkers hand, pulling it off your arm and twisting it back.

"You and I will NEVER happen. You are not who you are pretending to be. You will never be Captain America or the big hero the world needs no matter how hard you try. And you are definitely no where near as charming as you think you are. And trust me when I tell you, Bucky is a million times the man you will ever be."

You finish, finally letting go of his hand and walk out the door after Bucky.

"Bucky!"

You call out, seeing him walking down the road.

"Bucky, wait!"

You say, running up behind him.

"What?"

He says, stopping as you get to him.

"Are you alright? Why did you leave?"

You ask.

"I didn't want to wait around to see how the great love story unfolded."

He replies in a low grumble, looking at the ground.

"Love story? Me and Walker? Are you kidding me? Bucky, he asked me out and I told him it would never happen."

You say.

"Why would you do that? He's America's hero."

You roll your eyes.

"In his head maybe. Buck, I told him no because I don't want fake Captain America. I want someone else."

You say, hoping he will understand.

"Oh yeah? Whose that?"

You let out a sigh and reach of the pocket of his jacket, pulling him towards you.

As you do, he finally looks up and before he can say anything, you kiss him, soft and sweet.

"You, idiot."

You say with a laugh when the kiss ends.

"It's always been you Buck. It will always be you."

He smiles. A real genuine and happy smile before the two of you kiss, this time, Bucky taking the lead.

"'Bout damn time!"

You hear Sam call out behind you and throw your arm back with your middle finger up at him as he laughs and goes back into the apartment, giving you and Bucky some privacy.

#Bucky Barnes One Shot #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #cocos stories

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Playin' With Fire

Summary: Dani has moved in with Will and Benny Miller. One night they throw a party and she finally gets to meet the final Special Ops teammate, Frankie. There is an obvious connection between the two, but what happens when life throws a roadblock in the way of them being together?

A/N: So here it is. My first ever Frankie fic, my first ever Pedro Character fic, my first ever fic that has all the parts completed. I would like to say a BIG thank you to @221bshrlocked for the mood board because hers is TEN times better than any of mine were. Each part will have their own warnings. Translations will be at the end of every chapter, let me know if any of them are wrong. Also let me know if I've missed any warnings. Y'all forgive me if my writing is crap.

Warning: Explicit language, mentions of someone getting handsy, um dirty dancing?, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 4,205

It was a warm summer day, Benny’s birthday to be exact. Will had decided to throw a party at their house for him. Will had mentioned that their childhood friend, who they called ‘Tequila’ just moved in with them. Frankie had shown up early to help Will assemble the new grill he had gotten. He never expected for his entire life to be flipped upside down.

He knocked on Will’s front door three times before it swung open and there she stood. Dirty blonde hair that hung just below her breasts, eyes so blue it put the sky to shame. He was sure he looked like a damned fool, mouth agape, probably catching flies. Then she smiled, and Frankie’s heart beat faster than ever thought possible.

“Hey, you must be Catfish. Will told me he was expecting you.” She greets him and her voice sounds like a fucking angel. There was no way that she wasn’t messing around with Benny. She looked just like his type.

“I’m Dani, Will and Ben’s roommate, but everyone calls me Tequila.” Frankie groans internally, he was so screwed. She opens the door a little more and moves out of the way. “Will’s in the backyard.” She points through the house.

Frankie hurried past her and mumbled a “Thank you”. Frankie’s eyes were trained to the floor as he briskly walked toward the kitchen and out into the backyard.

“Fish!” Will bellowed with a huge smile on his face. “I guess Tequila let you in.” The two men embraced in a bro-hug. Frankie nodded, moving over to where Will had the grill pieces laid out.

“She did. You never mentioned your new roommate was a woman and hot.” Frankie responded, looking over the directions. “You know man, you pay like fifty extra bucks and they put this shit together for you.”

It took Frankie and Will three fucking hours to put the grill together. By the end of the last hour, Frankie was cursing Will, telling him he’d never help him do something like this again; Although, they both knew that was a lie. The two men walked into the kitchen, where Dani was prepping the steaks for dinner. “Finally done, boys? I threw a couple of buds in the fridge for y’all.” She chuckled as the back door opened.

Frankie knew he shouldn’t, but walking up to the fridge, he couldn’t help but steal a gaze at her back side. The shorts she was wearing left almost nothing to the imagination. Her tanned legs seemed like they went on for days. Her feet clad in converses, which made Frankie laugh, because who wears those any more.

Dani heard the laughter and turned around, seeing Frankie looking at her feet. "My shoes funny to you, Catfish?" She asked, with a playful smile on her face.

Frankie's head shot up. " No, no. I love Chuck Taylors as much as the next person. It just surprises me that people still wear them." He explained himself, hoping she didn't catch him staring at her ass, too. Frankie opened the fridge and grabbed two beers, before asking her if she wanted one. She shook her head, stating she doesn't drink beer. Frankie wondered what that meant, and handed the other beer to Will who watched the scene unfold in front of him with a smirk on his face.

There was about an hour to kill before everyone showed up to celebrate Benny's birthday. "The steaks should marinate for at least another half hour." Dani explained to Will, "And make sure you don't burn 'em this time, Ironhead." She teased him, and he threw a hand over his heart, feigning that it was broken. The two went about the kitchen prepping side dishes for the night.

Frankie was outside, trying to figure out why the grill wouldn't light and he was sure Will fucked something up. He couldn't help but wonder what Tequila and his friend were talking about.

Dani turned to her best friend, "So, what's Catfish's story?" She asked, twiddling her fingers. Will looked at her with a raised brow.

"Frankie? Why?" Will questioned her teasingly. Blush covered her cheeks and she averted her eyes to the floor.

"I dunno. He seems sweet." She replied and Will smirked, giving her a knowing look. "Will, stop it. All I said was he seems sweet." She playfully smacked the other blonde.

"Well, Ironhead. I figured out what you fucked up." Frankie's voice boomed as he opened the back door. He noticed that the two were talking and apologized for interrupting.

"It's fine, Frankie." Dani smiled, "What did this dumbass do now?" Frankie realized that was the first time she said his real name, and it was the greatest thing he has ever heard.

Frankie turned to Ironhead. "Maldito idiota. You forgot to connect the gas line. The whole place could have gone up." Will's eyes almost popped out of his head.

Tequila turned to Ironhead. "What the fuck, Will?!" She screeched. Will threw his hands up in defense.

"I'm sorry. I got distracted." He tried to save his ass. "I swear I connected it."

Frankie and Tequila rolled their eyes. "Well, I hope your girl of the week knows she almost killed us." Tequila groaned and walked outside, knowing exactly what was keeping Will distracted. Frankie just shook his head and followed her.

"Hey," he started as he walked up to her at the cooler. She gave him an acknowledging nod as she pulled a bottle of tequila out. "Oh. Is it time for the hard stuff,already? Una chica después de mi propio corazón." The spanish rolled off of Frankie's tongue and Dani could have fallen over.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she had a thing for languages. Or maybe she just had a thing for Frankie and his Spanish. She wasn't sure which. "Yeah, well after finding out your best friend almost killed you for a few nudes from his fling of the week, tequila seems appropriate." She forced a laugh. Frankie definitely caught on that she described Will as her best friend and that he was having flings.

Frankie nodded in agreement. "So, is this why they call you Tequila?" He tried to change the subject, pointing to the bottle of Patrón. She shook her head 'no'. Before she could tell him, Will stuck his head out the door, yelling that Santiago was here.

"Santi!" Tequila squealed, rushing to the door, and she missed the look on Frankie's face. It was a mix between hurt and confusion. How did she know Santiago when Frankie had no idea she existed? Frankie groaned and walked toward the house to greet his friend.

Dani had already made it inside and was wrapped in an embrace with Pope. “Fuck,” Pope groaned with a smile as Dani jumped into him. “Hey, Tequila.” He hugged her tightly.

“Look here, jerkface,” She said as they separated, “Next time you hook up with one of my friends and leave me to deal with her crying, I’m kicking your ass.” She poked him in the chest to get her point across.

Santiago just hung his head and mumbled a “yes ma’am” before Frankie caught his eye. “Lo que hasta hermano” He greeted one of his oldest friends. He looked at Dani and mouthed “help me” to Frankie, earning another poke from the blonde girl.

“Estás solo, hermano. Ella da miedo.” Frankie smiled, pointing to Tequila. She huffed and crossed her arms.

“Oh, fuck you guys. I’m fluent in Spanish. Deja de hablar mierda de mi.” The words rolled off her tongue with ease and Frankie almost lost his shit right there. Lucky for him, Will broke up the tension.

“Benny just texted me, he will be here in twenty. Tom is bringing Molly and will be here in about fifteen.” Dani excused herself to go get ready, claiming she wasn’t presentable for a party. If it had been up to Frankie, she wouldn’t have changed at all. He found himself excited when she came back about fifteen minutes later in the same shorts, shoes, and a cropped Guns-n-Roses t-shirt.

The party was in full swing. The seven of them were gathered around the fire pit. The group was too many drinks in and knew they would be crashing here. Thankfully Benny and Will had the room.

“So, Dani. Why do they call you Tequila?” Molly had asked and Will and Benny started laughing. Dani just shook her head. Benny answered before she could.

“Because Dani can knock you on your ass with one good shot, just like Tequila. Trust me, I know.” He explained, speaking from experience. Molly looked at her with wide eyes and she just shrugged.

“I bartended my way through college. Sometimes an asshole would get too handsy. It paid off to have two protective guys who taught me how to throw a good punch. Plus, I really like tequila.” She winked at Frankie, referencing their conversation earlier in the day, taking a sip of her tequila sunrise. She made a face, realizing it had watered down. “I’m going for another, anyone else need one?” She offered and everyone raised an empty bottle.

She got up from her chair and turned toward the house. Frankie got up too, “I’ll help you,” he offered, ignoring the whistle Santi let out. He was clearly feeling good. Frankie flipped him a quick bird and continued into the house.

Inside, Dani was already grabbing bottles out of the fridge, mumbling about how they have already almost finished off their stock. “Oh, here” Frankie started, leaning on the counter. Dani closed the door, turning her attention to the man beside her. “Let me help.” He said, taking the bottles out of her hands, seeing her struggle to hold them all. “Can I ask you something?” Frankie gets the words out before he changes his mind. She hmms in response.

“How have we never met? I mean you obviously know Santi.” He takes his hat off to run a hand through his hair. Dani smiled at the sight of his hair all disheveled.

“I’ve been asking myself that all night. You do seem to be the better of the bunch.” She flirted, hoping he would return the gesture and he did.

“You are definitely not what I was expecting when Will said they had a roommate.” He smiled, leaning a little closer to her. Dani noticed and moved closer herself. Before they could cross that line, they were startled apart by a very inebriated Benny.

“Tequila!” Their drunk friend slurred, “Wha’re you ‘n fish doin’? Cat, you hittin’ on my girl?” He tried to be serious, but Benny stumbled over his own feet into Frankie.

“Woah, Benny. Careful.” Frankie caught him and set him up right. Dani laughed, he always was a lightweight.

“We were just about to bring the drinks out.” She says, grabbing the bottles off the counter, leaving a couple for Frankie to carry.

Back outside, Dani and Molly danced to whatever music Will had playing. “Yeah!” by Usher came on and Molly squealed that she loves this song. “Dance with me, Tequila!” She pulls her closer and Dani lets her, the alcohol clearly gone to her head. The two girls are all but grinding on each other. Tom quickly gets up, knocking his chair backwards. He takes Dani’s place dancing with Molly, grumbling something she would never repeat in public.

Frankie wanted nothing more than to join her now that she was dancing alone, but Santi beat him to the punch. “Baila conmigo, cariño.” He whispered in her ear and she giggled. Frankie wished it had been him to get that noise out of her. Dani shook her head and pushed Santi away.

“Solo en tus sueños, playboy.” She responded and it was Frankie’s turn to laugh. Dani walked away from Santi over to where Frankie sat. “Dance with me, Frankie?” She asked sweetly. How could Frankie say no?

He followed her just as a Def Leppard flowed through the speakers. She began moving her body to the beat of “Pour some sugar on me”. Frankie did his best to keep up with her, but he kept losing concentration, especially when her ass connected with his crotch one to many times. His hands instinctively went to her hips and pulled her closer. “Joder, princesa. Tienes que parar antes de que pierda el control.” He groaned into her neck where only she could hear him.

She turned to face him, throwing her arms around his neck to pull herself closer. “Tal vez eso es exactamente lo que quiero.” She purred in his ear.

The sun beamed through Dani’s window way too early the next morning. She groaned and rolled away from the penetrating light. As she turned, her hand hit a warm body and it elicited a groan. “Too early.”

Dani’s eyes shot open, trying to see who was beside her. Looking around, she realized that she was not in her room, but instead in Will’s. “Will?” She questioned, berating herself for going this far with her best friend. The other person threw the blanket off their head and Dani let out a sigh of relief. Seeing Frankie took the weight off of her shoulders.

“Hermosa, did you just call me Will?” Frankie asked, sleep thick in his voice. Dani was so embarrassed.

“Sorry, fish. I opened my eyes and saw that we were in Will’s room. What the fuck happened last night?” Dani questioned the man beside her as she sat up to assess the room. She looked around for any indication that something transpired between them last night.

“Trust me, Tequila. You’d know if we slept together.” Frankie sighed, as he swiped a hand over his face. Cocky much, Dani thought; However, he was right, she didn’t feel like she had sex. “I need coffee.” He griped, throwing his legs off the bed and standing up. Dani caught him out of the corner of her eye. He had on sweats and no shirt. She turned her head, shamelessly checking him out, before he pulled his shirt on. “Take a picture, Teq.” He laughed and she threw a pillow at him.

Dani forced herself out of the bed too, happy to see her drunk self had put on decent pajamas. The two padded into the kitchen as quietly as possible. They had passed Santi and Ben passed out on the couches.

“Where are Molly and Tom?” Dani whispered to Frankie and he just shrugged. Frankie rummaged through the kitchen searching for the coffee. “Teq, where are the filters?” He yawned, holding up the coffee can.

“Shit, we might be out.” Frankie whined at her answer. “Come on. There’s a coffee shop within walking distance.” She continued, heading towards her room. She opened the door and found out where Molly and Tom were. “Holy shit!” she gasped and immediately turned around. Frankie heard her outburst and rushed over to her, seeing the same sight as her, Molly perched on Tom’s lap, moving in an obvious way.

“Jesus,” Frankie said, covering his eyes.

“I’m just gonna borrow some clothes from Benny.” Dani said walking away and closing her door. Once in Benny’s room, they found Will sound asleep. Dani quickly picked up some sweats and a tee from Benny’s drawer. “I’ll be right out.” She told Frankie as she entered Benny’s bathroom.

When she emerged, she had dressed and her blonde locks were haphazardly thrown into a bun. Frankie loved this look on her. She was just as beautiful as she was last night, and this looked more natural on her. “You’re staring, Catfish.” She teased him, “Let’s go get coffee before anyone else wakes up.”

The walk to the coffee shop was a pleasant one. It was about 7am and the North Carolina humidity hadn’t set in yet. Frankie and Dani chit-chatted the whole way. She had learned that he had met the guys while in the service. He joined right after high school, just like them. He was their pilot. His favorite color is black, and that is exactly how he likes his coffee. He drives the same chevy he got on his 18th birthday, and has no intentions of getting rid of it because “she still purrs like a kitten”.

He learned a lot about Dani, too. Her favorite color is purple. She likes her coffee with just cream. She met Benny first, since they were the same age. She is an only child, so Ben and Will are basically her older brothers. She just finished her residency at the county hospital and is getting ready to take her boards. She absolutely loves 80’s hair bands and country music, but has a soft spot for R&B and rap.

They were nice enough to get coffee for everyone, even though Tom and Molly seemed to have enough energy this morning. “I have to buy a new mattress now.” Dani cringed at the thought of what Molly and Tom were doing.

They got back to the house to see that everyone was now awake, and fully clothed. Dani gave Tom and Molly a dirty look and they both apologized, confusing everyone else in the room. Frankie started handing out the coffees, getting mumbled “thank yous” from the group.

“Are those my clothes?” Benny asked, gesturing to Dani. She nodded and proceeded to tell everyone why she had to wear Benny’s clothes.

“Holy shit. You need a new mattress now.” Will snorted, his face drawing up in disgust.

Dani laughed, “That’s exactly what I told Frankie!” Molly’s face was beet red and Tom just hung his head. “Awh, come on, guys. We’re just kidding. Although, I do need a new mattress.” She tried to lighten the mood.

Frankie quietly sipped his coffee, trying to figure out if he should ask Dani out on a date. They’ve only known each other for a day and Frankie can’t imagine his life without her, even just as a friend.

What seemed like hours passed and the group slowly trickled down until it was just Benny, Dani, and Frankie. Benny was the next to leave, loudly saying he was going to take a nap and for Frankie to behave himself. Frankie just shook his head at his friend.

“I guess I should be heading out soon.” Frankie sighed, not wanting to leave. Dani nodded, trying not to look disappointed.

Frankie scooted closer to where she was sitting on the couch, lifting her outstretched legs over his. The two sat in silence, purely enjoying each other’s company. “Fish,” Dani started, “You wanna get dinner sometime?” She asked, biting her lip nervously. Frankie looked at her, shocked, that she asked first.

“I would be damn stupid to say no.”

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Dani and Frankie had become best friends. Even through all of the flirting, they never crossed that line. Dani was working at the hospital, and Frankie was back on rotation at the airport. He was gone most days, but he was due to come back for a short time.

Frankie was ready to be back home. He loved flying, but now he had something worth being on the ground for. He had called Dani before his last flight left, telling her he would be back by 9am the next day.

Like clockwork, Frankie was knocking on the door at the Miller Party House™ by 9:30am. Dani begrudgingly dragged herself out of bed and threw on her robe. She scurried toward the door, pulling it open to reveal Frankie with a bouquet of sunflowers. Frankie laughed, “No need to get dressed up querida, it's just me.” He teased her.

Dani pulled him into the house and hugged him tight. “Fish! I can’t believe you’re here.” She said sleepily. Frankie smiled at her tiredness. She just looked so damn cute in her fuzzy robe and bed head. “Give me thirty and I’ll be ready.” She yawned as he released her from his hold.

He watched her pad her way down the hall to her room, his smile never leaving his face. He made his way to the kitchen, knowing where everything was, he started a pot of coffee. Even though they were going for breakfast, he knew she would want a cup to-go.

True to her word, thirty minutes later, Dani emerged from her room, dressed in distressed jean and a black T-shirt. Her hair was thrown into a messy bun, her signature go to. She walked into the kitchen where Frankie just finished making her cup of coffee.

“Just the way you like it.” He promised with a wink, as he handed her the cup. She happily accepted the hot beverage. Taking her first sip, she moaned at the heavenly taste.

“You are the best, Cat.” She murmured, walking past him, only stopping to place a sweet kiss to his cheek. She all but inhaled the drink, before she slid her feet into her trusty converses. The two made their way outside and climbed into Frankie’s Chevy.

The drive to their usual diner, Luanne’s, was a short one, but it was filled with laughter. Frankie was at his happiest when Dani was with him. They pulled into the parking lot, Frankie backing his truck into ‘his’ spot. He hopped out of the cab, rushing to the passenger side, so that he could open Dani’s door.

“Who says chivalry is dead?” She joked as the door opened and Frankie held out a hand for her to take. She gladly accepted it and slipped out of the truck. The two walked hand in hand to the door. Frankie pulled it open to see Luanne standing behind the counter.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! I ain’t seen you two in a hot minute.” She greeted them, not bothering to get menus because they always ordered the same thing. “Your usual booth is open, go on and take a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”

Frankie and Dani mumbled a “thank you” in unison as they moved toward the back of the restaurant. Just as they were getting comfortable, Luanne walked up with a thermal carafe and two coffee cups. “What have y’all been up to?” she asked, sitting down the coffee and some cutlery.

“I just got back into town.” Frankie explained, “Had to drag this one out of bed.” He laughed as Dani stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well I’ve been taking extra shifts at the hospital. I think I’ve earned the right to sleep in.” She shot back at him with a smile.

“Y’all are the cutest. What are we getting today? The usuals?” She didn’t need to ask, she already knew. They nodded. “ Alrighty then. Coming up darlin’s.” Luanne walked away, leaving them to each other.

“So, extra shifts at the hospital?” Frankie asked her as he poured coffee, sliding her a cup.

“Yeah. Residency is kicking my ass. I’m trying not to fall behind.” she told him. “I take my boards in a week and I’ve logged almost no time in neuro.” She sighed. She didn’t want to go into neurosurgery, but she still needed the hours.

“You are going to be the best damn trauma surgeon Memorial has ever seen.” Frankie promised her, “And if they can’t see that, then fuck 'em.” He smiled at her. Luanne brought them their breakfast and they halted their conversation.

When they were done eating, Frankie insisted on paying, telling her she could get it next time. They left the diner and went back to Dani’s place. “You have me for the day, hermosa. What do you wanna do?” Frankie asked her. Dani tapped her pointer finger to her chin, pretending to think.

“I believe we have a show to catch up on, Morales. Seeing as I can’t watch it without you.” She teased him. “You grab the snacks, I’ll get the drinks, and get Hulu up.” He nodded in agreement and they separated.

When Frankie entered her room, she had blankets and pillows set up in a mock fort on the bed. How she did it so fast, he will never know, but he isn’t complaining. The two settled down and turned on ‘Sons of Anarchy’.

The show was gruesome and Dani hated watching it without Frankie. “Hey, fish?” She started, “Doesn’t Jax look a lot like Will? I mean, if he had long hair?” She asked, and Frankie studied the screen.

“Nah, I don’t see it.” They laughed and continued watching. She wasn’t sure how many episodes they watched, but she looked over and Frankie had fallen asleep. She closed the laptop, moving off the extra pillows, and covered Frankie with a blanket. His signature hat was falling off his head and she set it on her nightstand.

Dani sat there on her bed, looking at her best friend sound asleep. He looked peaceful. His face smooth of the worry lines he normally sported. His curly hair in disarray. She couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, she knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She curled herself up in the bed next to him, where she drifted into a relaxing slumber.

Translations:

Maldito idiota - Fucking Idiot

Lo que hasta hermano - What’s up brother

Estás solo, hermano. Ella da miedo - You’re alone, brother. She’s scary.

Deja de hablar mierda de mi. - Stop talking shit about me

Baila conmigo, cariño. - Dance with me, honey

Solo en tus sueños, playboy - In your dreams, playboy

Joder, princesa. Tienes que parar antes de que pierda el control. - Damn it, Princess. Stop before I lose control.

Tal vez eso es exactamente lo que quiero - Maybe that’s exactly what I want.

Hermosa- beautiful

Querida - Dear

#kat writes #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #pedro pascal #oscar issac #frankie x ofc #santiago x ofc

[caandlelit]

Tokoyami takes full advantage of the darker parts of his quirk when he threatens you. You feel trapped in an eternal darkness, like the air was being stolen out of your lungs. He speaks simply, but full of venom. He's shrouded by this aura of calm vexation. He feels toxic to even be around and his apparent apathy makes it more scary. He feels no guilt when he's reached that point. He's one of the slowest to get angry, and when he does, there's no stopping him. You'd never been scared of the dark until that day.

Momo says how she can buy everything you own. How she could take everything that gives you happiness until you're a shell of what you once were. How she has connections, and could ruin your life with a simple phone call. She radiates pure, controlled rage and you want to get away as fast as possible. You feel as if you're going to die at any moment and from that day forward you'll always look over your shoulder, too scared to sleep.

Uraraka is right next to Shoto in scary, and beside Izuku in surprising. She threatens in smiles. Her usual cheery attitude and excitement don't fade as she happily tells you how she'll make your life a living hell. She laughs as she says how she'll make you watch everyone you care about die before you, knowing you could have avoided it. She doesn't raise her hand, but she leaves you trembling and wetting your pants. You'll have nightmares. Sounds like Toga? It's because they're girlfriends.

Shoto is incredibly blunt with his threats. He somehow corners you alone, and calmly tells you how he could kill you, make it look like an accident, get rid of the body, and get away with it. In excruciating detail. He'll leave you sacred for your life, and regretting the day you got on his bad side.

Tsu will stare into the depths or your soul, daring you to piss her off. Being incredibly blunt, she will, just to make sure you get the message, just walk up to you and threaten to slit your throat or something.

Izuku has, after the first year, gotten into the habit of outright threatening pro heroes. It's blackmail more times than not, he has the info to ruin them. It started with Endeavor, then slowly All Might, after he got sick of beings pushed too hard, and extended until all pro heroes that weren't Aizawa, Present Mic, or Fatgum were doing his bidding.

Tenya regularly subtly threatens to call Japanese CPS on Endeavor to knock him down some rankings on the hero list. Nothing he can be charged with, and nothing that anyone out of 1A can trace back to him, but threats to keep him in-line. Have to make him know his place every now and then.

Izuku and Shoto would be the heroes parents want their kids to look up to. Momo and Mina would be the heroes parents want their female kids to look up to, specifically.

You know how 1A all want to be like All Might (mostly)? When they find out what being a 'Symbol Of Peace' really entails, I don't think they'd want to be on anymore. So they'd become beacons of hope, with Izuku shining the brightest out of all of them.

I know they don't technically have to live together if they're all part of one big hero agency. But like. It would be so fun if they did. And with the local rich kids (Momo, Tenya and Shoto), God knows it's gonna be some big-ass mansion. And it'd be sort of a throwback of sorts to the dorms. And I feel as if they'd the be glad for that familiarity, with how much change is occurring. And also, Bakugo and Monoma under the same roof would be fucking hilarious.

