#send me your zip code for a fun surprise

[idiot-mushroom]

GRRRRRRR ARF ARF BARK BARK RRRARFFF RARF GRRR>:(

#send me your zip code for a fun surprise #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt fanart #silly me hehe #my account did not get highjacked #don’t come looking for me its coolio

[seiyasabi]

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao 

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc.. 

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) ) 

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt. 

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for. 

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare. 

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed. 

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?” 

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.” 

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone. 

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.” 

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her. 

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences. 

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that. 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!” 

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before. 

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh. 

-

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage. 

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home. 

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces. 

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before. 

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor. 

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this. 

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso. 

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably. 

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!” 

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat. 

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.” 

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well. 

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.” 

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!” 

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid. 

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form. 

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone. 

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face. 

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,��� What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it. 

-

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight. 

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling. 

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well. 

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him. 

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?” 

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you. 

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets. 

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt. 

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties. 

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!” 

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart! 

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal. 

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly. 

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.” 

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can. 

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute. 

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so. 

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.” 

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead. 

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour. 

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you? 

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?” 

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before. 

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny. 

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you. 

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on. 

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing. 

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls. 

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.  

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more. 

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest. 

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth. 

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you. 

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously. 

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it. 

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven. 

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you. 

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?” 

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin. 

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading. 

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh. 

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.” 

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive. 

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table. 

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation. 

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you. 

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket. 

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?” 

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera. 

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you? 

#yelena #yelena x reader #yandere yelena #yandere aot #yelena brainrot #yelena aot #aot x reader #yelena thirst #yelena smut #yelena supremacy #yandere aot x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue. 

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief. 

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger. 

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused. 

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out. 

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed. 

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile. 

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out. 

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve. 

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up. 

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily. 

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top. 

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench. 

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice. 

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp. 

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger. 

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #one shot #sam wilson x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #tfatws #falcon #captain america #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #avengers

[scripturiends]

gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Read on ao3

Summary: It was the one time her hunch had been wrong.

In which Han Joonhwi is acting suspicious, and Kang Sol A intends to find out why.

Rating: T

Word count: 3,848

Notes: Title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘invisible string’: “Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs; were there clues I didn’t see?”

~

As promised, here is the Solhwi fic that I had hoped to be up before Episode 7 airs. I went straight to work after receiving positive feedback from an interest check post. As I mentioned there, the story isn’t necessarily dwelling on the current timeline, but is, for the most part, still canon-compliant. I totally made up all the legal jargon, so please bear with me. And, like the show, I decided to do ‘cutscenes’ instead of one unilinear fic.

I had a lot of fun with this little project for the past two days, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :) I’d also love to hear your thoughts, please do send me a message or feel free to comment, it would mean the absolute world to me. Thank you and let’s all look forward to Episodes 7 and 8 this week!

The fic is under the cut. As a sidenote, this fic is un-beta’ed. All mistakes are mine.

~

I.

Kang Sol A swears she only drifted off for a second.

She had been burning the midnight oil for the past few days, well into the weekend, so much that the tension was radiating into her atmosphere, so much that the heat was starting to get to her head. Her Civil Code paper may not write itself, but neither could she if it took every ounce of her energy just to even sit up. So she plopped down on her bed, head heavy on her pillow, still fighting the urge to doze off.

She blinked, slowly, and as her eyes fluttered at an alarming rate, they eventually closed — just for a moment, I’ll count to ten and then wake up again — and stilled.

Birds were chirping outside her window when her eyes shot open, and that’s how she knew she messed up big-time. She woke with a start, frantically shaking off the books and papers off her person and frisking for her phone, silently praying that she wasn’t too late for her meeting with her project partner Seo Jiho, who she knows absolutely despises latecomers.

Sol A felt something vibrate from behind her, and an incomprehensible sound escaped her lips as she checked her phone. There were mountains of notifications that prevented her from checking the current time: self-set alarms, e-mails from her professors, reminders about today’s meeting with Jiho, and missed calls from a certain Han Joonhwi.

Clearing all of them at once, she finally reads: 9:07 AM. She was supposed to meet Jiho at 9:15. Sol A breathes a sigh of relief, but her momentary celebration is cut short when her phone starts to ring.

Han Joonhwi was calling again.

She didn’t even get a chance to speak yet when the voice on the other end asked, “Breakfast?”

Sol A put him on speaker phone as she packed up her things. “Can’t,” she replied mindlessly. “I have to meet with Seo Jiho and I’m already late. Eat by yourself.”

A few seconds of silence went unnoticed as Kang Sol A zipped up her knapsack and wore it over her shoulder. She finally picked up her phone and switched back to the handset. “Don’t skip breakfast, you hear me?”

Still nothing. “Joonhwi-ah.”

“Walk fast,” was all he said. And then he hung up.

That caught Sol A off guard, but she heeded the advice anyway.

She made it to the study room at exactly 9:13, only stopping by the entrance to catch her breath and tie her hair back into a ponytail. It was silent, so she half-hoped that no one would be there, but half-expected nothing less from Jiho. So she walks in, footsteps heavy, only skidding to a halt when she sees Jiho staring someone down, someone whose back looked all-too-familiar.

“You like her, don’t you?” she overhears from Jiho. “Kang So-”

Jiho suddenly fell silent at the sight of Sol A, and the man opposite him suddenly turned his head towards her. She was right about who it was — it was none other than the person she spoke with on the phone just a few minutes ago.

If Joonhwi was surprised, he didn’t show it.

But Kang Sol A did. She blinked once, and with a hint of dubiousness, she asked, “Who likes who?”

The men shared a look, and she was met with silence again, which was beginning to irk her. But she bit her tongue, took a seat across Seo Jiho, and grinned cheekily at him. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You aren’t...” Jiho replied, trailing off.

“I am by your standards. I know you,” she said matter-of-factly. “For Seo Jiho, ‘on time’ actually means ‘thirty minutes early’. Which means I’m late.”

Sighing wistfully, Sol A added, “I learned that the hard way.”

She locks eyes with Joonhwi momentarily, but he averts his gaze, expression unreadable. Sol A ignores this and tries her luck once more, eyes flitting from Jiho to Joonhwi and back. “Who were you guys talking about?”

This time, almost with no hesitation, Joonhwi finally spoke up. “No one,” he answered. “My roommate was just practicing his cross-examination skills on me.”

He stood up, giving Seo Jiho a final staredown. “They’re very poor at the moment. Help him out, will you?”

Then, without looking Kang Sol A in the eye, he gave her a soft squeeze on the shoulder, and promptly left.

Sol A’s eyes followed Joonhwi’s back, and stayed there even after he left. His touch lingered on her shoulder like a ghost, but instead of comfort, all she felt was fear. Suspicion. Restlessness. That maybe he was hiding something, and whether it involved her or not, she was keen on finding out just exactly what it was.

II.

“I’m telling you, Yeseul-ah,” Sol A insists. “Something’s up with him.”

They link arms, walking past the school entrance and into the lobby. Jeon Yeseul turns to her, hair falling perfectly into place as she lets out an angelic laugh. God, Sol A thinks. Even her laugh is perfect. But past the admiration for her Aphrodite-like features, Sol A feels like she’s being mocked.

She pouts. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do!” Yeseul defends. “You think he likes Kang Sol B.”

Sol A slides her left hand off Yeseul’s arm and holds her friend’s right one lightly. “So why are you laughing at me, then?”

“Unnie.” Yeseul wraps an arm around Sol A’s shoulder. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe Joonhwi-oppa likes you?”

Sol A almost choked on her spit. Of course she’s thought about it — after all, she’s a hundred percent certain that it was the name Kang Sol that slipped from Seo Jiho’s mouth a few days ago. But none of the evidence so far points to it being herself. And anyway, it’s not as if he’s shown any interest in Sol A as a woman. In fact, all he does is tease her. And she’s okay with that. And Sol B already likes Joonhwi. And they seem to be a far better fit than Sol A and Joonhwi. And it’s not like she harbors any romantic feelings for him, either.

She pushes the thought away before it could become bigger.

Sol A denies, deflects, and defends. “That can’t be right.”

“Why not?” her friend challenges.

“Why would he be avoiding me if that were true?” Sol A counters.

“People do that when they feel awkward around their crush,” Yeseul rebuts.

This is starting to feel like a game of chess rather than a conversation between best friends. “I think he’s just scared I’ll tell my roommate or something.” Before Yeseul could say anything else, by some stroke of luck, Sol A spots Joonhwi from her peripheral vision, walking past Lady Justice.

Yeseul smiles kindly at Sol A. She doesn’t doubt its genuineness, but she feels like it’s laced with mischief. “Should we test your theory, then?”

What does that mean?

“Joonhwi-oppa!” Yeseul shouts, waving at him from across the room.

She’s not going to ask him, is she?

Yeseul runs to Joonhwi, a light skip in her step. “I have something to ask you.”

Wait.

“Wait,” escaped from Sol A’s lips, barely a whisper before it started registering on her what Yeseul was about to do. And when it does, she finally sprints. “Jeon Yeseul, wait!”

“Oppa.” Yeseul bats her eyelashes at Joonhwi. Sol A was in tow behind her, feeling small but unsure why.

“Oh, Yeseul-ah,” Joonhwi greets. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friend and classmate.

While it pained Sol A to just sit back and watch, knowing that Joonhwi had been purposefully avoiding her, she let the scene unfold, trusting that Yeseul knew what she was doing.

“You haven’t been going to the study group sessions lately,” Yeseul starts.

Sol A hoped it would get a rise out of him, seeing as he was the one who started the group to begin with, but was barely showing up these days. Instead, all he said was, “The pair project in Civil Code has been holding me up.”

Yeah, right, she thinks. A second-round judicial exam passer and a former police academy student having a hard time in Civil Code? Why do I find that hard to believe?

Sol A scoffs, and Yeseul pinches her side. “Sol-unnie and I are meeting the others for lunch. You should come join us.”

“Ah,” Joonhwi drawled out slowly, as if coming up with an excuse to say no. Sol A expects it to be his next move. “I wish I could, but-”

Knew it.

“Kang Sol B will be there,” Sol A blurts out, fully aware that it’s a total lie. Still, she had to try.

Something in Joonhwi’s mood changed, and his face hardened. Still not making eye contact with Sol A, he excuses himself from Yeseul. “I’ll take a rain check today, okay?”

And without another word, he left again, leaving Sol A with the same emptiness that she had felt in the study room the other day.

Yeseul finally turns to Sol A, crossing her arms. “You’re right. He’s being weird.”

III.

A few more days without Joonhwi’s company, and Sol A was starting to feel its ill effects on her. She hadn’t realized just how much she took him for granted until he was no longer around to challenge her ideas, to annoy her over the littlest of things, to calm her down when she’s freaking out, to be her drinking buddy, to be someone she could tell any and every stupid story to, with the utmost confidence that he’ll keep it to himself or that he wouldn’t belittle her for it.

They’d been through too much together now, and even their fateful first meeting all those years ago didn’t faze him from her. In fact, her little scheme, no matter how deceitful at the time, brought him closer not just to her, but to Byeol, her mom, and to an extent, even Dan.

So what changed? What on earth did Seo Jiho say to him, and what on earth did she walk into, that made him close himself off from her? Proximity may not breed familiarity, but right now she wishes nothing more than to be in his orbit again.

Arguably the worst consequence of the lack of Joonhwi in Sol A’s life right now is having no one to eat with.

During one of her all-nighters at the dorm, she found herself with an intense craving for some ramyeon. She removed her earphones, partly to pull herself back to reality, but mostly to ask her roommate to have a meal with her. As if Sol B would say yes, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m going downstairs for a bite. You wanna come?”

No response, as expected from Kang Sol B. Sol A inwardly rolled her eyes, spinning in her chair to tease her roommate, only to find the desk empty.

She scratched her head while walking, wondering where Sol B could be at this time of night. And without a heads up, too… She was getting worried.

But it seems like her concern was all for naught, because Sol B was right where Sol A was headed.

And she was there with Han Joonhwi.

She was laughing. It was the first time that she saw Sol B laugh, maybe ever, and to see that Joonhwi could be someone who could do that for her, made Sol A feel proud. Like knowing Han Joonhwi was a privilege, not only because of the way he could make people comfortable around him, but also because Sol A had once been on the receiving end of it herself.

She should be relieved. In fact, she should be happy. Because it means that her guess was right, which means she doesn’t have to keep digging anymore. She could just tell Joonhwi that his secret’s safe with her, and they could finally go back to the way they were before... Right?

And yet something about witnessing the pair interact as a mere bystander didn’t sit right with Sol A. There’s a pang in her chest that she can’t quite comprehend — maybe she just misses him, or maybe it’s something else completely. Because if Han Joonhwi has feelings for Kang Sol B, and they’re together right now, then that leaves only one explanation: he must be avoiding her, and for a completely different reason.

It was the first time her hunch had been wrong.

Needless to say, Sol A lost her appetite and trudged back upstairs lifelessly, a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in her stomach that she couldn’t quite place where it even came from.

IV.

Come Friday, Sol A was too exhausted to even think about Han Joonhwi. Between the endless deadlines and papers to write, her job in the copy room, and the Seo Byungju case, her energy had been too depleted and her social battery too worn out to even care that her relationships could be falling apart.

The only thing she has going for her now is the Legal Clinic, the one place where she could bury her nose deep in case digests and law readings and she would absolutely never get tired of it, because it’s the one place where she feels like she’s making a real difference, especially when people’s lives are at stake. It was the remaining part of her life where Sol A felt like she was in control, so these days, all her emotionally-charged passion was focused on this one thing.

But of course that had to fall apart too, when Professor Yang asked for her to stay after class.

He cut right to the chase. “I’ll be meeting with my defense lawyer today so I need you to consult with the client in my stead.”

Count on Yangcrates to always give Sol A a heart attack in under two seconds.

“M-me?” she stuttered.

The professor’s face twitched, ever-so-slightly, which Sol A took as a sign to backtrack and confidently proclaim that she’s up to the task. She knows there’s nothing Yang Jonghoon hates more than a quitter.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she accedes, with a little more verve.

He nods once in her direction. “And take Han Joonhwi with you,” he commanded.

She’s doomed. Not that she wasn’t doomed before, but now that Professor Yang had to drag her personal life into this, she was really in shambles.

Sol A clears her throat. “With all due respect, Sir,” she laughs nervously, “don’t you trust me?”

Professor Yang takes a moment to think about it. Sol A wonders if today’s the day she finally gets a definitive answer. But Yangcrates is as sly as ever. “This is your chance to get back at him for the Bad FaMa case. Make him your assistant this time.”

He walks away, leaving Sol A dumbfounded once again, but not before he adds, “Under my orders, of course.”

Sol A’s knees buckled at the thought. Normally, she would find this predicament to be absolutely funny, a chance to bicker with Joonhwi and learn something from him at the same time. But he’s angry at her, and she doesn’t even know why, and even merely approaching him has turned into a problem.

Everything in Sol A’s life right now is a problem. She wonders if it's getting Joonhwi back that would fix everything.

Upon leaving the classroom, she spots him getting a drink from the vending machine. She has to slap herself twice, just to mentally prepare herself, to muster up the courage to approach him again.

“Come on, Sol,” she whispers to herself. “This isn’t hard.”

Shaking off the nerves, she takes a step forward, but in a momentary state of weakness, takes another step back. “So what if he’s mad? That’s his problem. I’ve never given him a reason to be angry. He should suck it up. Not me. Come on. Just do it.”

A step forward.

“Just do it.”

A step back.

“Goddamn it.”

One final step back to boost herself forward, and she’s running towards him, pretending to be as casual as possible. “Han Joonhwi!” she calls out to him.

His eyes widen at the sight of her, knowing he has nowhere to escape.

“Did you get my text? Professor Yang needs our help at the Legal Clinic.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

Joonhwi scratched the back of his head, and Sol A just knows it’s about to be another lame excuse. “I can’t. I’m meeting Sol B for our Civil Code term paper.”

He can’t even look at her, and Sol A wonders just how bad she had hurt Joonhwi for him to feel like this towards her. But that only lasted for a second, when she realized just exactly what he said. Then, her pity turned into irritation, as she accused, “Liar.”

Sol A crossed her arms, and glared at Joonhwi. “Did you forget that I’m her roommate? She went home today.”

V.

Sol A sat across Joonhwi inside the Legal Clinic, her eyes narrowed to slits. A profound silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by a sharp inhale from her.

“You like Kang Sol B, don’t you?”

The only response she got was Han Joonhwi’s signature smirk, playful and taunting, one that said, ‘You don’t know me, and you never will’.

She hated that.

She slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at him accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that. I would have kept your secret if you just asked. Is that why you were avoiding me? Because you think I’d tell her or something?”

The same smile painted on his face, Joonhwi exhaled defeatedly. “Kang Sol A, I thought I taught you to never make any claims with unfounded bases.”

An eyebrow perched up on Sol A’s end. “It’s not unfounded,” she argues.

“Where’s your evidence, then?” he dared her.

Sol A had been waiting for this. She listed everything he had ever done — or refused to do, which was spend time with her, speak to her, or even look at her, which was absolutely the bare minimum — since the incident with Seo Jiho up to this very moment.

He waves his hand dismissingly. “That’s all speculative.”

If his goal was to rile her up, then it’s definitely working. “Then what about what I heard Seo Jiho tell you that one time? And most importantly, you straight up lied to my face.”

“Circumstantial,” he quips. “That would never hold up in court, especially not when the only witness is yourself. How are you going to be both the defense lawyer and the sole witness?”

Han Joonhwi should be at the edge of the precipice here, and yet he has managed to flip the situation over and turn it into an interrogation for Kang Sol A.

Nothing can hide her frustration anymore. “I would never be the lawyer in my own case. Look, it’s still evidence. You asked, and I gave it. Seriously, Han Joonhwi, what’s with you?”

Instead of a direct answer, he points out, “You rely on your emotions too much.”

Almost immediately, she shoots back, “And you rely on the law too much. This isn’t a courtroom. This is a human conversation.”

He purses his lips, unable to say anything, and Kang Sol A continues. “You’re too stubborn.”

“And you’re too nosy.”

“You’ve benefited from it more than once.” Sol A’s patience is getting thinner by the second. “Can’t you just tell me what I did so that I can either apologize for it or call you out for being wrong?”

“You and Sol B are hardly friends. What reason would I have to be afraid?” Amusement gleamed in Joonhwi’s eyes; Sol A was astounded by how he could stay so nonchalant about this. “Think.”

She glared at him, but still ceded. Damn his tenacity. “Fine, I’ll play along.”

She rolled her eyes, and in a blasé manner, started to think out loud. “I overheard Jiho ask you if you liked Kang Sol, and then you started avoiding me. Yeseul asked you to join us for lunch, and when I said Sol B would be there, even though she really wasn’t, you declined. So I thought it was her that you liked. But it doesn’t make sense, because I saw you two hanging out at the cafeteria that one night-”

His arrogant expression changed to one of shock. “You did?”

“-and then you straight up lied to me about your plans. Unless you two are already dating-”

“We’re not,” he interrupts once more. Sol A eyes him with suspicion. “We’re not,” he repeats indignantly.

“-it could only mean that you do like Kang Sol…”

Joonhwi starts slowly nodding, face a little flushed, but somehow urging her on to continue.

“...just not B. You like-”

“Kang Sol A.” Professor Yang enters the room, calling out her name.

She’s sure her professor asked her to do something, but she was unmoved. At this point, she doesn’t think anything could pull her out of her reverie for the rest of the day.

A veil that covered her eyes was lifted, and she had never been so pitiful of the blindfold that Lady Justice wore. The scales Kang Sol A carried, as heavy as the burdens she was facing, balanced with Han Joonhwi holding them up with her. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand right at that moment, to feel the heaviness in its entirety, and thank him for staying anyway.

They don't talk for the rest of the day, but Kang Sol A is unbothered.

Her questioning attitude may have always gotten her in trouble in school, but this was the one time she was glad to be wrong.

Epilogue

Han Joonhwi fell asleep on his desk again.

He normally finishes up all his revisions early, but because of his agitation, the cold table seemed to be more inviting than the bed, where he simply ends up tossing and turning.

Despite the stiff neck it was bound to cause, he’s been doing it for days, only being woken up by his constant 8:30 alarms. This time, however, it was his gracious roommate Seo Jiho who finally interrupted him from his slumber.

Jiho slammed a sealed instant ramyeon pack on Joonhwi’s desk. He groggily looked up at his friend, whose hair was still disheveled, and asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s from Kang Sol A.” Before walking away, he deadpanned, “Do your own bidding next time. I’m not your messenger.”

Joonhwi took the cup ramyeon, spotting the bright yellow sticky note on it, not unlike the ones he’d put on Sol A’s notebook, or occasionally, her forehead. He smiled to himself as he read the message, walking out to heat up some water for breakfast, but not before carefully displaying the note on his bulletin board for the whole world to see.