I want to see Shoto deck a fellow UA student for saying the wrong thing. Like maybe they'd say "Bakugo acts like a such a villain, no wonder everyone is scared of him." And Shoto would just look around to see Ochaco holding Izuku back with identical looks of rage on their faces. He'd see Bakugo looking down at his feet, trying his best to look unbothered, but his frown is more sad than his usual one. He'd see the Bakusquad trying to convince him it's not true. He'd see Tsu with her fist clenched, and Tenya glaring daggers at the person, and just deck the guy. Incases his fist in ice, to make the blow harder. Kick him a few times too. And would look up at their shocked faces and shrug, "No one fucks with my family. And Bakugo? He's family. All of you are." Deku just starts bawling there and then.

There's no UA traitor, and they just forgot to remove Touya from the family group chat.

After Monoma realizes that no one stops Bakugo from coming after him when he says dumb shit, learns to control his mouth by their first year of working/living together. Interviewers would ask him, "How do you manage with number 2 (tied with Shoto) pro hero DynaMite trying to 'kill you the time?" And Monoma would just answer, with deep tiredness in his voice "Speed, self control, and not sleeping."

HC that Uraraka's quirk isn't zero gravity. It's gravity manipulation, so zero gravity is just a subsection of that. Her quirk exceeds the rules of zero gravity, and it's plausible that because she didn't have much money growing up, she wasn't able to get it properly tested, which should have been free, but we've established hero society is fucked up. This means, essentially, that she should be able to create a black hole. It'd take a lot of training, and a crap ton of effort, and she'd never do it, but she could.

The heroes should be glad 1A (Shinsou and Izuku especially) are good people. Because they could ruin them. They could take down hero society by themselves, and they all have been given reason too! They're just good people, and the heroes should appreciate that. Because the moment they stop being good people? It's all over.

HC that Aoyama is one of those kids that has known he was gay since birth, and never had to come out because people just knew.

Just realized something, feeling sad so you must too. Shigaraki could have been Touya's Izuku in another world. In a less fucked up universe, they could've been friends. Shigaraki- Tenko could have saved him.

Monoma is trying to start an enemies to lovers with all of 1A, Shinsou included. He obviously knows nothing about social interactions, maybe the poor boy is just trying to flirt the only way he knows how: being a prick.

In the Combined Hero Agency, fans and other heroes wonder how Mei keeps up. She's the only support hero, makes (though her interns help) and designs hero costumes AND support items for everyone in the agency, while also making them for her interns when asked, AND has time to participate in family game night every other week.

She really has no secret, just a love for what she does, hard work, dedication plus a lot of time and patience. That doesn't mean she doesn't endorse the rumors she has some secondary quirk or something, she actually enjoys fuelling the fire and watching it unfold. Fucking with the media is her favorite pastime.

At some point, Class 1A convinced Shinsou to make Endeavor to say "I'm a giant piece of shit" live on TV. And that was only after they swore up and down that he wouldn't be kicked out of the hero course, and promised to take the fall if anything goes wrong. The worst thing that happened was All Might trying to say what he did was wrong but he was told to fuck off.

The boys in class 1A like lending their jackets/sweaters/hoodies/jumpers to the girls. And the girls don't return them a lot, and only Mei, who feels bad if she keeps them, returns them, surprising the boys. You leave yours in the common room, don't expect it to be there in 30 minutes. And it didn't stop there. The boys also take each others' cover-ups (Shoto started this by asking to borrow Tokoyami's), and take the girls'. They find them comfortable and soft, and they nice-smelling. Basically everyone's wardrobes (private stuff is kept separately) is up for grabs by second year.

1A and (most of) 1B (+ Mei) are just like so, physical affectionate with each other. So much that even when they're pro heroes, the media isn't sure which relationships are which. Even when they clarify, they don't do anything to stop the rumors and even revel in it, fuelling them from time to time. Like, Ochaco would show up to an interview wearing Izuku's gloves, and the next she'll be in Tokoyami's sweater. Not to mention that her and Tsu are dating a (former) VILLAIN.

What if Momo like, buys a house. But not just a house. Like when they're still UA students, she buy a house for all her friends that don't want to go home over the holidays/weekends. It's (surprisingly) a lot of them.

Katsuki because he doesn't want to get yelled at after almost dying a crap ton. Denki because his parents will be mad about his grades, and he's trying, but it's so hard, and he can't focus. Ashido because she gets made fun of back home for her looks. Shoto because Enji. Tenya because he wants some time away from the pressure of his family to "live up to the Ingenium name", and don't get him wrong, he wants to be the new Ingenium, but he also when he just wants to be Tenya for a bit. Ochaco because she's tired, and wants a break. She loves her parents, but it's so much stress. Tsu because she'd rather be with her friends. Shinsou because he doesn't have a home. And much, much, more.

I think Dabi would've turned out more like Shoto if he had an Izuku. They were incredibly similar, in mentality and around the same backgrounds. The main difference is that Shoto has people to support him now, Dabi didn't. If Dabi had someone like Izuku to help him, help break down his walls, to make him feel validated, and seen (which, as I stan Shiggy and Izuku being siblings because AFO, could have been Tenko in a different world) he wouldn't be a villain.

Kids that are worried that they'd lose their friends when they become heroes would be So happy too. Like "I want to become a hero, but what if my friends and I lose touch? I don't wanna leave them behind, even if we're pros!" While they'd just be there like "we've been with each other since high school bro. they don't have to go nowhere lol"

HC that their fans would start to believe God is a woman, because Momo.

And like, they would be regular visitors at schools and orphanages. None of them ever got to be kids, and very few of them had good experiences with school, so they would want to inspire more kids. That they can become heroes, too. They'd definitely keep all the gifts they got, plus Momo and Izuku seem like the type to pin up every drawing they get from their kid fans in their offices, no matter how good/bad. It'd be good morale, and the kids of the next generation of heroes would have perfect role models to look up to.

It'd be cute if 1A didn't go on to start their own hero agencies. I mean, they'd have to figure something out with Tenya and Shoto, but I feel as if they would go on to make one, big hero agency instead. They have the perfect selection of quirks and personalities, from rescue heroes to support ones! With a bit of help from their friends, of course. (Yes, Mei is included. I love her too much not too)

Sero and Denki seem like the type to get (platonically) married, though Sero is aroace (personal HC) and Denki is dating Shinsou. No one even blinks an eye anymore, too used to their BS.

I HC that Shoto was previously very closed off with his siblings, even after he was allowed to spend time with them. I want to see, after spending time with 1A, him open up. Slight things at first, like offering to go for a run with Natsuo, or giving Fuyumi a kiss on the cheek, to going to amusement parks with Natsuo, and talking about his day and friends with Fuyumi. They not sure what caused this change at first. But then they meet Izuku, and the rest of the IzuCrew, and 1A, and suddenly it all makes sense, and God do they love these kids.

I want to see 1A actively antagonize Endeavor, but only when there's no one that would tell around. Like, anything they can get away with legally, and somethings they can't, but they make sure to not get caught. Natsuo loves it.

I have this HC that around the middle of the year, 1A just gave up on sleeping separately, or the "everyone sleep in your room" rule. After the horrific bullshit they'd been through together, they figured out that sleeping in the same room as each other helped the (inevitable) night terrors that came. And setting a time that everyone should be in their rooms was disastrous. So now it's common to see Shoto or Izuku in Tenya's room, or Mina and Kirishima in Bakugo's, or some nights they all just sleep in whoever has the most space at the time.

I want to see 1A when they're in 2A move into the dorms again. Like, Enji would go "Shoto I don't want you in the dorms this year." And Shoto, who's been waiting to go back since the dorms closed and has already packed all his shit goes ". . . You've gotta be shitting me, old man. I'm gonna go see my friends, who I value more than you. Fuck you." Then freeze him, grab his bags and run to the spot where the rest of the class agreed to meet, to get food then got to the dorms.

Shoto is constantly being used as the class portable heater, and has learnt to accept it, not without making the occasional "I went through years of abuse and trauma for this" comment though

Hatsume and Izuku should be friends. I feel like they'd understand each other. The others try, but they're the only ones who can keep up with how fast each other's brains go.

I want to see 1A visit Rei in the hospital. It started as Shoto introducing his friends to his mom, but they grew fond of her, and now visit her regularly to talk, and update her on what's going on with like Shoto, or school

Imagine if there was no UA traitor, and they just forgot to remove Touya from the family group chat.

Rei should be introduced to Izuku as "my best friend", Tenya as "the friend who stops me from doing bad things", and Kastuki as "my other best friend, though he denies it". Shoto with his lack of social skills would just go "Oh Bakugo? We're friends. He's like that with everyone."

Rei doesn't need to know about the murder, what she doesn't know can't hurt her. And whenever Shoto tries to mention it to her, Tenya just slaps his hand on his mouth to shut him up, or nudges him aggressively until he (after a long time) gets the message .

After a while, when Izuku is asked what hero he wants to be like, he responds All Might. Why wouldn't he? All Might is bold, courageous, strong, and always saves people with a smile. The perfect hero.

But in his mind, he only has one true answer. Eraserhead. Mr. Aizawa is the perfect hero, maybe not to the public, but to his problem children. He's always there for them, and hasn't failed them like a lot of heroes and the society at large has.

Aizawa-sensei is the epitome of everything they strive to be, and though they'll always give different answers: All Might, Hawks, Powerloader, Cementoss, Lunch Rush, there'll always be one true answer. Something only they know. Mr. Aizawa is the ideal hero.

Dark Shadow uses they/them or it/its pronouns. Just makes sense, considering Dark Shadow isn't human, and likely doesn't conform to the same rules of gender we do

Considering Shoto (canonically) trauma dumps to make best friends (Izuku and Katsuki), it's only a matter of time until he does the same for Tenya. Especially after the Stain arc. And I feel like it'd just SHATTER his world view of heroes and hero society. He sees it through even more rose-tinted glasses than Izuku, so the realization that someone wildly viewed as a hero could so such things and get away with it would be totally new to him. Especially because the only experience he had was with Tensei, who is the ideal hero.

Back on my 1A and 1B hero agency bullshit, all their interns love them. They're always so kind to their interns and treat them really well, despite how they normally are or treat their fellow heroes. They remember what it felt like during their own internships, being scared and on their toes. They don't want their interns to feel like that around them.

In their shared agency, Kota and Eri intern there of course, but so do a bunch of other hero students. Some from Gen Ed too, anyone they feel like have potential, application or not.

The Combined Hero Agency (I don't have a name yet) most definitely teach their interns quirkless self defense, for all the times their quirks have failed them or made things more difficult. Hand to hand and using a variety of weapons.

1A is used to Mei and Izuku (Sometimes Tenya tags along. Very rarely, Denki) meeting up to talk costumes and mad genius shit, with Izuku's quirk analysis and Mei's skill in building, 1A would have the best costumes.

these are all so extensive and thought out .......... i love this anon uve put work into these they're so excellent .......... i love 1a family dynamics :( godddd i love them theyre lovely i love this AHHHHH MAN

#long post #anon #ask #bnha #1a

[prettyricky187]

Consequences

Request: When you purposely try to make Hotch jealous, you have to suffer the consequences

A/N: I was a part of the secret fic swap created by dontkissthewriter for our discord server. I got dontkissthewriter and it gave me a branch out of my comfort zone. This is the result. I hope you all like it 🙂 Again, thank you to imagining-in-the-margins for being an amazing beta reader. My writing wouldn’t be nearly as good without her!

Couple: Hotch/Fem!Reader Category: Smut Content Warnings: degradation, choking, spanking, semi-public, oral (male receiving), facial Word Count: 2.8K

MASTERLIST

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‘My office. Now’

That was the message that kicked everything off.

It was quiet in the bullpen, everyone trying to get through case reports as quickly as they could in order to go home. The most recent case had been a run of the mill case for BAU standards and the team wasn’t there long. It was long enough for you to formulate and execute a plan, which had clearly worked based on the text message you’d just received.

“You comin’ lil mama?” Derek’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You look up to see him eyeing you expectantly while he shrugs on his coat.

“No, you go ahead.” You smile. “I’m going to finish up here. I have a bit more to do before I’m done.”

“Did you want my help?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, thanks. I appreciate the offer though.”

He nods and bids you goodnight, leaving just you and Aaron left. Although you wouldn’t know it beyond the pale light filtering through his closed shades.

“And then there were two.” You mutter as you swivel your chair to face his office window.

You knew what you had done while the team was in Albuquerque. After all, you had done it on purpose, simply to get a rise out of one man: Aaron Hotchner. He had decided that he was too busy for you and that just simply wouldn’t do. So, you may have harmlessly flirted with the lead detective on the case, laying it on extra thick whenever your unit chief was within range. You knew you were getting to him as the days rolled over. His stance was getting more rigid and his words more tense. It all came to a head when he snapped on the poor detective over an innocuous mistake. You felt bad for the guy, you really did, but you smirked internally at how you’d succeeded at getting under Aaron’s skin.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for what was waiting for you behind that door. You straighten out your clothes and curtly knock on the door. You’re not entirely sure why you knocked, because you opened the door before you ever heard an answer.

“You wanted to see me sir?”

You can’t help but take in the image before you. He is able to command the room even from behind the desk. Always the stern authoritarian, his face was impassive and giving away nothing about why he called you in. You knew why, though.

“Come in.” His voice was deep and stern, and you felt a shiver run through you at the tone. “I wanted to discuss your behavior on the case.” His eyes never left you as you came to stand next to his desk, but refused to sit down.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tilting your head in the perfect picture of feigned innocence.

“You know exactly what I mean.” His glare was intense, and you waited to see how long it would take him to blink.

You innocently shook your head with a tiny smirk. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Practically throwing yourself at Detective Morrison.” He cut straight to the point, not even bothering to entertain your charade. His words hung in the air as you stared each other down. “You were so desperate for attention, just like the cheap whore that you are.”

You were prepared for his words and made sure to keep your expression neutral, although a heat began rising in the pit of your stomach.

“It was pathetic to watch.”

The air was tense while you both waited to see who would talk next. It would be Aaron.

“So, here’s what you’re going to do,” he begins, pushing back and creating a gap between himself and the desk, “you’re going to get on your knees and you’re going to make yourself useful while I finish these reports.”

“What?” You ask, excitement blooming through you despite your apparent objection.

“You heard me. It’s your fault this has taken me this long, so you’re going to make up for it.” He looks at you expectantly and you know better than to question him further. Last time you pushed him and questioned his order, your throat was sore for a week from how far he shoved his cock down it.

“I gave you an order.” He raised an eyebrow, signaling to you not to make him wait any longer.

It would not be enough to walk to the desk; that would provide you with dignity you didn’t deserve. Instead, you carefully dropped to your knees and crawled towards him, making sure to add an extra sway to your hips as you moved. He deserved a show, which explains why he watched as you settled between his legs and began working on removing his slacks.

You enjoyed the fact that he was already straining against his zipper, trying to act as unaffected, but his body betrayed him. He let out a sigh of relief as his erection was freed.

“Get to work.” He commanded, and you didn’t waste any time before moving forward and engulfing the tip of his dick. You moan at the taste of him and moved down to slide him to the back of your throat. You can hear a faint hiss and grunt from his mouth, but he makes no move to touch you.

Still, he doesn’t leave you completely unmentioned, his voice raspy and low when he finally spoke. “You know, deep down, he was only being polite. Even he recognized that a slut like you constantly needs attention. We both know he would never touch you.” He doesn’t touch you as he talks, let alone spare you a glance. The only inclination that he was affected by your mouth was the tensing of his thighs.

“I know what you were doing.” He continues. “Trying to make me jealous simply so that I would pay attention to you. I thought you were an adult beyond such petty games. Clearly I was wrong.”

He leans back to watch you work and you can’t help but moan at the sight of him, still in his suit jacket and tie, looking down on you sucking his dick under his desk. He pulls his cock from your mouth and begins tapping and rubbing it against your face. You moan at the sensation and he chuckles knowingly.

“You love the smell of my cock, don’t you? Such a needy slut.” He grunts as he drags his cock up and down your face. You moan as his hot skin glides across your face and the heady smell fills your senses. You want so badly to reach into your slacks and touch yourself, but you resist knowing he’d notice and leave you high and dry for the foreseeable future. It just wasn’t worth it.

“More.” You gasp, looking up at him with what you hoped would be enough to induce some pity from the man. He looks down on you and slaps your face with his dick, bringing a cheerful smile to your lips. He smears his precum on your cheek and lips.

“Should’ve known.” He mumbled.

“Aaron...” You moan, not even caring that you sound whiny. You just want him. You need him.

“What?” He snaps.

“I need more.” You pathetically beg. He was everywhere, but it still wasn’t enough.

“You don’t need more, you want more. Like the greedy slut that you are.”

You nod in agreement– what else is there to do? – and he lets out a dark chuckle.

“You should be thanking me for wasting my breath on you. For giving you the opportunity to taste my cock.” He taunts. “Sometimes you’re so pathetic I wonder why I even bother. Why I shouldn’t put you out of your misery.” His words were harsh, but they always hit in a different way and you loved it. The meaner he was to you, the more in love you fell.

“Get up.”

You wordlessly follow his instruction and look down on him as he remains in his chair.

“Take off your pants and over. Grip the sides of the desk.” He orders, knowing full well that you will comply. You watch as he stands up and makes quick work of his tie before yanking it entirely off. Your eyes widen in wonder as he undoes his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing more and more of his skin. You don’t even bother trying to hide the moan as the sight unfolds before you. You catch his tiny smirk at the sound.

“I’m waiting.” He says. You bite back your snarky comment as you slowly remove your pants and fold yourself over his desk.

“Glad you know how to follow directions.” He says, trailing his fingers across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. The gentleness of his touch is sharply contrasted by the way he roughly grabs hold of your hip, pressing you down against the desk before raising his other hand.

“Who do you belong to?” He asks, his hand harshly coming down on your ass before you have a chance to answer. The sound reverberates around the empty room and the accompanying sting courses through your body, causing your toes to curl in your shoes. You want to answer, but there is no time between the extreme responses he’s causing. Each time you started to say ‘You, god, you’ he’s moving again, his anger palpable in the air. The stoic Aaron Hotchner devolved into nothing but a man hellbent on breaking you down to nothing.

“Answer me, bitch!” He snaps, slapping your ass again, his voice raising with, again, no time to respond. “I will use my belt if I have to. Maybe my hand isn’t enough for a filthy slut like you.” You know he can hear the ragged way you were breathing between the sobs, but he didn’t seem to care. When you do manage to speak, it’s more of a pitiful croak.

“You!” You finally cry. Because while you do love when he uses his belt, you’d like to actually be able to sit down after this.

“That’s right.” He says through clenched teeth with another harsh slap, “You’re mine and you’ll always be mine.” His hand was relentless, his pace and power of both words and motions increasing with each passing second. “Mine to fuck! Mine to mark up! Mine to tie up! Fucking mine!” Each sentiment was followed by a resounding slap, and you were certain there were various angry marks across your sensitive skin. You’d look at them later and fondly recall this moment. The moment Aaron Hotchner called you his.

“Fuck…” You hiss, “Aaron, please.”

“Stop begging. You don’t get a say in this. You’re nothing but a toy for me; something for me to use whenever I want and however, I want.” He snaps, rubbing his dick on your ass, much like he did on your face. “My own personal whore.”

There is a brief silence, and all you can do is wait for what he wants to do next.

“I already know what you want.” He states. “You want me to fuck you, like the greedy bitch you are.”

“Please.” You don’t even bother denying it. There’s shuffling behind you and suddenly his hand is gripping your jaw as he brings his face beside yours.

“Open your mouth.” No sooner than you do, he stuffs his tie in your mouth and drags your arms behind your back, holding them together with one hand. “Much better. Now I don’t have to listen to your disgusting voice.” He snarls.

Without another word, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out from both the pleasure and pain of his sudden intrusion, the noises muffled behind the tie. They are buried in his broken moans and curt grunts as he relentlessly pounds into you.

“Who knew I’d get lucky by hiring such a fucking slut like you? Always have to have a dick in you to behave.” He moans, his hips never stopping their movements.

“You do suck my dick so well though.” He grunts. “Always so ready for me.” He wasn’t even talking to you and you knew it. He was talking to hear himself talk, reveling in the power he had over you. The way that he could command you to hold the business end of his loaded gun in your mouth and you would do it.

“I love that you know when to shut the fuck up. When I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking voice.” He continues, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back at the same time he gives a particularly hard thrust, causing your body to fold in a way it is definitely not supposed to. Aaron doesn’t care.

“Fuck!” Your cry is muffled from his tie, but he understands what you’re saying.

“Turn around.” He orders as he pulls out of you, watching you awkwardly shuffle around until you’re on your back laying across various reports with your legs around his waist.

When he entered you next his movements were slow and purposeful. He took his time, enjoying the way your face contorted as he stretched you open. His hand trailed up your body like you were porcelain, barely touching you until it came to rest at your throat.  

“That poor detective would have no idea how to handle a filthy slut like you.” He sneered, tightening his grip around your neck before he snapped his hips forward, the menacing and pain in his movements returning with a vengeance. “You’re too bratty for him.”

You looked up at him and couldn’t help but notice how the veins and muscles in his arm were bulging under the tension. You clenched around him at the sight of how fucked out he looked. All because of you. You did this to him. Only you could.

“Fuck yes.” He hisses. “Clench around my cock like the desperate whore you are.” He moans. You continue to clench around him again and again, until his movements start to falter, and his hand tightens once again. He gives you a few more thrusts before abruptly pulling out and yanking you off the desk.

You almost fall to the floor, but manage to find your feet before it happens. You look down and bite your lip at his glistening cock bobbing between you.

“On your knees.”

The look he gave you left no room for argument; not that you had any left. Any of the attitude you’d walked into his office with, he’d fucked out of you. He’d simply fucked you into submission. On your knees, you watched as he wrapped one of the hands he’d used to beat you around his cock.

“I’m going to make you look beautiful for once in your life.”

“Please.” You beg. You love it when he marks you however he wants.  There have been countless days where you’ve had to wear a turtleneck to cover the bitemarks and bruises he’s left on your neck and shoulders. You often have bite marks so deep you can practically make out each tooth. You wished they would never fade. As he touched himself to the vision of you on the floor before him, you dropped your mouth open with your tongue presented to him, ready to take whatever he would give you.

“So, fucking good. Always so willing.” He grunted as he quickly stroked his cock while standing over you. He puts his other hand on your head to hold you steady. You continued to watch as his hand flew over his dick, still wet with the evidence of how badly you wanted him.

“Oh...fuck.” He grunts as the first rope shoots out and lands on your cheek. You close your eyes and smile as each warm shot lands on your face. The hand on your head slackens before falling away and you clear the cum from your eyes before opening them to look up at him.

“Finally,” he says smiling fondly, “you look beautiful.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. You two looked at each other for a moment before his usual stoic personality shifted back into place.

“Clean yourself up and go home. It’s late.”

You look up at him in bewilderment, your legs rubbing together and your entire body rocking as you arched your back. “What about me?”

You pout as he straightens his clothes out. He doesn’t answer at first, straightening his things like he was preparing to leave. He hardly looked at you through it all, even going so far as to open the door and turn off the lights in the room. When he did look at you, you wondered what he saw in the girl still on her knees in the dark, covered with his cum and begging for more.

“What about you?” He asked in that trademark monotone. You were going to respond, to plead your case and beg him to touch you before he left, but before the words came, he had already closed the door.

#Criminal Minds #hotch #aaron hotchner #smut #writing for a friend #Aaron hotchner smut #hotch x reader #hotch imagine

[heartbeatan]

Devil's Garden (Chapter 1)

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Taehyung Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 1

Taehyung flicked the flint wheel of his silver lighter, bringing the flame inches from his lips as he lit another cigarette. Closing the zippo with a “clink” he looked at the clock once again. He was already five minutes late, but he didn’t care.

Taking a long drag, he unfolded his notepad, reading the details he had written down when you called him yesterday. Normally, he would have researched you before the first meeting. But yesterday, he was too busy drowning himself in a flood of liquor and tits at the strip club down the street from his basement apartment. He hadn’t even bothered to shower this morning – he was sure there was probably still a ring of lipstick tacky around his cock.

“I need you to investigate my husband,” you had told him over the phone. These were his least favourite cases. Domestic disputes. Most of the time they ended up coming from some lonely housewife who spent her days primping herself for the ungrateful, cheating bastard she married because he had money. That’s what he suspected anyways. That’s why he didn’t bother to put on his best face for you. Why he didn’t care that his suit was the one he wore yesterday, or that he didn’t do his research before he got there.

When he was done, he considered lighting another. He even considered driving away – it’s not like he wanted the job anyway. The problem was, he needed it. He needed to pay the bills. With that in mind, he sighed a “let’s get this over with” and pulled himself from the car, dropping the butt onto the ground before he made his way up the stoney path towards the visitor’s entrance.

“Welcome to Devil’s Garden,” a bright, young woman greeted him as he passed across the threshold and into the cool, air-conditioned building. It was a relief to feel the dehumidified air in the middle of the long, hot summer. The air-conditioning in his car had died years ago, and his apartment never had it, so moments like these always felt like a luxury occasion. His eyes scanned the multitude of wine bottles perched upon the wood palette wall behind the hostess. Perhaps, after business was taken care of, he’d stay for a while - bask in the air-conditioning and try a bottle… or three.

“Are you here for the tour? A tasting?” the hostess asked him after a long pause.

“Uhh… no… I’m here to meet someone,” he replied, unable to recall your name from memory.

“Oh?” her eyes widened as she waited for him to continue.

“Umm…” Taehyung flipped through his notepad and began searching for the page with your details. He could feel the eyes of the hostess on him and the unease she emitted as she tried to piece together what he was even doing here. Relieved, he found the page, confirming it was the right one by the address to ‘The Devils Garden Winery’ which he had messily scribbled across it in red ink. “…I’m here to see a Miss Y/N…”

“Mr. Kim?” he was cut off by the sound of someone calling his name. He looked confused back up to the hostess but noticed her gaze had been diverted to something behind him – to the place where the voice came from. He followed where her eyes led, twisting away from the counter to gaze down the corridor until his eyes landed onto the figure walking towards him. A woman was approaching them.

No.

A beautiful woman was approaching him. He had seen his fair share of attractive women in his life, but it had been long since he had seen a woman stunning enough to stun him.

It wasn’t anything in particular about her that had his breath catching in his throat. Perhaps it was a little bit of everything. Perhaps it was the simple, light, white, strappy cotton dress that hung softly over her hips and teased a glimpse of her breasts; or maybe it was the red rubber working boots she paired with it. Perhaps it was the way her skin glistened, slightly dampened in sweat - or the way her hair, once probably perfectly in place but now wind swept – all indicators that she had been working hard outdoors that morning. Or perhaps it was the way she sashayed down the hall; the brightness in her eyes; her aura and confidence that radiated through the room. Whatever it was about her, it spoke to Taehyung – or at least, it spoke to the now attentive friend he had in his pants.

“Are you Mr. Kim?” the woman spoke again, smiling at him as she stuck out her hand. He looked down at her gesture has he reached out to take her hand but couldn’t stop his eyes from flitting the rest of the way down her body. Just a quick unnoticeable glance, but he felt himself internally stumble in embarrassment. For some reason – for some reason this time - he didn’t want this woman to know. Didn’t want her to know what a jackass he was, or what a pervert he could be.

“I am,” he replied as he shook her hand. Her smile widened once he confirmed it.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, pleased you hadn’t been mistaken. “We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“Right,” he came back to Earth as he remembered the reason why he was actually there… because you were his client… because you thought your husband was up to something… because you had a husband. “Please, call me Taehyung. I hate Mr. Kim.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but just as you did your empty stomach let out an embarrassingly loud protest. You quickly clutched your midriff in your hands – as if it would suppress the sound – but Taehyung heard it loud and clear. The corner of his mouth twitched as he amusedly watched your eyes widen in a little bit of surprise and a little bit of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” you near laughed. “I’ve been so busy today I don’t think I remembered to eat.”

“It’s fine,” he said, but then mentally kicked himself for not saying something suave.

“Have you eaten? Do you mind if we do this over lunch?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Great,” you smiled brightly, and Taehyung felt his heart pound at the sight. “Follow me.”

You turned away and strutted passed the hostess’s counter into the room behind her. Taehyung once again couldn’t stop himself as his gaze darted down the length of your figure as you walked away from him. He took notice of how the fabric swayed over the curve of your ass. How the muscles of your thighs flexed with each step you took. He thought then of how those thighs would flex beneath his palms when he fucked you.

He kinked his neck as he tried to shake the image from his mind while he stepped forward to follow you. Before out of sight, however, he caught the gaze of the hostess still watching him, and for a paranoid second, he wondered if she could hear his depraved thoughts.

As he followed you into what was now obviously the dining area of the establishment, he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt - tucking and straightening the tails into his pants. Even though minutes ago he couldn’t have cared less about how he looked or smelled, he was now painfully self-conscious about both.

Despite the dining room being entirely empty, you led him across the room to a table resting in the far corner away from the bathrooms, exits or any foot traffic. It was obvious to Taehyung that you wanted your conversation to be kept private – but not private enough that it would warrant any suspicion from the staff at the winery. As you sat down across from him, he took immediate note of how your demeanor shifted. You were nervous. Uncomfortable. But still trying hard to save face – to pretend as if everything was okay, even in front of him – the man you hired to suss out your dirty secrets.

“Let’s just jump into it,” he said, taking pity on you when he couldn’t stomach your anxious fidgeting anymore.

“Sure,” you nodded as you swallowed back your trepidation.

“You said you needed me to investigate your husband,” he began as he pulled out his notepad again, flipping to a clean page.

“Yes.”

“What is it you suspect him of?”

You audibly sighed. “I’m not sure, exactly.”

Taehyung’s forehead creased in confusion, but your statement had his private investigators interest peaked. He looked back up to your face, studying it as if it would be able to give him an answer. But all you were doing at the moment was gnawing unconsciously on your lower lip. Once again, he became lost in his shameless thoughts.

Those lips.

They looked so soft. So sweet. He’d bet they’d look even sweeter wrapped around his cock. The way you bit them now was probably the same way you’d bite on them just before you’d come.

Fuck, man, he mentally scolded himself.

“Thing is…” you began, and Taehyung was relieved he had something else to focus on. “… he’s definitely up to something. I just don’t know what.”

“What makes you think he’s up to something?”

“He’s been coming home late from work. But then, sometimes when I call his work, he isn’t there. He started taking phone calls out of the room so I can’t hear – saying it’s just work.”

“Does he work here?”

“No. This is my place. He works for a construction company. Ummm… Stintsons it’s called.”

His ears perked at the name. Stintsons. He underlined it twice in his notepad, being sure to comeback to it later.

“He installs glass,” you continued. “Which is why I find it so strange that he needs to take secret phone calls. It’s not as if he is a manager or anything. He just… installs glass.”

“Has he always been like that? Taking secret calls?”

“No,” you replied slowly.

“You don’t sound so positive,” he prodded, picking up on your unsureness.

“Well… we haven’t been married that long. So, maybe he has always been like this.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Two years this fall.”

“And did you date long before then?”

A wave of… something… washed across your face. Taehyung wasn’t really sure what it was, but there was something.

“Not very long. Just a few months.”

He nodded. He figured you must’ve felt shame or embarrassment over your short marriage and even shorter courtship which you were now scrutinizing. If only he had the balls to tell you about himself, you’d know shame and embarrassment was not something you needed to feel in front of him. Instead of doing that, he moved along.

“Before I forget to ask. What’s his name?”

“Ezra,” you said. “Ezra Moon.” Taehyung flipped back a page on his notepad, writing your husbands name below where he had written yours. That’s when he noticed…

“You didn’t take your husband’s last name?”

“No.”

“This is your maiden name then?”

“No, actually. It’s my first husband’s last name.”

Taehyung looked back up from the paper. To some – to you – it appeared to be an act of bemusement. Sure, it was strange to keep your first husband’s name when you were on your second marriage – but bemused was not what Taehyung felt. Instead, he felt a pang of unwarranted, unearned jealousy. At least two lucky bastards on this god-damned planet got the chance to fuck you. Every night, every morning, every surprise afternoon they could afford – and now he knew that.

“How did your first marriage end?” he continued.

“Is that relevant?”

He shrugged. “It could be.” It was true. That information could be relevant, but more so, he had a sadistic need to know. What happened that your first husband couldn’t hold on to a woman like you? He needed to know, even if the information could never serve him.

“He died,” you replied. “A mugging gone wrong. He was shot. About, 3… 4 years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Changing my name was so complicated the first time, I just haven’t gotten around to doing it this time.”

Taehyung nodded and continued writing down the details and you began to fidget nervously again. He didn’t like that he made you nervous. He didn’t like to see you uncomfortable – but this was his job. This is what you hired him for. Luck would have it, however, the chef arrived to bring you both a plate of quesadillas and salad – and he welcomed the opportunity to take a break and reset the conversation.

After a brief stint of awkwardly discussing the food, which led to a less awkward conversation about the best dive restaurants in the city, you were feeling relaxed again and Taehyung was ready to pry once more. Perhaps this time he’d be more friendly, more slick as he dug into your life and marriage.

“So,” he began, his tenor casual and warm. “This is your place you said?”

“Mm hm,” you nodded through a mouthful of food. “All mine.”

“Good for you. I hear it can be a tough market.”

“It has it’s ups and downs, but, we’re still here.”

“So, Ezra’s name isn’t on the property at all?”

“You think this might be a money thing?” you asked, picking up on the fact that the interrogation had resumed.

“I don’t know… could be. Maybe he’s a serial gambler.”

“Or maybe he’s just cheating on me,” you sighed.

“Impossible,” Taehyung said it before he could remember not too.

“Sorry?”

“I said it’s possible,” he attempted to cover his slip, and by the look on your face, it worked. By any sound, rational mind, it was totally possible that your husband was having an affair. But from where Taehyung sat, it was impossible. The man would have to be a complete imbecile to risk not being able to wake up every morning next to the goddess that sat across from him at this very moment. “Has he ever come home needing to take a shower right away, or hiding his clothes?”

You thought for a moment before you replied with a “no.”

“Does he have access to any of the wealth here?”

“Well… not really. Firstly, there’s not much wealth here to begin with. But even if there was, Ezra and I signed a prenuptial, so the place is mine no matter what.”

“Have you notice anything strange with the books? Small sums of cash not adding up?”

“Hmm, no, but… I can take a closer look. Just to be sure.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to look at them together.”

For a moment, your eyes flitted up to meet Taehyung’s. It was only a moment, but it was long enough for him to see. You were… apprehensive… about him being around you. About being alone in a tiny room with him. And that moment caused his chest to tighten. Did he scare you? Were you already so repulsed by him that being around him was unthinkable? God dammit, why didn’t he at least wear a clean suit this morning? But that moment passed, and with a reassuring smile, that he knew was fake, you agreed.

“Great. When do you have time?”

“Tomorrow?” you suggested.

“I’ll be here.”

 

Despite his earlier consideration of hanging around the vineyard and getting drunk on ‘The Devil’s Garden’ wines, Taehyung left immediately after the meeting. With the gift box you hand given him filled with your most popular red, he returned to his apartment in the city, being sure to pick up his near abandoned clothes from the dry cleaners on the way. He spent the rest of the afternoon seated at his coffee table in front of his computer, searching every database, web article and social media site he could find on Ezra Moon, The Devil’s Garden, and you.

When the sky darkened, and his back and legs were sore from his non-ergonomic set up, he rose from his place on the floor, strutting into the kitchen to pop a bowl of instant noodles into the microwave. As he waited for the timer to count down, he rested against the counter, surveying his dish filled sink and the cluttered space that was barely large enough to even be considered a counter. That’s when he saw the wine you had given him.

 

“It’s Better than Sex,” you had said.

“Excuse me?” he near choked when he heard the word “sex” slip from your tongue.

You chuckled playfully with just a hint of wickedness at his reaction. “That’s what this wine is called. Better than Sex.”

 

The microwave beeped, knocking him back from the memory.

Bringing with him a glass and the wine, he returned to the living space, flopping into his only chair and clicking on the TV.

When his food was finished, as was his first glass, he picked the bottle up in his hand, twisting it around to admire the label.

“Better than Sex,” he read out loud. “I don’t know about that.” He brought the bottle to his lips anyway, just to be sure. It was good… but not that good.

He looked at the clock.

It was still early enough. He still had time to hit the club or a bar. He could polish off this bottle easily. Get just tipsy enough before he headed out down the street. Maybe he’d see that girl again – the one who sucked him off in the bathroom last night. She was good if he remembered right. Good enough anyway to test the theory that wine could be better than sex.

Maybe if he went out tonight, he could pace himself… not drink too much or stay out too late. He considered it. Rationalized how he could still find himself a good whiskey and a good fuck before needing to wake up the next morning and be a good detective. But in the end, he knew himself better than that. In the end, tonight, he didn’t want to.

So, instead, he looked back down to the wine bottle still in his hand. With a final swig, he corked it and set it back on the table. He then shuffled himself comfortably back in his chair and pulled at the drawstrings of his sweatpants, loosening the waist enough so that he could slide his hand beneath the fabric.

He was already partially erect at the mere thought of what he was about to do, and at the thought of who he was going to do it to. Taking his cock in his fist, he began stroking himself languidly, hardening himself just a little more.

He bet that’s how you would do it - if it was your fist and not his jerking him off right now. You’d start slow. You’d tease him first. Watch him as you hardened him. And he’d watch you back – watch you bite that lip of yours again – and he’d get excited all over again, knowing that soon that mouth would replace your delicate hands around him.

“Mmmm,” Taehyung groaned as he envisioned it all happening.

The fantasy quickly escalated. No sooner than you were jerking him off to then sucking him dry, he had you bent over the hostess’s counter at The Devil’s Garden. Your pretty white skirt pulled up over your waist, and your tits spilling out of your unkempt bra as you clung for life over the granite countertop while he fucked you from behind.

Taehyung, still in his chair, flung his free arm over his eyes, his busy arm beginning to ache as his hips thrusted into his now rapidly pumping hand. He sucked the air in through his teeth, exhaling each time with a groan and a whine. His body began to spasm as he felt his high nearing.

“Taehyung,” you would cry out his name. It would be a cry that said you couldn’t handle the pleasure he was giving you, while at the same time, a cry to beg him not to stop. The room would be filled with the clapping sounds of his balls hitting your reddened ass, and the wetness of his cock roughly slipping itself in and out of your soaked pussy.

“Oh! Oh!” you’d begin to pant as you found yourself on the brink of coming – and when you did finally come, he would feel the delectable sensation of your walls spastically closing in around him. Then he’d come. He’d look down to the place where your bodies met. He could see the ribbons of his semen, hot and tacky over the shaft of his cock, as he plunged in and out of you… still fucking into you for good measure as he drained everything he had into you.

“Oh, fuck!” he called out into the apartment as he felt the heat and wetness drip over his hand, as his body quaked and shivered as the fantasy ended and he saw the stars.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #v smut #taehyung x reader #v x y/n

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Between the Ink and Papers Ch. 7

Summary: Steve and Peggy have been divorced for a year and Sarah is still starting to find her groove in it. However, it becomes a lot easier when she and Typhanie realize it might be time for her dad to start dating again.

Pairings: tattooartist!dad!Steve x Reader, Typhanie x Sarah, Peggy x Logan, Bucky x Natasha

Between the Ink and Papers Masterlist - Masterlist to Other Works

Word Count: 1691

Warnings: Teenagers plotting

--

Death’s “Politicians In My Eyes” blared over headphones, threatening to deafen her poor ears. Not that she cared. Instead, Typhanie twirled around the kitchen and rocked from one foot to the other while waiting for the toaster to finish its attack on her poor bagel.

However, the awesome 70’s song grew quiet when her headphones were tugged off her head. She spun around, grinning when Sam held out her very burnt bagel. “Eating this will kill you.”

“Life’s all about risks.” She snatched the food right out of his hand, taking a bite before grabbing a Fanta from the fridge.

“Why’re you in such a rush?” Sam grabbed her backpack from the kitchen table, holding it out of her reach as Typhanie paused her song.

“I have a meeting with the school counselor.” With a mouth full of bagel, she shoved the last of her papers into a messy stack and shuffled them until they resembled something akin to order. Then, turning to her dad, Typhanie held out her hand. “Backpack, please.”

Sam silently raised a brow, waiting for some sort of elaboration. When none came, he shook his head and handed it over. “Be safe! And let me know if you’re hanging with Sarah after school.”

Already out the door, a muffled “got it” was the only sign she heard him.

He chuckled, looking out the window. His crazy teenager grabbed her skateboard and was already taking off. The pep in her step never wavered and god, he loved to see her smile like that. Sam pulled out his phone, taking a second to glance at the time before he muttered a soft, “Shit!”

It looked like his kid would be early, but Sam would mostly definitely be late.

--

“Ms. Y/L/N! Ms. Y/L/N!”

Y/N looked up to her open door, wondering who would be shouting her name this early in the morning. She caught sight of Typhanie sliding past the door and immediately scrambled to her feet. “Typhanie?” Y/N poked her head out as Typhanie kicked up her skateboard and tucked it under her arm. There was a giddiness to the teenager, something Y/N saw so rarely in the students she worked with. It made her smile. “You’re here because of our conversation, right?”

“Y – Yeah. I just have Speech and Debate practice later, so this is really the best time.”

Y/N’s smile faltered. Concerned, she asked, “What other school activities are you a part of?”

“Um…” Typhanie’s brow scrunched as her teeth caught her lip. “Band and StuCo. Plus I take duel credit where I can and Mr. Rogers hired me to help out at the shop when I have the time.”

“Wow.” Y/N leaned against her desk, hands braced against the edge. “Typhanie, I’ve looked at your grades. That and what you just told me, you’re doing amazing. I’m not sure why you’re worried about college. If anything, I’d be worried you’re overworking yourself.”

“I can manage this last year. That’s not a problem for me, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Yeah, you mentioned.” Y/N walked around the table and flipped through her notes. “You’re worried about affording it, right?”

Typhanie nodded, sitting on the arm of the nearest chair. “Dad tries his best and I love him for it. I just – “ She swallowed the lump in her throat, twisting one of the many rings around her fingers. “I want to ease any sort of financial burden if there would be one.”

Y/N watched her carefully. She loved Typhanie’s determination. Her drive was impeccable. She knew exactly what she wanted and she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way. Nodding, Y/N pulled a file out of one of the desk drawers. “Then, let’s see what we can do, hm?”

--

Sarah had been hopeful ever since she and her dad had spoken about her anger. The fact that he believed in her, in Ms. Y/L/N helping them work through this, it brought a pep to her step that even her teachers noticed. They knew better than to question her about it. After all, no one wanted to be the reason for its disappearance.

However, the one person she wanted to talk to about it was Typhanie. And the girl was no where to be found this morning!

She had tried catching her at Sam’s, but she wasn’t there. Tried seeing if she’d be at the subway and there was no luck. Tried and tried and tried.

So there she was, totally surprised to find her girlfriend leaving her counselor’s office.

Definitely not something she expected to see today.

“Hey.” Concern etched her features. The pep wavered just a moment as Sarah approached Typhanie. She wasn’t even paying attention to the fact that Typhanie had a bunch of papers in hand or that she was smiling.

Girlfriend + Counselor = Concern.

That was all there was to it for Sarah. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” Sarah’s eyes flitted from her to Y/N who was pouring herself a cup of coffee and back.

Typhanie was already laughing. Sarah was too much like her dad. Protective and asking the wrong questions. “I’m fine,” she assured. “Ms. Y/L/N was just helping me with…” She shrugged, fiddling with the papers.

Sarah’s eyes drifted to the stack. On top, a list of colleges and scholarship opportunities. The wires finally connected in Sarah’s head. “You finally talked to her about college.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be. “Oh my god, you finally did it.” A cheek-hurting, face-splitting grin tugged at Sarah’s lips as she squealed. She tackled Typhanie in a hug, earning a startled laugh.

“Sarah! Oxygen,” she wheezed. But instead, she was only squeezed tighter. Startled laughter and an another attempted, “Sarah,” and yet still, there was no use. The bell rang, signaling the actual start to their day. “Babe, the bell!”

Sarah begrudgingly let go, making a point to give Typhanie that look. “We are not done with this. I swear, we are going to celebrate.”

“I haven’t even applied,” she reminded.

“I don’t care. As long as I’ve known you, this is what you’ve wanted. I’m not going to ignore it and nothing you can say will change that.”

Before Typhanie had a chance to comment on Sarah’s excitement, or even why she was in such a good mood, the blonde was kissing her cheek and running off to class. Typhanie stared for a long moment. Shocked. She looked over her shoulder - at the office that had given her so many answers. A thought crossed her mind. A rather valid one that had her wondering. Was Ms. Y/L/N was a bigger influence than any of them were realizing?

--

It wasn’t until lunch when Sarah and Typhanie actually got another moment together. Now, Sarah was much like a cat. Head in Typhanie’s lap, letting her play with her play with her hair as the much more responsible one flipped through paper after paper.

“I should’ve known you would go straight into the work part of it.” Sarah took a bite of her way-too-greasy cheese pizza. A long string stretched from food to lips before she finally gave it a good yank.

Typhanie glanced down at her. An unbecoming snort made her shoulders shake when she saw tomato sauce splattered on Sarah’s chin. She flicked her nose, earning an adorable scrunch as she teased, “And I should’ve known you’d pig out.”

Around a mouthful of food, Sarah declared, “’M hungry.”

“She’s always hungry.”

Typhanie looked up as Sarah half-assed an attempt at peering over the table. “Cassie!” Grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Sarah swung herself around so she could properly sit up. “Did you finally get a break from that stupid boyfriend?” Reaching across the table, she stole one of her friend’s French fries and shoved it in her mouth before it could be snatched right back.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Stupid boyfriend is stupid ex-boyfriend now.”

Sarah’s nose wrinkled once more. “Gross.”

“I’m sorry, Cass. You want to talk about it?”

She shrugged, shaking her head and finally digging into her lunch before Sarah could eat it all. “Not really. Ned was a sweet guy, but there’s not really room in his whole friendship with that Parker guy.”

“Oh, yeah. Isn’t that the kid interning at Uncle Tony’s?”

Though the question was innocent enough, Typhanie turned to face Sarah. She pointed at her, a determined, “No,” putting a stop to any schemes Sarah could come up with.

“What?”

“Just no.”

Sarah huffed, shoulders slumping as Cassie giggled. An irritated whine left her lips, but everyone knew that Typhanie had won the non-argument.

“Jeez, you two are too good together. It’s gross.”

Typhanie shrugged, smiling. “I don’t mind it.”

“Well, yeah, of course you don’t! Everyone wants someone they can share – “ Cassie gestured to…well, all of them. “- That with.”

It was meant as a joke. Simple teasing between friends, really, but Cassie and Typhanie could practically see the lightbulb blip over Sarah’s head. “Cass, you crazy genius.”

“What’d I do?”

Sarah turned to face Typhanie this time. “Ms. Y/L/N really helped you with the college thing, right?”

Typhanie shrugged, taking a sip of her water. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And she’s helping me with my anger. She’s already met my whole family and knows their shit. Dad actually thinks she’s cool. In fact, Dad thinks she could be a huge help for us.”

Cassie waved a hand in the air, feeling very much like the kid in class who simply didn’t get it. “What am I missing here?”

And like always, Typhanie was quick to catch up. “No.  Don’t you even – “

“I’m evening. I’m going there. You can’t stop me.” Sarah was already gathering her things and getting up.

Typhanie had no choice, but to watch as the dominoes lined up and chaos prepared to unfold. It was then she saw it. That pep in her step. Excited and unwavering, Sarah headed inside like a woman on a mission.

“Typh, what’s going on?”

She spared Cassie a glance and shook her head. “Believe me, I’m not even sure I want to know.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dad!steve rogers #tattooartist!steve rogers #sarah rogers #sam wilson #typhanie wilson #between the ink and papers #marvel #mcu

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Jealous (ITA Special)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 2 Bonus Episode

Warnings: none.

Word Count: Jealous Loki was requested by anon. I don’t know who you are but let me tell you this. I practically wrote this with all my senses closed. Tight. Shut. Just wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and still kept writing even after I felt I was pretty tired. Don’t know what came over me. It just came out and spread all over here by the mere thought of not writing

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The halls tonight were barely lit but Loki could see why there wasn't much need for the lights in here. The people present in Tony Stark's gala were enough to set the entire estate ablaze. No. Wait. Scratch that. Tony Stark alone was enough to set the Avenger's facility ablaze. The rest of the crowd? The rest of the crowd was just a bonus, adding twinkle effects to the star that was grabbing everyone's attention.

But as it went without saying, Loki himself was grabbing a lot of eyeballs, stares following the man who was looking dapper as the most delicious sin that ever walked in a human form on earth. Both men and women could not keep their eyes off this perfection surpassing Greek Gods- the ones that were supposed to be the epitome of perfection. A lady was even heard cursing 'oh fuck me' out loud as he passed her with a knowing smirk on his face, clearly making her suffer breathlessness for the next few minutes.

The music was quite well for his taste. Loki had to admit, if anyone knew how to party, it was Stark. No one made the best of entertainment like this man.

"Oh come on!" He heard a familiar voice gasp in his direction from the bar. "You really don't want me to win any bet against you, do you?"

Loki watched Scott reflect despair on his face as he gestured at the God with utter disappointment. "You were supposed to put in minimal effort, man. Do you understand what minimal even means? Standing there looking all hot and sexy. Making straight men and lesbians question their sexuality!"

Javier stood next to Scott, taking Loki's entirety frame by frame from head to toe with his camera. Peter, who was watching all of this unfold while eating deconstructed spring rolls, leaned in to whisper to Javier to 'keep today's recording in a safe. You have no idea how much some people would pay just to watch him in a suit.'

"I just put the first thing I got my hands on, Scott," Loki stated, leaning over the bar and gesturing the bartender for a drink that neither Scott nor Peter understood, "not my fault if I am devilishly handsome by default."

"Yeah well the devil's not helping right now when I have placed my bet against you."

Loki smirked his smirk, making the guy behind the bar nearly tip the glass off the edge before hurriedly stopping it from falling. Peter looked into Javier's camera to mouth 'wow' before turning back to Loki and Scott.

"How nice of you to show so much confidence in Y/N, Scott."

Scott jumped at Natasha's voice coming from right behind him, turning to find the assassin dressed in a red gown that hugged her curves with the will of a fish trying to survive on land in a small pond. She herself was catching quite the looks- making a lot of ladies wonder whether what they were feeling was envy or just pure excitement between their legs.

"Of course, Scott," Loki added to Nat's sarcastic statement earlier, taking a sip of whatever mysterious sweet intoxication he had ordered, "give Y/N some credit to wager she could look better than this."

"Okay," Nat interrupted him with narrowed eyes, "you better stop being so smug, Loki, and start thinking about what would happen she kicked your ass."