Han Joonhwi,

For a second-round judicial exam passer, you can be so dense.

I like you back, you idiot.

Now stop sulking and have breakfast with me.

Idiot.

~

Send me your thoughts/fic requests here!

#jtbc law school #law school #kang sol a #han joon hwi #solhwi #kim bum #ryu hye young #kang sol a x han joon hwi #fics #kang sol b #lee soo kyung #seo jiho #david lee #ko yoon jung #jeon ye seul #yang jong hoon #kim myung min #jtbc #kdrama #korean drama #mine

[maneskinrollercoaster]

~ We’re Everything To Each Other That We Ever Needed 2: Back To Black ~

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x Chiara Russo (fictional character)

Word count: 3313

Warnings: Smut, swearing.

Summary: Innocent theme party turns into something unexpected.

- Guys what’s the theme of the party? - Victoria shouted while standing in front of her wardrobe.

- Back to black - said Chiara, doing her makeup at the couch.

They were all preparing to go out for the party in one of the theme clubs in Rome. The club was unique, every party meant different dress code, different set up and different place. Damiano found it somewhere on Facebook and since Måneskin had a few days break from Europe tour they all decided to go and have some fun.

- Chi, will you do my eyeliner? - Vic asked coming into the living room.

- Of course, I’ll dress up and I’ll take care of you - Chiara winked to Vic and stood up from the couch.

She went upstairs to Ethan’s room. She left all her thing there since they were going out for the whole night. She opened the door and saw Ethan sitting on his bed with Chili - Victoria’s dog - on his lap.

-Chili - Chiara said coming up to them and taking her in her arms. - mi amore - she kissed her head.

Ethan was looking at the two of them lovingly. Since their steamy night in the hotel room, both of them got even closer with each other. They still didn’t know if relationship was exactly what they wanted at the moment but they were all good with the current situation, they were kissing and cuddling on the couch in front of Vic, Thomas and Damiano without any problem and the three of them were really supportive and understanding. Vic was joking around all the time about their friendship and sending them dirty looks but Chiara and Ethan didn’t mind. She was his first real love, his best friend and both of them decided to leave the things they way they are and eventually change something when the time was right.

- Are you gonna dress up now? - he asked pulling her closer to him, closing the gap between them.

She looked at him lovingly and smiled stroking his cheek with her palm, holding Chili with the second arm. He looked really handsome dressed all in black. Chiara leaned in to him.

- Yes, wanna watch? - she said seductively right before she planted a kiss on his warm lips.

Suddenly Chili started licking their faces, jumping in Chiara’s hands and they pulled away laughing.

- You sweet little Chili - Ethan said stroking her head and taking her from Chiara. - We’re gonna sit now and look while Chi is dressing up for the party, okey? - he said looking Chili into her eyes and putting her next to him on the bed. She barked quietly and pulled out her pink little tongue.

Chiara pulled out her black dress out of the bag along with a lace bra, lace thongs and black heels. She stripped down completely in front of Ethan and stood in front of the mirror. In the back she saw him biting his lip and looking at her hungrily. She was stunning and Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off of her beautiful tattooed body. He always wondered how he’s gotten so lucky to have someone so attractive like Chiara. She took the bra and her thongs and put them on. She looked really sexy. She then put on her heels and Ethan smiled at the image of her dressing down and dancing in front of him later when they’re back in the room. She grabbed the dress put it on and turned to Ethan.

- Can u zip it up? - she came up to him, turning around.

He stood up, gently grabbing the zipper and pulling it up. He pressed his chest to her back and planted a wet kiss on her bare neck. She sighed but pulled away, looking at him.

- Let’s go, Mr Needy. I need to do Victoria’s makeup. - Chiara said pulling Ethan towards the door.

- Can’t she do it by herself? - he said frowning - She’s doing her makeup for our every show, what happened that she can’t do it now? - he asked.

- She asked me to do it for her, now let’s go. - she said and they both went out of the room.

***

They were almost ready to go out. Chiara did Victoria’s makeup and helped Thomas with his tie, while Ethan was putting on his shoes.

- Where’s Damiano? Wasn’t he all dressed and ready to go? - Chiara asked looking around.

- He got a phone call and went upstairs. - Vic said, putting on her red lipstick.

- I’ll go get him. - Chiara said and went upstairs.

She stepped inside Damiano’s room and saw him sitting at the door to the balcony with a cigarette. His head resting on the wall, he looked upset.

- Heyyy, what’s going on? - Chiara said sitting next to him.

He looked at her with puffy eyes, messed up mascara running down his cheeks along with the tears. She was shocked.

- Dam, what happened? - she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to speak to her.

- Giorgia called me, she said she’s leaving Italy and breaking up with me. - Damiano said and let out the smoke from the cigarette. - Do you understand? She broke up with me because she said she’s not able to do long distance and that it’s better for us both to go different ways. - he said with a breaking voice.

- Dami, but.. I don’t get it.. You were both so happy with each other. - Chiara said confused, stroking his back to calm him down.

Damiano and Giorgia were in a relationship for almost 3 years. He always talked about her and was all over her every second. Two weeks ago he told Victoria and Chiara that he’s planning to take her to Florence and propose to her on their three years anniversary. Chiara always thought that nothing will be able to break these two apart. They were inseparable.

- I don’t get it either, I was supposed to take her to Florence next week and propose and she just called me out of nowhere and said that it’s not gonna work between us. - he said looking at Chiara.

- When is she leaving? - she asked

- In 5 days. It’s unbelievable, I didn’t even know about her moving to England. - he said, letting down his head.

- Listen, we have 5 days to fix this. I’ll help you, but now let’s go and have fun. You can’t sit here alone, you’ll dance and party and have fun and tomorrow we will figure everything out. - Chiara said sending Damiano reassuring smile.

- Maybe you’re right, it can’t end like this. Maybe I just need some time out.. - he said slightly smiling back to her.

- Let’s go, they’re all waiting for us. - Chiara stood up and they both went out of Damiano’s room.

***

The music was loud, the lights were going crazy and there were plenty of empty beer bottles and vodka glasses. Chiara ran her hand on Ethan’s back and leaned in to his ear.

- Come dance with me - she said, putting her hand on his thigh.

- Chi, you know I don’t like to dance. - Ethan said politely - Besides, maybe you’ll take a break hm? You look tired. - he said and kissed her cheek.

Chiara was completely stoned. Earlier, she went with Vic and Damiano and they smoked 4 joints together. They went out from the toilet cabin all smiley and laughing and they went to play beer pong. Damiano and Thomas in one team and Vic with Chiara in another. Girls lost and they drank almost all the cups with the bear which made Victoria pass out on the couch next to Ethan.

- Nooo, I don’t want a break, I wanna dance with you. - Chiara said, resting her head on Ethan’s shoulder.

- If you want to dance then go, I’ll gladly watch you move your ass from here - He said laughing.

Ethan wasn’t drunk, but a couple of bears made him more talkative and cheeky.

- Alright, as you wish. - she said standing up, she smiled at him and walked away.

She walked up to dancing people and started moving her body with the rhythm. She was light-headed and she didn’t know what was happening, she wasn’t thinking sober when someone grabbed her hips and started dancing beside her. Chiara turned around to see Damiano completely drunk dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

- Let’s dance together- he shouted into her ear.

Chiara not knowing why started moving her body against his, pulling him closer. He started grinding on her and the desire was clearly seen between them. He touched her thighs and moved his hands up to her hips and her stomach. Chiara didn’t stop him tho. Her body started getting warmer and more tensed. They were both sweaty, enjoying the more and more sexual dance.

- Come with me - he whispered to her ear but loud enough for her to hear him through the music.

- Where? - Chiara asked smiling to him.

- Let’s have some fun - he said winking at her and pulling her after him.

They walked passed all they dancing people and Chiara was excited. Adrenaline rushing in her veins. They reached the toilet. He pulled her inside and closed the door quickly. She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t protest though, her drunk and stoned mind took the control and a minute later she felt Damiano pushing her on the sink and kissing her. She was overwhelmed and surprised but Ethan was the last person she was thinking about. It sounded bad but at this moment she only focused on Damiano’s hands grabbing her hips and pulling her up so she was sitting on the counter next to the sink. He was kissing her passionately, squeezing her neck firmly and making her moan.

- Dami.. - Chiara sighed and ran her fingers through his hair.

- Do you want to keep going? - he asked kissing her collarbones.

- Ye.. yes.. - she moaned throwing back her head.

He pulled up a bottom of her dress and Chiara found herself unzipping his shorts. He quickly pulled them down and Chiara was surprised when she saw that Damiano wasn’t wearing any boxers. She knew it’s common with him but she was drunk and she completely forgot about everything. A second later she felt his erection inside her, he started off fast and Chiara not expecting such movements grabbed his hair with her one hand and his back with the other. They were making out and Damiano’s pace went faster and faster. She was moaning loud and a warm feeling in her stomach started to build up, letting her now that it won’t take long for her to reach the high.

- Feel good? - Damiano growled with his husky voice and grabbed Chiara’s face to make her look at him.

- Yes.. so good Dami - she moaned, her eyes completely black from desire.

It didn’t take them long until Damiano’s erection started twitching inside her and her walls clenching around him. His moves were sloppy and desperate and they both reached their climax moaning loudly.

Chiara jumped off the counter, breathing heavily. She fixed her dress and brushed her hair with her fingers. Her mascara was a bit messed up but she didn’t care. She turned to Damiano who zipped up his shorts and smirked at her. They both laughed.

- That was good - he said winking at her.

- Yeahhh - she said chuckling.

She opened the door and everything stopped. In front of her she saw Ethan. She turned all read, her mind immediately sobered up and she realized what she’s just done with Damiano. Ethan’s eyes were watery and full of pain. He looked at Damiano with a disgusted face. Chiara turned to him and saw her red lipstick stains on his neck. She didn’t know what to do. She looked at Ethan wanting to say something.

- Save it. You’re both disgusting. - Ethan said and started walking away quickly.

- Ethan, wait! - Chiara chased after him, feeling her cheeks getting wet from the tears.

She just had sex in a club bathroom with his best friend. She felt the guilt taking over her and she felt ashamed of herself. She was chasing after Ethan trying to stop him but he didn’t pay attention to her. And suddenly everything went black. She fell on the floor.

*next morning*

Chiara opened her eyes slightly. Sun was shining through the window and when she pulled herself up on her arms she realized she’s in Ethan’s bed. She grabbed her head trying to remember what happened last night. Suddenly she heard the door opening and second later Ethan entered the room. He looked at her with an emotionless face.

- Ethan - Chiara said and wanted to continue but she was interrupted.

- Don’t fucking talk to me, you’re so pathetic. - Ethan said harshly.

With these words she immediately got a flashback from last night. Dancing, Damiano, bathroom, kissing with Damiano and then having sex with him. She felt so ashamed of herself. Ethan was her everything and she betrayed him just like that with his best friend.

- Ethan.. - she started again.

- I said, don’t say a fucking word - he snapped back to her.

- Please, talk to me .. - she felt tears running down her cheeks.

Ethan was broken. He couldn’t believe that Chiara, his closest person that he opened up to completely, would betray him like that, in a club, in a bathroom, with Damiano. He felt useless at this point, he felt like he wasn’t enough, even for her. He loved her with everything he had and all she did was tear his heart apart.

- Talk about what, Chiara? Huh? You fucked with him! You fucked with Damiano while I was running around the club, worried like an idiot and searching for you! How could you do this to me! How the fuck could you betray me like that! - Ethan shouted to her completely loosing it, tears falling down his face.

- I’m sorry.. I was drunk, and high.. I didn’t know what I was doing.. - she tried to excuse herself. - I really didn’t mean for that to happen.. Please, you have to believe me. I love you and only you.. - she said slowly moving towards the edge of the bed.

- Love me? Don’t be fucking stupid! If you loved me you wouldn’t go with him to this bathroom and let him fuck you, Chiara! If you loved me you would have pushed him away! - he was getting more and more angry.

- Ethan, baby, I was drunk.. I swear I wasn’t thinking straight, I didn’t know what I was doing.. You have to believe me.. - Chiara now stood up and grabbed Ethan’s hand.

- Don’t call me that. - he said harshly throwing back her hand - Tell me, was he better than me? Huh? - he said with venom in his voice.

Chiara stayed silent, she didn’t know, the only thing she remembered was her being pushed on the sink, reaching the orgasm and Ethan’s eyes when he saw her leaving the toilet with Damiano.

- Answer me! - he shouted.

- No.. I don’t know.. I’m sorry.. - she said feeling all the guilt rushing in her veins. She felt disgusting.

Ethan went to the wardrobe, pulled out her dress that she was wearing last night and threw it to her.

- Put this on. - he said without any emotion.

- What? Why? - Chiara was confused, she looked at the dress and then back at Ethan.

- I said put this on. - he said through his teeth.

Chiara stripped down from her oversized T-shirt and put on the dress. Ethan then threw her the heels she was wearing and told her to put them on as well.

- Ethan, what is this all about? - she asked him when he grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her towards the bathroom.

She felt overwhelmed. She didn’t know what he was doing and what was about to happen, she was scared in some way.

Ethan pushed her inside the bathroom and looked at her with his dark, angry eyes.

- You’re gonna tell me every detail, and I will fuck you just the way he did. - Ethan growled and grabbed her face.

- What? But.. - she didn’t know what to say.

- Do as I said.

Chiara was shocked. Ethan never acted like that, she didn’t recognize him at all and she got scared by the way his hands wrapped around her neck.

- You don’t wanna talk now, huh? We’ll se if you’ll moan as loud as you did with him - Ethan pushed her harshly on the counter just the way Damiano did last night and she figured what was happening.

He squeezed her neck, pulled her up on the counter taking off the bottom of her dress and seconds later Chiara felt his tip inside her. She was overwhelmed, scared and ashamed. Ethan was angry, hell.. He was furious, he thrusted inside her harshly making her scream.

- Did he fuck you like this, Chiara? - he said grabbing her face so she was looking at him.

Chiara only moaned and turned all red, embarrassed. Ethan was so much better than Damiano. She knew that from the very first minute she met him. But she was drunk and her stoned mind made her enjoy sex with Damiano which was the worst mistake ever.

- Answer me! - Ethan raised his voice and he started thrusting harder, grabbing Chiara’s hips.

- Yes.. - she moaned loudly.

- Was he better than me? - another question rolled out of Ethan’s mouth.

- No.. no.. he wasn’t - Chiara’s body was sweaty but she felt weird.

Chiara was close to reaching her orgasm and Ethan felt it. He saw guilt and embarrassment on her face and he was proud of himself for making her feel that way. Chiara moaned and her walls started clenching around Ethan’s erection but suddenly he reached his climax thrusting harshly inside her and pulling out before she could reach her high. He did it on purpose.

- What.. what are you doing? - Chiara sighed, her breath heavy.

Ethan looked at her with no emotions. He grabbed her face and right in front of her lips he said:

- I hope you feel as much humiliated as I did when I saw you with him. - he said pushing away her face and looking with her with pure fury and pride in his eyes.

She was sitting at the counter with her dress pulled up, half naked and legs spread apart. She did feel humiliated, she felt betrayed at some point even tho she was the one who cheated and hurt Ethan. Her eyes turned watery and she couldn’t say a word, like a huge stone was stuck in her throat. She was sitting there looking at him shocked, watching his every move. Ethan pulled up his jeans, zipped them up and looked at her one last time.

- Consider us even. - he said.

Chiara could see a rude smirk on his face and tears fell down her cheeks. With that being said, he stepped out of the bathroom, leaving her alone.

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

Thank you for reading! ❤️

I know It’s long but I hope you got through it.

Do you guys want a 3rd part? Let me know in the comments!

Tag list [ @teenyweenynightghost ]

#damiano david #ethan torchio #i wanna be your slave #italy #maneskin #måneskin #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #zitti e buoni #torna a casa #guitarist #vocalist #drummer #bassist #ethan torchio one shot #ethan torchio smut #damiano david smut #fanfic #one shot #sequel

[yinyanchan]

NSFW Black/Reader

This is an excerpt from a Fanfiction called Bone-ifide Goods that hasn’t been posted yet. Basically Reader is in a tight spot and is helplessly trying to take care of her niece and nephew. After her sister in law up and left/disappeared with insurance money when it was announced Readers brother was missing in action and its assumed he is dead. Desperate for work until financial aide can help with her two new mouths to feed and literally on her last few dollars. She finds Bone-ifide goods, a grocery that is run by all the AU skeleton brothers Undertale, Underswap, Underfell, Horrortale, Swapfell. They help reader get on her feet as well as a job. This was going to be an explicit rating one. (I know I’m partial to swapfell sans but I adore him so he got the first sex scene.)  Feature below under the cut. WARNING THIS IS NSFW. Biting, knotting, public sex. Writing mature themed things is still very new to me so I’m posting this to get a feel. I am open to critiquing!

You guessed right.

Black had been reading your cues and he had been salivating for this moment.

Looking away shyly as he closes the cooler door behind him… eyeing you ravenously.

It had been awhile for you to have some meaningful adult time since the kids have been with you. No walks of shame from late night drinking. Nothing to quench the burning lust you've started to develop for these amazing skeletons.

Noticing that some of them have been dropping a few hints that they might be interested in you too.

You decided to drop a few seductive hints to Black. It was a slow day so Orange had Blue manning the register while you two stocked the floor leaving you by yourselves for the most part.

Now here you were about to have sex with a skeleton co-worker. So scandalous… you could be fired for this but wouldn't he as well? Hard to know and this was a family run business and all. Your hormones are raging and as he quickly closes the gap and throws his arms around you… you weren't going anywhere. His mouth on yours making the cooler almost steam from the heat your bodies were already prepped and producing.

Caught in his passionate embrace, knowing you two had to be quick. Your disappearance could easily be explained as your 15 minute break which you often took with one of the skeletons you were working with.

Black seemed to understand the need for a hasty rendezvous as well and turned you around. Thankfully a skirt was your chosen garment today and was also the subject of tease as you've subjected him to near panty shots. Your skirt is riding a little high as you bend over. Getting the poor flustered skeleton worked up and wanting as bad as you were.

He pulled your Polo over your head but left it resting and still covering your arms as you braced yourself for what was to come.

You feel him against you nipping and licking your shoulder to the crook of your neck. He places a hand between your legs to splay them and widen your stance as the other grips your hip.

Your panties are pushed aside and the waters are tested and it's safe to say you are positively dripping at this point… you've wanted him all day.

His hand leaves and you hear a zip and you moan in approval as he continues to assault your neck.

Then he pushes himself on you with the passion of a wild animal. You feel his weight pressing down but not fully,  just to show dominance. His chest on your back as he adjusts and you can feel a throbbing cock getting slick against your folds. Hearing and feeling a deep rumble from his chest… a mixture of a growl and a groan at feeling your heat.

Knowing your warm core probably feels amazing to his aching member in this cold cooler. Nipping you harshly enough to draw blood as he lines up with your opening… leaving you a moaning mess in want.

"Black please! Please!" You cry out to spur him on.

Ask and you shall receive.

Black rams it in with a guttural growl upon hearing your plea. You throw your head back as you clench his length and thickness… almost sad that it leaves only to cry out in joy when it returns… again and again…

He pistons into you as you both try to meet your end. It has to be quick so you can cool down and clean up. Then act like it didn't happen… then maybe try it again.

With the way Black is clinging to you purring and groaning with every squeeze around his cock you provide… he might just be up for another round in the near future too.

Both of you have seemed a little pent up and he starts back with tender nips as his thrusts begin to get a little erratic. You are so close, yes. You begin to rub your sensitive nub to help you reach with him.

You hear him whine and start to pull away and you realize that he might be trying to pull out… Gripping his hands and pulling him back flush against you earned a surprised huff of air out of him.

"It's okay Black. Give it to me. I want it all." You whine back and hear a ferocious snarl before he bites into you to latch his teeth into a grip.

Your eyes bulge… did he get bigger? You felt his cock almost bulge inside of you. It left you gasping as he tried to thrust.

You feel him snake a hand down to finish rubbing your clit making you a moaning mess. A final thrust from him and it feels like an explosion erupts from his cock. Sending you into your own pleasurable climax.

Feeling his cum continuously spurting against your spasming insides sending you into another but smaller orgasm.

Both of you are breathing heavy but very satisfied. Reveling in the aftermath for a quick moment. Now you had to be quick. Both of you needed to get cleaned up before you were caught.

You try to break away from Blacks embrace only to get a surprised gasp of pain and down both of you went. 

Looking down Black was splayed on the floor and you very much still connected to his penis straddling him reverse cowgirl style.

"S-SHIT! Y/N I'M SORRY! I GOT TOO EXCITED AND KNOTTED INSIDE YOU!" Black is as red as a beet in embarrassment.

"Knotted? What does that mean? Are we stuck?" You ask looking back at him incredulously.