"Really?" Loki and Scott asked in unison. The latter got Nat's elbow in his gut.

"She's much more powerful than you think, Gourdy," Nat divulged, "you really should give the credit where it's due."

Loki found himself chuckling before his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You really think the woman who was literally dragged out by you and Wanda to go get herself a dress for this ball will actually take the time and effort to look better than a God? It's good to dream, Natasha but only to a limit."

The green eyes looking at Loki did not stir for a single second while multiple gasps came out from the guys surrounding Loki. "See?" he whispered close to Nat, "even these men agree."

Now it was Nat's turn to smirk and tilt her head, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and sympathy. She stepped closer to Loki, taking his tie in her fingers and straightening it. "They are not gasping in awe of you, Loki," she whispered slowly, giving the God time to register every syllable, "they are gasping at the audacity of me winning a bet. Once again." She finished him with a wink before letting her eyes go behind him.

Loki, confused and egotistically pinched, turned around to find how exactly Nat won the be-

Oh. Oh!

You stood on the stairs, a sight fit for Valhalla. No. You were too majestic even for Valhalla. The green flowing over your body like a green stream finding its way down your body to fall with the most sophisticated rush. The straps holding your dress went to the back to twirl around a golden ring and come back down by the waist, leaving your back bare. Your hair was loose unlike the rest of the time, framing your face in light and shadow that was catching more than just Loki's heart. On one side, next to your chest were two green stones cut to perfection, glittering with the dim lights and catching everyone that even had you in your field of vision.

Loki stopped short of breathing, letting the beats from Alina Baraz's Pretty Thoughts fill every sensation he felt in those next few moments.

You stepped down the stairs, letting the slit in the dress expose your legs to the light that felt like it existed just so it could shine on them. Your grace when you pulled a strand of your hair behind your ear, exposing the golden earring twisting and dangling down your ears, wanting to touch your shoulders but being denied the pleasure of doing so. Your movement, as you swung your hips when you walked- a sight that was making so many souls stir at the sight in front of them. Too much heat. Somebody crank up the AC!

Someone out there responsible for the tunes seemed to sense the change in the surroundings by your mere presence, turning to the much more sedated and bass-filled version of Can't Take My Eyes Off You, giving the curious eyes a tune to feel their emotions.

Loki, once leaning ever so casually over the bar suddenly had to unconsciously feel the weight on his legs when he watched the smile on your lips painted nude- a shade of transparency- while your eyes glimmered with a playful smoke- a hue of everything that is delightfully shameful. But that was not what hit his heart through his eyes. It was you being stopped short by a man unknown, taking your hand and giving it a light kiss before making you laugh.

Loki felt something inside him twitch. To add to that, every pair of eyes standing next to him- along with that camera- turned to watch him like a bundle of curious hawks.

"Who's that?" Loki tried to sound casual while he took a good swig of his drink.

Nat looked at the man his eyes were pointing to- the one who was bringing you to tears from all the laughing fits he was giving you- and quite reluctantly let her lips leave the straw she was drinking from to speak. "Oh! That's Rhodey's nephew, Matt. He's a wildlife specialist. He removed a species of whales from the endangered list."

Loki, Scott and Peter turned to look at Nat with furrowed brows. Nat raised her fingers before she could hear their thoughts. "No! He did not kill them!"

They could see Matt bringing his hand forward for you as a sign of some formal request.

"Do you think he's asking her for a dance?" Scott whispered over Loki's shoulder.

You were already giving your hand in his, allowing him to walk you to the centre of the room where other couples were dancing.

"Oh my God, they are dancing!" Scott whispered again, catalysing this uneasy feeling rising in Loki's nerves. "Oh my God his hand is on her waist. Oh my God, it's going over her back. Her bare back! Oh m-"

"I can see that, Scott," Loki broke, "I can see all of it, thank you very much."

Scott raised his hands like a white flag, taking a step back as Loki turned around to watch you while the former turned to the camera to mouth his shock.

Loki could see that Scott was right. Matt had his hands on your bare back, holding you close to him, closer than one needs to while dancing- that too in such a formal setting. Clearly, that man did not know the etiquettes of the ballroom. Loki scoffed internally for thinking you would have a better taste in men after your last failed relationship. Right? You could at least show interest in men who knew how to treat their dance partner. Know their footwork, how much to move while you moved, how much to step back as they twirled you and let a mirage of a snake coiling up and over your shoulder with green eyes rest on your right shoulder be created while doing so.

Wait...

What?

Loki was not hallucinating. It really was a snake. When you twirled and let the lights shine on you, your dress created a phantasm of a golden and green snake running up your being. It was incredibly marvellous- partially because of the intricate design and mostly because he knew Thor had told you about his childhood snake stories this week.

And yet whenever you landed back in Matt's arms, something inside Loki seemed to squeeze. His eyes were not ready to leave the stranger's hands on your skin.

"Anyone can save whales. I don't get what's the big deal about it anyway." Loki did not realise those words leaving him. Nat raised her brows at him while Scott and Peter exchanged knowing glances with each other and the camera, Javier smiling like goof behind the lens.

"And isn't he too young?" Loki took another swig of his drink- before making a face at how disgusting it tasted- and turned towards others, trying not to lose your sight in the crowd. "He must be a little one like you, Parker."

"Wow," Peter exclaimed his hurt with crossed arms.

"He's...he's as old as Y/N," Nat said after a quick mental calculation.

Loki could feel something inside him feel like falling from a great height as Matt dipped you before bringing you back up, all in one full smooth swoop.

Crack!

Scott and Peter felt their eyes pop out at the cracked pieces of glass sticking in Loki's hand. Nat too had turned to look at the source of the sound. But she, unlike the two men, just furrowed her brows. "Oh, you've glass in your hand."

Loki broke out of a trance from her words, turning to look at the remnants of his drink running out of the broken shards of the glass while the rest were stuck inside his hand, blocking both the blood from rushing out and the skin from healing fully.

"Oh," Loki, much to the surprise of Scott and Peter, seemed unfazed by the whole situation, "I must have held on to the glass too ha-"

"Oh my God! Loki!"

Javier was nearly scared away from the group when he heard you shout from behind him, your eyes- carrying the look of horror- stuck on the pieces stuck in Loki's hand while your body moved on its own towards Loki, taking his injured hand in yours. "What the he- where's Bruce?"

Loki stood there for a moment- which seemed to stretch into infinity- to look at the lines of worry rising all over your face as you tried to get napkins after napkins to stop the blood from dropping, all the while asking him if he was okay. He could see the genuine concern in your eyes on watching him get hurt- the trembling hands trying to be steady just so they could help his. He saw. And he felt; felt much worse than he did before. Why?

Because he clearly could not see you in pain. Being happy with a stranger was far better than the sight of you losing all the glow in you.

"I'm fine," he finally uttered, trying to calm your anxious heart, pulling out the shards from his other hand like it was no big deal.

"Are you shitting me right now!" you announced, grabbing his better hand and pushing it away from his other before pulling it towards the door. "You're coming with me. Come on."

And so, you took him away from the party, up in Bruce and Tony's lab, asking Friday's help for it all, who was happy to walk you through the process of letting her take care of the rest while you stood beside the God and watched the AI work its way around the smallest pieces stuck inside his skin while you bit on your nails.

"I uh-" Loki cleared his throat- "didn't realise you were the competitive type."

You looked up at him, your nail still resting between your teeth, your eyes still in a concerned trance. "Huh?"

"You really went all out with the whole...theme," he mentioned with a smirk, gesturing at your ensemble, making you look down at your dress.

The forceps took out the last bit of glass, sanitising Loki's hand and the workbench when looked back at him, nodded casually. "Oh yeah. Yeah, I was just channelling the irritating snake always hissing around me all day all night, pestering me with those googly eyes and big...noodle body. That's what I was going for."

...clearly not what Loki was thinking.

"What...what snake?"

You turned your lips and spoke with the most nonchalant air, "You."

Silence.

You pressed your lips, carefully taking your steps back towards the door.

"You-" he moved his now fully healed hand away from the bench to look at you with tanoffended expression- "little-" he stepped towards you, mirroring your careful pace- "minx-" dashing out the door behind your squealing figure roaring with laughter outside.

#loki #marvel loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki smut #loki fic #loki odinson #loki god of mischief #Loki Laufeyson #loki x ofc #loki x oc #loki fanfiction #loki series #LOKI SPEAKS #smut #fluff #marvel smut #marvel fluff #loki marvel #marvel #mcu smut #mcu fluff #loki friggason #loki fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fics #MCU #Marvel MCU

[halitophobia]

Blind Eye - One

Pairings ⟶  OC x Hank's Daughter! Reader (TEMPORARILY) , RK800! Connor x Hank's Daughter! Reader (EVENTUALLY)

A/N ⟶  Hello! I'm a little new to the DBH world, but I'm in complete awe of the story and Connor haha....anyways, I have been thinking about writing a series for him for a while and decided to go for it. This is mainly for testing the water - I'm not new to writing fanfiction or Tumblr (at.all.), but sure am new to putting my own work out to the public. So here goes nothing...(P.S. I'd absolutely love feedback and constructive criticism ! Truly ! TRULY.) Uh.. P.P.S. This is basically chapter one - just want to see how it goes :)

Disclaimer ⟶  I for one, obviously do not own any of the characters from the DBH universe whatsoever

Warnings ⟶  (for this blurb specifically...) quite a handful lots of swearing, violence, mentions of death, stubborn reader, stubborn Hank, spoilers...? (for this series...) slow burn, sLoW bUrN, SLOW BURN, alcohol abuse (Hankster), all warnings from the blurb, angst, toxic relationship, eventual....fluff, happiness, cute stuff, flustered Connor, flustered Reader, all the gushy-ness, and ?????smut?????

Word Count ⟶  3000

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 

----

NOV 5th, 2038 - 11:53:07 PM

         You hang up your phone, eyes covered from your damp palm, and let out a breath you hadn't realized was being withheld. Your hand sloppily drags down your face, and you squint out the car window. The streams of rainwater on the glass blur the scene, resulting in hues of spinning red and blue. You huff, narrowing your eyes at...seemingly nothing. You shouldn't even be here. You shouldn't have given in. If it weren't for the damn situation back at your apartment, you'd probably be enjoying a searing-hot shower; or better yet, shamelessly devouring an excessively large bowl of sugary cereal.

"Miss?"

         You're pulled away from your somewhat pleasant thoughts by the gruff taxi driver sitting in front of you. You sniffle by accident, revealing other unwanted emotions, and swirl your hand in your bag. Silently praying to yourself, you wait for something circular and cold, or thin and crumpled to brush your fingers. 

After a solid minute or two, your hand tightens on a cluster of bills. You yank them out, thrusting them toward the man. Avoiding his gaze, quite obviously, you knit your brows together, really hoping you don't have to say that famous line...

"S'all I have." your voice annoyingly childish.

He scoffs. "You're lucky I don't have enough energy to argue."

         With your eyes still locked on the door cupholder, his hand slaps yours. You feel his chewed fingernails scrape your palm, the money following suit. He grumbles something about getting out of the vehicle, which you gladly act upon.

         Entering the delightful weather, you squint your eyes and do your best to use your hand as a visor. Scurrying past members of the crew whining like toddlers, you stop before a line of familiar yellow tape that keeps you from your destination.  An officer standing on the opposite side warns 'unauthorized persons aren't permitted past'. Tell me something I don't know...

         Your lips part, a snappy remark waiting patiently at the back of your throat, when a short plump man waddles toward you.  

"By God, is that actually you, Y/N?" he awkwardly chuckles, eyes halfway shut from the rain trickling down his forehead.

"Detective Collins," you reply, forming a tight smile.

"Let her in, the big man requested her." he smiles back.

         Reluctantly, the officer lifts the tape, watching you swoop under. You straighten out and wait for the white-haired man to start blabbering about how long it's been.

"It's been a while, huh? Was just starting to get used to not having you around." he teasingly grins, bumping your shoulder.

         Nodding, you follow him onto the porch of a house simply waiting to crumble apart. The detective continues to talk about what it had been like after your absence and you flutter the collar of your heavy coat. Feeling your throat physically invert from the horrid stench, you grimace, shaming yourself for forgetting about this part of the job. Your ears truly tune into his voice as he starts to talk about the case. The dusty clogs in your brain begin to turn, grasping at key facts such as 'presumed murder weapon is a kitchen knife', 'no sign of a break-in', and 'owning an android that is nowhere in sight'. You can't help but pull back your top lip in a hateful snarl. You don't like that word. You don't like that word at all. In fact, you never did. Shaking your head, you glance around, taking in both the chaotic environment you basically grew up in, and the evidence gleaming before you.

         Lowering yourself eye-to-eye with the...late Carlos Ortiz, your gaze wanders over his abdomen. It's grimly decorated with multiple stab wounds which you can't help but study closer. Your eyebrows slightly lift, and one might think you were unimpressed, but you were just amazed at the rage embedded within the victim's gut.

"The victim fled to...the living room." a young voice claims, making your focus falter.

What's an intern doing at a place this brutal?

         As the question floats through your mind, every muscle, pulsing vein, and wavering breath coursing through your body comes to a halt - for that is when you hear it. Or should you say him. No, I really shouldn't...

"And he tried to get away from the andro- what the fuck?" you close your eyes, preparing yourself for the new crime scene to unfold. Here we go...

"Y/N? What the...wh..." his knowing voice somewhat amuses you; you've never heard him this...speechless.

         Steadily, you bring yourself to full height, still not having turned to see the Lieutenant. Feeling that instinctive mode envelope you, you tug a spiteful grin from your lips, finally shifting to see-

"Hi. Hank." his name crawls out of your mouth like a shiny, black beetle.

         You watch his eyes widen, only to shrink into slivers. His mouth recoiling into that signature frown, and his breath creating angry puffs of steam. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he spits, crossing his arms over his chest. Same old geezer.

You scoff. "That's no way to greet your little girl."

         He glares harder and makes threatening strides toward you. "You are not my fucking little girl." he shoves a finger at you, "You better get out of my fucking way. This is my case, and you are not going to be involved." You raise your eyebrows, pretending to be shocked by his filthy mouth.

"And that's definitely no way to speak to your little girl."

         His yellow teeth come to show and he growls at your ignorance. "Ben! Get your ass in here!" his words are poison. Within seconds, the round detective makes his way through, a knowing and pained expression pressed into the creases of his face.

"Hank?" a nervous crack in his voice says it all.

"Why on fucking earth would you let this snake onto the crime scene!" Hank fumes. You laugh and shake your head. Naturally, you sense fellow detectives and crew seep their way into the living room. Audience is right on time... "She's villainous, disastrous, manipulative, and downright fucking evil!"

         You nod, shrivelling your nose, "You're one to speak, Hank." letting some loose hairs fall in front of your eyes.

         He tousles his hair in disgust, "You really think they're just going to hand you your job back and everything will be fine and dandy?" Hank shouts, saliva shooting out between his teeth.  

"Captain Fowler has been desperately trying to get me back on the team, calling me constantly like a horny frat boy!" you claim, making sure your voice comes level to his. "So, sorry to break it to you, but it's clearly already happened."

"I can't believe it! I can't believe it's happening again!" he turns away, circling back to you. "You just get to clip clop your fucking way back into my life and career without having to pass one goddamn obstacle!" his fingers tug at his grey locks, sweat collecting at his hairline.

"Oh yeah, life's tough, huh Dad? Not having to pass an obstacle, ever been kicked out of your own home with only thirty-two fucking bucks clutched in your hand and a bottle of beer in the other?" you bark, acknowledging the others in the room is long gone from now.

"How many times are you going to bring that up!? You decided to bring that absolute bag of shit in my house and have the audacity to let him stay!"

"You didn't have to throw us out!" your throat is stinging now. Your blood is scorching hot, and your jaw is nearly if not fully cemented together. "Drunk off your fucking mind, shoving us out the door and throwing glass bottles at our heads, I mean, what kind of father were you?!"

"You don't get to do that." his voice descends two octaves; dangerously steady. "Y/N Anderson, you do not get to fucking do that." your eyes have now burned into his and you find yourself digging crescent moons into your palms.

"Who's to say?" your words also deep and slow. You're leaning in to size him up, warn him, threaten him, whatever you want to call it.

"Lieutenant and Detective Anderson! If you two do not calm yourselves the fuck out, I'll have no choice but to remove both of you from this ca-" Ben's still here? Since when?

"I am not an Anderson." you correct.

         Hank breaks the deathly-still eye contact and moves his head to inspect a crack in the wall. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath.

"You never were."

        Your eyes pop open and that withering fire ignites inside you once again, electricity rippling down do the minuscule hairs on your fingers. "Fucking come again?" you yell, moving to get right into his face.

         Let's just pause, shall we? This is the same pattern you two always fall into. You say something to sting him, he finds a way to bite you back, and you get offended. It's your stubbornness you've never gotten rid of. This mass of steel in the both of you, sitting at the bottom of your stomachs, never ever willing to budge. You've both a tree trunk up your asses and what's happened in the past has done quite the opposite than removing them. Just...come on, listen to this. This argument is a bicycle missing its back tire - going to go absolutely no where. This acid you throw back and forth, a cute duel of 'hot potato', engraves wounds to the both of you; it never ends. Honestly, you don't think it ever will. And what could have ever happened to cause a world war between the two of you? Let's just say these past few years have been utterly devastating and neither of you have taken it well.

         Exactly four minutes and twelve seconds go by, and your hand is latched onto the Lieutenant's throat. His hands are suffocating your biceps, and in return, you decide to start kicking. Detective Collins wraps his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling you away from your 'opponent'. You see a young man do the same to Hank - a little less effortlessly.

"Get the hell off me!" your father rages, whipping his arms from the brunette's grasp.

         You sharpen your eyes and study Hank's ‘partner’. No. fucking. way. "This your little pet?" you rip your arms from your restrainer and proceed to enter the fighting arena. "After all that's happened, you end up getting a weasel to train. And even better, it's a fucking android?" your words are deadly now. You feel betrayed. Backstabbed. Run over by a damn bulldozer.

         There's a slight hesitance in Hank's response, and to you, it only plasters upon his face, a large sign reading 'WARNING! I'm a loser!' "I wasn't-" he starts, but you're just too quick.

"An android!" you repeat, everyone already knowing the taste of your venom from the first time.

"Y/N dammit, will you let me-" Hank's voice is wavering, ever so slightly. Of course only you notice.

"This thing will corrupt the case! You really want to trust scraps of polished metal and plastic hair? It doesn't understand emotion or motive! How will it ever track down a suspect?" you growl, twisting your wrist within the steel rings holding you back.

"Telling me I had the audacity to invite a guy home," you continue, "yet you have the audacity to work alongside this piece of junk; the cause of-" you can't help it. It still hurts. Your words are discarded due to the contraction of your throat. Pull it together, no time for this shit. You cover it up, in the mere seconds of weakness. "I bet it’s got a name, huh? This your new so-"

"I did not agree to work with this thing!" his rotten finger is thrown at the bot, "I don't even remember the fuckin' name!" he says this as if he's defending himself.

"My name is Connor. I am the android sent by Cyb-"

"SHUT UP!" your voices in-sync, a combined evil no one would ever want to cross.

----

         Satisfied by the first...'warning', Connor pivots away, wandering back toward the kitchen. Both your voices are woven with malice, he considers. Your blood is pumping at immense speed, and if it weren't for your human forms, you'd have already combusted by now. The emphasis on your sentences make it very difficult for him to differentiate swear words from others. Pausing for a beat, he peers over at you, deciding to analyze.

ANDERSON, Y/N

Born : D/M/2014 //  Short Order Cook (currently unemployed) 

Criminal record : Pick-pocketing, shop-lifting

         Moving along small hints about you, Connor shifts his attention to your E/C eyes. Despite the low light, he notices the skin surrounding them is vaguely swollen and pink. Below them, your cheeks are gently stained - from rain? His processors scratch that thought. Probability claims...

Subject has been crying. (approximately 45 minutes ago)

Stress Level : 100%

         Moving his attention directly across from you, Hank's level of stress is no lower. Connor sees Detective Collins making a phone call to Captain Fowler, only to be immediately rejected. It's midnight on the last day of the week, Captain Fowler doesn't give two shits.

         Duty sprinkles itself back onto the android's head, and he turns directly toward various splatters of thirium. Easily, he drowns out your agitated argument, and continues on with solving the case.

----

         You're out of breath. Completely and utterly out of breath. Your chest is heaving, your jaw is sore and your brain is dangerously pulsing in your skull. You've expectorated every single insult and swear your tainted ears had ever taken in. Your shoulders ache, for Detective Collins had restrained both of you a little while ago; either protecting you from each other, or the others daring to stay in the room. From the outside, you and your old man look like feral wolves, battling for the role of Alpha - except this is just family dinner; without the handcuffs of course.

         The other officers have managed to have you on the opposite side of the living room, wraith still oozing from your pores. Hank looks as though he's on the brink of a stroke. He's drunk and probably already engaged for a second round of bickering. Bickering? Yeah..yeah we'll call it that.

         This is why you shouldn't have come. You knew - every atom in your damn body knew something bad was going to happen. During the call before being dropped off, Captain Fowler insisted Hank wasn't going to show up. You'd gotten these calls over and over again. Your father's attendance had been downright awful. From what you've been told, people will find him hunched over bars, head low, and buzzing with alcohol. You laugh bitterly at the thought - nothing's changed. Hank Anderson everyone, yes, also known as the fucking prick of the year and Mr. My-Daughter-Can-Eat-Shit-For-All-I-Fucking-Care.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Whadd'ya doin' with that chair?" Hank's voice is harsh and dry.

         Everyone's eyes are now drawn to the android that is currently shuffling a fucking chair out of the kitchen. Dumb fuck...

"I'm going to check something."

Wow. Its voice is annoying. Its walk is annoying. Its uniform is ugly. Its snappy remark is really just- I mean, how could he do this to you? You stare at your father and squint your eyes. He barely looks itched by that thing. In fact, he looks amused. By instinct, you're butthurt. In a different reality, happening at the same time, he's just shot you in your back and made out with your fifth grade teacher. At least, that's how you'd imagine it. Painful and disgusting.

         Clearing your littering thoughts, you glance around. Most of the team had moved back outside. You're just leant on your right hip, arms still clipped behind your back and you realize your nose is getting pretty fucking itchy. Ruthlessly, you rub your nose against your shoulder, earning a snort from Detective Collins. Oh, so he finds this funny...

"That asshole got his hands back," chucking your temple toward Hank, "why can't I?" you challenge, prepping for an argument toward Ben.

         You watch his double chin twitch, his lips parting and coming together. He's afraid of you. Weighing in the facts, you don't think it bugs you as much as it should. To keep it that way, you roll your eyes and shift to your other hip.

"Connor, what the fuck is going on up here?"

So the bitch calls it by its name. 'I don't remember its name' my ass...

         A pause indicates its dead. Or gone. Both would be great. "Sounds like your puppy's ran away." you show an exaggerated pout, "Con Con's gone gone." The silver-haired man glares at you, brewing up a comeback.

"It's here, Lieutenant!"

Of course.

         The next 10 minutes consist of crew members hustling in and contemplating what to do with the assailant. You're long forgotten, wrists still enveloped in crisp metal. You watch the scene unfold, seeing a dark-skinned bot sulk past you, its 'hands' in the same situation as yours. You could cut yours off, knowing you have something in common with it.

         As the posse mosey's on by, you burn holes into the side of your dad's head. Thouroughly enjoying the bird he sends your way. Then, due to the flow of movement, you catch...eyes with it. Your face scrunches up and you hold back every nerve sizzling to attack - you know your limits; especially with cuffs.

         It holds eye contact with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. That is, until you see the corners of its mouth lift ever so fucking slightly. And just as you glance down to examine the expression, it's completely gone before your eyes. Was...was that a fucking smile? This collection of plastic and wires has the fucking nerve to fucking smile at you?

Oh, you've just dug your own grave, Siri.

----

I think I’ll definitely start chapter two.

#connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit connor #dbh x reader #detroit become human #detroit connor x reader #connor #rk800 #dbh connor #hank anderson #hank x connor #hank’s daughter #bryan dechart

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--(8)

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night...the same night Motley Crue is born.

AN: this chapter I think is shorter than the others by far, so don’t be mad, but another is coming this week!

@prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree, @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog

To the person who asked to be included on the tag list, for some reason your username is not showing up :( message me and I’ll get that fixed!

Previous Chapters:

One,    Two,    Three,    Four,    Five,    Six,    Seven

For months, Wren was able to keep her job at the public library a secret from the band. They were loud and boisterous people—except Mick—and were sure to embarrass the living hell out of her, or even get her fired if they dared set foot into her work, so it remained a secret until her drunken ass spilled the beans.

“You’ll need a shit ton of fliers if you’re going to even try and draw a crowd,” Wren slurred after a long night of drinking with Tommy and Nikki. Nikki had managed to secure the band a spot performing three nights during next week at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, and was currently panicked about not bringing in revenue. It took nearly a month of schmoozing his boss to even consider letting their band play, and even then it was allowed on the stipulation of bringing money into the night club.

“Maybe a radio ad!” Tommy gasped, his eyes wide with thrill until Nikki threw a half-eaten piece of bread at Tommy’s face.

“Do we look like we can afford a radio ad?” Nikki laughed.

“Do we look like we can afford fliers?” Tommy asked seriously in response.

“I can print them for free at work!” Wren had exclaimed in an excited tone as she jumped up at her own idea, subsequently tossing whiskey from her glass and onto her skin. And that was the end of her secret of employment. She was, however, able to print a few hundred fliers, and then she and the guys took to the strip at all hours of the day and night to post the news of Mötley Crüe’s debut.

The night before their first performance, the band met to solidify their set list and perfect the tiny details that irked either Nikki or Wren’s ears. Their practice ran short when Lovey sprang through the door and demanded to be included in the band’s “process.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Nikki asked as the blonde repositioned the frilly, light blue tank top that hardly covered her braless tits.

“Like her!” she then pointed to Wren. “Come on, which one of you is she fucking to be this close to the action?”

“Watch yourself, lady,” Mick gently warned as Tommy rose from his seat, Nikki tightened his fists, and Wren placed her hands on her hips in defiance.

“Babe,” Vince said in a soft, coaxing voice as he reached tentatively for his girlfriend’s arm.

“No, which one is it? Is she giving it to the old fuck?” Mick held his hands up above his heads, cleansing himself of any involvement in the altercation to come. “Who is it, Wren?” Lovey pressed the girl standing in stark contrast to her. Her done up make up and fanciful clothes looked like something out of a movie compared to the sweaty, tied up hair and bland, tattered, baggy t-shirt that swallowed Wren’s body. Why the hell is she threatened by me? Wren thought as the gap closed between she and Vince’s girlfriend. “Could it be the scrawny drummer? Or maybe it’s the bass playing motherfucker who doesn’t know shit about music.”

“Yeah, and some dumb bitch fawning over a cover band called ‘Rock Candy’ is so much more knowledgeable,” Wren retorted with venom on her tongue and a sting in her bite.

“Wren,” Tommy’s voice acted as a warning, not for her to back off, but for her to quickly make up her mind if Lovey was worth what was to come. When she turned to face the band in an attempt to gauge their opinions on the events unfolding before them, Wren’s eyes met Nikki’s cold stare. His lips were pressed thin and anger overwhelmed his face. Tommy was equally unenthused with the situation, and Mick bestowed a look of concern.

“Listen to them, Wren,” Lovey teased with her pouty lips poked out, “or they may not let you play with their dicks tonight.” The blonde’s big eyes were opened even wider as she anticipated Wren’s response; however, it was Nikki’s voice that cut through the tense silence.

“Vince, get a hold of your mutt,” Nikki shouted more at Lovey than to Vince. A defensive look flashed from his eyes as his gaze met Wren, only to see the frustration that coated her appearance.

“Stay out of it, Nikki! I don’t need your help!” Wren snapped with ice in her veins at the same moment Vince’s girlfriend retaliated.

“Fuck you, Sixx!” she yelled. “You can call me whatever the fuck you want; it doesn’t change the fact that you’re just too blind to see she’s just a stray you three let in for an easy fuck!” Her comment sat uneasily on all of the men’s shoulders, however they were hesitant to speak as they internalized the bitter, cold, and dissevered tone that had hissed at Nikki moments ago.

“The difference between you and I is that I don’t have to flash my money or my tits to get attention from a single one of these guys, and I still have more respect from all of them than you’ll see from any man in your pitiful, entitled fucking life.” Tommy couldn’t help the snorted chuckle that escaped his lungs as Wren finished her statement. Mick had a wide smile spread with his eyes narrowed and he nodded in agreement with Wren’s words. Vince, who had been hesitant to take sides in this argument faded to the background without a word in favor of either woman, and Nikki remained a statue by his bass amp as he continued to mull over the sting of Wren’s personal attack.

Lovey took a step forward and positioned herself so that she stood with less than an inch separating Wren’s chest from her own. Everyone in the room noticed Lovey ease up onto her toes so that her lips could be level with Wren’s ear due to their distinctive height difference. Lovey’s voice was a chilling breeze as she spoke so softly not a single person could make out a word that traveled from her lips except for Wren. As Wren stood flatfooted, back straight, posture erect, she stared forward and refused to bring a single bit of the emotions swirling within her to her face. “There’s nothing wrong with making up for lost time,” she began, “but will any of them really replace the taste of Clay?” Wren swallowed hard as she tried to suppress the lump that manifested so quickly in her throat. Her body became immobile as her veins turned into frozen rivers and her skin burned as hot as the surface of the sun. From across the room, Tommy immediately noticed all color wash from Wren’s face. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest so rapidly she thought her heartbeat alone could set the pace for the band’s next song. Wren could hear her name being called out, and she could see Tommy, Mick, and Nikki’s lips moving, but the voices were so distant, so severed from the bodies they came from, she ignored them altogether.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” she asked lowly only for the blonde to huff, flip her hair over her shoulder, and turn away. “How the fuck do you know that?!” Wren’s voice echoed even louder as she lunged after the much shorter woman and spun her around with a single, firm grip of her shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Lovey flippantly said with an aura of innocence surrounding her, “it just matters that I do.” In a blinding rage, Wren threw Lovey to the ground, only to be surprised that the other woman had grabbed a fistful of Wren’s hair and pulled her down as well. Lovey tried to pull Wren’s hair, but found herself curling up into a fetal position as Wren directed kick after kick and punch after punch to the girl’s ribs. Seeing this as an opportunity, Wren crawled on top of Lovey, used her knees to pin the girl’s limbs to her sides, and then landed two punches to the face before she felt Tommy’s arms slip around her.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy!” Wren shouted before she slipped away from his grasp, shoved him away from her, and made another lunge at Lovey, who had taken her moment of freedom to stand and make a bolt for the door.

“Nik!” Tommy yelled out as Wren crossed his path. He and Mick had both set aside their instruments at the beginning of the girls’ argument, in case something like this were to happen. To Lovey’s fortune, Nikki was able to intercept Wren by snaking an arm around her hips, spinning her around, and flipping her over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Nikki!” she shouted. “Damn it, Sixx! Put me the fuck down!”

Ignoring Wren’s protests, Nikki called out first to Vince, then to the others, “Take her home, we’ll finish practicing tomorrow.” As he walked toward the back most room of the apartment—his room—he tried to ignore Wren’s angry fists pounding into his back, he tried to hold her still as best he could without getting himself kicked in the face, and he hoped she would calm down enough to talk to him instead of scream like she had done since the second Tommy tried to pull her away from Lovey.

Once inside his room, Nikki slammed the door shut and flipped Wren onto his bed so that her back landed against the mattress, forcing her body to bounce up like a ragdoll. He flicked the light on and stared at her with passionate anger manifesting in a steaming ball in his stomach. “What the fuck was that about?” he asked sharply as he stood over her. Wren still laid with her back against the mattress and her elbows propped up to support her, her eyes casting up in an angry scowl at Nikki.

“None of your business,” she retorted.

“Bullshit! I was just trying to help you out there!” Nikki stated as he took another step closer to where she lay.

“I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me,” she hissed, “let alone you!”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Nikki’s eyes continued to peer down at Wren as she laid all too comfortably on his bed with a defensive arrogance that both pissed him off and intrigued him.

“You don’t fucking know me, Sixx,” she hissed. “You don’t get the right to try and defend me when you have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

“You don’t let anyone get to know you!” Nikki snapped. He’d been hanging around Wren for long enough to know that she knew more of anyone else’s secrets than anyone knew of hers, and tonight just proved it. “You’re best fucking friend is out there and he doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on!”

“It’s no one else’s damn business!” Wren’s voice was sharp as she pulled herself to her knees and stared at Nikki with her eyebrows narrowed and her jaw taught.

“It is when you make it our business,” he retorted with his eyes narrowed in on her. Wren stood from her position on the bed and placed herself directly in front of Nikki.

“I didn’t make it everyone’s business! That bitch started all of this shit—” Before Wren could reach the end of her defense, Nikki’s voice interrupted her and turned her own words into a noose around her throat.

“Who is Clay?” Silence followed his question as both of their chests heaved in anger and the two stared into each other’s eyes. Each set of orbs, either hazel or grey reflected the same angsty, impatient, and frustrated glare as if the two souls were connected in their own misery. Nikki quickly noticed the subtle changes in Wren’s posture. Her shoulders tightened, her jaw clenched, her entire body turned into a stiff, unflexing wax replica of Wren, and all sense of emotion—hope, anger, hatred, fear—abandoned her otherwise pleasant face. After an overly long moment of anxiously staring down at the woman, Nikki folded his arms over his chest and widened his stance. Wren tugged at her lower lip with her teeth and Nikki saw for the first time, a—100% without a shadow of a doubt—true sign of vulnerability in Wren Ledden. However, in that single action—her holding her lip between her teeth in anxious terror—she stepped forward, jammed her index finger into Nikki’s chest, and with a quivering voice that was caught in her throat spoke.

“Don’t you ever say that fucking name around me ever again.” Without needing to be prompted, Nikki nodded, gently pulled Wren’s arms past his sides until she wrapped them around his torso, and softly placed his hands against her. One rested in the middle of her back and the other lay gingerly against the back of her head. He tried his best to ignore the warm pools of tears that gathered against his shirt and soaked into his skin, and he tried not to imagine the infinite sadness that her face could impose—her lips pulled tight in strain with the indention of her teeth lining her lower lip, he cheeks beet red and streaked with agonizing tears, her eyes puffy and hopeless—but he failed in this endeavor.

Nikki noticed the door to his room creep open ever so slightly to reveal Tommy’s curious expression begging to know if his friend was okay. He didn’t expect to see Wren wrapped up in Nikki’s arms. He didn’t expect to hear her soft sobs—a sound not even his ears had experienced before—but more than anything else, he didn’t expect to see a lonely, solitaire tear slide down Nikki’s face.

Continue Reading: Next Chapter

#motley crue #motley crue x ofc #motley crue x oc #douglas booth nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx #the dirt fanfic nikki #douglas booth!nikki sixx fic #nikki sixx #nikki sixx the dirt #douglas booth the dirt #the dirt douglas booth #the dirt #the dirt fanfic #colson baker!tommy lee #tommy lee #tommy lee the dirt #colson baker tommy lee #colson baker #vince neil #vince neil the dirt #daniel webber!vince neil #daniel webber vince neil #daniel webber #mick mars #iwan rheon!mick mars #mick mars the dirt #iwan rheon

[ashfountainfanfics]

“Mr. Harrington?” the nurse at the doctor’s office asks.

Steve startles and drops the old magazine he’d been pretending to look at. Billy is at his eight week check up and there’s no telling if he’s going to come out with a cast or not. Steve’s spent God knows how long in the lobby weighing both outcomes. If the cast stays on then that objectively sucks and if it comes off then great! Right?

But they had developed a routine in the past few weeks and that routine has been running through Steve’s mind.They’d wake up and Billy would try to bark out instructions to Steve on how to make a proper breakfast. Steve knows how to fry an egg now but he still burns the bacon. Billy gives him shit for it every time but sometimes he mutters a compliment on the eggs. 

Billy then naps while Robin comes over for pool time. Billy fixes up lunch and leaves Steve’s out on the coffee table while Steve showers. Billy then showers while Steve eats. Steve and Billy play a game of cards; sometimes poker. It depends on whether Dustin’s over for dinner or not and, surprise, Dustin’s amazing at poker.

Then Billy and Steve settle in on the couch. They watch TV and talk. Sometimes they talk about their childhoods. Sometimes it’s about their pasts. Sometimes it’s just giving each other shit but in a good way. Other times they just let the TV do the talking for them. It ends the same, they both fall asleep on that same couch. They don’t talk about that part though because Billy’s always waiting in the kitchen by the time Steve wakes up.

“Mr. Harrington,” the nurse repeats, “Your friend asked me to give you his discharge paperwork.”

“Discharge? Is he-”

“Read the paper, Mr. Harrington,” the Nurse replies.

Steve does just that but his eyes are manic as they haphazardly search for an answer.

Ibuprofen as needed.

Follow up in two weeks.

Low level activity.

...low level activity!

The door opens and Billy’s standing on the other side, cast free. Billy smiles brightly at Steve and slowly makes his way across the lobby. He has a limp and he’s carrying both cruthces in one hand.

“Doc says he’s never seen someone recover so well,” he smiles, “and my teachers always said I’d amount to shit.”

“Mr. Hargrove,” the nurse warns with an even temper, “language please.”

Billy’s previously injured leg looks so pale and it’s leaner than the other. It’s not a dramatic difference and maybe it’s just Steve’s brain overcompensating for the bulky cast. Billy’s wearing both of his boots now and it looks hilarious paired with his shorts.

“You need jeans,” Steve laughs.

“Ya think?” Billy bites back.

The biting and snapping is so different now than it was before. Before it felt like handling the violent outbursts of a wild animal. Now it’s harmless, playful even. It reminds Steve of how puppies play with each other. Not that he would dare tell Billy that he makes Steve think of puppies. Teasing aside there’s still boundaries.

Steve keeps an eye on Billy and matches his pace. He can’t help it.  He’s gotten accustomed to going Billy’s speed. They get to the car.

“Keys,” Billy demands, “I’m driving.”

Steve doesn’t question it and tosses them over. They load up and Steve has butterflies in his stomach. Billy adjusts the radio and then peels out from the parking lot.

Steve’s chest feels heavy because he isn’t sure where they’re going.

He doubts that Billy is going back to his dad’s place. For a while, Steve thought he might go back for Max but he doesn’t need to. Billy understood that since she was willing to stand up to him she is definitely prepared to stand up to her father too. But even then, if that excuse for a father figure ever lays a finger on Max, Billy’s going to do something about it.

‘I’m not afraid of shit anymore’ Steve remembers him saying one night. Steve made him promise not to do anything that would send him to prison. Billy found a compromise; he wouldn’t do anything that would get him life in prison. That was the best Steve could hope for.

Steve feels his breath hitch whenever they come to a turn but so far they’re following the same route back. There’s a little thrill as the car curves around the corner the way he hoped it would.

“You okay?” Billy asks before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah.”

“Then why do you have your head out the window like a dog?”

Steve brings himself back to an appropriate position.

“I’m trying to not to throw up,” he covers, “You drive like a maniac.”

Billy laughs and speeds up. They come up to a light and it turns yellow but Billy doesn’t slow down.

“Billy...” Steve warns.

The light turns red and Billy floors it.

“BILLY!”

Billy whoops in excitement as they get through the light unscathed. A series of angry car horns sing behind them. Steve unfolds his arms and legs from the ball he’d formed on instinct.

“You’re insane!”

“Nah, I’m free, baby!”

So much for being harmless, Steve thinks as his heart rate goes back to normal.

Billy pulls up to the Harrington residence. He shuts off the car and the radio cuts off leaving a silence between them. Neither of them gets out of the car right away. Billy squeezes the steering wheel and Steve taps his fingers on his knees.

“So you’re better now,” Steve tests the waters.

“Yup.”

“You’ve got both legs.”

Billy nods but his eyebrow is raised in suspicion. Steve can tell he’s irritating him but he can’t stop.

“You can go anywhere and do whatever.”

“Is there a point here?” Billy says with a tight jaw.

“So stay.”

It comes out quick and painfully on the nose. Steve catches a quick glance at Billy and the wide eyes looking back make him want to curl back into a ball. He could be setting himself up for a different kind of collision and unlike Billy there’s no sense of high in it.

“If you want,” Steve tries to tone it down, “You don’t have to but- you staying would be, uh, good.”

I used to be smooth once, Steve laments internally, I used to be cool.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch anymore,” Billy says after a moment passes.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.”

Steve’s chest is no longer heavy but instead has the curious sensation of being split right down the middle. Billy’s refusing the couch which must mean he’s not staying. It was stupid to think he would. Did Steve honestly think they were... well, at minimum, friends? He must have misread something along the way. Maybe all their routine came down to was tolerance. Now there’s no reason to tolerate anything anymore. Billy’s free to be wherever he wants to be.

“You can’t make up the bed tight either,” Billy complains, “That shit looked like military quarters on one side. If I wanted to sleep in some rigid crap like that I’d have joined the army.”

“...what?”

“I’m not spelling it out for you,” Billy gets out the car and slams the door shut behind him.

God knows Billy never does. Steve does understand what he’s saying though. He’s gotten good at decoding the way Billy expresses things. Everything comes out in sharp edges but if it’s filtered right Steve can hear some amazing and unexpected things; sympathy, kindness, affection… vulnerability. At the moment, it sounds like Billy is wanting to stay and not like he was staying before.

Steve knows what the bed reference is towards. The night that Billy was high and he needed a different bed Steve absolutely stayed in that bed with him. It may have seemed like a weird impulse given the kiss that preceded it but Steve was worried. It didn’t seem right to leave Billy alone. He slept on top of the covers though. He didn’t want them touching then. He didn’t trust it.

Steve fumbles over his seatbelt and manages to meet up with Billy. He’s leaning against the front door and already smoking a second cigarette. He puffs away at it anxiously but the expression on his face is stern. Steve gets closer than he’s dared to before, maybe an inch away. He’s close enough to touch him and he finds it infuriating that he wants to.

“Look,” Steve says, trying to wear Billy down with a serious gaze, “I know that you’re not good at saying what you mean and normally I get it anyway. And I think I get what you’re saying now but I need to know because if I do this, if we do this, it has to be for sure.”

“Know what?” Billy say before taking another drag.

Steve’s been dancing around his own feelings for two months, constantly in and out of what can only be described as a gay panic. It had been exhausting. Ultimately, he settled on acknowledging what Billy makes him feel but not acting on it unless Billy initiates it again. It felt less complicated that way. Now that initial move has been made… probably. Steve needs the clarity and for the first time in their new rapport he’s demanding it.

“Did you just ask to sleep in my bed? With me?”

Billy puts on his best ‘fuck you’ grin before blowing out a slow, steady stream of smoke into Steve’s face.

“Okay,” Steve rolls his eyes and starts to turn away.

It could have been easy to stop right there. They could let all of this go and write it off as a bad joke. Steve could go back into that house and dance around hidden signals and off remarks for God knows how many more months. Or maybe that was the clarity he needed. Billy doesn’t reciprocate and his cryptic shit really isn’t so cryptic.

Fuck that, Steve decides.

He literally grabs the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth and before Billy can be pissed about it he pins him to the door with his forearm. The cigarette lands in the dirt and Steve can’t tell why his blood is boiling. Is it because he’s mad? Or because he’s finally touching Billy? Or both?

“Tell me what you want,” Steve growls, “or get the fuck out of my house.”

Billy looks furious but Steve stands his ground. Even if Billy decides to kick his ass and take off with his car at least Steve will know where they stand. He’s done playing games.

“Kiss me,” Billy says through bared teeth.

Steve does a mental double take. He brings his arm down so Billy isn’t trapped against the door anymore.

“Really?”

“Am I speaking goddamn Spanish!?” Billy shouts, “Fucking do it alre-”

Billy doesn’t get to finish because Steve’s lips are on his mouth and it feels good. It feels better than the last time and different. Billy isn’t playing casanova. In fact, the something almost shy about him.

Steve stick a leg in between Billy’s as he plants his hands on either side of his head. Billy moans into the movement and Steve swears that he’s melting like butter under him. Billy hooks a hand into the front of Steve’s jeans and pulls him even closer.

This is happening. In broad daylight. With everyone sober. Steve’s whole body wants to crash into Billy’s. It’s a hunger and an inevitable gravity.

Steve detours his kisses along Billy’s jaw and lands on his neck. He gets to work on leaving a mark because Steve can’t stand the idea of not marking him. That primal part of his mind goads him into it. He’s gentle at first but builds into a hard bite. The animal in him pushes further and he starts rutting against Billy.

“Fuck,” Billy murmurs pleasantly.

God yes, Steve thinks as Billy’s sounds curl up into him and caresses his every nerve.

“Fuck,” Billy groans again before his tone shifts, “Wait. Fuck! No, hey!”

Billy pushes Steve away hard. It feels like being cut off in the middle of a current. He doesn’t understand at first. He tries to think why Billy would stop. What in God’s name could have stopped that?

Did...did someone see us? Is someone else here!?

Steve panics. He knows what it means to have a certain kind of hate. He knows how violent that hate can get. He looks around frantically and steps back.

“I am NOT your bitch, Harrington!” Billy screams out, “You touch me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you!”

Dumbstruck, Steve tries to cultivate a response. This wasn’t even in the realm of possible reasons to stop what they were doing but here it is anyway. No danger. Just insecurity.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-”

“Fuck you!”

The heartbreak settles in now. He wasn’t trying to treat Billy in any kind of way except well. What did he do wrong? Was he too aggressive? Too dominant? The last thing he wanted to do was give Billy a reason to push him away and then he literally pushes him away. Billy’s back to biting and clawing and not in the good way. He’s feral again and Steve desperately wants to go back just a handful of seconds. Billy was so close to being okay with all of this.

“Billy... I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, “We can do this different. Or not at all if you’re not okay. I don’t- I never ever want to make you feel shitty, okay? Never.”

Billy takes this in and lights up another cigarette. He sits down on the front steps leading up to the door and blows a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth. Steve cautiously sits down next to him. The concrete is hot under him and he imagines that it’s not very comfortable for Billy either. But Billy doesn’t let on.

“What do you wanna do?” Steve asks.

Billy straightens out his formerly injured leg. He very slowly and purposefully moves the toe of his shoe out and back. Another long drag and Steve’s wondering if Billy’s ever going to talk again.

“-ry,” Billy whispers so quietly that only the last syllable is audible.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s an apology. Steve was expecting another argument, another round of silence. He’s not sure how to respond yet.

“I’m new to this gay shit,” Billy continues.

“Me too,” Steve chimes in quickly.

Billy drops his cigarette down and grinds it out with his boot. He turns toward Steve and attempts eye contact. He then immediately drops it and turns back.

“I’ve never-” he looks like talking is both embarrassing and painful, “I don’t get involved with people. Y’know, with feelings and shit. I think it’s fucking stupid.”

This isn’t helping Steve’s heartache at all.

“But you’re not stupid.”

Billy offers his hand palm up, fingers spread. He doesn’t look at Steve but his hand stays open and waiting. They could have more of a conversation but this feels pretty clear.

Steve mimics Billy’s eye line. They both stare off into the distance with cool expressions. Steve then crosses his wrist on top of Billy’s and laces their fingers together.

—-

“I have a job!”

Steve shouts his news as he enters his parent’s house. He races to the living room and manages to hop over the back of the couch. He lands with a flop next to Billy who’s got his nose in a newspaper.

“I have a job,” Steve repeats with a smile, “and my only uniform is a vest.”

“Don’t phrase shit like that. Sounds like you’re only wearing a vest. Like no pants or something.”

“I didn’t think of it like that but not wearing pants would sweeten the deal.”

“You don’t have the balls to go out naked in public,” Billy mutters as circles one of the ads in the paper.

Steve laughs.

“I used to,” he points out, “but streaking lost its high in junior year.”

Steve moves in closer to Billy. The spaces between them always feel so heavy and there’s only ever room between them for conversation or kissing. 

Last night they slept together in Steve’s bed and before they drifted off they had made out for hours. They didn’t speak a word to each other though and that was for the better. Talking about it muddled things by bringing attention to details Steve wasn’t sure they could handle. Or more accurately details that Billy can’t handle. Steve feels like he’s adjusting fairly well to the whole liking another guy thing.

Nonetheless, Steve can recall the heat and sweat of last night in quick flashes. Billy still smells the same, a sweet sort of musk. Steve wants so badly to press his lips into where Billy’s shoulder meets neck but he has to be cautious. Now isn’t the right time.

“You find some leads?” Steve distracts himself with the task at hand.

A few spots have been circled on the wanted page: box boy for the local grocery store, assistant to a mechanic, and-

“Police officer?” Steve asks incredulously.

Billy snaps the newspaper back to himself. He wasn’t expecting Steve to read over his shoulder. He hadn’t been expecting him to be so close really.

“You don’t think I could be a cop?”

“I didn’t know you wanted-“

“Who fucking says I want to?”

There are days where it feels like it’s never going to get easier with him. In fact, Steve catches himself wondering briefly if they ever really move forward at all. Any time he thinks he’s getting close enough toward- well whatever it is they’re gravitating toward - they slip back a bit. It’s always Billy too. Steve tries but it’s like Billy gets skittish… in a loud and yelling sort of way.

“I think it might be helpful. To be a cop. That’s all.”

“How?”

“You’re a real dumbass sometimes,” Billy narrows his eyes but settles down:

“Then enlighten me, oh wise one,” Steve bites back with just the right amount of sarcasm.

It works and Billy relaxes.

“Shit happens here. A lot. The only cop any of you know is dead so-“

“You want to replace Hop?”

“I want to be useful,” he says it quietly and stares at the floor intently.

“I’ve been on the other end of your right hook. You’re more than useful.”

Billy mumbles something but Steve can’t catch it under the gravel of the other boy’s natural tone. He leans into Billy’s space to hear him better.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Billy notes quickly while keeping still.

“I really didn’t.”

“Fucking hell! I said-“

Billy turns to face Steve and he’s suddenly very close. So often he moves in wild and unpredictable ways but the speed with which he moves and the suddenness he’s stopped could give a man whiplash. His nose is just an inch from Steve’s. When he meets his eyes they become soft, almost bashful.

“- I’m sorry…for hitting you back then. I’m sorry”

Steve doesn’t dare to break their shared gaze. It has that hot and thick feeling to it. It’s both intoxicating and important. He swears there’s a cheesy love song playing distantly in the background but he waves it off as just being in his mind.

This is the second apology Steve’s gotten. Something about Billy saying sorry knocks the air out of Steve. Even now he’s trying to steady himself in the wake of it and the sudden tension.

“Make it up to me,” Steve finds the perfect tone between a demand and a request.

Billy responds to it by cupping a hand to Steve’s face. His fingers feel warm against Steve’s cheek and he wants more.

“You got my eye pretty bad,” he elaborates.