"YES… UNTIL MY KNOT HAS GONE DOWN." Black at least looks apologetic but you are terrified.

"What!? Black, if we aren't on the floor in a few minutes they are going to come looking for us! We can't use the 15 minute break excuse if we're gone longer than that!" You try to get up again only to grunt and come back down to rest on him. Then squeak in surprise when you feel another jet of cum coating your insides.

"S-SORRY… I'VE REALLY BEEN FANTASIZING ABOUT THIS AND YOU ASKING FOR IT MADE ME LET LOOSE." He sighs and blushes.

"What sex in a cooler?" You quip at him.

"STARS NO! BEING... INTIMATE WITH YOU." Black says looking away. You know he means it if he's embarrassed.

Black has a special place in your heart… you don't quite know if you're ready to give him everything but… since he made amends, from that fiasco when you first met him, by buying you and the kids groceries when you had nothing… you had a soft spot for him. He hadn’t needed to but he did it anyway.

Then when he started saying "YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL TODAY." along with his good mornings… and giving you appreciative looks… willing to help at a moment's notice… Then when you left him speechless getting all gussied up for chaperoning Angels school dance… you had also invited him to come along with you to help keep you sane… you both had a very good time and even danced to a few songs… making it very clear how bad you both wanted to jump each other's bones…

Bad thing was… you also liked all the other skeletons. With raising the kids in mind you needed to date around and find mr. Right but that didn't mean you couldn't have some fun. Especially when Black was a potential candidate for that role.

"Y/N, Black, Code 2 at the front checkout."  You hear Orange over the loudspeakers just outside the cooler and you both blanch.

Code 2 was a sudden rush at the checkout… that you two were too preoccupied to help.

You try to lift again and both hiss… lowering poor Black to the harsh cold of the cooler floor.

"I AM SO SORRY. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE A MOMENT." Black groans as another spurt of cum hits deep inside you. It flares that tingling warmth back to life a little.

Stars… you couldn't get horny again… could you?

You feel yourself moistening more and clamping down on his still hard member… making him whimper.

You look back to apologize only to see him give you the same needy lust filled gaze.

What the heck… you were stuck might as well get off again if he doesn't mind.

Make it count before you were fired.

Feeling more cum fill you… you started your hips rocking for friction. Rubbing your clit as he began to pump once again. His moans make you clench him tighter in pleasure. Black gripping your hips harshly as you rode him.

Still cumming but still going? All the guys you've been with were typically spent after they blew their load. Far too sensitive for another round. Black was still cumming from his first and wanting to do more.

Feeling his cock rub aggressively the sensitive places inside you. Arching your back as he bucks.

Over stimulated yourself from the pleasurable pressure that was Black's still swollen member and the harsh tugs as he thrusts, not able to truly leave your womanhood.

Black instantly raises himself to embrace you further. You both aren't going to last very long as his feather like kisses begin to grip and nip. A final throb and feeling him explode within you again had you almost cry out as it hits deep within your womb. Sending pleasant shivers of coital bliss as your partner purrs coming down from his high.

You relax back into him and he nuzzles you appreciatively. Still deeply embedded in you. You still feel him twitch and release small spurts. Your abused core, highly sensitive to it all… making you whimper and moan.

Thankfully his second orgasm must have triggered his knot to go down. You feel the pressure begin to fade. Both of you quickly try to get ready.

Black gives you his bandana for cleanup and hastily hides it once you are done. His pants however were a little on the wet side. You untucked his polo slightly so it would cover the spots. 

Getting a thumbs up when you ask how you look. You both make a beeline for the registers. You got a concerned look from Blue and Orange as Orange was trying to help man the registers as you two didn't show.

Both of you hopped on and helped take care of the crowded frontline. Once it went down it was Orange that piped up.

“So… where were you two?” He asks suspiciously.

“W-we were in the cooler. We were trying to rotate stock and one of the crates fell over.” You thought it was a good excuse to be late. However Black was rigid and when Orange looks his way for verification, he merely huffs.

“YOU ASK THAT AS IF WE WERE TRYING TO GET OUT OF DOING OUR JOBS.” He glares at Orange who humms.

“Is that right? So what happened to your bandana?” Orange smirks at him as he falters. He always had his bandana…. This looked highly suspicious.

“MISS Y/N!” You turn to look at Blue as he sounds panicked

He leans in close and whispers to you. If you could call it whispering.

“IS-IS IT THAT TIME? I THINK YOU FORGOT. YOU’VE GOT RED ON YOUR LEG.” You can only gape at him then look down and sure enough there is a little trail on the inside of your lower leg you must have missed… of red cum from a now very red skeleton.

“Oh! Thanks Blue I need to go clean this up.” You smile awkwardly at him when on the inside you are mortified.

Unaware that you completely left Black to Orange’s mercy. Of which you didn’t know… he lacked.

“I wonder what sans is going to say when he looks on the security footage.” Orange smirks as Black sputters.

“W-WE DON’T HAVE CAMERAS IN THE COOLER!!!!” He yells.

“We don’t have them in the freezer. There’s a difference.” He keeps the smirk up as Black looks horrified.

“Blue can you finish with the front stock while we don’t have any customers checking out?” He calls over to his brother who cheerfully salutes. As soon as Blue was out of ear shot.

“You think I can’t tell the difference between blood and magic mister? Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Orange eyes are lit an eerie orange. Black could see there was no getting out of this.

“SHE WANTED IT AND I GAVE IT. NO SENSE IN GETTING JEALOUS ORANGE.” Black smirked right back as it was Orange’s turn to gape.

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 25: Owing Zero

/ Previous chapters /

Fandom: Law & Order SVU

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x Female OC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​ 

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ` 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

Chapter Summary: With her spirits lifted a bit, Montserrat returns to work. In the end, though, she has some special advice as a farewell to her old partner.

Flashes of cop cars and ambulances illuminated the night street. SVU had picked up a robbery and rape late in the night and were all over the scene.

"You're here," Sonny's surprise made Montserrat roll her eyes, though there was a tiny smile on her face as she walked up to the scene.

She definitely looked more put together than the last time they'd seen her. There was that sneaky smile on her face, the glint of 'it's time to work' was back in her eyes. "Who else would it be?" she responded since she was aware, from Olivia's texts, that Amanda was MIA again.

You doin' better, then?" Sonny walked alongside her towards the victims' house, which turned out to be quite big and elegant.

"A little," Montserrat shrugged her shoulders. "So, what do we got?"

Sonny led her into the house that turned out to be even more elegant on the inside. It was crystal white, though now tarnished with overturned furniture and broken glass.

"It's a Brazilian diplomat's home. Perp uses the security keypad, enters, pulls a gun, ties the husband up, rapes the wife. He took some cash but left her jewelry and electronics."

Montserrat stopped in front of an empty wall that had marks of where a portrait once hung. "And I'm assuming we got some missing art?"

"Major case is sending over their art crimes expert," Sonny said and was met with surprised eyes.

"Art crimes expert?"

"Apparently some significant paintings were stolen."

Olivia walked into the home, along with Amanda, and was surprised to find Montserrat inside. However, the sergeant seemed to be pleased once it hit her. "Novak, glad to have you back."

Montserrat nodded. "Duty calls and I think I'm taking advantage of my sick days."

"Alright," Olivia looked ahead to where Fin was interviewing the presumed-to-be husband, "Let's go see what we have."

Amanda tailed behind the sergeant looking pretty rattled for a detective who'd been around these crimes more than she could count.

"Does Amanda seem off to you?" Montserrat meant only for Sonny to hear, but instead she got Nick on the side answering her.

"Yes! Finally someone agrees!"

"Okay…" Montserrat cleared her throat. Maybe she'd missed out more than she thought.

~ 0 ~

Though their case had the potential to be a big one since the victims were foreigners and diplomats, both of them seem to shut down.

Olivia had all the papers of their call last night set on the conference table. She was going through each of them just to make sure they had the right details since there was a clear contradiction between now and last night. "So the diplomat told the responding detective that he saw the rapist's face, but he told you that the rapist wore a mask?" he locked eyes with Fin since he was the one who interviewed the husband.

"Yeah," Fin gave the confirming nod.

"And how's the wife?"

"She shut down," Montserrat answered. She and Amanda tried to interview the wife but as soon as she saw them, she told them she didn't remember anything. "Maybe she's in shock."

"Or they know the perp and they're afraid of him," Sonny threw the idea out there which, logically thinking, could very well be it.

"Well, the assailant knew them-" Nick started counting off his fingers, "-knew their door code, which paintings to take…"

"So the rape is to throw us off?" Olivia made a face at him, not quite getting it.

"Or send a message."

"You know what? I can pull the front door security video, check for other cameras on the block," Amanda volunteered. She opened up her laptop to do the task but, for some reason, shifted when Nick moved to stand behind her and watch. "Okay, so the front door video's just gone."

"Well, the perp had to have taken it," Montserrat shrugged. "Not surprising. If anything, it just shows he's pretty damn smart."

"I found a good camera from across the street," Amanda said, but Sonny yelped behind her since she was zipping through the feed.

"Whoa, whoa. Slow down! You can't see a thing!"

"I got it, Carisi," Amanda rolled her eyes.

"This is going nowhere," Nick moved to take a seat next to Montserrat. "The victim wouldn't even do a rape kit so we've got nothing from her."

"But CSU recovered semen and hair from the crime scene. They're running the DNA," Fin said.

"Then we wait," Olivia rose from her chair and looked at Montserrat. "My office, Novak."

Of course. Montserrat sighed but nodded. She got up from her seat, ignoring the looks from the rest of the squad, and followed Olivia to her office.

"You look a lot better today, Montse," Olivia said as soon as the door was shut. She flashed one of her mother-hen smiles at the detective.

"Yeah, well, a friend helped," Montserrat said softly.

Olivia noticed the smile Montserrat was trying to keep hidden. "Well, I'll be sure to thank Kara when I see her."

"Mhm," Montserrat's eyebrows raised together since her sarcasm was threatening to spill. Yeah, she'd let Olivia think it was Kara. Better that way.

"And look, I am sorry I visited your old Captain," Olivia knew that despite having the best intentions, she didn't go about it the right way. "I wanted to help and I-I wanted Carroll to know that you were not alone. I went over. I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Montserrat nodded. Olivia Benson was incapable of being evil. "I just...I don't know if that was good or bad for me. Carroll retired which...I don't know, could mean that she does feel guilty."

"Oh, believe me, she was," Olivia still remembered the way Carroll looked after she yelled in the woman's face. "It is despicable that she manipulated you into staying quiet."

"Manipulated…" Montserrat repeated with a heavy breath. She chewed on her lower lip and bitterly chuckled. "I never really thought about it like that. That I was...manipulated." The realization that she was a victim had been a terrible moment, but the fact she'd been manipulated by her own Captain - a woman she looked up to - was a close second.

"You know...I know that you don't want to press charges, but...have you considered confronting Carroll?" Olivia knew it was a troublesome idea to throw out there, but she only wanted Montserrat to get some type of closure. "It sounds difficult but...maybe it can do you some good."

"I...never thought about that," Montserrat admitted. "My last interaction with Captain Carroll was a formal but with a clearly tensed atmosphere. To see her again...I don't know what that would do to me. Plus, even if I wanted to, Jonah said she retired and that no one's been able to contact her since then."

"We'd find her," Olivia said with absolute certainty.

"I have to think about that," Montserrat decided it would be better to think about the option when she wasn't at work.

"Okay," Olivia nodded. "But I'm here for you, alright?"

A small smile graced Montserrat's face. "I know. A lot of people are."

~0~

"Hey, we got a hit on the DNA," Fin announced to the rest of the squad. "Carlos Riva."

Amanda blinked in what anytime would call shock. "A-are you sure? I mean, he's in the system, and he leaves his DNA at the scene?"

"I take back what I said about the 'smart' thing," Montserrat muttered to Sonny.

"Does he have any record?" Nick asked Fin.

"He got a gun charge that just got dropped."

"Well, how do we have his DNA then?" Amanda still couldn't get over her surprise.

"Had a misdemeanor last fall, stalking in the fourth degree. He got it pled down to domestic assault."

"Good thing New York finally authorized all crimes DNA," Montserrat waved her pen in the air.

"He must've not realized that," Amanda said slowly, as if coming to terms with it. "He must've thought that once the gun charge was dropped his DNA wasn't in the system."

"So we're looking for an idiot," Sonny remarked.

"Aren't we always?" Montserrat had to think about it.

"The arrest report says he was a driver at a Chelsea art gallery," Fun read off more from their report. "I say we follow up with this gallery, see if he still works there."

"Guys, I've been on 16 hours," Amanda rubbed her face and offered her team a weak smile, silently asking to be let free.

"You go," Fin told the blonde. "We got this."

As Amanda hurriedly grabbed her things and made a hasty stride out of the bullpen, Fin watched Nick's lingering look on her. "Whatever you're thinking…don't."

Nick didn't have to say anything to indicate he was dying to know what Amanda was doing. And truth be told, the others were curious too.

~0~

It'd been a while since Montserrat visited Dr. Weslin and she felt like there was a lot of things she needed to get off her chest. It started from her birthday - which was, in general, troublesome before anything else - to Rafael, then the setback with Captain Carroll and, most recently, Jonah's appearance. It was the only free space Montserrat could use to say everything she thought without fearing the consequences.

"I'm very sorry you've been having a rough time," Weslin said after Montserrat finally finished. "But the way you've handled things...I'm happy to see you dealing with them."

"Well, I don't think I've been dealing with them in the most mature way," Montserrat admitted. "I've been reclusive, I've-I've been screaming. I've done a lot of screaming actually." If it wasn't for professionalism, Weslin might have chuckled. Montserrat continued to think about her way of acting afterwards and made a face. "I'm not joking."

"No, I know you're not."

"But even after all that, my friends...they still helped me. I'm grateful for that." Montserrat nodded at herself but as she continued to think about her latest period of life, it was hard to keep a head held high all the time. "Even if things don't always work out...I am grateful...for things. People."

Weslin lowered her head as a curious expression settled across her face. "Do we want to continue about these certain people?"

Montserrat's face was an unsure one. "There's not much left to say."

Her defeated tone was something Weslin took note of. "Sounds like it's final."

"Isn't it?" a weak smile left Montserrat's face. Even if she didn't want to keep talking about it, the words kept leaving her mouth. She supposed it was the fact she had the reigns of the conversation here. "I just don't have the energy to keep arguing with Rafael about this. What's the point? He's as stubborn as I am. Changing his mind is...next to impossible."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Weslin offered the woman a kind smile.

Montserrat shrugged because it was the only thing she could think of to do. "Least now I can try to move on. But you know, if it wasn't for Kara putting these ideas in my head...none of this would've happened. I probably wouldn't even have looked twice at this…" her hand made a gesture in front of her, "...stubborn, snarky ADA." Weslin kept a locked stare on Montserrat, no real expression on her face but it was enough for Montserrat to think twice and sigh. "Okay, maybe I would have. Much later, but...probably would have."

"I think it's good for you to admit that out in the open," Weslin said. "It's part of that moving on thing you want to do."

Montserrat sighed again but agreed with Weslin. She couldn't move on if she didn't accept her fault. And part of her fault - if not all of it - was that she kissed Rafael because she wanted to. It was not Kara. It wasn't even Rafael. It was her. All her.

"Yeah, I know," Montserrat glumly said. "But you know, the parts where I should be more confrontational is where I am alarmingly not."

"How do you mean?"

"You know how I mentioned my old partner was in town? I sort of had my go with my sergeant because of what Jonah told me. Turns out Olivia visited my old Captain and now the woman, suddenly, retired."

"You think it was connected?"

"Oh, I know it was," Montserrat nodded. "Olivia confronted Carroll about silencing my entire rape case. I guess she guilt tripped Carroll so much she decided to leave the police department. And now Liv is suggesting I find Carroll so I can...get things off my chest."

"Confront her," Weslin concluded. "How did you respond?"

"Same as always: 'I don't know'," Montserrat shook her head. "Story of my life. This is my case - my unsolved, not even started case - and I'm not sure about anything."

"Well, let's start with this: how does the idea of seeing Captain Carroll make you feel?"

"Angry," Montserrat said instantly, almost automatically. It was a realization for her, actually. The idea she was still angry with her Captain - that she was angry in the first place was mind-rattling. "Oh my God...I'm angry with her."

Weslin watched silently as Montserrat came to the conclusion on her own. It was usually how it went in these sessions. With Montserrat thinking lucidly about things, her mind opened to new possibilities and...new realizations.

"I mean, I never really thought about how I felt towards Carroll. Back then, before I left Queens Homicide, I just thought Carroll was making a tough call. Not pursuing my case so that we could get this awful woman. And when I got out of there, I made my personal mission to erase everything from that place...including my old squad." Montserrat gazed down at her fingers that were picking at each other.

"Sometimes it's not about forgetting that gets you through," Weslin remarked. "You try to seal it away like it never happened. It doesn't necessarily bring closure."

"Confronting Carroll though…" Montserrat put some actual thought into the idea, now with the fact she would no doubt scream in the old woman's face, "It would be satisfying but...not the kind I'm looking for."

"How do you mean?" Weslin asked, though by the look on her face she might have already known what Montserrat would get at.

"Even if I do say everything to Carroll...I wouldn't be content...because it's not him," Montserrat particularly picked at a spot near her left hand's thumb nail. She'd already picked at it so much she'd drawn blood from it last night. "I could scream in Carroll's face, at everyone who silenced the case...but it wouldn't be enough." Her dark eyes looked up from her open thumb wound and, for a minute, displayed hard hatred. Her voice even lowered. "They're not the man who hurt me. And that's why I don't want to confront Carroll."

~ 0 ~

It really seemed like SVU couldn't catch a break this week. If it wasn't their victims, then it was their actual employees.

Montserrat tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as she watched footage of Amanda, wearing a cap meant to shield her face from security cameras, successfully checked out a gun belonging to the culprit of their recent rape. "This cannot be real," she looked up at Nick and Fin in shock.

"It is," Nick gave the low nod of his head. "I told you that something was up with her-"

Montserrat shut the laptop in front of her. "-yeah, but I thought she was just...I don't know...having a secret relationship or something! I didn't think it was...this!"

"That makes two," Sonny walked up to her desk with a cup of coffee in hand. He'd already watched the horrible footage.

"It gets worse," Fin hated to admit. "We got her at the Brazilian couple's house two nights ago when she was out sick."

"And there's more. Rollins brought in an elimination DNA sample-"

"-okay, stop!" Montserrat waved her hands to stop both of them. The more they went, the less she recognized Amanda. "I just...Amanda wouldn't do any of this stuff just because. She has to be in trouble."

"Doesn't matter, she's doing the wrong things now," Sonny shrugged. "We're showing this to Liv and...it'll be out of our hands."

"But we have to help Amanda too, not just throw her under the bus," Montserrat's insistence was met with some kind of agreement from Fin.

Still, Sonny was right. They needed to show everything they had to Olivia and let the sergeant make the decision how to proceed.

"Hey, where is Amanda right now?" Montserrat whispered to Sonny after Nick and Fin had gone into Olivia's office.

Sonny shrugged again. "Don't know. Called in sick again. But hey, I gotta ask you something…" Montserrat raised an eyebrow at his questionable shifting. "Kara just...she said she wanted to have dinner with her brother and her parents."

Montserrat really tried her best not to laugh. Sonny had suddenly become so nervous it was...yeah, she was a terrible person.

"I gotta ask how they are…" Sonny continued on, very grateful she wasn't laughing in his face already. "I've only met Damien once and that was for a few minutes."

"He's nice and funny," she waved him off. "And Kara's parents are so nice."

"Well yeah but they might only be nice to you because you're Kara's best friend. They might not share the same sentiment towards me…"

"...because you're screwing their daughter?"

Sonny deadpanned her and yet all she did was smile. He ultimately shook his head at her and moved on. "I am a little nervous here. It's tomorrow night at your place."

"Huh, Kara didn't mention that…" Montserrat paused to think but she realized she'd shut herself up and hadn't really given Kara a chance to talk to her. "But you'll be fine, Sonny. You have a natural born talent at being...charming." She rolled her eyes at his smug smile. "Don't get any wrong ideas, Carisi."

"Oh, don't worry, I know where your feelings lie." It was now Sonny's turn to smile innocently.

Montserrat, for her part, glared but only for a minute. "Whatever. Just be yourself and I'm sure everything will be fine. Oh!" she raised a finger in the air so suddenly that Sonny's eyes widened a bit. "But if you want to be extra sweet, bring in a souffle. Kara's mom loves a good souffle. It's funny, though, because Kara sucks at baking those."

"I know where I can get some good ones," Sonny started smiling as he thought about his gesture he'd definitely bring in. "Thanks, Montse."

"Of course," she shrugged. "You know I only kid about you and Kara, right? I actually am happy you guys are together and good."

Sonny smiled at the woman. "I know, Montse."