Billy guides the back of Steve’s head into a slight tilt down. He gives a gentle kiss over his left brow.

“And the mouth. You drew blood.”

Billy moves gracefully to the corner of Steve’s mouth. He leaves a kiss there before moving to the middle and kissing Steve softly and languidly.

“And my ribs,” Steve complains between kisses.

“I know.”

It’s a tender concession. Steve is enthralled by this version of Billy: the side of him that is sweet, compliant even, and wanting.

Billy presses his body weight into Steve and Steve adjusts so he’s lying on his back. Billy’s on top of him. Steve allows it as Billy follows the map Steve’s given him. He lifts Steve’s shirt and wordlessly leaves his apologies on his rib cage. He then starts moves to his abs and Steve can’t deny the growing arousal and how Billy is purposeful getting closer to it.

Steve’s head is swimming. He can only hope for what he thinks is coming to him but he doesn’t dare interrupt or confirm. He’s letting Billy set the pace. Billy has the power here and Steve’s okay with that. Steve doesn’t need power like Billy does.

If Steve had been paying more attention he would have known that the music he heard earlier was not in his head. In fact it had been playing in the other room. If he wasn’t letting his thoughts wander into less PG territory he would have heard that music shut off or he would have heard a door open and maybe he would have heard footsteps. But he didn’t. The only thing Steve and Billy hear is the very loud outburst from Max as El stands next to her watching the two of them with a confused expression.

“OH MY GOD!” Max keeps yelling, “OH MY GOD! OH GOD!”

So much for third base.

—-

Steve can hear Billy and Max having it out downstairs. Steve thought the girl’s massive freak out would make it difficult to pull her best friend away but it didn’t. El seems to understand that the siblings needed to talk- or yell technically.

Now El is sitting at Steve’s lifelong neglected study desk with the chair spun out so she can see him leaning against the wall by the door. Neither of them can make out words from the noises downstairs but the emotions are certainly audible.

“So,” Steve begins, “You and Max hanging out here now?”

“Not enough room at Joyce’s house,” El notes, “And Max’s house is too empty. She says it is like a ghost house.”

Steve feels a sharp pain at the idea of Max being lonely. He knows that Billy wasn’t great company but he was company nonetheless.

“Billy said it is okay. Is it okay?”

Steve doesn’t mind any of his gaggle of children hanging around. In fact, he feels better with them here instead of getting into trouble. He wasn’t expecting Billy to offer their place up to Max and El as a retreat though.

“Of course you can hang out here. Our casa es su casa.”

A confusing wave of feelings smack into Steve has he realizes that he just self referred to his home as belonging to both himself and Billy.

El brings her legs up to sit crisscross in the chair. She’s got a scraped knee on her left side. She’s that age. The age where you can have a boyfriend and a scraped knee. Steve is awkwardly aware of how little she may know about what she saw. Or worse, how much she does know.

“So, Billy and I-“

“Is Max okay?”

“She will be. She’s just surprised.”

“Bad surprise?”

“Well,” Steve attempts to explain, “Not bad. Maybe bad for her? But it’s not bad. I don’t think.”

Steve realizes how hard it is to explain something when the person explaining isn’t even sure about the explanation.

Steve sighs and slides down to sitting on the floor. El has a calculating look on her face. Steve wishes that her weird intuition would fill in the blanks for him. When she starts to speak, Steve puts hope in that silly wish.

“Max did not know that you and Billy want to get married?”

Steve manages to choke on air.

“What!?”

El explains that Chief Hopper once sat down with her and explained that sometimes adults who aren’t married sometimes date. That dating sometimes leads to living together. Usually when that happens the adults want to get married and sometimes do.

“...and then sometimes they do something only adults do and there is a baby,” El concludes.

Steve holds his head up with a hand covering his mouth. He’s nodding like El is making perfect sense but internally he’s screaming.

“You are Billy are adults-“

God that sounds weird out loud to Steve but she’s right. Billy and Steve are both eighteen. A few more months and Steve will actually be nineteen. Steve doesn’t necessarily feel like an adult though. He’s had sex and worked a job. Neither of those things feel exclusive to adulthood. How do you know you’re a real adult?

“-and you live together,” El continues.

It occurs to Steve that maybe Hopper never used the words ‘man and woman’ in his talk. He must have leaned on the word ‘adult’ in the hopes of El taking home the message that only grown ups do these things and she’s a child therefore she can’t do them. Not the best or most informed sex talk but that had to have been the intent.

“Ah! Yes okay,” Steve decides to define it more, “So, yes we live together-“

“And you were kissing.”

“Billy and I can’t get married,” Steve says quickly to gloss over El’s interjection.

This gives the girl pause. She sits up a bit straighter and fixes Steve with a concerned look. 

“Can’t?”

“Well… no. It’s against the law.”

El looks completely lost. He brow is knit. Steve is starting to sweat and he wants so badly to leave this conversation. El doesn’t see the problem with Billy and Steve kissing and living together. Hell, she thinks they might get married. Steve wishes more people were like her. He wishes he was like her.

“Most people,” his voice wavers a little, “are used to only boys and girls, men and women, kissing. That’s what they call normal.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to face that reality. He wants it to stay quarantined in his bedroom. It’s safe there and the world outside is so… not safe.

“They don’t understand when boys like other boys or girls like girls or a man with a man or- you get it?”

El nods.

“So if they see that or they hear about it or they even think it, they get really angry.”

This is my life now. This is what can happen if we stay together.

Steve’s throat is closing up and he struggles hard to keep going. El gets up from her chair and sits in front of Steve.

“Sometimes they get so angry that they hurt people. People like…me. And they get really angry, like kill someone angry. I know because I used to be angry too.”

Steve wants a time machine. He wants to take back every single utterance of the words “queer” and “fag.” God, what if they actually were gay? He made them feel like this. Like nothing feels safe. Like wanting to die.

Steve feels tears crawling up through the limited space in his throat. He holds them there. He doesn’t like to cry. He won’t do it.

“It’s called being gay,” he forces himself to breathe, “and people call you bad words for it. Fag. Queer.”

Steve drops his chin to his chest. He grabs fistfuls if his hair. He wants to scream. He wants to beat the shit out of himself. Because he’s been the asshole throwing punches and calling names. And now he’ll be on the other end.

“I’m such a piece of shit” he finally laments.

“No.”

Steve looks up. His nose is congested and his ears feel hot and tired. On reflex he eases the grip on his hair.

“No?” he asks.

“You are not shit.”

It’s hilarious really; how she can say that with such a serious face. It’s even funnier how the phrase give Steve permission to breathe again.

“They are shit. They are bullies. You are not a bully. You are nice. You are my friend. You protect my friends and give us snacks. Bullies don’t share snacks.”

If it were possible Steve would adopt this child. He can see what Hopper saw in her. She’s complicated and naive but she’s kind. She’s just a good kid. One that any parent would be proud of.

“You’re right,” Steve laughs mostly to himself, “bullies don’t share snacks.”

El laughs with him and she does it legitimately. She’s right about the other stuff too. Steve isn’t a bully, at least not anymore. Even before Billy, he managed to put his old shit aside and accept Robin. His old self would have been enraged that he’d been rejected. He absolutely would have passive aggressively slipped that information to someone shittier than him. There would have been a mob in a matter of days, torches and all. The old Steve would have let her burn and acted like he hadn’t handed them the matches to do it.

That’s not who he is now.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Steve says, “Billy and I are a secret.”

“Friends don’t lie,” El says, looking almost hurt by the assumption that she’s being asked to.

“It’s not lying. If too many people know it can put us in danger. It’s like-“

His eyes light up.

“Your super powers! Those had to be a secret right? So you’d be safe. It’s like that.”

El understands this perfectly.

“I will keep you and Billy safe,” she says with a mild determination, “I promise.”

Steve realizes that the fighting has stopped downstairs. He wonders if that’s a good thing or not. He stands up and offers a hand to help El up.

“We should check on them,” Steve notes as El pulls on his arm.

As Steve prepares himself for whatever scene awaits him downstairs, he makes it a point to stay in front of El. Her powers had made her strong but with or without them Steve is going to protect this kid. Even if it’s just keeping her safe from little bull shit things.

Speaking of bull shit, he’s going to have to figure out a way to let Joyce know that El needs an actual sex talk but that’s a problem for another day.

#stranger things have happened ff #Chapter 3: Stay or Go #sthhch3 #harringrove

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Can I get a prompt for Xigbar going on a road trip with his s/o? It can be both sweet and spicy >;) but whatevs you want. I just love me some space pirate.

It’s been 84 years……… but this is finally here! Also on AO3 here. If you like the story, make sure to go drop me a Kudos over there!

Shoutout to @nopantssaturday for her smut-skills. She’s a queen, so go give her some love.

Day 1:

When Saix originally gave you this assignment, he said that the task needed to be finished with patience, intelligence, and not a small amount of luck.  Your immediate thought, though you didn’t voice it aloud, was then why the hell did you choose us?

It was easy enough in theory.  Travel around to certain locations looking for potential recruits and potential keyblade wielders.  Look for spots that would be useful to the organization and places with lots of resources that could be used.  All you needed was a map and a car and a few supplies and you would be good to go.

But then you looked over at your companion and you immediately deflated.

Once Saix had turned away and left the room, Xigbar immediately grinned and exclaimed, “Road trip!” and, as you watched him load your bags in the back of your given vehicle, whistling to himself, you wondered for what seemed to be the fortieth time why Saix thought it would be a good idea to pair you together for this mission.  Xigbar was skilled at what he did, that much was perfectly clear, but his intelligent was sorely lacking and his patience? All but nonexistent.

The sound of the trunk slamming shut stirred you out of your thoughts and you glanced over to wear Xigbar was walking toward you. “Ready to head out?”

You sighed, tossing him the keys.  Well, at least the trip would be interesting.

Day 4:

“Listen, we’ve already fucking discussed this,” Xigbar scolded, swatting your hand away from the radio.  “Driver picks the music and whoever is in shotgun shuts the fuck up.”

“We’ve been listening to the same album for nearly two days.  If we don’t change the music, I’m literally going to jump out of the car and walk all the way back to the Castle that Never Was to tell Saix that our mission was a bust because you couldn’t stop being an idiot. Now change the music before I rip the entire radio out of the fucking car.”

“Fine, if you’re going to keep bitching about it.” He reached over and fiddled with a few buttons until the station changed to a commercial promoting a nearby restaurant.  “Happy now?”

“Thrilled.” You glanced down at the map in your hands and followed the route you were taking.  “Get into the right lane.  You need to take the next exit.”

“What? No, I don’t.  We have another ten minutes until we reach the exit.”

“No, the exit is right here.  You’re going to - and you just passed up our stop.  Fantastic.”

Thirty minutes later, after having to listen to an indignant Xigbar tell you that he knew where he was going and how he sure as hell didn’t need to ask for directions, you finally convinced him to take a U-turn to head back to your actual destination.

“Look, it’s a road trip!” he exclaimed, nudging your shoulder happily.  “It’s all about the unexpected, right?”

“I could actually kill you right now and feel no remorse.”

Day 12:

You were starving, utterly tired of bottled water and granola bars and fast food.  You needed a warm meal, or at least something halfway decent before you completely shriveled away and died in the passenger seat of the car.  Xigbar wasn’t much better.  You can tell that the cramped quarters and the continuous driving was beginning to get to him, so he didn’t even complain when you suggested that you stop in the next town to get food.

It was a small town, one of the ones you never have any business stopping in unless you were one of the locals.  There was a laundromat, a tiny, family owned grocery store, a hairdresser, a gas station, and what appeared to be a bar/restaurant that was the only place completely lit up at this time of the night.  The rest of the view was nothing more than long stretches of highway and grassy flat fields, almost as if the entire place was a ghost town.

You didn’t care.  Xigbar pulled into a parking space in front of the bar, right next to a group of shining motorcycles, impatiently waiting for you to stretch out your sore muscles before joining him.

The bar was surprisingly noisy with a group of leather clad bikers scattered around a single pool table and taking up two of the tables, and with what you assumed were locals from the area in several places along the bar. Several people watched you with suspicion as Xigbar immediately went up to the bar and you took an empty table in the corner with the entire room in your view.  Xigbar returned with two large mugs of beer that was threatening to topple over the rim of the glass, and slid one over to you.  “I ordered us burgers; yours with onion rings and mine with fries.”

“Thank god,” you muttered, taking a whiff of the alcoholic drink in front of you.  “Wow, this smells like piss.  They really scraped the bottom of the barrel for this cheap shit.” And yet you drank a huge glug anyway, eager for anything that wasn’t bottled water for the first time in over a week.

Xigbar frowned at his own glass.  “If this is the best that they have on tap then I’m wondering how they haven’t gone out of business.”

They had to have something better than this, you thought to yourself.  “I’m going to order some shots. You want anything in particular?”

He carelessly waved you away and you slid out of the booth, unaware of the various eyes that were trailing after you.  You placed an order of two shots of the best whiskey the bar had to offer – which wasn’t saying much – when someone stepped up beside you and ordered a group of shots of his own.

“Hey there,” the man said, giving you a wide and what he apparently thought was an enticing smile.  It made you cringe internally.  “What’s your name?”

“Not interested.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the man said, but there was a horrific and dangerous flash behind his eyes that made you shift away, even though you knew you would be able to snap him like a twig before he ever laid a hand on you.  He reached out, as if to put his hand on your shoulder, when a tall presence stepped up behind you.

“Hey there, babe,” said Xigbar, wrapping his arm around your waist a little too tightly for you to be completely comfortable.  “Who’s your friend?”

“No one important,” you said.  As if he was waiting for the perfect moment to arrive, the bartender approached with four filled shot glasses that you gathered in your hands.  Intending to ignore the other man and just head back to your table, you turned away, but then the world stopped when you felt a hand slap you directly on the ass.

You stiffened, turning to stare in blatant shock at Xigbar who immediately realized what happened.  Suddenly he grinned, showing a row of straight white teeth.

“Oh, man.” He shook his head, laughing to himself.  “He has no idea what he just did.”

Wordlessly, you handed three of the shot glasses over to Xigbar, tossed the remaining one down your throat, then turned back to the man.  He was grinning and sending suggestive looks over at his laughing friends that were huddled in the corner, watching the scene unfold, and didn’t even notice you reel back your arm, clench your fist, and aim straight for his already crooked teeth.

The sound of your fist hitting his face echoed through the loud bar as he was knocked completely off of his feet, stumbling backwards into the barstools, tripping, and crashing directly onto the hardwood floors.

Silence surrounded you.  The man, who was crumpled on the floor and apparently completely unconscious, didn’t move a muscle.  His friends were in the corner, frozen with shock. A group of girls in the corner of the room suddenly started chuckling and raised their glasses to you.

“Does anyone else want to try to slap my ass?” you shouted to the room as a whole, not caring about the weird and slightly terrified looks you were getting.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, but sighed in resignation.  “Well,” he said.  “At least you didn’t make a complete mess.”

“You want me to throw him outside to get him out of the way?” you asked, reaching out to snatch another one of the shots out of XIgbar’s hand.

“Nah,” said the bartender, waving a hand carelessly in the air.  “He’ll wake up eventually.  Just leave him there.”

You shrugged and followed a grinning Xigbar back to your table.

Later, when the two of you had climbed back into the car and were ready to get back onto your journey, Xigbar turned to you and gave you a mischievous grin.  “That was so hot.”

You shoved him away, but couldn’t help the smile that reached your mouth.  “Oh, shut up.”

Day 23:

“I don’t want to be the person who says I told you so, but I fucking told you so.”

From where you sat with your legs dangling out of the passenger seat of the car, you watched as the hood of the vehicle slammed shut to reveal Xigbar’s disgruntled face. His lips formed muttered curses that you couldn’t hear as he trailed around the side of the car.  You couldn’t imagine what was going through his head at that moment, but it couldn’t have been kind in the slightest.

“Stupid piece of shit, vehicle,” he hissed, kicking the wheel as he passed it.  “I’m going to kill Saix when we get back.”

Tensions were high.  You had been stuck in a tiny car with each other for almost a month and it was getting to you.  You had been unsuccessful in your mission so far, living off of shitty fast food and gas station coffee for much too long, and now with a car that had decided to break down, you were both reaching the literal end of your patience.

“Look,” you eventually said, allowing him to pull you to your feet, “there was a little motel a few miles back and it’s starting to get late. Let’s pop over there, rent two rooms, and get a bit of rest.  Then we’ll come back and deal with this disaster in the morning.” You paused, looking up at the sky.  “Besides, it looks like it’s about to rain and I don’t know about you, but jump-starting a car in the rain sounds like a very bad idea.”

Without another word - which was a good thing because it probably wouldn’t have been anything nice - Xigbar waved his hand and opened up a portal that you knew would lead directly to the motel.

“If you think that i’m going to be a gentleman and sleep on this cum-stained floor, then you’re out of your damn mind.”

You surveyed the room with a look of distaste and rolled your eyes.  “I wouldn’t dream of you ever having a gentlemanly bone in your body.  Besides, I’ve shared a bed with worse.”

“Really?  Worse?  Where do I happen to fall on that list?” Xigbar’s eyes rove up and down your body lazily as he flops down onto the bed, arms behind his head.  He seemed completely unstressed at the idea that the motel only had one room available with only one bed, as if he had been in this situation before.  On thinking about it, you realized that his life was wild and he probably had.

“In the top five, easily.”

“Hm.” The eye that you could see from where you stood near the side of the bed fell shut.  “I’m flattered.”

“You really shouldn’t be.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence - at least, for you. Xigbar seemed to be completely at ease as he lounged on top of the beds comforter, even in his stiff organization attire. That can’t be comfortable, you thought. But you quickly decided that his comfort was not your concern. Why did you care anyway? You had more pressing matters to deal with, like getting out of your own gross clothing.

“I’m gonna go see if this shower is as dirty as the floor,” you said as you picked up your overnight bag and the cleanest looking towel you could find. Well, they all looked clean, but who could be sure?

“Is there room for two?” Xigbar called out as you frowned in distaste at the somewhat dirty bathroom and the tiny shower.

“Not really,” you said thoughtlessly.  There was a small beat of silence as your cheeks heated.  “Not that I would let you in the bathroom with me anyway, but this shower is tiny as shit.  It doesn’t even look like there’s room for one.” You looked into the shower. It was certainly tiny. A standing shower with a curtain that was too small to even hide behind.

“Well, we could always get real close together to save on water..” Something about the way that those words came out from the other room made your insides twist. It was… huskier than the way Xigbar normally spoke. After a second of processing your reaction you quickly scrambled to turn on the water of the shower to muffle out what had just happened and to definitely pretend that you hadn’t heard him speak.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the water!” You shouted back at a needless, exaggerated volume. You shut the door that successfully separated you from Xigbar and started to shed your cloak. As you slowly unzipped, you tried to process what had just happened. What the fuck was that? You thought. I have never heard that neanderthal talk like that. And especially not to me. What is he up to? What did he do to ME?

It had been a while since anyone had come even close to talking to you like that. It must be that. You’d been in this car for almost a month and it made you desperate. Problem solved. No other explanation was needed. You shed your coat and hang it onto the back of the bathroom door. After removing the rest of your clothes, you slide into the small shower. It was cramped. Too cramped. There was no way that more than one person could have joined you in this tiny thing, even if you had wanted to have a little fun.

You quickly reeled back and mentally scolded yourself for even entertaining those sorts of thoughts, but it was too late. Suddenly your mind was jumping through random scenes like something from a trashy porn.  The sensation of two wet bodies rubbing against each other with the water pouring over them. The clashing of wet lips and water sliding down your back. Fingers pressing into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.  Your body shivered with anticipation as your mind went deeper and deeper down a rabbit hole of lust and desire. Your body ached for physical contact. Your hand reached up and grabbed your breast as your mind wandered even further into places it really had no business being. Between the feeling of your hand and the sensation of the flowing water, you can’t help but let out a quiet and contented sigh, but as soon as the quiet noise left your mouth, there was a swift knock at the door.

Xigbar’s voice was loud and sharp over the soft pounding of the water against the shower floor.  “Everything okay?  You’ve been in there a while.”

“U–Y-Yeah Everything’s fine!” You quickly stuttered out, cringing at how high-pitched your voice sounded. You need an excuse. NOW. “I was starting to fall asleep because the water was so warm.”  Nice recovery.

“Well… uh. Okay. Well. I’m gonna go to bed then.  Try not to wake me up when you get out.”  You let out a silent sigh of relief as you hear his voice fade and he moves away from the door. That was close. Too close. You really were desperate. As soon as this crappy mission was over, you vowed to yourself that you would re-download KeyGrindr on your gummiphone. Because this couldn’t keep happening.

You stepped out of the shower and dried yourself with one of the hotel towels. Out of your bag you pulled a new set of underwear and your pajamas. You secretly wished that you had packed better pajamas than your shorts and your “I went to Agrabah, and all I got was this Tshirt” T-shirt. But it would have to do.

You quietly opened the door and the light from the bathroom flooded into the now darkened motel room. Xigbar was already under the covers, probably still in that stuffy coat that he never seemed to take off, and was turned away from you toward the wall. Huh, He must have been more tired than I thought. You turned off the light to the bathroom and blindly felt your way to your side of the bed, trying not to bump into any stray pieces of furniture. You pulled back your covers in the dark of the night and climbed into the bed.

From the other side of the sheets you could hear Xigbar’s slow, even breathing. It was.. Oddly soothing. Even though the man could be a total brute sometimes, you still found yourself briefly soothed by the endless rhythm of the man’s breathing. Briefly. Once again your mind drifted back to your thoughts in the shower and the way Xigbar called to you. It made your insides feel like fire, an emotion you had never felt about the rogue before. You tried shifting into a comfortable position to help you doze, but sleep doesn’t come.

Suddenly your nose is assaulted with the smell of aftershave. Or maybe it was soap. The smell was alluring. How did you not notice this scent before? You suppose that you had never been close enough to notice. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realize that Xigbar is no longer wearing his leather coat. Actually, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. Oh my God he’s in his underwear! All of a sudden you felt the heat rise in your face, thankful that the darkness was hiding your flushed skin and that he was still asleep to not hear you panicking.

Or… maybe he wasn’t still asleep.

Xigbar turned over toward you, blinking sleepily in the dark.

“Sorry,” you said softly, your voice puncturing the stillness of the room.  “Did I wake you?”

“You’re fidgeting a lot.” He said, running a hand over his tired face.  “And why are you whispering?  We’re the only two people in here.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, quickly feeling sheepish.  “It just feels like you should whisper in the dark, you know?”

He didn’t respond at first, the silence of the room taking over once again, but this time, the silence made you nervous, flustered. Why were you acting like this?

After another moment, Xigbar smirked. “Oh really?”, Even in the dark, his eyes glinted golden and your heart skipped. “And do you have… experience, with conversations in the dark?” There it was again. That purr, the husky tone of voice he used earlier. Was he just playing? He must be just joking. Yeah.

“Well…” You might as well play along. “I do have… Some… experience…” as you speak, you bring your hand up to push your stray hair behind your ear. Some might call your action flirtatious, but you were just doing it to push the hair out of your eyes.  There was definitely no other reason whatsoever.

Then, he made a noise. Something that sounded like a growl. Or a moan? You weren’t sure. “Well, Doll, do you have references? I can’t share a bed with someone that doesn’t have good references.” Oh now he was totally messing with you - Wait. Did he just call you Doll? Had he ever done that before? You didn’t remember and you were much too busy calculating your next move to figure out if he ever had.

“Well I could provide you with an entire resume,” you found yourself inching closer to him in the  center of the bed, ”but I don’t think that you would be able to handle some of the finer details.”

Xigbar matched your movement with his own and soon you were both crossing the invisible divide in the middle of the bed. His golden eye was entrancing. It was almost like it was pulling you in even closer. Even in the dark you could see the lust-glazed look.

“Try me,” he growled.  You two were close now. Insanely close. You could feel the heat of his skin as your heavy breaths mingled in the small space between you. You body was completely aflame, aching for physical contact. This suddenly wasn’t a game anymore. And in an instant, lips collided, bodies made contact and brushed against each other. You weren’t sure who made the movement first or if you both moved forward at the same time. The kiss was rough and steamy, but didn’t last more than a couple of seconds. Both of you were breathing heavily. A kiss like that could take the wind out of your lungs and make you forget your own name.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.” Xigbar gruffly whispered. “All month… All damn month you were such a fucking tease. And you didn’t even realize it.” You kept trying to catch your breath and looked into his eyes. Man, that was..something. But it certainly couldn’t end there because you sure as hell wouldn’t let it. You were already in way too deep, so why not continue?

You swung a hand behind his head and pulled him into another tight embrace, digging your fingertips into his neck. As you pulled each other closer, you could feel the sharpshooters frame against your own. You took the hand that was behind is head and ran it down his chest. Under that coat, he was lean, but muscled. As your fingers ran down, you could feel the different scars that dug into his skin. The kiss ended as Xigbar looked down at your hand and smirked. “Like what you see there, Doll?”

That cocky bastard. “Eh,” you shrugged. “It’s alright, I guess. Not the worst man to share my bed, but you’ve yet to prove yourself as one of the best.” You smirked back at him. Xigbar’s grin widened as he pushes you onto your back into the bed.

“Not the worst, huh? Well I guess I’ll need to change that, you minx.” His hands pushed you down further into the bed as his lips crash into yours again. Tongues soon collided and danced together, taking in the delicious feeling. Soon, you feel his calloused hands wander down to the hem of your shirt. “Heh.. Nice shirt.. Though I think it’s going to look nicer on the hotel floor..” His fingers curled underneath the fabric of your tacky tourist tee as he gently pulls it up over your head and throws it away to somewhere on the floor.