"Okay," Montserrat leaned back in her chair with a small smile. She then glanced in the direction of Olivia's office and wondered what the sergeant's reaction would be after hearing Amanda's rogue path.

~ 0 ~

That night, when Montserrat returned home, she saw Kara zipping around the apartment in an attempt to clean up. She had her hair tied up over her head, messy as if she'd been at this cleaning for hours. Without asking, Montserrat knew Kara must have been preparing for this dinner she hadn't known about.

"Hey!" Kara sent her roommate a cheery smile. "You're back! And early too!"

"Yeah, um, strange things are happening at SVU," Montserrat left it at. She wasn't even sure what Olivia and Fin would get out of talking with Amanda tonight. The woman was, as terrible as it sounded, done. If anything, Montserrat hoped they would at least be able to help Amanda recover.

"But you look better," Kara gestured at Montserrat's appearance. She tossed the rag in her hand to the coffee table. "I'm really glad to see it."

"Everyone says the same thing." Montserrat hated this awkwardness she knew she was responsible for. She'd been so rude to Kara and now...here she was.

Kara seemed to sense the awkwardness judging by the clearing of her throat. "So listen, I haven't had the chance to tell you…" she moved around the coffee table, "I'm having dinner-"

"-with Sonny and your family," Montserrat smiled at how shocked Kara was to learn that she already knew the plans. "Yeah, Sonny told me earlier. He's pretty nervous."

"Montse, I was planning on telling you but you were having a bad day and-"

Montserrat raised a hand to stop Kara. "It's okay, Kara. You didn't have to tell me-"

"-course I did," Kara nodded. "You're my best friend. I tell you everything just like...I hope you do too." Even if she didn't mean it in an accusing tone, she felt guilty for her choice of words. Still, Montserrat let it go because, well, Kara was right. "You're more than welcome to stay for dinner. You're part of my family too."

"It's okay, Kara. I can stay at Casey's," Montserrat shrugged. "But please tell me how nervous Sonny was because then I can tease him the next day."

Kara playfully rolled her eyes. "Glad to see you're definitely back." Montserrat agreed with a nod. "And you know, you could tell me anything...like what was upsetting you? I went on a rampage trying to find the culprit-"

"-I know," Montserrat once again nodded. "And thanks for that."

"I know it's none of my business but I have to ask if it was because of Rafael…?"

Montserrat visibly shifted. "It wasn't, actually. And you know what, while we're on this subject...I'd appreciate if we didn't bring up that topic anymore."

Kara's face softened once she realized Montserrat was planning on moving on. "So then...things are really over?"

Montserrat's eyebrows raised while her expression flickered between resignation and something akin to disheartening. "I guess so." She walked past Kara, letting her bag's strap fall from her shoulders. She tossed it to the couch and started pulling her coat off.

"Montse, I'm so sorry," Kara turned after her friend. "I was so sure you two would get together, I mean...you're kind of the same."

A loud snort left Montserrat's finger as she raised a finger in the air. "I don't know, maybe that's the problem. We're too much alike."

"Still..."

"Kara we're doing that thing I asked not to do anymore," Montserrat shook her head.

"Sorry," Kara dutifully apologized. "But I am sorry things didn't work out."

"Yeah," Montserrat sighed. She looked around the apartment and saw Kara had done quite a good job so far with the cleaning. "You want some help?"

"Um…" Kara bit her lip, "It's not your dinner. Definitely not your boyfriend. You don't have to-"

"-okay, I'll take over the living room and you finish the kitchen," Montserrat grabbed the rag Kara had tossed to the couch. "We'll finish faster if we do it together. Like always."

A grin came to Kara's face. "Like always."

~ 0 ~

Amanda Rollins was a force to be reckoned with. She not only duped con artists and most of SVU, but she finished an ongoing, 2 year undercover job in the span of three days. The only problem was the fact she lied all the way through it, even to her friends.

"What was I supposed to do? I was working undercover!" the blonde detective was having a shouting match with Nick in the bullpen. The others she could argue at a normal volume, but Nick was always more easily irritable. "I couldn't go blabbing it to everyone!"

"You didn't tell anyone," Sonny pointed out only to receive a death glare in return.

"I think what Sonny and the others mean to say is we're a little upset you had to keep it from us," Montserrat spoke up for the first time after hearing the entire story. "Not to say we don't understand why, because of course we understand why. Right, fellas?" she gave each of the men a warning look to just nod their heads.

"Rollins!" Olivia suddenly called from her office. They hadn't had the chance to speak with her since Amanda arrived, but the squad knew that Olivia was informed of Amanda's doings before they did.

Amanda took in a deep breath and turned for the office.

"She is about to get it," Nick muttered as he dropped into his desk.

Montserrat shot him a glare he completely missed. She understood that Amanda had done wrong, she absolutely understood, but now it was up to them to give the proper solution. The fact was Amanda had fallen into this mess because she'd been at an illegal gambling place and yet no one seemed to be paying attention to that detail. Montserrat did. She hoped Olivia did too.

Ten minutes after Amanda had been called into the office, the door re-opened and out came the blonde detective. She had red, glossy eyes she tried to keep hidden as she came to pick up her jacket from her desk.

"Hey Amanda-" Fin tried to talk to her but the woman made a hasty way out.

"That can't be good," Sonny remarked. Nick nodded and looked after Amanda.

Montserrat suddenly got up from her chair and turned for Olivia's office.

"What are you doing?" called Nick.

"Something stupid, probably," she answered on her way. She gave a light knock on the door and poked her head inside. "Liv?"

Olivia was at her desk, staring at some papers but Montserrat knew the woman hadn't been paying attention to them. "Did you need something?"

Montserrat walked in and shut the door. "I, um...Amanda just left?"

"Uh, yeah," Olivia gave a nod. "She's done."

Montserrat blinked as the words processed in her head. "She's...what? Like...done-done?"

"Yes," Olivia nodded again. "She's done here. I'm transferring her. We can spare one."

"Wait a minute," Montserrat hurried up to the desk and sat down. "You can't do that. She needs us."

"What?" Olivia gave the detective a crazed look. "You know what she did-"

"-yes and it's exactly why you can't send her away." Montserrat sighed and scooted her chair closer to the desk. "Amanda's hit rock bottom and instead of sending her away to some precinct that won't care about her...we should help her."

Olivia's mouth opened but nothing came out. She was stunned to hear this very different perspective on the situation. "She lied. A woman was raped-"

"-and do you honestly believe Amanda could have set that up? That she could've gone through with that?" Montserrat was horrified to see Olivia having to even consider it. "Olivia! Amanda has a problem. Please...please don't turn your back on her. You've helped me how many times?"

"That is different," Olivia pointed.

"No, it's not," Montserrat said quietly. "I was undercover too."

"That was your job that you did on legal terms. Amanda was at a gambling casino because she wanted to be!"

"And she regrets that! Olivia, you know that if you send Amanda away it'll only hurt her more. She can spiral without the right support." Montserrat paused for a moment to calm down. She didn't come in to argue. She wanted to make Olivia see her point. "You have helped me countless times and I know you've helped the others too. I think Amanda deserves the same. One more chance."

Olivia opened her mouth again but the words failed her and instead she sighed. She seemed tired...and with good reason. "I...I will think about it."

"Thank you," Montserrat rose from her chair. She walked out of the office and went straight to her desk.

"What did you do in there?" Sonny asked her as soon as she sat down.

"Just talked," the ginger smiled like nothing had happened.

By lunch time, Montserrat was confident Olivia had re-thought the whole transfer process. The Sergeant seemed to be in a better mood that would hopefully stay for when she spoke to Amanda again.

"I'm going out for lunch," Montserrat announced to the rest. "Anyone wanna join?"

"No thanks," Nick answered first, not even looking up from his screen. Fin said the same thing but at least he looked up to shake his head.

"Pass too," Sonny said last.

"Right, you'll be eating light for dinner tonight," she flashed him a smirk while she put her coat on. She grabbed her things and went on her way.

She made it into the elevator and down with ease. It was on her way out of the building that she came into some trouble...or perhaps not trouble just...annoyance.

"Montserrat," called Jonah from the sidewalk.

For a brief moment, Montserrat considered turning around and walking back into the precinct. She could do take out from her desk, after all. But, if she did that, then she wouldn't be able to say a couple things she thought of. "Haven't seen you in a few days," she remarked as she came down the final step of the precinct.

"Yeah, I, um...was giving you some space, to be honest," Jonah put his hands into his coat. "I'm sorry for demanding things from you. I'm just fed up with all this secrecy. First you leave us and then Carroll too? C'mon."

Montserrat's eyebrows knitted together as she tried to decide if this was an apology or the beginning of another demand. While she was stuck listening to Jonah, she missed the familiar figure walking towards the precinct.

Rafael recognized Jonah immediately. A wave of anger hit him first since he knew, in his mind was sure, that Jonah was responsible for Montserrat's recent mood. And then concern washed over. Concern that whatever Jonah said to Montserrat would make her fall back again. He had half a mind to go over there and take her away...but if he did that, Montserrat would surely kill him. But the closer he got, the more he could see her face and it honestly looked like she was going to be killing Jonah instead.

Nothing wrong with that, he thought then realized he actually thought that.

"I'm glad you came back, Jonah," Montserrat said honestly, "Because it gives me the chance to tell you something." Jonah looked expectant of her words so she delivered them without hesitation. "I don't owe you anything," she began and already surprised the man with her choice of words. "You were a great partner and the entire Queens squad was like a family to me, but not everything is what it seems over there. I don't regret leaving it and I definitely don't feel sorry that Carroll retired early."

Jonah was stunned. Very quickly his face turned into outrage and offense. "How can you say that!?"

"Very easily, actually," Montserrat said with a small smile. "Because I know that I am right. You don't know what happened and you never will. But hopefully without Carroll, your squad will be the best it could be."

"Montserrat...where is this coming from?" Jonah looked her over as if he wasn't seeing the same detective anymore.

"From my experience," Montserrat said loud and clear. She stepped closer to him, getting right in his face, "Watch your back."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Just something else I say from experience," she offered the man a small, polite, smile before stepping away. "Goodbye, Jonah." In that moment, she could not have felt more satisfied with herself.

It seemed like the same applied to Rafael. He knew that smug face anywhere. When Montserrat saw him, her smugness faltered but not by much.

"You seem to be in a good mood," he remarked.

"Am I?" she pretended to be casual but her widened smile betrayed her.

"What did you say to the poor man?" Rafael caught Jonah's figure heading down the opposite street. "Not that I feel sorry for him."

"Just the truth," Montserrat shrugged. "Actually, you kind of inspired me to do it."

"Oh, then I'm definitely not sorry for him."

Montserrat laughed. "Remember that thing you told me way back when I first started working here? No one being entitled to my secrets? You're still right about it."

As curious as he was to know what Montserrat was keeping back, Rafael wouldn't ask her. She seemed better this way and he wasn't going to ruin it. "I'm glad."

"That you're right?" Montserrat chuckled.

"No-"

"-just kidding! So, were you going in?" she made a nod at the precinct behind them.

"Yeah. Were you leaving?"

"For lunch. I'll be back later. Might get something completely barbecued."

Rafael's face scrunched at her. "That's blasphemy. Your tastes are…" he shook his head at her.

"I'll be sure to bring some back for you."

"Don't you dare," he said all too quickly.

Montserrat mirthlessly laughed at him. Oh yeah, she was back. Rafael definitely liked seeing her this way instead...even if it was her laughing at him.

"I'll see you later," he said after it started getting old. He moved around her but only a few steps away, she called him again. He turned sideways just as she walked up to him, looking more serious now.

"Thanks for talking to me the other day," she bit her lower lip as if things were suddenly nerve-wrecking. "For what you said. It was the reason I came back to work." She gently reached for one of his hands.

There was something in Rafael's chest that he couldn't make out. Seeing her open and...soft. Yes, he definitely wanted to hug her. My God are you 17? he berated himself. "I…" he had to clear his throat in order to speak normally, "...I'm glad I could help."

Montserrat leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She pulled away with a smile that widened when she saw his shocked face. "See you later."

"Mhm," was all that came out of his mouth. You are definitely 17. He watched her leave like he was frozen to his spot.

#ocappreciation #svu #rafael barba #svu fics #rafael barba fics #svu imagines #rafael barba imagines #law and order svu #oc: Montserrat Novak #fic: dare to forget me

[antiquatedfuture]

Zine Care Packages (Antiquated Future Spring Newsletter)

What a challenging time. Things have felt pretty bleak and I debated about whether to send this spring newsletter a lot, but friends convinced me we're all in need of good news. If nothing else, I want to say two things: 1) We'll still be shipping orders (with plenty of hand-washing and sanitizing) several times a week. 2) While we always appreciate and need your financial support, we'd also like to offer the resources we have to any of you who are having a hard time. 

In short: We're offering free zines (and tapes and books) to anyone who's currently struggling financially, mentally, or physically right now. No need to tell us details, just email and say "I'd like a package," and we'll send one your way. Let it be a surprise or make a list of what you'd like and we'll send you what we can. Feel free to spread the word to your friends and community through our Facebook or Twitter posts. It's not much, admittedly, but hopefully it's something.

In more general distro news: we have a few more calendars & planners in stock (and very very on sale), we’ve been restocking things as much as we can, and we accidentally left up our temporary store-wide cassette sale (that also includes a decent handful of LPs and CDs) as well as our zine sale on select titles. We also just posted a newsletter from the record label side of Antiquated Future. We're currently lending some small financial assistance to Portland writer Martha Grover as she recovers from a brain surgery by selling a fundraiser pack of her Somnambulist zine. And if you're in the Portland area, we're helping do porch deliveries of food, baby supplies, and various resources. Please reach out if you'd like one or you know someone in need.

NEW ZINES Antonia- A rare, almost-sublime zine about place, memory, and lost history. About the ways things change and stay the same. About how the place you're from shapes who you become. About growing up in a small Midwestern town without a zip code, a place not on most maps. ($5) Behind the Zines #9: A Zine About Zines- The latest issue of newest best zine about zines around. Within: the evolution of DIY comics culture, zine-fest history, imagined zines, One Punk's Guide to collaborative zines, a history of that one Crimethinc poster, The Most Unwanted Zine, confessions of a sex-zine zinester. Contributions from our own Gina Sarti, as well as John Porcellino and so many others. ($3) Brainscan #34: A Dabbler's Week of DIY Witchery- In the wake of the controversy surrounding a recent viral article about spending a week "becoming a witch," Alex considers what her guide to a witchcraft practice would look like. The results are a day-by-day guide to trying out her particular variety of secular witchcraft (that she lovingly refers to as "DIY witchery"). ($4)

Caboose #12: Jury Duty- A personal story of serving as a juror on a medical malpractice suit. As usual, Liz Mason's playful, endlessly curious take on the world makes this a ride worth taking. A peek into the court system through the eyes of this long-running zine-star. ($4) Clock Tower Nine #15- One of our favorite Seattle zines is back with tales from the record store counter, long walks in various locales, dangerous doppelgängers, and 8-track tapes. As Clock Tower Nine ringleader Danny Noonan describes it in the introduction: "This fanzine is like a bunch of people sitting around a fire in late fall, all taking turns telling a story." ($3) Cometbus #59: Post-Mortem- How does Cometbus, after 38 years as a zine, just get better and better? It's a mystery, but it does. Issue 59 is a deep dive into both death and longevity in the underground. In short: what does sustainability look like in counterculture? This question takes Aaron on a journey from the Epitaph Records and Thrasher magazine offices to hanging out at a punk-owned vegan donut shop and a tamale stand at the farmer's market with Allison Wolfe (of Bratmobile). ($5)

Doris #23- A back-issue fave from one of the best zines ever. Long personal stories that look both outward and inward in surprising ways. ($2) Doris #26- Shy-punk-girl comics, social ecology, the cynical hour, a grandpa who built malls, hammer and nail history, and more. ($2) Eulalia #3- Two issues of the art zine Eulalia in one. Grief and romance, hand-in-hand. Gorgeously designed! Letterpress-printed covers. Each issue is bound with a special do-si-do binding, so each half can be read separately. ($10) Fluke Fanzine #17- Since 1991, Fluke has been creating great variety zines covering all realms of punk and underground culture. Graphic novelist Nate Powell, skateboard magazine historians, Maximum Rocknroll, R.E.M., '90s women-led punk, the Soophie Nun Squad family tree, more. ($3)

Forever & Everything #5- Comics on parenting, depression, coffee, therapy, alcohol, Willie Nelson, Charlie Brown, and living in New Orleans. ($5) Good Days Gone Cold Days- A photography zine/art zine made while living and working in "a house without heat, without doorknobs, and without much insulation or electricity to speak of" for a late fall in western Pennsylvania. Comes with homemade bookmark, building permit, and banjo tab. ($12) Keep Loving, Keep Fighting #8- A reprint of this 2008 issue of Keep Loving, Keep Fighting. Forty pages of feeling at home in New Orleans, communication between friends, death, visiting Montreal, and moving away. ($5)

Learning Good Consent- An essential compilation zine about consent. From personal stories to worksheets, approaches, definitions, resources, and beyond, Learning Good Consent is here to help us all feel more comfortable and be more respectful. ($4)

Little Leagues #1- The companion comics scrapbook to Simon Moreton's epic Minor Leagues series. Prose, comics and photos about being in Japan, making chutney, experiencing autumn. ($3) Little Leagues #2- Comics about being in the snow. Drawings and photos of spring. A fold-out cover with facts about lesser-spotted dogfish. ($3) Our Lady of Near Death Experiences- Jodi Darby writes about becoming a cross-country truck driver as a 23-year-old woman in the mid 1990s. A mini-memoir told in vignettes, Our Lady is a twisted love song to the road in all its complexities. A gorgeous reprint of this zine classic from 1998. (And we have the last few copies before it goes out of print!) ($10)

The Paruretic #1: The Story of a Guy Who's Pee Shy- The first issue of one of our favorite new zine series. The Paruretic tells what the intricacies and complexities of life with parusesis, the social phobia of being pee shy. Illuminating, accessible, and worth reading every issue. ($2)

The Paruretic #2: The Story of a Guy Who's Pee Shy (College)- In this issue, Mark recalls figuring out the debilitating effects of his bladder issues when he goes to college and, for the first time, navigates living in dorms, drinking at college-town bars, and hooking-up. ($3)

The Paruretic #3: The Story of a Guy Who's Pee Shy (Vacation)- In this issue: searching out acceptable bathrooms while on the road, not urinating for ten hours while in the air, and a bathroom-by-bathroom diary of experiences. ($3) The Paruretic #4: The Story of a Guy Who's Pee Shy (The Search for Help)- In this issue, Mark reaches out, looking for help, and is met with a less-than-sympathetic medical system. Within: clueless medical professionals, almost losing a job over a urinalysis, and finally finding someone who understands. ($3) The Paruretic #5: The Story of a Guy Who's Pee Shy (Dating)- The dating issue covers how Mark handled (or avoided handling) dating in high school and college. It's a chronicle of, as Mark says, "how my shy bladder has driven every part of my love life." ($3)

Somnambulist Zine Pack Fundraiser- For the past 17 years, Portland memoirist and illustrator Martha Grover has been publishing Somnambulist zine, an expansive and playful look at the world at large (and easily one of the best zines running today). This pack includes all nine in-print issues of Somnambulist (a $40 value for $25!). All proceeds go straight to Martha's brain surgery recovery fund. Help a great writer, get nine amazing zines. ($25) Somnambulist #33: How to Survive the Portland Winter- A fun how-to guide from Portland-born writer Martha Grover. Within: dealing with all the rain, taking care of your mental health, venturing out, staying in, eating soup (with recipes!), and the truth about umbrellas. Illustrated by Liz Yerby. ($5)

Somnambulist #34: The Starfish- A single, long-form essay about Martha's journey through Cushing's disease and Addison's disease, and the lingering tumor she's chosen to not demonize or see as something separate. The Starfish is a surprising and exciting meditation on what it means to be in a body. ($3) Surely, They'll Tear it Down- A short zine letter about gender, race, identity, and not-knowing from the author of Fixer Eraser and We, the Drowned. ($2) Tattoo Punk Fanzine, Issue 3- A jam-packed new issue of Tattoo Punk, the fanzine about tattoos, punks, and tattooed punks. Edited by Ben Trogdon of everyone's favorite artsy punk paper, Nuts! ($15) Valentines Every Day- Weirdo anytime-valentines from zine-seller extraordinaire, Julie Wade. Funny, bizarre, off-kilter, occasionally unsettling. The perfect gift for that especially-odd someone. ($6) What Happened- A dreamy comic from UK artist Simon Moreton. Set in a '90s boyhood of meadows, sci-fi VHS tapes, MTV, crushes, first kisses. ($5) 

NEW BOOKS & MISCELLANY The Collected Plays by Portland Preschoolers- In short: One of our favorite little books around! A modern classic, even. Five years of collected plays written by Portland, Oregon preschoolers. Hilarious, invariably bizarre, oddly brilliant, sometimes surprisingly profound. Perfect for putting out on the coffee table, reading aloud to friends, impromptu group performances. ($10) Four-Year Depression- A book about figuring out how to love your family in the Trump era. From Billy McCall of Proof I Exist and Behind the Zines. ($10) Zine Game- A long-time favorite in the zine community, now in a fancy, professionally-made version accessible to all game lovers. Playing like a cross between canasta and Magic: The Gathering, Zine Game is all about building your own zines. A really fun time with tons of possibilities. ($16)

NEW MUSIC & SPOKEN WORD Alice Notley "Live in Seattle"- An LP of one of the most adored living poets. Alice Notley pushes boundaries, and it's an absolute joy to hear her reading her work. (LP + digital download) ($16.95) Annelyse Gelman & Jason Grier "About Repulsion"- A collaboration between poet Annelyse Gelman and sound artist Jason Grier. About Repulsion mixes songs, sampled poems, textural walls, beats, noise, to create this EP of one-of-a-kind soundscapes. (LP + digital download) ($16.95) Eileen Myles "Aloha / Irish Trees"- The legendary poet Eileen Myles, on vinyl for the first time. Aloha/Irish Trees features nearly an hour of Myles live in the studio, reading past and present poems. Intimate, playful, raw. (LP + digital download) ($16.95)

Harmony Holiday "The Black Saint and the Sinnerman"- Harmony Holiday's record of poems and sound collage. Adventurous and accessible, twisting cultural images into something surprising, political, socially aware. In conversation with Charles Mingus’ classic 1963 album The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady. (LP + digital download) ($16.95) Rae Armantrout "Conflation"- Fifty-four surprising and gloriously unique poems from Rae Armantrout, a Pulitzer-winning poet of great gifts. (LP + digital download) ($16.95) Susan Howe & Nathaniel Mackey  "Stray: A Graphic Tone"- Made in collaboration with Shannon Ebner, Stray: A Graphic Tone juxtaposes historic and recent material from poets Susan Howe and Nathaniel Mackey. An adventurous LP of spoken word delights. (LP + digital download) ($16.95)

Stay well, take care of each other as much as possible. Xo, Antiquated Future

#zine distro #new zines #zines #chapbooks #spoken word #vinyl #new lps #new books #care packages #zine care packages #free zines #portland

[killervibe]

“You make me happy.” 💛😍

Where The Heart Is

Caitlin gathered her hair at the base of her neck up in a high ponytail, flexing her elastic over her wrist to tie it up as she watched her boyfriend talk with the guys. She bent down, taping up the last of the maze of brown cardboard boxes, and now that there were no more curtains to filter through, sunlight went streaming down in harsh streaks from the left corner of her large window. 