“That was a terrible line, even for you,” you said, chuckling.

“Hmm..” He hummed in admiration. Xigbar placed a hand over your covered breast and gently kisses the exposed, soft flesh peaking from the top. He then kisses slowly up your breast to your shoulder, and then to your neck. You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles at the sensitive flesh. Sensing your reaction, you could feel the sharpshooter grinning against your skin. “Jackpot.” He whispered into your ear, the soft gruffness in his voice causing you to shudder. His lips returned to the tender spot, massaged the flesh with his lips accompanied with small love bites, which caused you to gasp and moan under each movement. You could swear you heard him chuckle to himself into your neck before he bites down. Hard.  You gasped out in shock as he sucked on your neck with a harsh nip of his teeth. After a moment, he pulled away and looked down at his handiwork. You didn’t need a mirror to check. From the way your skin tingled as he pulled away, you knew there was a big, dark hickey on your neck.

Xigbar let out another chuckle and looked down at you underneath him. As fun as this was, you couldn’t let this cockiness of his last a second longer. You mustered all of your strength and swiftly pushed the sharpshooter onto his back, straddling his waist from above. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as his hard length pressed into you through your underclothes. You looked down at the man beneath you as you swiftly unhooked your bra and flung it across the room, never breaking eye contact. Never before had you seen his jaw drop so blatantly.

“Well damn, if that’s not the most gorgeous rack I have ever seen.” he mumbled as his hands start reaching up towards your now exposed breasts. But before they reached their destination, you smacked his hands away. He sharply inhaled at the slap, then released it with an irritated groan.

“Uh uh uh, loverboy,” you teased as you wagged your finger at him. “Not just anyone gets to enjoy these. You’ve got to prove yourself worthy first.”

“Oh?” Again, the cocky grin returns, “And how would I be able to prove myself worthy?” His hands slid upward and gripped your thighs as he spoke. This… gives you a thought. A devious thought.

“Well, I have a few ideas if you think you’re up for the challenge… “ You rose to your knees and slowly removed your panties, sliding them down your legs and off onto the floor with the rest of your clothing. You now hovered over him, bare and wanting, sliding your body up towards the top of the bed. Xigbar’s hands were still clutching your thighs as he slowly guided you until your body hovered over his head.

You place your hands on the headboard to hold yourself in place as you slowly lower yourself. You felt his lips placing long, tender kisses along the inside of your thigh. You let out a breathy moan and he slowly makes his way upward, leaving the trail of kisses behind. Slowly. Slowly, he moves, each second more and more agonizing than the last. As he reached the place you deeply desired him most, he turned direction with kisses back down your leg, causing you to let our a whining moan in the process.

The kisses stopped as he pulled away and looked up at your flushed and wanting face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Was there something you wanted from me? Why don’t you just tell me?” He places another kiss on your inner thigh, dangerously close the your wet aching core that a whimper escapes your lips.

“You know what I want, so maybe you should get to work and stop messing around before I get bored.” With your retort, you lowered yourself just a little further, urging him to continue, and Xigbar let out a low growl that sounded much more dangerous than the one from before.

“Hnng alright, babe, but only because you asked so nicely.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff, but as you are about to let it out, his lips make contact to the one place you desire most and that scoff turned into a breathy moan. You couldn’t help yourself. The rogues tongue glides against your folds, drawing shapes and curves you didn’t even know possible but a vigor that you had never seen. He lapped at you like a man starved, cherishing every moment. You felt goosebumps form on your arms as he continues. You could feel the inner windings of your body getting tighter and tighter as his tongue quickened its place. It just felt so good that you didn’t want him to ever stop. You started moving your hips in tandem against his mouth as he worked, the spring winding tighter and tight. You felt like you could burst from his tongue alone. Who was this man? As your body’s cork wound itself tighter and tighter, you were about to burst. You were close. You were so close. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. The sounds your body was making were those you had never heard before. But as your muscles started to quiver, on the verge of your release, everything stopped.

“F-Fuck…” You stuttered out, breathy and desperate.

You let out an aggravated moan as you felt his hands on your thighs push you up. You could hear the man beneath you letting out a low chuckle, clearly amused with himself. What a cocky bastard.

“What is it, Princess? I didn’t prove myself worthy?” he teased.

You looked down at the sharpshooter, a glint of mischief in his eye. “You’re not in a very good place to be teasing right about now…” you smirked, swiftly attempting to reach backwards and grab at his length.

“Oh am I?” And in one swift motion, you were flipped onto your back again.  His lips crashed back into yours and you could feel the taste of you on his tongue. It was unexpected and made a shiver go down your spine. As your lips locked, his hands reached down and shimmied himself out of his own boxers. You were in the heat of it now, lips locked as you felt the heat of your bare skin rubbing against each other. Xigbar soon parted your legs and rested himself in between them, his cock positioned at your entrance. He moved his lips from yours and looked up at you with that one gold, glistening eye.

“You ready for this, dollface? After this, there’s no turning back. You’ll never be able to fuck another man again without thinking about what I’m about to do to you..”  He was a dick, but if this was how he was gonna ask for consent, you’d take it.

“Hmmmm…” You slowly pondered, giving the man in your bed a cheeky smirk. “AM I ready?” You sat in the silence for a moment, savoring the anticipation and annoyance on your lover’s face. “Well, hmm .. yes, I Guess Ss–OH!” But before you could even finish your comeback, Xigbar had taken that ‘yes’ and ran with it, gripping your hips roughly and pushing himself inside you with a great force to the hilt. The first thrust, in your opinion, always seemed to be the best.  You both let out a moan in unison at the relief and overall ecstasy of coming together. After a second of savoring that moment, the rogue started to move himself again, slowly at first, pumping himself in and out of you.

The pace was slow and deep, but agonizing. You knew what you want, and you wanted it as soon as he could give it. You bucked your hips in to match his thrusts, but it didn’t help much. “Xigbar…” You breathed, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please… couldn’t you go a little faster?”

He looked down on you, matching your gaze with his own. “Oh? Was that a please I heard? What has made you so… docile, my little poppet? Was it… This?” Suddenly Xigbar changed his pace, slamming into you quickly and harshly, causing you to moan out in delight. This is what you needed.  He continued to thrust into you at a maddening pace, feeling your body take his blows. He felt so good. Ridiculously so. Feeling his body slam into you like this was something you had been craving for quite some time.

All of a sudden you felt one of his hands leave your hip, pressing itself against the bundle of nerves that had yet to be touched. His fingers covered in your own heat, he massaged and played with your clit, matching the rate of his own thrusts.  That spring in your stomach was winding tighter and tighter as Xigbar quickened his pace. You moaned out his name as you reached that peak, hoping that he wouldn’t stop. Though if Xigbar stopped this time, he may not make it home to base alive. But as you feel your orgasm coming closer and closer, there is certainly no sign of him stopping.

“Doll, I’m close… Come for me….” The devilish man grunted out. His thrusts became harder and faster and you could feel your orgasm coming closer and closer/ Your orgasm comes in waves of pleasure, your muscles spasming as you gasp and your vision goes white.  And then, there was one final moan, one final thrust as you feel the sharpshooters seed pour into you. And then… time seemed to have stopped.

Xigbar looked down at you, the deep lust in his eye now replaced with exhaustion.. “Hah… hah… so…” He slowly pushed himself up, off and out of you and onto his side, leaving you feeling what was left of him drip out of you. “How was that? One of the best?”

You take a second to catch your breath before responding.. “Hmm,… well it certainly was an interesting experience…” You paused. “But… there was room for doubt. I think we might need to do further testing before I can make a formal decision.” You grinned. “Further experimentation.  Just so I can be sure.”

“I’m totally fine with further experimentation - you know, being the scientifically inclined man that I am - but you know as well as I do that that was the best damn lay you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. We’ve still got a lot of road to cover, and you never know. I might just find someone better.” You smiled as you turned onto your side, getting comfortable.

“Oh we’ll just see about that, sweetheart…” Xigbar retorted, only to turn and find that you had already fallen asleep. A tiny bit of masculine pride swelled in his chest that he pushed you to the point of falling asleep that quickly. He watched you as your chest slowly rising and falling, taken by the sweet raptures of sleep.  It was relaxing. You looked so peaceful and it even seemed to ease his weary bones.

Maybe it was the feeling of ease that you gave him, or maybe it was the post-sex atmosphere messing with his brain, but he some found himself speaking to you in a hushed voice. In nothing but a whisper he grumbled out his thoughts, low enough as to not wake you from your slumber. “When I said that I had been waiting for this, I meant it…. You always.. I dunno. You get it. You get me. I’m not good at this mushy crap but you know what I’m saying….  I’m no Prince Charming by a long shot and I’m not gonna lie and say that I am.. But I hope that you could learn to like someone like me eventually.”“He chucked lowly to himself. “Hell maybe even love me. But that’s a real longshot.”

Xigbar then rose from the bed, deciding that he should probably go shower after all of the mess you two had gotten yourself into. He looked down on your sleeping form one final time. Why was it that he couldn’t tear his eyes away? Usually once he was done, he was done. This was… different somehow. He needed to get into that shower. The water could probably clear his head. But before he turned to the small bathroom, he gently reached down and pulled the motel comforter up over your shoulders, ensuring that you stayed warm. “Ah…well.. Goodnight. I’m just glad you’re asleep to hear all of this soft crap. Can’t have you thinking any less of me, now.”

After a moment of silent steps, you heard the soft click of the bathroom door. Your body shifted under the blanket and you pop your eyes open. What… What the hell was that? You thought. You didn’t know. Hell, you didn’t know if all of that really happened. Maybe you were dreaming. That must have been it. You fell asleep and dreamt that he just said those things. All the same, you still could swear you felt a deep pang in your chest, almost where a heart used to be. It was a painful pang, as if your body was longing for something that it couldn’t have. But at the same time, it almost felt warm.

#ask #anon #imagine #xigbar imagine #organization xiii imagine #organization xiii #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts imagines #lemon

[wayward-river]

Loving The Enemy (1)

Malachai x Plus!Size Serpent!Reader (eventually) 

AN: Alright y’all this was requested! I hope you like it, I have some fun stuff in store for this series. All mistakes are my own, I do not own the gif credit goes to whoever made it. Credit to my awesome beta as always! 

AN 2: This is supposed to be posted tomorrow but @theflameofdeath wanted it early and she my boo so she got it. Chapter 2 is coming at y’all on Friday! 

You bursted through the door of Fangs’s trailer making both him and Sweet Pea go on high alert as it banged against the wall.

“Fuck Y/N! You can’t do that shit.” Fangs scolded you.

Sweet Pea looked over to yell something at you as well before the words died on his tongue at your appearance. You had on a tank top and leggings. Normal right? Not for you. You were all jeans, tanks, and your jacket. Your jacket was your security blanket, protection you could say, from the nasty comments you had gotten your entire life. You never went anywhere without it unless you had to.

“What's a matter with you?” Sweet Pea finally got out.

You paced groaning. “Toni. Toni is what's wrong with me.”

Fangs and Sweet Pea both raised their brows. “Your best friend? That Toni?” Fangs asked.

You stopped pacing, glaring at your two best friends. “No dumb ass a different Toni...of course its that Toni. She wants me to join her stupid gang. Like leave the serpents, leave you guys, leave my family.”

Sweet Pea and Fangs went silent.

“Are you considering it” Fangs softly said.

“YOUR KIDDING RIGHT!? NO OF COURSE NOT!”

A sigh of relief came from both boys.

“I just can’t believe she would even ask, after, after what you guys did for me.” You paused, tears in your eyes. “I need space, and air, yeah I need some air. I need to breathe” You turned towards the door.

A look of concern flashed across Sweet Peas face. “You want us or at least one of us to come with you?”

“No, no. I just need to be alone. Clear my head, thanks and uh sorry to barge in like that.”

“Well just let us know if you need us...okay.”

You nodded as you headed back out into the night.

You walked along the small gravel paths along the edge of Sunnyside, slightly muttering to yourself.

“Damn Toni, and her stupid girl gang. Damn Cheryl and her stupid claws in my best friend. Damn Jughead and his stupid code. We are a freaking gang. Not some kids playing it.”

You kicked some gravel up before looking up. You were now on the outskirts of the trailer park staring at a small little park. At least it was pretty neutral territory. You looked around an uneasy feeling going through you.

“Maybe I should call Fangs and Pea to come and get me.” You mumbled to yourself pulling out your phone.

You pressed the home button but the screen didn’t light up.

“Fuck, of fucking course this is my luck tonight.” You groaned.

You sat down on the park bench.

You needed to get home, but your energy was gone. Your mind overworked by the emotions of everything coming into play after fighting it for so long. You had lost your best friend. The person who dyed your hair, the one who you gushed about to cute boys and listened to her gush back about whoever had caught her eye, impromptu fashion shows, movie nights, and standing up for each other to whoever had stepped up to you and now all that was just gone.

You sniffled quietly trying to hold the tears at bay but failing miserably you didn’t even bother to wipe the tears that had began to fall.

You just wanted everything back to the way it was before, but in this town nothing ever stayed the same.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a small gust of wind brought goosebumps to your skin.

“You know it’s dangerous out here at night.” A deep voice brought you out of your thoughts as you jumped slightly, wiping the tears off of your cheeks. It was not a voice you recognized, but you weren’t going to show fear.

“I think I can handle myself.” You replied, your tone short and cold.

“I don’t doubt that, but I wouldn’t want anything to happen to such a beautiful girl.” The voice closer now, brought you to your feet.

“If you are trying to start something I’m not in the mood tonight buddy.” You folded your arms across your chest as you watched a tall figure get illuminated by the small street light.

You assessed your mystery person, your eyes searching for any tattoo or jacket. No tattoo that you could visibly see and no studded jacket. You took a deep breath letting your guard down just a little.

You both stood in silence. Neither of you speaking. Until you watched the mystery man put his hands up in an almost surrender.

“I’m not here to fight, I was just enjoying the night after visiting family.”

You sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a rough night. Sorry for being so brash, I’ll be on my way.” You unfolded your arms beginning to walk away.

“Wait, can I give you a ride home?”

Man this guy was brave, you looked back at him and then back towards the way you came you didn’t even know what time it was and you didn’t want to chance running into any ghoulie this late without any protection or backup.

You looked back at your mystery man. From what you could see you could admit he was kind of cute and looked somewhat harmless, so you decided to do something you normally wouldn’t do.

“Uh, yeah sure. But you won’t kill me right?” You replied, unable to hide your sass walking closer to him.

“Would I tell you if I was going to?”

“Good point”

“Can I know your name?” He asked as you got closer.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m Y/N...do I get to know yours?”

He chuckled. “Of course you do... I’m Malachai.”

You smiled as he led you to his car. Not a bike… that was interesting. He opened the door for you, shutting it after you were securely in, getting in on the other side. You fidgeted with your hands slightly.

“You do this often?” You inquired.

“Do what?” He asked while starting up the car.

“Take random girls home?” You asked with a slight laugh.

Malachai gave a small laugh back. “No, I just couldn’t leave you sitting there alone I mean it looked like you were upset about something.”

You looked down. “Uh if you just go up the road here a bit right at the side entrance is where you can drop me, and thank you it's been a rough few days actually. I don’t even know why I’m spilling this out to you.”

Malachai took your instructions, his eyes never leaving the road. “Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger about your problems, but after tonight I hope I won’t be a stranger anymore.”

You looked over as he pulled up to the side entrance. You went to open the door the car light illuminating you both fully. You drank in the sight of him. His messy curls and beautiful eyes that you could get lost in.

Malachai did the same thing as he took in your Y/H/L Y/H/C, your Y/E/C eyes, the way it seemed you were confident about everything and from the looks of it could handle your own. His eyes also searched the exposed skin for any sign of a serpent tattoo, internally sighing as he didn’t see one.

“Uh yeah, we can exchange numbers if you’d like. I’d like to not have you as a stranger in my life after tonight.” You spoke pulling him out of his thoughts.

You read Malachai off your phone number as he plugged it into his phone. “My phone is dead right now but just text me so I’ll have yours.”

Malachai nodded as he watched you get out of his car, and start to walk further into Sunny Side.

He hadn’t been drawn to someone like he was to you in a while and damn if that wasn’t going to be trouble and fun mixed together.

#Malachai x reader #malachai imagine #malachai x you #riverdale imagine #riverdale x reader #riverdale reader insert #riverdale x you #Malachai x Plus!Size Serpent Reader #Riverdale x plus!size reader

[audreysjensens-blog]

central pines [elodie davis x reader] {part one}

heyyy lovelies! i just watched trinkets (please please pretty pleeeease go watch it it’s beyond good) and am in love w elodie’s character. i hope you guys like this one!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fic playlist: 

bon iver - hey, ma

dead girl in the pool. - girl in red

banana clip - miguel

let it happen - tame impala (song parts 6:15 to 6:38)

overlap - catfish and the bottlemen

this baby don’t cry - k.flay

alligator - of monsters and men

It had been two and a half months since you’d arrived at Central Pines.

The food was okay, and the air conditioning was subpar. Since you hadn’t been too keen on going there in the first place, and your dad’s incessant emails weren’t going to end until you left, your newfound safe haven wasn’t exactly going to be something you cared too much about.

It was nestled in the outskirts of Portland, surrounding by hulking pine trees and dense forest, hiking trails close to overpowering the tiny rehabilitation camp.

Rehab, right, you reminded yourself. I’m in rehab.

The people were the only reason why you hadn’t left yet. Well, that, and your “family issues”, which is what the counselors had so fondly filed you under in their massive stack of patients.

Everyone seemed to be remotely friendly, and the people that you’d met had honestly made a decent impression on you. You’d leave if you were willing to jeopardize it, but going home wasn’t an option. Leaving meant getting caught, and getting caught meant that you’d have to go home. Plus, police, which was something you weren’t too happy to think about again.

You got up and out of bed, shaking out your messy Y/H/C curls and slipping your feet into your sandals. After your bed had been made (a small progression of what your counselors thought was a “good stride”), you took sleepy steps over to the closet and got changed for the day, finishing off your look with an embroidered jean jacket and a pair of loose slacks. You’d seen Booksmart a few weeks ago, and despite the fact that you loved the characters for who they were, you really goddamn wanted Amy’s jacket.

You looked to the other side of the room, barren with nothing to reveal any inpatients. Probably because you didn’t have a roommate. When you’d first gotten there, a girl named Safi was moving out, so there was no overlap between the two of you. You’d taken over your side, she’d left hers, and while your side was filled with posters of bands, movies, and corkboards with your friends’ photos, the other side contained peeling wallpaper and a sad-looking twin bed.

You checked your phone and saw that it was almost nine, which meant that you had to check in with Counselor Adams (or Tracey, depending on who you’d ask) before you could get any sort of breakfast. It was fine, because you’d rather die than go without your beloved coffee that came from Adams’s office, but you were kind of hungry. Regardless, you started making your way down the long dormitory hallways, seeing your peripheral friends getting ready for the day ahead and leaving their dorm doors open.

Adams’s office wasn’t the sort of place that made you feel like you were in an actual rehab center, but more like a therapist’s office, which you actually had grown to like. There were little photos of her family everywhere, along with comfy chairs, glowing twinkly lights, and tiny ceramic animals adorning the chair that sat opposite your couch.  Well, not your couch, but you didn’t really have anything else in this facility besides your belongings, and damn it if that old, overstuffed linen didn’t feel somewhat like home.

“Ahh, Little Miss Caffeine,” Tracey groaned, flopping down in her Frankenstein’d athletic ball/old couch chair. “My espresso hasn’t hit yet, but we still have a couple minutes. Keurig’s up and running.”

“Thank God,” you sighed in relief, shutting the door behind the two of you and going to tap what you wanted into the machine. “You still have that almond milk creamer?”

“How could I not?” Tracey chuckled, taking another sip from her mug. “I use so much of the Folgers original creamer that I’m on the toilet for days with diarrhea. You suggesting an alternative was quite literally the only thing saving me from a life of bathroom hell.”

You giggled then, letting your hot mug sit for a second before splashing in the Splenda and the creamer. “Oh, so we’re blaming the milk for it now, huh?”

“I refuse to believe it’s the caffeine,” Tracey said strongly, wild hand movements indicating her opinion. “If it is, I might go crazy trying new methods of waking up so early.”

You looked up at the clock, seeing that it was exactly 9 on the dot, and sat down on the couch, ready to start your session.

Tracey leaned forward, pushing a piece of her curly brown hair back behind her ear and adjusting her blazer and her Central Pines t-shirt. “So. Let’s talk. Weekly update?”

“Sure!” you said, swatting your hand over your drink to make sure it wouldn’t destroy your tongue upon the first sip. “So, I’m doing okay. I do a lot of hiking, and I went into town last week on the free day. Which was nice.” “Ugh, free days are the absolute best,” Tracey said, crossing her legs over her chair. “I remember when I used to go on them. I was obsessed with the coffee place at the end of the street that gave you those little donut things. I mean, it’s gone now, but, fuck, they were so amazing! Oh, sorry, keep going.”

You laughed again at her habit of constantly interrupting you, and kept going. “Well, uh, it’s been different here. I mean, I know you guys pretty well, but friends-wise, I don’t really have too many here. I think a lot of people kind of just want to keep themselves going while they’re here. Not like, I want to speak for them or anything. I don’t know what’s going on with the others, and I really hope they’re all doing well, but I don’t really know how to you know, bridge that gap. You know?”

Tracey’s face took on a slightly sad and concerned expression, and she leaned back in her chair, nodding at your statement. “I understand. It’s hard enough trying to make sure you’re okay, while also trying to reach out to others. I’m sure that people will come around. Everyone has their personal demons, and when you’re here, we can’t always fully stop them from amplifying. But there’s always outlets. If anything, come here if you’re feeling lonely. You know that I have an armory of snacks and food and conversation, and I’m sure people not reaching out isn’t anything to do with you. I promise.”

You felt tears sparking up in your eyes then, and you looked up at the positive sticky notes on the ceiling, trying to enunciate them in your head to give the tears time to go away. Tracey gave you a moment before speaking up again, this time in a gentler tone of voice.

“Everything’s going to be fine. In fact, you have a new roommate coming at the end of the day today.”

You snapped your head back down to meet Tracey’s eyes, your fidgeting hands ceasing the incessant folding and unfolding and folding of the cuffs of your jacket. You couldn’t help but feel the rush of hope and excitement a new person brought, but quickly shut down the feeling. It was probably someone who didn’t want to be bothered with you, let alone be as furtive as you were to make friends. Squash the hope, you told yourself, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Really?” you said, trying to keep your voice level and break-free. “Are you allowed to… Tell me about them?”

“Sure! A little bit, at least,” Tracey said, reaching over and pulling a manila folder from beside her coffee table. She opened the folder, sliding out a packet or so before speaking.

“Okay, so her name’s Elodie. She’s coming here from a few towns over from you, and she’s going to be with us for a little while. Apparently her father and some other family’s helping her to move in. I haven’t met her yet, but John in admissions did, and he seemed to get a somewhat okay feeling from her. You know, people leaving their hometown and friends and all that, it’s not easy,” Tracey said, sliding the packet back into the folder and replacing it on the table. “At least, she has people here who get what it’s like.”

You poked your tongue in on the side of your cheek and took a deep breath, flattening out your pants with your palms. She was right.

“If you need someone to show her around other than John, whose niche TV show reference I’m sure she loves hearing, I’ll do it.”

The words left your mouth before you could take them back, and you felt almost like you were going to slap your palm against your head. What the fuck! I don’t wanna do that? Do I? What if she’s cute? Fuck! Stop! She’s probably not interested. It doesn’t matter. Ugh, this whole internal guilt thing blows-

“Really?” Tracey squealed, clasping her hands together in excitement. “I mean, I was hoping I could find someone that could show her around that wouldn’t say ‘Bazinga!’ every three seconds.”

A grin took over your face, and you stood up, turning to put your shoes back on and leave the carpeted room. It was officially 9:30, and the next person to be counseled was going to come in any second. “What time are they getting here?”

“Noon!” Tracey said, scarfing down her drink before her next patient. “Thank you so much again, kiddo. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, man!” you said, shooting finger guns at her before internally cringing and kicking yourself for the weird ass motion.

You said goodbye to Tracey and headed to the cafeteria, sitting down in one of the worn wooden chairs with a Clif bar in front of you.

Hello, Elodie, you thought to yourself. At least you’ll have a cool roommate.

#trinkets #trinkets netflix #netflix #elodie davis #elodie #elodie trinkets #brianna hildebrand #wlw #gxg #lgbt #pride #tabitha foster #moe truax #elodie davis fic

[quinzelade]

Making One’s Bones (chpt 9)

Chapter List

–

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park’s throne? Well…at least she’ll have experience.

–

Acquired Tastes

–

The teetering sign outside Jack’s place was almost bigger than her lopsided brothel. Gage chuckled to himself as they drew near, remembering her poor attempt at advertising, that somehow still brought in the business. Probably because there was nothing in the Commonwealth quite like it. Still holding Bossanova up, Gage stopped a few feet from the ginormous sign, craning his neck up to read it.

“Jacqueline “Jack” “Call Me By My Surname and I’ll Kill You” Paddywack is a raider with a bad name and an even badder attitude!

“Want chems? Jack’s got you covered!

“Murder? Only the finest, cleanest cut throats this side of the Commonwealth!*

“Prostitution? Pick your piece of ass and Jack’ll name her price!**

“Slaves?

“No. Come on now, what the fuck, man?

“…Nah, just kiddin’ ya. Seriously, we’ve got shitloads of slaves.