Caitlin squinted in spite of the glare, keeping her eyes on her work. They stripped the carpet yesterday so she was kneeling now on the horrifically dirty wooden flooring she was rather embarrassed to have been hiding for so many years. Her ripped jeans strained at her knees. Barry had stared at them in disbelief when she answered the door this morning when this all started. Iris smacked him in the chest, walking right past with her takeout breakfast containers and Jitters to go coffee trays, placing them on her lonely bare table in the middle of her otherwise empty kitchen.

“I’m allowed to wear holes in my pants,” Caitlin had said stiffly, though she was smiling because her best friends were right to be so surprised. The whole reason why she had them on was because she found them buried at the back of her closet when she finally got to the end of it with the price tag still attached. She’s half convinced it was a purchase made by Frost in her dark age. Top that with Caitlin dumbly realizing this morning that she left her suitcase with what she was planning to wear for the next week at Star Labs to avoid mix-ups, and this job was a lot more labour intensive than she thought. Her cute white chinos she had originally picked out weren’t going to cut it.  

Anyway, Caitlin grabbed the big black sharpie and wrote on the masking tape that this was her last box of photo albums and trinkets from her parents she had neatly tucked away in a drawer beside her living room couch. Cisco was with that couch now. They were throwing it away, deeming it unsalvageable. Barry bled on it too much to warrant keeping it, even with the plastic wrapping Caitlin had the wise urge to cover it with after 2016.

Wally zipped in twice, wiping his brow. “Cisco’s place is almost done, but the pool table, sheesh. What do you want me to do with that?”

Cisco waved him off. “Leave that for last.” Caitlin licked her lips, eyes falling to his arms in his rolled up sleeves, unable to help herself as his muscles strained, opening a breach in the wide empty space.

See, moving day was actually a lot less work when you had a breacher, two speedsters, and a friend with very flexible long arms.

“Babe,” Cisco said. “A hand please?”

Caitlin nodded, standing up, directing Ralph and Barry into the dimensional vortex that lead to the alleyway outside.

“So,” Iris smirked, sitting down on the floor against her wall, next to the plugged in fan blasting a barely there breeze into her apartment. She shook her iced tea. “You thirsty?”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “…For Jitters?”

Iris snorted. Cisco popped back out the breach, took two boxes in his arms, and blew the bangs out of his eyes. His hair was neatly tucked back in a low bun, but his front pieces stayed loose because he was stylish like that. Caitlin watched as he took her silverware and walked right back out of the dimension to their new home.

“Nuh uh, girl. For that.”

Caitlin blushed toying with her necklace.

“Somebody’s new bed is getting christened tonight, is all I’m saying.”

Okay so Cisco was being very attractive right now, Caitlin was not about to deny that. He always was and he was her boyfriend so it’s not like there was anything problematic with that.

Except maybe that Iris had a point. Caitlin and Cisco had a tremendous amount of work to do before sunset to get settled in their new home and Caitlin was spending more time staring at his sweaty tousled HGTV transformation than her own fragiles. He kept sending her excited smiles because today was finally the day they’d get to sleep under one roof and call it their own, both of their names on the lease, with amenities that promise a long future like the four bedrooms (a workspace for each of them and maybe that last one for a little kid to grow up in…) the remodelled kitchen and frost durable insolation.

And she could feel the excitement bubbling in his veins at that idea because she had it too. The thought that they’d get to have that together, so she was feeling all kinds of emotions, but the strongest one hit her whenever Cisco came back with a confident grin wearing less layers on than the trip before.

“Can you please not bring up Cisco and Caitlin in bed? I just had to move it.”

Caitlin turned around, sticking her hands on her hips at Wally. “After all those times I caught you with Jesse in my Med Bay? You realize I have to sterilize everything right? Including the sheets?”

Wally flushed, scratching his head. “—I think I’m gonna—That pool table sure is—Yeah.” He sped off.

Caitlin reached forward, rolling her eyes fondly, giving Iris a hand. She took it gratefully, and Caitlin asked how Iris was doing in her second trimester.

~.~

Late into the afternoon, Cisco took her hand, lacing their fingers. “You tired?”

Caitlin shrugged. Not really, but she wasn’t the one who opened a good 200 breaches today. “Are you?”

He nodded, but his eyes were aglow. “I’m thinking we should try the new place down the street?”

“Which one?” she asked, tracing patterns into his skin with her thumb. She just liked seeing him bounce around.

“The korean one next to the grocery store.”

“Oh! I saw that one with Iris!. It did look good.”

“I’ll order it then,” Cisco said, pulling up the menu on his phone.

Caitlin looked out the window, unaccustomed to this new view. They were several stories high, like her old apartment, but they were facing a completely different part of Central City than she was used to. They were more closer to the edge of the city, which sounded like a nuisance but was actually a lot closer to Star Labs, and safer too. Metahumans loved to strike downtown, the insurance policies were getting ridiculous, so they decided to just ignore that hassle altogether. The area, too, was more residential. There was an urban park a few blocks down as well as public schools. She wondered if she’d be able to see yellow school buses making their way through traffic when making breakfast in the mornings.

Cisco listed off dishes from his phone. They both picked what they were in the mood for, and Cisco placed the order, fumbling for half a second when asked for the address. Caitlin laughed, shaking her head.

“I was thinking we’d start unpacking after dinner?”

“Can’t we ask Barry and Wally to do it for us?”

Cisco scoffed, using a pair of scissors to rip open a box labelled Dining. “And ruin all the fun? Think of all the bonding. The memories we’ll share tomorrow when we can’t find the spoons! The fights about our packing codes. Debating whose lamps get to go where? It’s iconic, Caitlin. These next three weeks of adjustment are pivotal.”

Caitlin leaned against the wall, feeling a little lovesick. “I never even owned any lamps to begin with. All my lamps were borrowed from you, weirdo.”

Cisco stuck out his tongue, digging into the box for the plastic plates. “If we can get the bedroom done by tonight, that’ll make me happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Cisco put down the plastic wrapper on their brand new island counter, giving her some side eye, amused. “You okay?”

Caitlin laughed and staked her claim, unable to keep her hands to herself anymore.

“Usually you’re the one to go all drill sergeant about organization. Especially—When—Mmph! Oh! Okay!”

Cisco kissed her back happily against the counter. She pulled away to tuck a flyaway hair from his nose, and he drew her back. Cisco kissed her slow and sensual, and she felt the sweat at the back of his neck, so she lowered the temperature of the palm of her hand to cool him down.

 He whimpered in her mouth when she did that, pulling her even closer and sighing until he stopped to ask, “Is the fact that I’m speaking your language turning you on or is it the heat?”

Caitlin opened her eyes, running her tongue over her wet bottom lip, and deliberately held onto his bare arms, tugging off his button down completely so he was left in his tank top.

“Neither. It’s our first day in our home together. I can’t stop thinking about us and you’re making it very hard for me to keep my hands off you,” she explained, scratching her frosty nails lightly against his overheated skin.

Cisco blew more hair out of his face, not buying her whole story. “Not that I’m complaining but why?”

“Because that!” she exclaimed, pointing at his entire look. The damn stubble, the sexy hair, his everything. “That’s why!”

Cisco looked down at himself, wrinkling his nose, probably thinking that he needed a shower. Caitlin would not protest to that. If she joined him. “Ooooh. I see. You like my Manual Labour & Sweat & Grind & Tears chic. Really?”

“It’s not just the look,” Caitlin corrected. “I am also very much in love with you.”

Cisco gave her a shy smile. “Sometimes hearing you say that is still like a dream to me.”

Caitlin laughed softly and Cisco took her hand and brought her close, then twirled her around in a dance between the cardboard boxes and unplugged kitchen appliances.

Iris walked into the kitchen, a hand over her stomach. “Did one of you two order Korean BBQ? If yes, can I have some?”

She was kind to ignore their dorkiness as Caitlin looked up at her friend upside down. Cisco brought her up from his dip. “I thought you guys already ordered pizza from Keystone?”

Iris shrugged. “The boys ate it all. But the delivery guy is still waiting so…”

“Right!” Caitlin straightened up, dusting imaginary dirt off on her ripped jeans. “That was fast.”

They went to get their food, and dished it out on the plastic plates, but couldn’t find any forks. Cisco laughed as he opened more boxes, and Iris ate some of Caitlin’s meal with her hands.

~.~

Afternoon turned into evening, and by night their friends were gone. Their home was furnished with all the big things like tables and chairs, couches, desks and Cisco’s computer monitors (“because it’s important Caitlin, no it can’t wait until tomorrow—What like you had to have your stethoscope out today too. Mhmm— Exaaaactlyyyyy”), big kitchen necessities and yes, the pool table. Cisco was happy, because they didn’t finish their bedroom, but there were only eight boxes remaining, so they called it a win.

Now Caitlin stared at their new bed, thinking about what Iris said earlier that day.

“What?” Cisco joked, with his toothbrush in his mouth in the en suite bathroom. He had already showered and finally shaved off his Moving Week Stress Scruff. Caitlin tried her best not to be too disappointed. “Monsters under there? Already?” He spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth before coming up beside her.

“It’s a big bed,” Caitlin said.

“Very big,” Cisco agreed huskily. “Like you wanted.”

“Uh huh.”

He trailed his hand along her neck, travelling down her shoulder, flicking her hair over to the side. “You, uh, got any plans with it?”

“Uh huh,” Caitlin said again, breathily.

Cisco smiled into her hair then kissed her pulse point, slipping down the strap of her weightless silky nightgown. “Mmm. Like what?”

“Falling asleep next to you, and waking up next to you in it everyday?”

“Great plan,” he agreed.

Caitlin turned to him with a slow spreading sly smile, and put her hands on his chest. She changed the tone of her voice to match her come-hither look.  “But right now…how about breaking it in?”

Cisco pushed her garment down with his hands on her hips until it fell to the floor at her feet.

#the flash #Caitlin Snow #flash fic #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #fluff #tkv fic

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @everchanginginks!

AN: My very first Sterek fic and my first published proper fanfic in like four years! Very exciting. This is a Sterek Secret Santa 2k18 gift for the incomparable everchanginginks, so I hope I have done everything she could ever want in this.

Within: Fluff, There Was Only One Bed, friends to lovers, and magic!Stiles, which is 4/5 of the prompts I was given! If I had 10k to work with I could have encompassed the fifth of enemies to lovers, but we do what we can. I'm already WELL OVER the 5k limit I am so sorry SSS it just happened like that orz

Read on AO3

******

Wędrowiec

Hey -SS

Hey -SS

Hey -SS

What -DH

What’s your address. The loft. -SS

Why do you need it -DH

Well I can’t just ask the postal service “hey what zip code are Derek Hale’s eyebrows” -SS

I mean I could but it wouldn’t get me anywhere -SS

Why do you need it -DH

I’m going to be in Michigan for Christmas so I can’t be there on the 25th to give you your present so I wanted to send it to you, if you must know -SS

You don’t have to get me anything -DH

Well you embarrassed me by getting me a way-too-nice present last year so yeah I actually kind of do. We have spending limits for a reason!!!!!!!!!!!!! -SS

That wasn’t a Christmas gift, and your laptop was nearing meltdown. We need you technologically capable to keep the packs safe and up to date. It was a necessity. It just happened to be around Christmas -DH

My Christmas gift was within the spending limits. That was the laptop case. -DH

Why are you going to Michigan? -DH

My mom’s family wants to see us again, apparently they’ve gotten over the spat happened between my uncles and my dad and they want us all together -SS

Really I think it’s because they figure it’s my grandfather’s last Christmas so they want us to pretend that everything’s fine for his sake -SS

I’m sorry to hear that -DH

Oh I don’t really give a fuck it’s just free food and free gossip about my cousins as far as I’m concerned -SS

I’ll just be bored to tears because they don’t have any fuckin technology. Just a frozen ass lake and a frozen ass town in a frozen ass state. How do they survive in a house with NO WIFI?!??!?!! -SS

Guess you’ll just have to die, then -DH

The typing indicator went up for a few seconds before a full half a minute’s pause, then Derek’s ringtone played as Stiles was now calling him. It was Derek’s preferred method of communication anyway, tone was completely lacking over text and he kind of needed some sort of cue to figure out what people meant.

“That was a fffucking meme you’re so full of shit when you pretend not to know what I’m talking about!!!” Stiles was trying to sound some form of mad, but there was way too much of a smile in his voice. “So full of shit. Fuck you.” Stiles’ verbiage towards Derek had gotten crasser and somehow even more confrontational since he’d gone off to college, but paradoxically more affectionate.

“Mhmm.” Derek didn’t give him much to go off of, but figured that Stiles had something else to talk about with him rather than just to whine about his alleged meme knowledge. Honestly, he’d just heard Isaac say it once and it garnered a positive reaction from others, so he filed it away for later use.

That wasn’t exactly what Stiles was hoping for, but he wasn’t going to let something as trivial as Derek’s resistance to banter stop him from talking. “So what are your plans for Christmas?” He still hadn’t gotten that address out of him, but if Derek had plans to be somewhere, he wanted to find out what.

“Nothing.”

Stiles stopped in his pace around his room, “Wait, nothing? What about Cora ‘n Erica ‘n Boyd ‘n Isaac ‘n Scott?” he listed off the people Derek was close enough to be around without too much annoyance in either direction.

“Cora’s down in Peru with her old pack, she’s pretty excited for their plans there, and it didn’t come with an invite, I figured I’d let her be. It’s…” He trailed off, grateful that Stiles held his tongue so he could find his words. “We’re siblings, but those six years of thinking the other dead and her pack being hundreds of miles away, we’re just not that close. I’ll call her on Christmas and I’ve sent her a couple things, it’s enough. Boyd and Erica are visiting Boyd’s grandmother in South Carolina, since his mom got a nice Christmas bonus in her paycheck.”

“Christmas bonus, huh.” Stiles’ tone was completely not buying the story.

“Christmas bonus.” Derek reaffirmed, not addressing Stiles’ suspicions in the least. It’s not that he was wrong, but Boyd was the hardest to convince to accept his financial support, so he had to resort to more sneaky measures to help him out. “And Scott and Isaac are with Ms. McCall.”

“Which also didn’t come with an invite.” Stiles filled the blank for him. It prickled at him that everyone just forgot Derek, even the ones staying in the area. “Hell, man, if I knew you got fucked over like that I’d have stayed, screw the free food ‘n everything, but we already said we’d go. I could have made you watch all of the Christmas movies that you missed out on living under a rock. And my famous hot chocolate.”

“Your famous hot chocolate, which is powdered hot chocolate mix made with whole milk, a Lindt truffle at the bottom, and a half a can of whipped cream?”

Stiles glared at the phone like the screen had personally insulted him, his ancestors, and the entirety of the Power Rangers all in one sentence. “Who told you.”

Derek was smiling despite the topic being how alone he was on the holiday. “Lydia warned me of the sugarbomb.”

“Traitor.” Stiles had an idea in his head. “Hey…..I’m gonna be bored as hell over in Michigan, and it won’t be much fun without technology, you wanna come with? You can convince them that I actually have friends and you won’t be listening to the pipes clanging in that loft all by yourself.”

“I couldn’t impose on-“

“Fuck that, they’re my family and they barely like me anyway, they’ll love you and that way I’ll at least have someone I can talk to aside from my dad, who’ll probably be bickering with my uncles, and my grandfather, who mostly speaks Polish and is about as social as a wombat.”

Derek squinted at the simile. He had to ask, even if it was stupid. “How social are wombats, exactly?”

“Hell if I know.”

Derek thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to at least have somewhere to go instead of staring at empty walls. “Check with them if they’re alright with you bringing someone you want to kill half the time, and if they say yes, I’ll pay my way and get a hotel.”

“No, no no, you’re staying in the house. They have a pretty big house, they got it decades and decades ago and it’s right on the lake, it’s really nice. I haven’t been there since I was…” Stiles counted on his fingers for a few seconds before giving up and ballparking it. “…Like twelve but yeah. I’ll tell ‘em I’m bringing a friend, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Should be grateful my fine ass will even be showing up at all.”

Derek rolled his eyes only part of the way. “See what they say, but don’t push. I won’t die if I’m on my own for Christmas.”

“Yeah but I might if I’m bored for too long out there.”

“I guess harassing me is entertainment.” He could concede that as Stiles’ motivation, it was easier than accepting a invitation offered out of guilt to bother his family by intruding on their Christmas

“Ever since I trespassed on your property, it’s been my favorite pastime.”

“Talk to you later, Stiles.” Derek wanted the conversation over before Stiles got too wrapped up in the parley and didn’t start asking, which was a basic courtesy before bringing someone they didn’t even know all the way there to stay in their house and eat their food and intrude on their family Christmas. He didn’t have high hopes, but even just the offer was enough to make him feel a little less alone.

*~*

Stiles was still blinking in shock at being awake at the ungodly hour that he was awake at, sitting in San Francisco Airport, when his father put a coffee in his hand. John was making something that was as close to small talk as Derek could get as they waited for the plane at the gate. How the both of them could stand to be so conscious before 7am was beyond him. How dare they. Didn’t they know that 5:55 am was a fake time of day and that being awoken at 3 in the morning was tantamount to a Geneva convention violation?!?

“Nhghhhgngh.” Stiles mumbled in response, shaking hands lifting the cup to his face and putting all of his faith in muscle memory to navigate the rest of it. It worked well enough, liquid went down the right tube and not down his shirt.

“C’mon, get that down so you can cram Dramamine in your face and when you wake up we’ll be in O’Hare.” John’s tone of voice was surprisingly warm and sincere despite a sentence which could easily be condescending. Maybe it was the whole Christmas spirit getting through to him, or maybe it was that Stiles was way too groggy to backsass him at this hour of the day and he was enjoying it as much as he could.

They got Stiles upright enough to get him on the plane and negotiated seating, Derek wanted on the aisle for easy escape from a compacted tube full of a ton of people and noise and smells and recycled air, which John couldn’t fault him for, and given that Stiles was going to be unconscious shortly, it was better he was on the window, so Stiles was next to Derek on the two seat side and John across the aisle from them.

Derek figured Stiles would just curl up on the window and fall asleep and he could read on his tablet in peace, so it was a mild surprise that Stiles, buckled in and half gone already, leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled in, breathing steadied and as comfortable as anything.

John leaned over to check on his son, and though wildly perplexed, he leaned back and decided that as long as Derek wasn’t strangling his kid for touching him, it was fine by him.

*~*

The arrival to Gerald Ford Airport in Michigan was, to say the least, a wakeup call for the youngest of the trio’d travelers.

“Jesus fucking Christ, oh my god, why is it so cold?” He asked as the pilot announced that the temperature in Grand Rapids was a balmy twenty-five with flurries all day. Barbaric.

“Stiles, you know it’s gonna be like, ten degrees and windstorms in Michigan the whole week, right?” Derek’s eyebrow rose at the double hoodies and vest Stiles was sporting, that Stiles had not taken out anything warmer from his luggage. That wouldn’t be nearly enough for wind straight from Canada’s frozen wastelands. Derek had done his research into where he’d be heading before packing his luggage, you know, like an adult.

“This is what I got!” Stiles shrugged, a California native that did his schooling in D.C. and Virginia, where neither place got REAL snow on the regular.

“Well, as it turns out, I expected as much.” Derek pulled out his carry-on duffle and extracted three coats, one light brown, one navy, and one black. He handed the brown to John in the middle of their row, and the navy across to Stiles. “Figured you guys wouldn’t have remembered how cold it gets in real northern places.” He said as he shrugged the black coat on himself, a slave to aesthetics.

“Hell, Derek, you didn’t have to…“ John did have a halfway warm enough coat, it wasn’t- oh, it was actually pretty nice. “How much was this?” He’d be really weirded out if Derek was dropping stacks on him and his son, he was already confused at the gift of a laptop the previous year, it’s not like he couldn’t afford a laptop for his son. He couldn’t have afforded the one Derek got him, but he didn’t want to be upstaged in taking care of Stiles. The other kids could take advantage of Derek’s money all they wanted, but the Stilinskis had pride. They didn’t accept charity from rich boy werewolves.

“Not nearly enough for either of you to worry about it.” Derek said, sliding his sunglasses on and leaning back, not interested in carrying on the conversation any longer.

John, unable to turn down the gift but weirded out by Derek both anticipating this need at all, actually going to the trouble to getting these, and sacrificing space in his carry on to bring them on the plane all for this specific scene along with buying him gifts, pulled it on all the same. What a fucking drama queen. “Thanks, Derek.”

Stiles had rolled his eyes at yet another extravagant present from Derek that was way too much to accept but he was trapped by it, since he did desperately need it and couldn’t say no. Well, he’d saved Derek from being the saddest bastard in all of California on Christmas, so maybe this was recompense. “It’s not like I can’t warm myself up.” He grumbled. Heat spells were elementary on the roster of the things any spark worth his salt would know. And Stiles was the saltiest of all.

“Yeah, Stiles, go ahead and slightly set yourself on fire through the whole week.” Derek’s deadpan delivery could easily be mistaken for sincerity, which did well enough to disguise the fact that he was actually really impressed that Stiles had been getting far enough with his magic to do some interesting and sometimes even useful things. “You’ll be our Yule Log. Very seasonal self-immolation.”

John expected Stiles to look pissed at that level of smack-talk, but Stiles looked oddly gratified by the response, like getting Derek to make fun of him was his goal all along.

“Such a good alpha provider, takes such good care of us. Thaaaank you Dereeeek.”

There might have been just a twitch of a smile at the corner of Derek’s mouth, but it could have just been a trick of the lights as cabin prepared for landing.

*~*

Stiles was giving Derek a rundown of the family members he’d have to keep straight while there, cousins and uncles and aunts and people that were peripheral to the family but close enough to be considered part of the group, the bits and pieces of them that he’d pulled together. He hadn’t seen them in a decade, so much of what he knew was informed by Facebook posts and a few Instagram bits that let him know who was who and look at least a little less like he didn’t remember jack shit about his cousins. Which he did, just they were also around 8-14 so it’s been a while, alright? Some of ‘em had gone to college, some of ‘em got jobs, hell, one of ‘em was married with a kid. Wild.

“Shortlist of the important family to know: Nelia, grandpa’s wife. My grandmother died a few years after my mom, but Nelia’s a pretty nice woman, she’s got a really thick accent so if you don’t understand what she’s saying you can ask one of us to translate, we all speak Polish to some degree.”

“I don’t.” John added, at the driver’s seat of the rented car. Derek would rent a car in town, they figured that arriving together would be easier, and then no one was alone for the ride from the airport to the family house.

“Well, Dad doesn’t, but there you go, you and him can be awkward together when we talk shit about you guys, it’ll be great.” Stiles was in the passenger seat, texting people at lightning speed about how this was going to be the most hilarious week of his life and it was all because Derek was going to have to be exposed to a TRADITIONAL FAMILY CHRISTMAS. Did you pack Benadryl? -ER

Why? -SS

For when he breaks out in hives from people expressing genuine emotion around him -ER

“Then there’s Grandpa, I call him the Polish term for it, Dziadek, you’re probably best off with Mr. Gajos. I think I’ve heard a grand total of ten words out of him my whole life, so you don’t have to worry much about him.”

Derek’s eyes were fixed on something in the distance, and casually added, “He’s who you’re named after, right?”

Stiles went stiff and turned around to look at Derek. “Who told you.” Much less humorous than the previous inquisition about the hot chocolate, he seemed properly displeased about it.

Derek only mildly smiled and made no other answer. Stiles made an aggravated noise but wasn’t going to try and interrogate Derek. He continued his familial explanation but sounded much more irritated at everyone in it. “Then there are my cousins, there are a bunch and some new ones I’ve never met, but you pretty much only have to know Nika, who’s two years older than me. She’s the only one that sort of kept in touch and therefore the only one I care about. The uncles are …well you don’t care, and I bet they won’t mess with you much. Now, the whole drama with them, Dad, if you wanna take the lead on explaining why we haven’t talked to ‘em in over a decade.”

John gave Stiles a meaningful glance, but didn’t explain it. “Well, after Claudia died, I had a hard time of it for a while. They thought that I should have handled her, and Stiles, differently than I did.” Derek realized the glance was begging Stiles not to ask John to air his most closely guarded shames right in front of Derek, who signed up for a little getaway and not to hear all their most private secrets.

“They were firm believers that ADHD was cured by beatings and were annoyed that I was a bit of a holy terror.” Stiles translated.

John grimaced a little. “They wanted to take Stiles in, raise him properly. I admit I wasn’t perfect. They weren’t right to say it, but I understand why they did.”

Derek could connect the dots laid out before him. They saw John as a useless drunk and Stiles as a neglected brat and thought they could do better. “So now you’re talking again?” He asked, desperate to save John from further agonies.

“Enough that they didn’t threaten to play family politics chess and try to make Stiles’ grandparents chose which children they liked better this year.”

“We did alright on our own.” Stiles declared with a defiant smile, clearly not about to entertain the notion of understanding their position whatsoever.

It was hard for Derek to wrap his head around a family fracturing so easily like that, Hale lines ran so deep that even someone as gone as Peter could find his way back in Derek’s heart if he worked for it. To cut someone off so cleanly on either side was alien to him. But it wasn’t his family, and frankly none of his business anyway.

*~*

They stood outside of a surprisingly expansive house on the edge of Silver Lake on the western side of the Michigan mitten, the gray sky above their heads threatening to dump yet more snow on them as they waited for someone to reach the door. Derek could hear a collection of heartbeats and voices within. Two of them old, one arrhythmic. A couple more adults, a few younger voices, a decent family gathering. There was apple, rum, cinnamon, nutmeg in the air, someone made mulled cider. It was only the 22nd, this was just a small contingent perhaps, or at least not held to the same importance as Christmas Eve.

The door opened, and a short, stout woman with steel curls and a smile that felt like home stood in the doorway to welcome them. “Mieczyslaaaw!“ She reached forward and pulled him down to kiss both of his cheeks and hug him tightly. She hadn’t seen him since they all attended the funeral of their grandmother. As a longtime family friend in the area, it was an easy transition for the family to absorb Nelia in the fold. “Oh, my sweet child. Look at you, how you’ve grown. My love.” She ushered him inside to embrace John as well, but paused a little in surprise when she saw Derek. “Nelia, this is my friend Derek.” Stiles said, looking almost proud to bring home such a fine friend to his step-grandmother. Almost as if he was proving to everyone that he wasn’t a complete social pariah, that he had people who liked him enough to come all the way out to Michigan with him. Nelia looked surprised at the man before her, but to her credit recovered quickly, holding a hand out for him to shake. “So nice to meet you, Derek. Please, come in.” For all of Stiles’ warning of an accent, it really wasn’t that bad. Clearly not her first language, but perfectly understandable. Though Derek had taught himself Polish when you are very rich you have a fair bit of time on your hands, he knew that he could only tell Stiles that he could speak it once, and he was saving that card for later. Unless Nelia was struggling on something, he’d keep his fluency to himself. She pulled him in with a hand on his shoulder as well, closing the door to the cold.

The house was warm and alive, a strong furnace and people comfortable staying there. Derek was able to pick up on more than the others and could hear a side conversation between two men.

“Your other grandson and John are here.” An adult man, a husky voice, probably a smoker, speaking quietly in a distant room. There were footsteps coming towards the Stilinskis and Derek at the door, but the voice stayed put. Whoever was talking wasn’t moving a muscle to meet them.

“Good! Good. I want to see them. It’s been too long.” The responding voice was hoarse, stilted slightly, and far older. It almost reminded Derek of Vito Corleone, a man assured of his position as patriarch.Who wouldn’t have his opinion questioned.

"It’s a disgrace.”

"I have tolerated the insult of your war against them long enough. Silence.” An authoritative end to a conversation, before a creak of wheels coming toward them.

Stiles was going through family, stiff handshakes with the assorted uncles, trying to communicate through grip and direct eye contact that he knew precisely what they said about him and his dad, and that given the opportunity, he’d fight them. He then had to give hugs of varying sincerity with the cousins. The ones he knew from his childhood he could embrace with genuine emotion, the ones he’d never met was more of an uncomfortable formality, performed for the sake of appearances. Once finished, he saw his grandfather for the first time in years. It was a lance through his heart to see the once tall man reduced to a withered shadow in a wheelchair. “Hi Dziadek.” He said, bending down to put an arm around him.

“Oh, Mischief.” The older man put shaking hands around Stiles’ face. “You look so much like Claudia.”

Stiles nodded sadly as his grandfather patted his face and let him return to full height again. Mentions of his mother didn’t hurt as much as they used to, but he didn’t remember her face as much as the others did, it seemed. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see a ghost looking out like the others could.

Derek was awkwardly explaining who he was to some people there who also seemed confused, when the cousin he saw Nelia talking to earlier took his arm. “Derek, we were under the impression when Stiles said he was bringing a friend that you’d be a girlfriend.” She finally explained outright.

Derek blinked a few times and was grateful for all the years of keeping a straight face under pressure to now not give any sign of a reaction. He put his thoughts into a response after a moment’s recovery. “That does explain why Nelia was confused. I’m just a friend who didn’t have plans for Christmas and Stiles offered. If it’s a problem at all I could absolutely stay some-“

“Oh, no, staying here is fine.” The girl saved him from talking. “I’m Nika, by the way.” She fixed him with an odd look that he’d seen sometimes in Stiles, a sort of curious, searching look that a raptor might give while wondering if something was prey or a toy. “Just that originally, when you were a girlfriend, you’d have been staying in my room and Stiles was with my brother. But that’s clearly not going to be a thing. So you and my brother will be switching, so you’re with Stiles and my brother’s with me. He had to go move his stuff. You and Stiles should come up and see the room, I think we have some things to discuss.”

She was tossing around so many red flags in Derek’s head she could be a one person color guard. He didn’t know what the hell she was, but there was something very very very wrong with this whole situation. He might not have an intuitive evil detector like Stiles’ spidey sense, but he had a healthy dose of paranoia, and it was telling him that there was all kinds of trouble about to occur. Maybe she was going to ritually sacrifice them up there. Maybe this was the Polish Get Out. Wyjść. It was a little catchy.

The adults had started passing around drinks and returned to their original conversations, and Nika made some excuse about room arrangements and putting luggage up to drag Stiles away from the grandparents glad to be reunited with their prodigal grandson.

Stiles peeled away from them and caught the  Am I Going To Be Flayed Alive look in Derek’s big green stupidly pretty eyes and almost laughed. “Relax, Ice Man, you’re fine.” He clapped him on the shoulder as they went outside to get the suitcases from the car. “It’s Nika. She’s my absolute fave cousin, and if something happened to her or she meant any kind of ill will, I’d know. Trust me. She’s fine.”

Nika lead them upstairs to a small room with a full size bed, dark blue walls, no decorations but a nightstand and rug. Hadn’t been lived in for months, given the dead air in the room. “So, Stiles. How about you tell me when your spark woke, and why you brought a werewolf all the way over here.”

Stiles choked on either air or an immediate response, either way he sounded like an ostrich getting throttled. Derek wasn’t making out much better mentally, but he only raised his eyebrows.

Nika smiled as she sat on the bed. “Come on, Stiles, where’d you think you got the gift from? Aunt Claudia never used her talents much, but she was one of us.” She picked up the candle on the nightstand and blew on the wick, a flame lighting to fill the room with some warmth. “I’ve never met a werewolf before, but you were sensing shit like Legolas out there, Derek, it wasn’t too subtle, and a set of ears and or nose like that, out of Beacon Hills aka Werewolf Wonderland?”

“More like nightmareland.” Stiles snorted. “So, holy shit, like five revelations at once and I wanna come back to like….all of them, but…uh….how many of ‘em know, downstairs?!” He asked, shocking Derek by asking an actually relevant, useful question.

“The three brothers know their mother and their sister were “”””out there”””” and that you’re insane and I’m a lost cause. Dziadek knew that Babcia was a superstitious woman and that the wild comes through sometimes. Oh, sorry Derek, Dziadek and Babcia are grandfather and grandmother respectively.” Nika explained. “Babcia did small things, mostly stuff with herbs and intent, like thumping a car engine and telling it to run, or aggressively sweeping bad energy out of the house, or putting bundles above doorways to keep evil intent out. Even the mistletoe around the house was hers.” She set the candle back onto the nightstand, the fire flickering with the movement. “Werewolves are very family oriented, in general, it’s unusual to break away from the family to join another entirely alien one for a holiday like Christmas. I’m just curious.”

“He’s way too nice and let his pack totally forget about him.” Stiles wasn’t remotely afraid of being as bitter about it as Derek tried to deny that he felt.

Nika digested the statement for a moment and gave them a vague smile. “Maybe not all of them.” She got up and left the room as if that would give her the last word. Clearly, she didn’t recall from her childhood who Stiles was, as he followed her as quickly as his gazelle legs could with an indignant “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?”

*~*

Stiles had been so wrapped up in realizing that there was a whole family history of witchery that he’d completely missed out on the fact that Derek and him were actually now supposed to share a bed until it was one in the morning and he finally arrived in the room. To find Derek sitting on his suitcase reading. “Hey, thought you came up here a while ago.”

“I did, but…” Derek half winced and locked his tablet. “We only got the one bed, and..”

“Bro, you used to live in the burned-out husk of your family’s old house I am not about to buy that you’re such a snob that you can’t share a bed for a few nights.” Stiles yanked his shirt off and tossed it in the vague direction of his suitcase. “It’s just a few nights and I even have sleep pants if you wanna go all no homo on me.”

“What? No, n- that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean.” The belt careened through the air in an ark as Stiles continued the process.

Derek was going to have to talk quickly if he wanted to get out anything. “I can’t sleep next to people.”

“What? Why?” Stiles paused, button of his jeans undone.

Derek was looking at a particularly fascinating piece of lint on the ground. “Just never works out right. I didn’t want to just disappear on you, so I was waiting for you to get back before I went to find a hotel or crash on the couch.”

“No, why. I wanna know why.”

Derek contemplated crawling out of the window to escape Stiles’ eyes, which even in the low light of the room burned into his skull. “I just can’t, alright?”

“Nope. Not alright. Fess up.”

“I’m a sleep cuddler.” Derek said it so quickly and refused to look up no matter what Stiles did.

Stiles was quiet for a few odd moments while he had a face odyssey. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Derek could feel the blush on his face and was actively willing it to go away forever. “Ever since I was a kid, if there’s someone next to me I always end up wrapped around ‘em. It’s not conscious, it just happens. So.”

“Jesus tittyfuckin’ Christ, Derek I thought it was something serious. I’m not gonna die if you give me a lil hug. Don’t be so dramatic.” Stiles finally flung his jeans off and crawled under the covers, the little tone of his phone plugging in to charge playing as he settled in. “G’night, Der.” He mumbled sleepily.

Derek had no choice. If Stiles told anyone about this, they���d never find his body. Whose body would go missing was up for debate.

*~*

Derek was a filthy liar when he tried to say it didn’t work out, and he knew it. He slept better than he had in months that night. When he awoke, Stiles was playing some mobile game, and Derek was spooning him pretty hardcore, legs tangled and an arm over his stomach. He moved away the instant he came to consciousness again. “Sorry.” He mumbled, only the ghosts of vowels in the slurred word.

“Hell, if it was a problem I’d have crawled out, but uh, you don’t get too much sleep and seeing as you knocked out for a solid nine hours there, I thought it best to let you wake up on your own.” Stiles was all nonchalance, but Derek could hear something like omission from his words. It’s not that he was wrong, it was just adjacent to the truth.

“Who told you I don’t sleep?”

“The fact that you text me back about Edda translations at three in the morning on Tuesday nights tells me that you’re not sleeping much. Now c’mon, we missed the breakfast train but if we make puppy eyes at Nelia enough she’ll probably cave and feed us. Or smack us lightly and call us lazy. One of the two.”

*~*

“Stiles, your friend is so handsome, how does he not have a girlfriend?” Nelia asked, perfectly comfortable to talk all kinds of terrible things as Derek was helping fold pierogi with Nika and Stiles. “He’d make a fine husband. He should find a good wife.”

Stiles gawked for a second, and had no clue how to respond. This would in no way stop him from doing so anyway. “He’s had a difficult time for a while, he’s helping his family right now, college, supporting them.” Stiles’ Polish was pretty rusty, he hadn’t been practicing much in the last several years.

“He has children?”

“No. Not exactly. More friends that he kind of brought inside because no one was helping them right.”

“Hmm. Nika, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Nika did not want to get dragged into this conversation. “Very, but it isn’t nice to talk about people in front of them.”

Nelia went to check on the uncles as they were all apparently having a slight discussion with John on the front lawn and was fully prepared to drag each of them back in by their ear and give them a firm education on the meaning of Christmas. This of course left the cousins and Derek all alone in the kitchen, the others of the family dispersed for their individual amusements.

“So, Stiles, are you…..and Derek….?”

Stiles blinked, sealing the dough around the potato and onion. “Are we what”

“Boyfriends.” She said it like it wasn’t kind of a bombshell of a word to utter.

“Nooo.” Flour and bits of dough scattered as he waved his hands to emphasize how NO that was. Absolutely not. Had she even seen Derek? He was so out of his league it physically and emotionally pained him. “ No. We’re just friends. Truly.”

“Okay, okay, I was just wondering. I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

“I’m not gay.”

“I didn’t ask if you were.”

“You were asking a little bit.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Derek’s also not gay”

“I wasn’t asking!”

“But he does have terrible….choice in women. Every time he gets a girlfriend she tries to kill us.”

That was enough of that. Derek had developed some thick skin about the litany of traumas he’d incurred and would give Stiles a little leave to talk shit about Jennifer, but that was taking it a little more casually than he’d like. “That’s a little mean, Stiles.” He said in perfect Polish.

Stiles turned so many colors that there was a risk he might burst a blood vessel. He fled before anyone could grab hold of him and make him accountable for his actions. Nika at least muttered an apology before scurrying off.

Derek wondered if his deep-seated need to be dramatic may contrasting with his desire to not be such a colossal dick to people he actually liked.

*~*

Stiles successfully avoided Derek by busying himself with everything possible for the rest of the day, but of course, after the day, must come the night, and thus the sleep. In the same bed. With the guy he brutally insulted and exposed just hours ago. Fuck.

Maybe if Derek was already asleep he could just curl up in the closet and evaporate entirely before anyone noticed he existed. Fuck. Why did this have to happen. Why did he have to open his big stupid mouth and say the stupidest thing that he’d ever uttered in his life.

He didn’t see light coming from under the door as he went, but knew that Derek would wake up if the doorknob made even the slightest sound. He rubbed his hands enough to warm the bony fingers and waved his hand slowly around the doorframe, collecting the sound from that space before snatching it all. Just long enough to open it silently.

When he saw Derek sitting up in bed with just the candle on the nightstand and his tablet in hand, Stiles had half a thought to make a run for it. But Derek had already looked up with a raised eyebrow. There was no escaping.