“So come on down to Jack Paddywack’s Fun Shack, the baddest place in town!”

Gage bent over double laughing, managing to set Bossanova down before he dropped her on her ass. Time and time again, he’d told Jack to change her stupid sign. She’d read a stack of pre-war magazines with some of the worst advertisements known to man, and yet believed she’d hit an untapped goldmine.

His eye trailed to the small print beneath the huge, white letters of Jack’s erratic slogans, and burst out into fresh peals of laughter.

“*Unless specified otherwise—see terms and conditions for full details and special orders

**Deathclaw orders for premium members only. Jack Paddywack’s “Wack That Jack” Prostitution Services claims no responsibility for any injury, including blood loss, amputation of limbs, beheading, severed genitals, internal bleeding, organ failure, broken bones, punctured lungs, hemorrhaging of the brain, heart failure, radiation poisoning, and minor bruising. All deathclaw packages are non-refundable upon survival.”

Tears were now streaming down his face as he choked and spluttered, Bossanova squinting up at the sign in utter bewilderment from her place on the ground. Only Jack would do something like th—

Bang.

Gage scrambled for his sidearm as he dragged Bossanova upright again, before remembering it had been fried in the underground facility. Then he stopped, a tight feeling in his chest.

Jack Paddywack leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms, plump lips twisted into a familiar coy smile. Her sienna skin glowed in the rising light of the wasteland sun, and Gage dimly noticed she’d changed her hair, shaving the sides and twisting the rest into a fierce, black knot at the top of her head. Her strong nose was now slightly crooked, and he wondered how long it had been since he’d last seen her.

“Going to shoot me, Gage?” she purred, gesturing to his empty holster.

“I asked him the same thing,” Bossanova muttered as Gage grinned, though his chest still felt constricted.

He let his eye travel over her a little, enough for her to notice, and then met her gaze again. She raised an eyebrow. Gage ignored this and nodded to the sign. “‘Wack That Jack’? Since when did you arrange deathclaw fucking?”

“Since there was a market for it,” Jack replied sweetly. “With the right precautions, my clients live long enough to be repeat customers. And believe me, they pay big for the survival.”

They stared at each other, and then broke out into snickers. Gage’s stomach tightened at her smile.

Bossanova coughed lightly, reminding him that she was here. Jack turned to her, and glanced questioningly back at him. “Who’s the ghoul? I didn’t realise you’d need my special services.”

Gage shot Jack a withering look. “She’s—”

“Overboss,” Bossanova replied crisply, straightening up a little and fixing Jack with a lofty stare. “And you?”

“Madame of Nuka World,” Jack said with equal abruptness.

“Oh good. Men are easier to keep in line when they’re getting laid, and the women less likely to blow their heads off.”

Jack blinked and then snorted with laughter. Bossanova grinned back.

“I’m Jack,” Jack said, looking a little more relaxed.

“Mrs. Bossanova.”

“Mind if we crash in one of your rooms for a while?” Gage interjected, conscious of the rising sun. “Figured it’d be quiet at this time of the morning, and I don’t want to parade her in front of the others like this.”

Jack tilted her head to the side. “But you think it’s safe to bring her here?”

“Yeah, well, I…”

I trust you.

Gage pushed the dangerous idea away quickly. No. Not even Jack. “Look, will you fucking help me or not?”

Jack snorted and unfolded her arms. “You always had such a way with words.” She frowned and then sighed. “Fine. Get her in.”

Gage grunted in thanks and helped Bossanova over the threshold.

“Of course, you still have to pay.” Jack slammed the door behind them.

--

Jack’s brothel had the strange feeling of home. To others it was just a whorehouse, and a good one at that, but to Gage, the place spoke of comfort. The furniture was all in working condition, the lights were dim, the rooms pleasantly warm, and the surfaces clean of blood. There was a small shelf full of books and magazines, which were also the only things in the place not nailed down. He knew as well as Jack raiders would never bother to steal them, even if they ever learned to read.

Jack led the way up the narrow stairs to the topmost floor, and waved her hand at an open doorway down the hall from her private quarters. Gage dumped Bossanova unceremoniously onto the sagging bed, and she squawked in surprised as she landed with a heavy flump. Bossanova kicked out irritably, catching him hard on the ass, and he leapt away, swearing.

“I’d have done the same,” Jack said between giggles. She flapped her hand at him, shooing him from the room. “Ladies only. Gotta patch her up.”

Gage slunk out, trying to ignore his own aches and pains, and limped down the hall to a room Jack pointed out to him a few moments before. Slowly, he took his armour off and set it down on the floor, every inch of him protesting. He made his way to the bed, sitting down and staring around, unsure what to do with himself. None of his visits here had been for anything but the obvious.

After a while, Jack came in. Gage felt his stomach tense.

“She’s out like a light,” Jack said. “Had to up the med-x dosage, but we got there in the end.” She paused thoughtfully. “Gotta say, she don’t look like much.”

“Underestimating her is a bad idea,” Gage replied, thinking of the Safari Adventure. “Though I’ll admit you ain’t seein’ her at her best.”

“What happened?”

“Imagine deathclaws, but bigger, stronger, and more pissed off.”

“I’m imagining it.”

“Now imagine Nuka Town full of ‘em; a machine producin’ more and more.”

“Ah. Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I could work them into my special services somehow…”

Gage snorted with laughter, then grunted as pain shot through his midriff. Jack walked over, stopping in front of him. She tucked her fingers under his chin and forced him to gaze up at her. “You look like crap,” she said gently.

“I feel it too.” Gage resisted yawning. It had been a rough day, and an even rougher night. He absentmindedly put his hand against her leg, but she suddenly let go, stepping back.

“Oh no no no. You know the rules.” She grinned her wicked grin, pulling out a handful of stimpaks and passing them to him, along with a single syringe of med-x. “If you don’t have an infection by now, then the stimpaks already cleared it up. You can do the rest.” Jack’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, and then she sauntered from the room.

Gage watched her go, before lying back on the bed and covering his face with the crook of his elbow.

Damn it.

--

Three days later, Bossanova was up and walking again. Gage noticed her attitude had become frosty since they’d first arrived, barely speaking to him. Finally, Gage decided he’d had enough. He found her downstairs in the brothel’s waiting area on the third morning reading a book titled ‘The Iceman.’ He paid it little notice. Reading wasn’t really his thing. “Boss,” he said as he settled himself in a chair opposite her.

“Gage,” she replied, her tone cold and clipped.

He folded his arms and stared at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Bossanova didn’t answer immediately, her eyes flicking to the end of the page. Then she glanced up at him, her face impassive. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh don’t try to bullshit me. You’ve been funny ever since we got here.”

“And why,” she said delicately, returning to her book, “would you care? As you reminded me the other day, we’re not friends. So if we’re not friends, then we’re just business associates, and that means I won’t waste small talk on you.” She raised her hand and waved him away lazily.

Gage didn’t move. He blinked, rattling his brain to figure out what she was on about. Suddenly it struck him. When they’d left Safari Adventure they’d argued—although if he was honest with himself, he’d bitten her head off and she’d refused to rise fully to the bait. “But…”

“The last few days I’ve been bedridden, either out of my mind on painkillers, or in absolute agony. But the peace and quiet has been nice, and exhaustion has left me with little tolerance right now. I’m tired of you trusting me, only to panic and compensate by treating me like dirt straight after. It’s boring.” Bossanova turned a page in her book idly. “So go away until you’ve decided where I stand with you.”

She said it with such finality Gage knew the conversation was over.

Well, it was what he’d wanted, Gage thought as he climbed the stairs to the top floor of the brothel. Or was it? He’d gotten so used to her warm and friendly demeanour, the opposite was like being dropped into a frigid lake.

Gage snapped from his thoughts as Jack stepped out from the shadows, poking him hard in the stomach. He grunted in surprise and raised an eyebrow.

“No pain?” she asked sweetly.

“No pain,” Gage confirmed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Good thing I’m around to save your ass.” She poked him in the stomach again, catching him off-guard. Laughing, she said, “Not much of a raider to fall for the same shit twice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, biting back a grin.

“Your boss is doing fine too,” Jack went on. “Did you know ghouls are immune to disease? I can’t tell if she’s bullshitting me, but apparently nothing can survive long enough to cause an infection. She doesn’t have a fever, so I’m taking her word for it.”

Gage didn’t want to admit he had no idea what caused infection other than dirt, so said nothing. Apparently not getting sick was one of the perks of being a ghoul.

“Anyway,” Jack continued, her voice low as she leaned towards him. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up yet.”

“Lead the way.”

Her eyes lit up mischievously and she motioned for him to follow.

He watched her ass as he walked behind her, and felt himself stir at the knowing grins she shot over her shoulder. How she could look so good in loose fitting combat pants and a stained flannel shirt, he didn’t know.

“You still off the booze?” she said to him from across the kitchen as Gage dropped into a nearby chair.

“Yeah,” he said, surprised she’d remembered. She tossed him a Nuka Cola, and he caught it with one hand and quickly prised the cap off on the coffee table. His attempt to show off was rewarded with the bottle slipping, spilling cola everywhere, and Gage swore as Jack laughed. She threw a dirty scrap of fabric which hit him in the face, but he mopped it up quickly without complaint before dropping the rag at his feet.

“So,” she said, settling down in the chair opposite him, a glass of vodka to hand, “last time I saw you, you were telling me about your grand plans to get rid of Colter.”

“Last time I saw you, your nose was straight,” Gage quipped.

“One of the customers got a little too rowdy,” Jack said, rubbing her crooked nose absentmindedly. “Nothing a shotgun couldn’t cure.”

“Customer?” Gage sat up rigidly, the tight feeling returning to his stomach. “I thought you didn’t take customers anymore?”

“I don’t. He was bothering one of my girls.”

“Right.” Gage tried to settle again.

Jack leaned forward, smirking. “So...your plan worked?”

He was grateful for the change of topic. “Sorta. The new boss is shaping up. Not what I was expecting, but she knows how to keep Nisha in line and she’s actually trying to get this place running, so fuck it. It’ll work itself out.”

“I’ll admit, I thought something went wrong,” Jack said, looking oddly serious. “When you stopped turning up, I thought you might have cut your losses and left, or...or worse.”

Silence filled the room.

Gage drained his cola for something to do, and Jack got to her feet, clutching her vodka like a grenade. “I’ll get you another drink.”

He watched her as she bustled away, feeling warm. It had been Gage who’d convinced Jack to move to the park in the first place. He’d known her for a long time—as long as he could have known anyone. She wasn’t associated with any gang, but she had the balls and smarts to carve out a neat piece for herself in the raider world. The others knew not to fuck with her—she was the queen of the whore market, and could cater to every and any taste. Gage thought she’d be perfect for keeping things from boiling over in Nuka Town.

What he hadn’t expected was his reliance on her after shit really began to hit the fan. When Colter’s attitude and Nisha’s threats drove him to the edge of his patience, Gage had come here and lost himself for a night or two every week.

Gage stood up. He suddenly felt hot—far too hot. Had to be the fucking armour. He undid the straps and with a grunt pulled it off, setting it on the floor. By the time he was done, Jack was by his side, holding out a fresh bottle of cola. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her, and he sat himself back down, staring at her feet.

“Well, I’m glad you ain’t dead anyway,” Jack said, flopping into her chair and crossing her legs. “The girls would have missed you.”

Gage snorted, meeting her eye again. “I haven’t been with one of your girls in years.”

“I know.” She grinned. “Yet you kept coming back.”

“And you kept lettin’ me.” He stretched out, relaxing again. The weird atmosphere in the room was seeping away, the familiar, comfortable buzz of lust taking over instead. He could see it in her hungry expression, feel it in himself.

Gage swigged on his cola, anticipation coursing through him. They both knew what happened whenever he visited. Jack didn’t even charge him for it anymore, and he told himself that was the reason he returned so often.

Jack stared at him from across the room, her dark eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass. She sipped the vodka deliberately, carefully. Gage could see the liquid clinging to those fine lips. She ran a finger over the glass and then sucked the alcohol off it, never breaking eye contact. Gage’s imagination immediately went into overdrive. He took another gulp of cola and choked as it went straight up his nose.

“Smooth as ever,” Jack said, grinning. She drained her glass and set it down carelessly. “Are we playing games today, or should we just skip to the fucking?”

“Skip to the fucking.”

“Good.”

She was on her feet and halfway across the room before Gage was even out of his seat. Jack shoved him back against the wall with a bang and pressed her mouth against his, her hand massaging his crotch. Gage’s heart pounded as he dragged her shirt over her head and threw it aside, before bending down and running his tongue over her breast. She seized him by the jaw and forced him back against the wall, tilting her head to the side.

“Have you forgotten the rules?” she murmured into his ear as she pulled at his belt, loosening it. “How things are done under my roof?”

“No,” Gage replied, the feel of her hand at his throat intensifying the urge to have her. “I just wanted to try my luck.”

“Did you?” Jack’s fingers tugged down his zipper and her hand slipped inside his pants, running along him the way she knew he liked it. She kept the pace for a few seconds and then stopped, biting gently on his ear. “I think you need to earn my good graces. What will you do for them, hmm?”

“Anything,” Gage mumbled, wanting to pick her up and fuck her where they stood. But he wasn’t allowed to touch. Not yet.

“Anything?”

Gage swallowed and nodded. Jack’s eyes lit up with mischief. She kissed him hard, nipping at his lip and gripping his hair as she ground against him. Her breasts pushed on his chest, and it took all his resolve not to reach up and run his hands over them. Jack’s teasing was merciless, and by the end of the night he would be a desperate mess.

God, he loved it.

“Undress me,” she whispered as she played with him.

Gage obeyed, knowing he’d have to move himself away from her tantalising strokes to free her from her clothes. He worked quickly, resisting returning the favour. He’d get his chance later. Within seconds, Jack was standing naked before him, and she pushed him back, her eyes telling him he still wasn’t allowed to touch. She rewarded his obedience by taking hold of him again and picking up the rhythm, smirking when he groaned and leaned his head against the wall.

Jack hooked a finger inside his mouth and pulled his head down to face her. Her kisses were fierce now, and slowly she ran her palm across his face. Gage felt almost drunk, her touch hot on his skin. Her fingers stopped over the strap of his makeshift eyepatch. There was a pause as their eyes met, and she tugged at it, trying to pull it away.

Gage clamped his hand over hers.

Shit.

They stared at each other, Jack looking surprised. Panic shot through him. He hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t even thought about it. He’d never stopped her before, but then she’d never tried to do that either. Would she think he was weak, or pathetic, or…?

Jack smiled a soft smile, softer than Gage could ever have imagined on her sweet lips. She eased her hand away, letting it fall onto his shoulder with a small squeeze. She kissed him gently, tenderly, and for a moment, Gage didn’t know what to do. Then her next utterance sent a thrill through him.

“Kneel.”

It was the command he’d been hoping for, and his awkwardness evaporated. Gage grabbed Jack by the shoulders and slammed her bodily into the wall, dropping to his knees without hesitation. He didn’t wait for further instruction, but pressed his mouth between her legs, staring up at her. Her thighs trembled beneath his grip as Gage began to worship her with his tongue.

--

The walk back to Nuka Town was uncomfortably silent. It was as if he wasn’t there, Bossanova strolling ahead and humming, admiring the scenery as she went. Gage skulked some distance behind, battling with himself. Jack had been a nice distraction—the distraction he always needed when things were difficult. But now he was with his thoughts, and there was no more dangerous place to be.

Did he trust the boss?

Against all his better judgement, he wanted to. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Like Connor, Bossanova made a very good show of caring. Gage had believed every lie, every false act, every gesture designed to put him right in the firing line. But he was older now, wiser. He wouldn’t fall for it again.

And yet…

“Boss?” Gage said, before he lost his nerve. To his great surprise, she stopped and turned to him expectantly. His question solidified in his throat. He couldn’t talk to her about this again. He just couldn’t. She’d already said she was done with him. It was better this way.

Bossanova stared at him for a few moments, and then continued walking. Gage followed her, kicking himself, until she spoke. “Good time with Jack last night?”

Gage nearly tripped over his own feet. She was looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes stern but her mouth twisted as if trying not to laugh. He grunted in response.

“I could hear Jack from downstairs,” Bossanova went on as if they were discussing which Nuka Cola was their favourite.

“Yeah, she’s not exactly quiet,” Gage muttered.

“I’m sure you did fine.”

“God, please shut up.”

Bossanova laughed as his cheeks grew steadily hot, and Gage gritted his teeth. He made a point to march ahead, which took some effort, as he had to catch up to her before overtaking her in an aggressively dignified sort of way.

“So is Jack your girlfriend?”

Gage glanced over his shoulder and did stumble this time. “Girlfriend?”

“You know. Your partner. Love of your life. Etcetera.”

“No. We just fuck.”

Bossanova frowned a little at this and picked up her pace so she was walking alongside him again. It was as if they were trying to race without running. “Ever had a girlfriend?”

“No,” Gage said, wondering where the hell this was going. “Never wanted one.”

“So she’s your friend?”

“No.” He was starting to get exasperated with her prying. “Never needed them either.”

“Why n—?”

“Why all the questions?” Gage snarled. “You wouldn’t speak to me yesterday.”

“Didn’t like that, huh?”

“I couldn’t have given less of a fuck,” he lied, staring out to Nuka World in the distance and wondering how long it would take to finally get there.

“Ah. And there was me hoping Jack would fix your nasty temper.”

“Keep hoping. I’m a miserable bastard whatever happens.”

“Except when Jack is asking you to—”

“You finish that sentence and I’ll shoot you and then myself,” Gage snapped. Bossanova burst into peals of laughter, stopping where she stood and clutching her sides. He glared valiantly at her for a few seconds, and then felt his lips crack into an unwilling smile.

“Next time we’re at Jack’s just pick a piece of ass for yourself. Then you can spare me all the fucking questions. I’m sure Jack will give you a discount.”

“No thanks,” she said, starting up again in a slow stroll. “Not really my thing.”

“What, Jack?” Gage said, matching her pace without thinking.

“No.”

“...fucking?”

“Uh-huh.”

He stared at her. For a moment he considered asking her about Nicky again directly, but decided against it. The topic was dangerous water and she wasn’t in the best of moods. Tact was required here, which he obviously had in bucketloads. “I don’t...but...everyone fucks. Even ghouls. I knew some raiders with...tastes.”

“Not me.” When Gage continued to gawk, she said, in a horrible rendition of his accent, “Why do you care?” Bossanova grinned. “Relationships and everything in-between aren’t my bag. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful? No offence, boss, but you’re not my type.”

“Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes. “The feeling is extremely mutual, idiot.”

“Then why would I be—?”

“I think with my brain and not my…” She made a vague gesture in the direction of Gage’s crotch.

Gage flushed. “I don’t think with my dick.”

“I know. But some do. So be glad we have the same priorities.”

He shook his head. “This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

Bossanova gave him a mocking look of sympathy. “I know. And think how sick of it I must be after two-hundred and ninety years of the same stupid questions.”

“You started it!”

She laughed. “True, true. Call it quits then?”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the fuckin’ best.”

They walked on, the silence returning and enveloping them like a blanket. Gone was the tension, but despite this, Gage could feel the conversation they’d almost had as they’d escaped Safari Adventure scratching the inside of his skull. It demanded attention, and strangely enough, this time he didn’t feel as afraid to talk about it.

“Boss,” he tried again, his mouth drying.

She looked at him, smiling faintly. “Gage?”

“Yesterday, when we was walkin’ to Jack’s, you...you asked me why I couldn’t understand…” Gage licked his lips, his chest tight with nerves. “You wanted me to ‘explain myself,’ whatever that means.” He slowed to a stop, rubbing the back of his head, before letting out a long sigh and meeting her eye. “What do you want to know?”

“Why do you hate the idea of trusting people?” she said at once.

Well, that was an easy enough question to answer. “Because every fucker is out for himself,” Gage said bluntly, folding his arms. “I learned that when I was sixteen.” He paused, gripping his own arms, the bitterness of the long gone encounter rising up through his throat like bile. “I worked hard to be an asset, and my payment was for some mediocre, two-bit punk to stab me in the back.”

“Tell me about it,” Bossanova said gently.

He considered saying no—all these years later and Connor’s betrayal still smarted. But then suddenly it vomited from his lips, decades of pent-up resentment spewing out into the open air. And once he started, he found he couldn’t stop.

“I became a raider young,” Gage said to the ground, scowling at a small rock as he went. “Didn’t matter ‘bout my age, though I also lacked the sense to know when to keep my mouth shut. Had more brains than the gang put together, and they all fuckin’ knew it—could tell by the look on their faces every time I offered suggestions to help make us all stronger. None of them liked it, but my ideas worked. So much so, I was eventually approached by Connor.”

“Connor?”

“The leader. Called himself some stupid-ass title back then—‘The Harvester’ or whatever.” Despite himself, Gage let out a snort of laughter. He glanced up without thinking, and saw Bossanova smirking too. All at once, he felt his body relax, though he quickly avoided her eye again. He went on. “I thought Connor might be pissed, think I was undermining his authority. But he took my advice instead.”

Gage still remembered the evening Connor came to him. The overwhelming sense of pride, inflating his ego to dangerous proportions. Blinding him to the risks, just out of sight. Gage smiled bitterly. “So here I am, this teenage punk who's got the ear of what seems like the most powerful guy around. I'm on top of the damn world. Connor's always coming to me, asking what I think of his plans, telling me how much he trusts me.” He hesitated. “Can't lie—it all went to my head.”

Bossanova’s expression was too knowing for his liking. She nodded. “Would go to any kid’s head, I imagine.”

“Yeah, well…” Gage coughed, stalling for time. “After about a year, we come up with this plan to make peace with a rival gang—work the whole thing out in secret. Meet on neutral ground, a backup plan in case shit went south, and me negotiating with them.”

He paused, remembering his exhilaration at being included, at being needed. Connor trusted him to play the most vital role.

“Did it all go to hell?” Bossanova asked, apparently reading his mind.

“Pretty much.” Gage sighed. “Just as talks were gettin’ somewhere, I hear the gunfire and the explosions. And at first I’m thinkin’, ‘Oh shit, something went wrong. Connor’s gonna have to bail us out.’”

“But…?”

“But...I eventually picked up on the real plan. The fucker set me up, and I fell for it. Probably thought he’d got everythin’ he could from me. Probably saw me as a threat.” Gage clenched his jaw shut. “Used me as a diversion, then pissed off the other gang. He gets their stuff and I die in the crossfire. Perfect day for him. Perfect reward for my fuckin’ stupidity.”

Bossanova studied him for a while. Her face was set in a peculiar expression—soft, but searching, as if trying to see right into him.

“Don’t know how the fuck I survived, but I did,” said Gage, feeling like he might as well finish the story properly. “Thought about finding Connor and putting a bullet in his head, but that was just the anger talking. Knew where it would end up. So I learned from it and moved on. Everybody looks after themselves.” He glared at her, and she stared back, her face unreadable. He didn’t give a damn. “I’m no different. And neither are you.”

“No,” Bossanova said softly. “I suppose not.”

“So stop with the bullshit. Stop pretending. We’re both using each other to get to the top of the shit heap, and that’s as far as it goes. But at least I’m fucking honest about it.”

“Just because I’m using you to get to the top,” Bossanova replied, the same strange expression on her face, “doesn’t mean I won’t help you up when I get there.”

Gage stared at her, his anger over Connor ebbing away. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders—a weight that he’d become so used to, he’d forgotten it was even there. Only with its removal had Gage finally recognised its presence and the damage it had done. And with the sudden lightness of his soul, he saw something else in its place. Something he couldn’t deny, as much as it worried him.

Gage sighed, rubbing his eye. “Look...I get what you’re trying to do. I really do.” He let his hand drop. “I don’t trust easily. At all, in fact. Connor fucked me over too hard for that.” Gage paused, but Bossanova didn’t speak, letting him say his piece. “I’ve been ‘round raiders for years, seen some shit—done most of it myself. I know what people are capable of an’ it ain’t pretty. But…”

He finally looked her full in the face. Bossanova wore a blank expression, her gaze sharp and focused on him. “Shit, can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but...I’m beginning to suspect you ain’t like that, boss. If you are, then I knew all along and it’s no big deal. An’ if you’re not...well, we’ll see.”

He shrugged awkwardly, his heart hammering at exposing such vulnerability. But Bossanova beamed at him. “That’s all I needed to hear. Knew I’d get it out of you eventually.”

“Yeah yeah,” Gage grumbled, biting back a grin, feeling weak at the knees all of a sudden. “Enough talking. Let’s go kill some shit.”

“We need guns for that. I say when we get back, we stock up and move onto the next section of the park—come back for the gatorclaws when we’re good and ready. Unless you want to rest up first?”

“No,” he replied, hardly daring to believe his ears. She was making plans, pushing for more land without him fighting with her over it. Without her acting like Colter. “Any ideas where you wanna hit next?”

“I say we go for a stroll, see where the mood takes us.”

Gage chuckled. “I can get behind that, boss. I can get behind it.”

--

A/N: Hi everyone. Sorry this is a little late. Going through a rough patch in my personal life right now, and I decided to drink alcohol instead of doing anything productive yesterday. Then I remembered I hadn't posted the chapter, but was too drunk to do anything about it at that point.

If you're enjoying my story, please consider leaving a comment! It really does mean the world to me.

Jack is one of my favourite characters I've ever made. She was created on a whim, when I received an ask telling me to make up a Fallout character on the spot. The sign outside the brothel was what I came up with, and down the line when I started writing MOB, I realised I HAD to include Jack.

#porter gage #nuka world #gage #fallout 4 #fallout #mob #Making One's Bones