“How’d you do that that quietly?” Derek asked, not addressing the parade of elephants doing the merengue in the room.

“I, uh, didn’t want to wake you up. So I just took the sound away from it.” Stiles answered, stepping inside and looking pointedly away from anywhere near the bed.

Derek locked his tablet and set it aside. “That’s pretty impressive.” Was all he said in reply, but it was gushing praise given who it was coming from.

Stiles couldn’t stand it anymore. “Derek I am so sorry I said that, I never should have even thought it, I just-“ his words were running on top of each other and he felt like King Trashbag of the proud nation of Shitfriendia.

“Relax.”

Stiles hated being told to relax by anyone, but he had to be very nice to Derek for the rest of their concurrent lives and there was something so calm about the way Derek said it that made it less insulting. He hazarded a glance up, but Derek wasn’t wearing a shirt and even in the low light of the room he could see chest hair and he had to look away immediately or he might die.

“You have a family member who understands you on a level none of the rest of us do. She’s becoming a fast friend and you’re very comfortable with her. It wasn’t the nicest thing to say,” and it was pretty damn private, but Derek was trying to make Stiles feel better so he wouldn’t bring it up, “but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me by it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” This was probably the most adult conversation that either of them had ever engaged in, it was frankly shocking. Derek had called Boyd to help process his emotions and figure out what to say in a way that was a little more level headed than he might have done on his own.

Stiles nodded, knowing that Derek wouldn’t appreciate further self-flagellation from him and that he just would have to accept being a terrible person for the rest of his life. When he crawled into bed, he lied awake, staring at the wall across from his face and mulled it over and over. He could hear Derek’s breathing settle as he fell asleep, and an hour later a couple wiggles and there was a nose pressing against his neck and a hand over his stomach. Stiles sighed at the warm heat against him, and finally could fall asleep.

*~*

Nelia checked the codfish in the oven, monitoring the temperature carefully. “Still not ready. Mieczyslaw, could you help set the table, please?” She asked, setting some rolled napkins and a handful of forks onto the table.

It was Christmas Eve, and the whole family was sitting down soon for Wigilia, the main feast. Usually eaten before going to Midnight Mass, beginning at around eleven and finishing at midnight proper. Despite its importance, the grandparents had not gone since the grandfather had been confined to his wheelchair and their local church loved its beautiful stone steps so much. As a religious building that was remarkably old, it was exempt from the ADA act requiring public buildings to be wheelchair accessible.

They still held the meal, though Nelia and the older Mieczyslaw went to bed and the others of the family were encouraged to go and say their prayers for them. The young children were kept at home with the grandparents to watch them and make sure no one got out of their bed to try and catch Santa Claus.

Stiles was carrying various accoutrements from the fridge and counters to the table, and counted the place settings. Exactly enough for everyone, though this alerted him. “Wait, Nelia, we’re missing one. The spot for the wanderer.”

In many other cultures, an empty place setting at a family meal might be in remembrance of someone who had passed, or who could not be present at the table due to extenuating circumstances. It meant that something was missing, and some wanted to honor that with a missing place for them at the table. However, in Polish tradition at Wigilia, there is an empty place setting for an unexpected guest, or wanderer. A wędrowiec.

Nelia gave Stiles a meaningful look, one that he couldn’t decipher. He was so used to these kinds of looks being paired with massive eyebrows and kaleidoscope green eyes that trying to do it for other people was more difficult. “Think on it.” She said, slicing challah bread into a basket and wrapping the napkin over it to keep them warm.

Stiles puzzled and puzzled til his puzzler was sore, then it dawned on him. He wondered why it hadn’t before. “Derek.”

Nelia chuckled as she started slicing a loaf of challah bread. “Such a smart boy you are, Mieczyslaw.” Bringing a friend who had nowhere else to go so soon beforehand was certainly an unexpected traveler, though she didn’t know that Derek had been a wanderer for much longer than just that winter.

*~*

As John wasn’t Catholic, Stiles hadn’t even been Confirmed, and Derek didn’t want to go without Stiles, they all hung back while the others went off to the Midnight Mass. Since they knew that with kiddos younger than eight, Christmas begins absurdly early for everyone, they went to bed after seeing everyone off for the church about 20 minutes from the house.

Stiles lied awake, waiting for Derek to properly fall asleep so he’d get that heavy warm weight against him, that even though it’d only been a few nights, he found it hard to fall asleep without that. He loved the excuse they both got for it, this unconscious habit, but he hoped, he wished that Derek wasn’t regretting that he woke up with an armful of Stiles.

But he didn’t. He lay there for a few hours before getting out of bed and leaving the room. Stiles thought he was going to the bathroom or something, but after ten whole awful minutes of not having Derek next to him, he had to investigate. Checking his phone, the screen said 11:57PM. The whole gang of adults would be out at Mass for a while yet, the service had barely just started and apparently the priest loved his speechifying when the whole congregation was actually there for once during the year as his captive audience.

Stiles crept downstairs looking for his friend, finding Derek in the kitchen, watching a mug rotate in the microwave. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

Derek glanced up. He’d heard Stiles coming down, but he didn’t really see the need to react beforehand. It’s not like his mom had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar or anything. “Kind of. And I wanted to set out some of the things I got for the kids who don’t have as much money as the others. Went out when you were trying to avoid me with their parents to make sure none of the kids felt left out.”

“Santa’s Lil Helper, huh?”

Derek pondered it. “A little. And it’s a Hale tradition. Or more, it’s a Derek Hale tradition, since I’m pretty much the one who spearheaded it.”

“What did your family used to do for Christmas?” They were speaking in hushed tones so as not to wake anyone up, but in the warm light of the kitchen Christmas lights, and the soft look of Derek in a beat-up tee and plaid sweatpants, he felt sentimental enough to ask.

“Christmas was always a little funny in the Hale house.” Derek admitted, stopping the microwave a moment before the chime would go off. “We didn’t do Santa Claus.”

“Did you do Santa Claws?” Stiles mimed some claws and fangs, knowing he’d earn an eyeroll at best.

Derek did not disappoint. “No, just a couple presents from Mom and Dad, and aunts and uncles would be later. They didn’t want us getting spoiled or thinking Santa loved us more because he gave us all kinds of stuff. But we didn’t open anything until at least noon.”

“Parents liked their sleep?” Stiles definitely remembered a firm ALL PRESENTS WILL BE REPLACED WITH CHORES AND BRUSSELS SPROUTS IF THIS DOOR IS OPENED BEFORE 8:00 AM rule on Christmas morning. Of course, Stiles was jumping on his bed with excitement at five in the morning, anyway.

Derek shook his head, and his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Stiles squinted, who would be calling Derek at midnight? Moreover, why was Derek actually taking the call??

He stepped outside onto the porch, little snow drifts from their actual white Christmas shuffling aside for him with his mug. Stiles saw the bag of Lindt truffles and a little chocolate powder dust on the counter- that sonuvabitch made HIS secret recipe. Wait. WHAT.

Derek stepped back in a few minutes later with half a smile on his face.

“Who was that?” Stiles had to ask.

“Cora.”

“What’d she want?”

Derek looked mildly embarrassed. “As of,” he looked at his watch, which read 12:08AM “…five minutes ago, I’m thirty years old.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped just a bit as his mind whirled. “It’s your birthday!?” he hissed, needing to aggressively shout but not able to wake the kids.

Derek almost winced. “Yeah.”

“Well….happy birthday!” Shit. Shit shit shit. HE’D KNOWN DEREK FOR EIGHT YEARS AND HE NEVER KNEW THIS WAS HIS BIRTHDAY. Stiles had to go find his King Trashbag of Shitfriendia crown again and sit on his dumpster pile.

“I don’t like people knowing. It’s an awkward day to have a birthday.” Derek sipped his cocoa, clearly uncomfortable.

Stiles didn’t know how to deal with this. “So…is that why you guys didn’t do Christmas until the afternoon?” He felt like he was playing minesweeper, except he didn’t get to see the warning numbers.

“Yeah.” He looked down into the mug, it was easier to talk about things if he didn’t have to watch the face journey of sympathy on people’s faces when he talked about his family. But he missed them on his birthday especially, and he wanted to talk about it. And out of anyone, he wanted to talk to Stiles about it. He knew, at least to some degree, the feeling of empty spaces in your memories. “My mom used to wake me up at 12:03 to tell me happy birthday and bring me in the kitchen. She’d have a present on there that was a birthday present only. From her. She was the alpha, so it was…pretty much impossible to actually ever get her alone. Always busy with the whole pack, worrying about everyone else, worrying about…” He trailed off. Christmas was always such a hectic time for everyone, so much noise and stress and busy rushing everywhere. “So it was nice, to have that little moment with just her.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments. Stiles didn’t know what to do with himself. Then he realized; his present to Derek was bizarrely perfect. “Hold on. Hold right here.” He stole up to his room and came back down with a wrapped present, the tape shoddily put on. He thrust the box out to Derek, looking way too happy with himself. “Happy birthday, big guy.”

Derek looked between Stiles and the box a few times, but took it and quietly unstuck the tape to slide the box out and open it. “You fucking dick.” He laughed as he pulled out a sweater that said “BIRTHDAY BOY” on it, with a hideous looking Jesus. A true ugly Christmas sweater, with a bday twist.

Stiles was grinning like a loon as Derek pulled the sweater on over his tee, that amused glint in Derek’s eyes where Stiles’ idiot sense of humor hit him perfectly. He picked up his mug again, and felt that it’d turned cold. “Can I get a warm-up?”

Stiles could have just poked the mug in Derek’s hands, or even just pointed at it. But Stiles wrapped his hands around it, his hands glowing a little as the liquid heated within, and Derek’s cold hand too.

Derek’s eyebrow quirked slightly. “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Can y’do whipped cream too?”

Stiles stifled a snorted laugh poorly, but didn’t step back away.

Derek set the mug back onto the table and looked at Stiles for another quiet moment, this one much less tense. Without looking up, he broke the silence with “I swear to God if there’s mistletoe up there right n-mmf!”

Stiles had closed the gap to kiss him, his hands holding Derek’s face as he nearly crushed their noses together. They eventually managed to tilt their heads properly so it was less of a frantic smush and more of a proper kiss.

When they finally broke so Stiles could breathe, Derek had a smile on his face, one that didn’t leave in half a second. “So, is there any?”

Stiles was able to stifle that stupid laugh better. “C’mon, lets get those presents out there for them. They’ll be back eventually.”

They put some Christmas movies on the TV as they sorted the presents into neat piles for each family so everyone could sit with their group. They were on the couch, writing out the tags on each one, making sure that the way all the Santas were written exactly the same and all of the names were spelled exactly correct. Stealing kisses every once in a while devolved slowly over the course of one of the Rankin and Bass animated movies to Stiles pressing Derek into the couch, making out like a couple of teenagers with the Christmas spirit in them.

John was trudging downstairs to see if Santa had left any of those shortbread cookies, but heard something odd from the family room. He was about to investigate, but heard something that sounded very distinctly like a Stiles happy noise, and decided to have a coughing fit and remind those two that they were not only not alone in this abode, but that the assorted parents and cousins would be returning soon and unless Stiles wanted to come out to the family in the most aggressive way possible, they better take it upstairs.

Derek managed to blush harder than Stiles did, but both had received the message, and put away the tags and pens before retreating to their room sheepishly. But they knew that John had probably seen this coming, and wasn’t going to judge them for it.

When they crawled into bed, Stiles didn’t have to wait to feel that arm around him, the press of heat against him, safe and warm. Derek kissed the back of his neck, and he could feel the smile against his skin.

Derek heard the family come back from the Midnight Mass downstairs, doing their best to tiptoe through and not wake up anyone.

“Ah ah ah! Mistletoe!” one of the aunts cooed, before a smack of a kiss.

“Who puts mistletoe in the middle of the kitchen.” Grumbled someone who was not getting themselves a Christmas kiss, bah humbug and all that.

The last voice was Nika. “Babcia always said there’s magic in a kitchen.”

#everchanginginks #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

[moresamedayflowerscheap-blog]

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[danfanciesphil]

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 7

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Read on Ao3)

“Thanks again for doing this, Dan. It’s really nice of you,” Phil is saying, though Dan is barely listening. He’s typing the various codes and instructions Phil had reeled off a moment ago into the notes of his phone, but mostly he’s trying to keep himself from looking Phil in the eye.

“It’s really not a problem,” Dan says, shrugging. He pockets his phone, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Your flat is, like, ten times nicer than mine. Not to mention super close to the bar.”

Phil smiles, though he still looks abashed. Perhaps Dan should invite him round to his shitty Kemptown flat one day, then Phil might feel less guilty for asking Dan to house-sit.

“I’m gone until Wednesday,” Phil informs him, grabbing a jacket from the row of hooks nearby. “I’ll be back around midday, probably jetlagged and grumpy as hell, so you might wanna steer clear of me.”

Phil laughs, and Dan infers that this is Phil’s polite way of asking him to be gone by Wednesday lunch time. “Got it. I should have everyone out of here by then.”

Phil pauses, one arm in one sleeve, an adorable frown caught on his befuddled face. “Who out of where?”

“Oh, all the hundreds of people I’ll be inviting round for a week-long orgy.”

Dan’s straight face seems to catch Phil off guard for a split second, and then he laughs, giving himself away. Phil dissolves into laughter with him, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Just put a cover over the couch, yeah? It’s velvet. Stains easily.”

“Ooft, no promises.” Dan jokes back. His heart pangs as the easy banter slips off his tongue.

Doing this jokey back and forth with Phil used to be fun. It used to excite him, how effortlessly they could buffet off one another’s humour; now, in the wake of Tyler’s words the other day, it’s just painful. This ‘friendship’ with Phil had once seemed like a miracle. Now all Dan can see is a pretence. He hasn’t told Tyler about the fact that Phil has asked him to stay in his flat, because it just seems further proof that Phil is only using him.

But Dan’s weak, and he couldn’t refuse Phil anything if he tried.

“...and I’ll call and check in now and then just to make sure you’re okay,” Phil is saying, Dan realises with a start. He nods, trying to show he’s been listening, and Phil beams at him, jacket zipped up. “So, see you in a week then, I guess!”

Dan’s about to go in for a safe handshake, but then Phil is wrapping an arm around him, his other hand on the handle of his suitcase. He squeezes Dan tight, and Dan lets out a sound that he hopes is muffled by the broad, warm chest he’s smushed against.

He’s released after a moment, and he’s pretty sure he’s bright red. He nods, taking a swift step backwards. “Y-yep, see you. Have fun in the Maldives.”

Phil rolls his eyes, making an ‘ugh’ sound. “Not likely.”

It seems a bizarre reaction, but Dan is used to Phil speaking about his work with distaste at this point. Dan tries to stave off judgement, but it’s difficult to view these eye rolls and grimaces as anything other than ungrateful. Phil is going to spend a week pouting for a camera on a beach in the blazing sunshine. Dan is going to spend this week sweating behind a bar, then crawling home to someone else’s sofa to eat his weight in crisps and fall asleep.

“Well, uh, send me some pics,” Dan says, not sure what else to say. For whatever reason, the idea of this seems to perk Phil up.

“I will!” He gives Dan a small wave as he opens the door, and then, right before it closes, he blows a kiss. “By-eee!”

The door clicks shut behind him, and Dan stares at it for a moment, replaying that kiss in his mind. “Bye,” he whispers to nobody.

*

Friday nights are karaoke, and it usually gets a little messy. The gays love to sing, and with a few drinks in their system, they’re practically unstoppable. More often than not, the hardest part of the evening is dragging them off stage when it’s closing time.

With the help of Matt, Dan manages to boot the last few out of the door, and sighs in relief. Now there’s just a final clear up to do, and he can wander down the road to crash at Phil’s. He grabs a rag and starts wiping down the bar.

“Dodie, could you switch the music off?” Dan calls.

“On it!”

“Lara, would you grab a mop? I think the guy’s bathroom could use a once over.”

“Already did it, Dan!”

Dan lifts a smile to her, impressed. She’s sealing the mop and bucket back in the cleaning cupboard already. “Thanks, you’re a star.”

“What shall I do, boss?”

Dan turns to face Tyler, who is smiling sheepishly at him from the other end of the bar. “You’re as much of a boss as I am, Ty. Figure your own jobs out.”

It comes out a little bit colder than he intends it to, but Tyler is undeterred. “Don’t equate such lowly peasants with yourself, boss!”

Tyler scoots close, then grabs the rag from Dan’s hand. “Hey!” Dan exclaims.

“Let me do that,” Ty says, still beaming. “You’re tired. Go home, I’ll lock up.”

“It’s my turn,” Dan points out.

“Pfft,” Tyler say, swiping the rag through the air. “I don’t mind. Besides, I’ve got Dodie and Lara to help me.”

Dan sighs, wanting to protest. He knows this is Tyler’s way of apologising for what he said about Phil the other night, but it makes Dan uncomfortable. Sure, Tyler had said some things Dan didn’t exactly want to hear, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have said them. His apologies are unnecessary.

“Fine,” Dan says, exasperated. “But I’m locking up tomorrow.”

Tyler holds the rag up, and places his other hand over his heart. “Scout’s honour.”

Dan shoots him a tight smile, then squeezes out from behind the bar. He crosses the dancefloor to the staff room and gathers his things. As he’s coming out, he notices Tyler and Dodie in a deep discussion that ends abruptly when they spot him.

Wanting to groan, Dan shakes his head at them. “Guys, I’m not a fucking idiot okay, I know you’re talking about me.”

“It’s just…” Dodie swallows, her eyes darting to Tyler’s briefly. “We’re worried. Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet since…”

She trails off.

“Since I shoved my foot in everything and tore you to pieces for just having a crush,” Tyler finishes. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Ty, you’ve apologised literally like fifty times,” Dan reminds him, already pulling on his jacket.

“I know but… I just don’t want you to think that anything I said was anything except me lashing out because of my own love troubles,” Tyler says, walking over to him. “I don’t think Phil is intentionally being a dick to you. I just let all the gossip from the bar filter into my brain.”

“We’re just worried,” Dodie says again, biting her thumb.

“Well, that’s all very sweet,” Dan says, sighing. “But you don’t have to worry anymore. You were right in a way, it’s not very healthy for me to be so… close to him. I’m distancing myself for the time being.”

Technically, technically, there’s a lot of distance between he and Phil right now. Over 5,000 miles, in fact. This probably doesn’t count, however. After all, he saw Phil earlier on today, and will probably be texting him from his very own couch later on. Dodie and Tyler don’t need to know this, though.

Dan watches with mild despair as the two of them exchange one of their long, loaded glances; it’s filled with unspoken concern.

“Okay, I’m off,” Dan announces before either of them can verbalise it. He gives a brief wave, then heads for the door. “See you gays tomorrow.”

“Wait, Dan-” Tyler begins to say, but Dan just throws him another dismissive wave.

“Bye!” He calls, then wrenches open the door and steps out into damp morning chill.

*

Phil has every season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD, along with all of Game of Thrones, every Studio Ghibli movie, and most Marvel films. Once he’s let himself into Phil’s flat, checked the houseplants, removed his jacket and shoes, and made a de-stress cup of tea, Dan kneels before Phil’s collection. He’s down there for a good ten minutes before settling on Captain America as his choice for a wind-down film.

He pops it in the DVD player and loads it up, then settles into Phil’s deliciously comfy couch to watch. As the opening credits roll, he snaps a photo of his hand holding the mug of tea, the film’s title screen in the background. He dithers, unsure whether to post it to his newly popular Instagram. His overtired brain is too mushy to think about it too much, so he slaps a warm filter on it, and posts it with the caption:

cap’s helping me wind down after a long shift

It immediately starts being hit with likes and comments, which is too much for Dan to comprehend right now, so he just locks the phone and shoves it in his pocket. He’ll read the comments tomorrow.

Dan’s just getting to the bit where Chris Evans’ CGI skinny body is being pumped up into his muscly self, when his phone trills. Confused, Dan pauses the film and reaches for it. Phil’s name stares out from the screen. He swipes it immediately, already bolt upright with concern.

“Hello?”

“Hey!”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything’s great,” Phil says. “Just checking in.”

Dan had been expecting a sombre, possibly urgent tone; contrarily, Phil seems to be his usual, chipper self. Dan checks the time on his phone, frowning. It’s 3am, meaning it’s 7am in the Maldives.

Dan rubs his eyes. “It’s so early.”

“Oh, crap, did I wake you up? I just thought ‘cause of your Instagram post that you’d be chilling after work, sorry.”

“No, I mean it’s early for you.”

“Oh,” Phil says, laughing. “Nah, this is when I have to get up for my shoot. The best light for beach photos is sunrise.”

“Oh,” Dan says, surprised. He never thought about that. “God, that must suck. Aren’t you jetlagged?”

“Super jetlagged!” Phil laughs again. “I’m used to doing shoots half asleep, don’t worry.”

“Have some coffee,” Dan suggests.

“I’ll definitely be trying to wrangle some caffeine from somewhere,” Phil agrees. His tone of voice suggests that it doesn’t look promising. “So, how’s your first night in the flat going?”

Dan glances around himself. “It’s, uh, quiet.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Phil says. “It can get pretty lonely there.”

This makes Dan frown. Phil has never mentioned being lonely before. “It’s cool, I’ve got Cap and Bucky to keep me company.”

“Ah, yes! Are you watching Civil War?”

“No, just the first one.”

“Awesome,” Phil says emphatically. “Well, enjoy the not-so-subtle gay undertones. I’d better get to the beach.”

“You poor soul,” Dan says sarcastically, which makes Phil laugh.

“Get to bed soon, okay? I know Chris Evans’ abs look really good on my obnoxiously large TV, but you’re working tomorrow.”

Dan chuckles. “Yes mum.”

“Night, young man.”

“Morning, you mean.”

“Hah, I guess you’re right. I’ll check in tomorrow, sweet dreams!”

“Oh, you don’t have to check in tomorrow if-”

The line goes dead, and Phil is gone. Dan blinks down at his phone, slightly thrown by the conversation. It’s difficult to believe that Phil is so concerned about the wellbeing of his houseplants that he’d call Dan the first morning of his trip. Now that Dan thinks about it, Phil hadn’t even asked about the houseplants.

An overwhelming fatigue throws itself over Dan suddenly, and he yawns, throwing his phone to one side, where it continues to blink with Instagram notifications. He should really switch those off. He blinks at the TV, eyes already growing heavy; he’s sure he won’t make it to the end of the movie.

With a hefty amount of willpower, Dan switches off the TV and heads to Phil’s room to grab the duvet. As he’s pulling the heavy quilt from the mattress however, he pauses, arms aching with the weight of it already. Would it really be so bad to take up Phil’s offer of just falling into the bed?

It will undoubtedly be weird, and he’ll probably hate himself for it tomorrow morning, because he’ll spend the whole of the next day (week, month, and year) dreaming about exactly how Phil’s bed feels and smells. But he’s exhausted, and it looks far more inviting than the couch right now.

Before he can argue himself out of it, Dan is shimmying off his jeans, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and crawling into the tantalisingly soft cocoon of the bed. He actually moans; these sheets feel divine against his skin. They’re probably Egyptian cotton or something. Dan would take longer to think about it, but he closes his eyes, and falls instantly asleep.  

*

Two hours before they are due to close on Saturday, at around 3am, a girl approaches the bar. She is pretty and slim, with a short, tight dress on and long dangly earrings. She’s wearing red lipstick and her hair is bleach blonde. Not wanting to judge prematurely, Dan gives her his usual customer-service smile; in the back of his mind, however, he can’t help but note that this girl is very much not the type of customer that they usually get at Habenero’s.

In other words, she gives off a rather… heterosexual vibe.

“Hi,” the girl says, grinning at him. She leans forwards on the bartop, pushing out her boobs rather obviously. Dan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. “A Malibu and Coke, please.”

“Sure,” Dan says, turning to make it.

“Actually,” she says, making him turn. “Make it a Diet Coke. I’m such a sugar fiend. Need to watch myself.”

Briefly, Dan looks her up and down. Her body is gorgeous, clearly the result of daily gym trips and a careful diet. A full-fat Coke wouldn’t even touch her skinny frame, and she knows it. He’s not in the mood to pander to her obvious attempt at fishing for compliments.

If she wants her ego stroked, she’s barking up the wrong tree.

“Don’t we all,” Dan says instead, and reaches for the soda hose.

The drink takes seconds to make, and he places it before her. “No straw?” She asks, smirking. “My lipstick is Dior. Can’t waste it on the rim of a glass, can I?”

Dan shrugs at her. “Sorry, we’ve introduced a no-straw policy at the club. Brighton’s a green city.”

For a moment, her smile wavers, but then it’s fixed back in place. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

The scarlet lips form a perfect ‘o’. Her look of realisation seems ingenuine, like she’s performing a pre-rehearsed scene. “Oh my God! You’re AmazingPhil’s friend, right?” At the sound of his name, Dan freezes up. “David, is it? No, wait, Dan!”

“Uh, I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Dan mutters, though he can feel the heat flood to his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t be coy!” She laughs, and then she’s got her arm on his shoulder; she’s leaning right over the bar to reach him, which looks awkward. “You’re the bartender he keeps posting about, right?”

“Could be,” Dan says vaguely.

“Yes, yes, it’s totally you! Gosh, you’re so much cuter in person.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” He shifts awkwardly. “So, it’s five-fity for the Malibu and Diet Coke,” Dan tries to say, but she just laughs him off.

“So, oh my gosh,” she leans even closer somehow, a wry, knowing smile stretching her lipsticked mouth into a joker-ish smear. “Tell me. Is Phil just as cute in person too?”

Dan feels his cheeks warming. “Oh, um, I- I don’t know.”

“Aw, come off it. You have to admit he’s cute, right?” Her teeth are dazzlingly white as she grins at him; it’s mildly disconcerting in the low light.

“I guess,” Dan says. He looks around for another customer, trying to find an excuse to leave the conversation.

“And you guys met in Brighton? At this club?”

“...Yep.”

“So, like, you already knew who he was, right?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“You were a fan of him? You followed his Insta?”

“I, uh, well… yes, but-”

“I bet he was flirty.” She grins again, teeth blinding. “Does he flirt with you?”

“He’s kind of flirty, I suppose,” Dan admits, trying not to picture all the many, many times Phil has knocked the air from his lungs with an off-handed comment.

“Ooh,” she says, eyebrows wriggling. “That sounds intriguing. So go on, tell me, Dan. Is he good?”

“What do you mean?” Dan asks, stupidly.

“Oh, you know,” she says, and winks. “Is he good in bed? With that body, he probably doesn’t  have to be, yeah?”

“Wait what? That’s not- we’re not-” Dan stammers out, cheeks scarlet by this point.

“Right, right, you’re just friends,” she says, rolling her eyes. When they meet Dan’s again, she winks a second time. “Come on, Dan, I’m not an idiot. I mean, you’re staying in his house, right?”

Immediately, Dan’s hackles go up, and he pulls back from her. “How do you know that I’m… who are you?”

Suddenly a ruckus nearby captures Dan’s attention, and he turns to see Matt ploughing through the crowd and seizing another girl by the shoulders. This second girl, also blonde and in a skimpy outfit, is holding up a phone, obviously videoing Dan.

Dan gawps at the camera, then Matt plucks it from her hand. “Unsolicited filming of our staff is not permitted. Get out.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, we’re just asking him a few questions!” shouts at Matt. Her charming smile is gone now, and in its place is a ferocious snarl. “It’s perfectly within our rights to do that! He’s in the public eye, isn’t he?”

One hand on the filming girl’s shoulder still, Matt seizes Malibu-and-Diet-Coke-girl by her upper arm. “You’re out too, Princess. Highly doubt this is your sort of establishment anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Malibu-and-Diet-Coke-girl shouts, trying to break free of his grip.

“It means,” Dan cuts in, anger starting to swirl in his blood as he processes the situation. “That we don’t throw a Pride parade every year just so you and your gaggle of plastic friends can paint on rainbows and find a GBF.”

“You heard him,” Matt says, beginning to frogmarch the two girls towards the exit.

“This is discrimination!” One of them shouts on their way.

“Must be so hard for you poor straight white girls,” Matt replies, ever the sarcastic one.

A few people gathered near the bar clap then, cheering as the girls depart.

“Nice one, mate,” Nick, one of their regulars, calls out to Dan. He nods, still embarrassed, and Nick approaches the bar. “She was out of order.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, mind still reeling. “I don’t get it, though. Why was she filming me?”

“Well, ‘cause you’re in with that good-looking model dude, right? She wants exclusive behind the scenes gossip for her own account, I’d imagine. Chicks like that are always after their ten minutes of fame, so they try guzzle it from other people.” Nick says; it kind of makes sense, except for the fact that some random girl thinks Dan is anywhere near important enough in Phil’s life for him to be harbouring any secrets about the man.

Nick takes hold of the Malibu and Diet Coke Dan made for the girl, the one he now realises she never paid for. Before Dan has a moment to be annoyed about it however, Nick pushes a tenner towards him. “For the drink. Nasty stuff, Malibu, but someone’s gotta drink it, eh?”

Dan smiles at him gratefully. “Thanks. I’ll grab you some change for it.”

“No need!” Nick calls out, making Dan pause.

“Nick, it’s only a five-fifty drink.”

“Yeah, well. We’re mates, aren’t we? Keep the tip.”

Dan’s eyes fall to the ten pound note in his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, course!”

“Wow,” Dan says, taken aback. “That’s seriously good of you, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No worries!” Nick takes a sip of his drink, eyes darting around the room. “So… as I was sayin’. You and that Phil fella. That’s… a thing, right?”

“What?”

“The two of you are… gettin’ it on?”

Dan drops the ten pound note back onto the bar like it’s burning. “Is this a fucking bribe? Are you trying to get me to talk about Phil?”

“Aw, come on Dan, we’re mates, aren’t we?”

“You know what,” Dan grits his teeth, snatching the drink out of Nick’s hands. “I’m not your mate, and you can fucking hit the street with those other vultures.” Dan cups a hand to his mouth, and pushes up onto his tiptoes, scanning the crowd. “Matt! Got another one!”

“Dan, for fuck’s sake, you know me,” Nick says, annoyed. “Come on, you and the Insta dude are the hottest story in town right now! You can’t blame me for trying to get in on the goss!”

“What so you can tweet about some non-existent scandal for a few more followers?” Dan asks, disgusted. “Grow up.”

“Aw, come on, you know what it’s like in the gay world,” Nick fires back. “It’s fucking vicious out there! I’ve gotta stay relevant! I need to keep up-”

Dan just ignores him and turns away. He chucks the drink, glass and all, into the sink below the bar. In the background, he vaguely hears Nick protesting as Matt drags him away, but he can’t bring himself to turn and see it.

This is insane.

Never in his wildest imaginings did Dan think that people would actually seek him out and attempt to pry information from him just because he’s vaguely associated with a moderately famous Instagram account. That one girl had even filmed the entire exchange.

It makes Dan feel sick to his stomach. He leans over the sink, watching the broken shards of glass gleam and glint in the swirling disco lights. He’s trying, over the thump of the bass, to remember what he said to her. Whatever his answers had been to Malibu girl’s interrogating questions, they’re now saved to someone’s phone.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, making Dan jump. Tyler is beside him, looking concerned.

“Matt just told me what happened, are you okay?”

Dan nods, slowly. Then, he shakes his head. “They were filming me, Ty. What did I even say? It all happened so quickly, I-”

Tyler wraps him in a hug; it helps, a little. “Shh, don’t worry about that right now.”

“I’m gonna have to tell him,” Dan says, cold realisation dawning.

“Tell Phil? About the girls, you mean?” Dan nods into Tyler’s shoulder. “Maybe. But it’s okay, you won’t have said anything that bad, I’m sure. There’s nothing to tell, right?” Dan bites his lip. “They’re just some fame-whores trying to get a slice of the action behind the scenes. You can tell Phil about it in the morning. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Dan sighs, wanting him to be right. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll ring him in the morning or something.”

Tyler pulls back to look him in the eye. “Whatever you said, it won’t be anywhere near as bad as you think, I’m sure. And hey, Phil’s a nice guy. He’ll understand.”

Dan nods, trying to calm himself with the sure, solid gleam in Tyler’s eyes. “Okay.”

*

On Sunday afternoon, Dan wakes up in Phil’s bed to a flurry of notifications on his phone. His followers haven’t stopped climbing since that first night Phil put him in his story; now, Dan’s follower count is in the hundred-thousands.

He checks his last photo, which is the one with Captain America and tea from Friday night. It has forty thousand likes. He reads the comments, covers balled up in one fist from nerves.

that’s phil’s place!! i recognise the rug!!! #phanisreal

dan is staying at phil’s! 

isn’t he in the maldives atm? dan must be housesitting :o

i’d know that hello kitty mug anywhere!! hows phil’s place treating u dan? ;) #phan

He closes the app quickly, half wanting to delete the entire thing off his phone. These fans are bloodhounds, obsessed with a scent of some rumour they caught a whiff of. ‘Phan’ is such an alien concept to Dan, still. How can these followers even justify it to themselves? It’s preposterous to think that Dan and AmazingPhil are anywhere near on the same level, let alone in a secret romantic relationship.

“Oh, shit,” Dan mutters, his heart sinking. He clicks onto his missed calls, noting that he has five,  all from Phil.

He swallows, trying to remain cool. There are some texts too, all of which came through whilst he was sleeping.

From: Phil To: Dan hey can you call me when you get a sec pls xx

From: Phil To: Dan did something happen last night at the bar? im getting a lot of messages… xx

From: Phil To: Dan ok… wanna let me know why #phan is trending worldwide?

From: Phil To: Dan have u seen what that girl @lucyintheskaii posted on twitter?? there’s a video of you. did you tell ppl that ur staying at mine? how did she find u?

From: Phil To: Dan dan i need to talk to u ur probs asleep and i get tht but im gonna skype u at 2pm your time. x

By the time he gets to the final message, Dan’s heart is pounding against his chest. He hangs onto that one final kiss, despite the fact Phil usually ends his messages with two. He glances at the time at the top of the screen, and curses, loudly.

It’s 13:59pm.

Before he can do anything to prepare, his phone is buzzing in his hand, notifying him of a Skype call coming through. He thinks seriously about declining, as he’s on the verge of a panic attack, but he reluctantly comes to a decision that not facing up to this would be far, far worse.

He accepts the call, and watches in mild horror as his own sleep-crumpled face and bare chest fills the screen. Then, Phil’s camera bursts into life, and Dan’s own image is replaced by something far more pleasing to the eye. He braces himself for Phil’s anger, having no idea what that would even look like.  

“Phil, oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Dan blurts. “I should’ve called you last night when I got back from work and told you what happened, but Tyler convinced me I should wait until morning, and I was just so exhausted, and I convinced myself the thing with that girl wasn’t that big of a deal, but obviously you have every right to be mad, I was so stupid and-”

“Dan, hey, hold up,” Phil says, voice raised to be heard over Dan’s ramble. “Calm down, I’m not mad. Why would I be? I’m worried about you.”

Dan blinks. “Why?”

For some reason, this makes Phil laugh. “Because you were ambushed by some deranged fangirls! And it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, Dan. I should never have said where you worked on my account. My fans are… intense.”

“Wait,” Dan says, confused. He sits up a little, trying to understand. “You’re not the one who needs to apologise. I said all that stuff to that girl! Her friend filmed it all. And she… did you say she put the video of it on Twitter? That’s awful, Phil, I’m such a fucking idiot, I-”

“Yeah,” Phil interrupts with a long sigh. “The Twitter video isn’t… ideal. But I’ve had literal nudes leaked before, Dan. I can handle you telling people I get a bit flirty IRL.”

Phil winks, and Dan blushes, partly because he’s only just now remembered telling that girl Phil is a flirt, and partly because he remembers the leaked nudes Phil is referring to. Not one of Dan’s proudest moments, searching the internet for those on incognito mode. He’d only found them once. And once was definitely enough; he’s not about to forget something like that.

“I guess,” Dan says, trying hard to focus on the situation at hand. “But I’m just so sorry for not realising what was happening, Phil. I should’ve known that girl was after something. I must’ve caused you so much stress.”

Phil shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He’s too nice, that’s the trouble. Dan stares at the pixelated version of this beautiful man, wishing he could reach out for Phil’s hand. Phil would probably take it; he’s not opposed to touchy-feely stuff, and if he knew how badly Dan needed physical reassurance right now, he’d do it, Dan’s sure. Phil’s sitting at a table outside, on what appears to be a balcony overlooking a white sandy beach. There’s a light breeze ruffling his hair, and the sun is setting behind him. He has his chin in one hand, and a tiredness in his eyes.

Dan imagines he can smell the salt spray blowing through Phil’s locks. Stupid, soppy words are on the tip of Dan’s tongue, about how gorgeous Phil looks in the soft evening light, or how much it means to Dan that Phil’s deigning to so much as speak to him after he was so stupid with that girl, but right then, a door slams, hard. It comes from somewhere on Phil’s end, and it’s muffled, but it still makes Dan jump.

Phil looks towards the noise, sighing.

“What was that?”

“Charlie. He’s pretty annoyed about… this.”

Something heavy and blunt falls into Dan’s stomach. “Oh. I didn’t know Charlie was with you.”

Phil glances back at the screen. “Didn’t I say?”

Dan shakes his head. He would have remembered that small detail, he’s sure. Though he guesses it makes a little more sense now that Phil picked him to house-sit, as opposed to asking Charlie.

“So, Charlie’s annoyed with me, then,” Dan deduces.

Phil shrugs. “I think Charlie’s annoyed with everyone most of the time. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“What’s he been saying?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Phil’s eyes avert from Dan’s.

From this small gesture alone, Dan can imagine exactly what Charlie’s saying.

Why are you even associating with that rando from the bar?

This is what happens when you stoop to their level, Phil!

He’s got the hots for you, and he’s gonna make up some bollocks about how you’re secretly fucking to bump up his follower count even more!

“Sorry I got you guys into a fight.”

Phil chuckles, but it sounds dark, hollow. “When are we not in a fight?”

So many words fight to push their way out of Dan’s throat. They want to scream that Phil is so much more than this, that he should realise his own worth and ditch Charlie for someone that deserves him. He swallows them down as best he can, creating a lump, the size of a boulder, in his throat.

Phil turns back to look at him, a sad smile on his face. Then, one eyebrow twitches, and he smirks. “Are you in my bed?”

Heat flames into Dan’s cheeks, and he attempts to pull the covers over his chest. “Fuck, sorry… I’ll wash the sheets and stuff-”

Phil is laughing, which cuts Dan off. “Dan, it’s okay. I said you could have the bed, didn’t I?”

“Well… yes, but-”

Phil yawns then, smiling sleepily at him. “You look cute under my covers. Wish I was there, to be honest.”

Dan’s heart spasms. He wonders if Charlie can hear what Phil’s saying, and whether Phil is only saying it to get a rise out of his boyfriend.

“It’s, um, very comfy. High thread count.”

Phil laughs again. “The thread count is top of my priorities.”

“So, is the shoot going okay and stuff?” Dan asks, wanting to move the subject into safer territory, so his heart rate can settle back into a human rhythm.

Phil shrugs. “It’s kind of difficult posing sexily on a beach with someone who currently hates my guts, but other than that it’s fine.”

Dan winces. “Is it that bad?”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Teleport me into the bed with you so we can watch Buffy and fall asleep?”

Another heart spasm. Another flush whipping into his cheeks. “Hah, I’ll…. see what I can do.”

There’s another door slam then, and Phil glances up, smile disappearing. “I’d better go.” He sounds reluctant. “I’ll call tomorrow, see how you’re holding up.”

“Okay,” Dan says. He shifts, still feeling guilty. “Seriously Phil, I don’t know how much of that video you saw, but… I’m sorry. I didn’t think. It won’t happen again.”

“I know, Dan. It’s my fault, I threw you in the deep end with all this stuff.” Phil smiles at him. “I forget sometimes that being friends with me isn’t as simple as it used to be. I come with a twin. His name’s AmazingPhil, and he’s kind of a jerk. Causes all sorts of trouble.”

Dan laughs at the analogy, shrugging one shoulder. “I kinda like him.”

“He likes you too,” Phil says, winking again. “It’s not your fault some girl attacked you over him though, Dan. You’re wonderful, okay? It’s everyone else who sucks.”

The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches. “Um, thanks. You… you too.”

“Enjoy your day off.” Phil waves. “Try not to worry about this. It’ll all blow over in two seconds anyway.”

“Okay,” Dan says, unsurely. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

The expression that flits across Phil’s face suggests that this is unlikely. “Thanks, Dan,” he says anyway, then blows a kiss, and is gone.

*

At around eight in the evening on Sunday, Charlie posts a photo to his Instagram account. Dan follows Charlie out of curiosity more than politeness, but he sees it in his feed, right at the top. It’s a photo of him and Phil, knee deep in the ocean, holding hands as they stare out towards the horizon.

Their silhouettes are perfect and symmetrical, their broad shoulders and tapered waists looking as if they’d been painted onto the streaky orange sky behind them. The picturesque image hits Dan like a punch to the stomach, dull and painful, winding him momentarily.

The caption reads:

happy anniversary baby <3

It’s been bombed with likes.

omg i didnt know you guys had an anniversary today!!!

congratulations charlie and phil! u r couple goals!! #chil4eva

so happy for you both! give phil a kiss from me cha ;) xx

#netflixandchil later guys?! ;) <3

A hot, stinging sensation burns in Dan’s retinas. He throws his phone to the couch, and doesn’t look at it again for the rest of the night.

*

Three more fame-hungry girls and nine more gossip-thirsty guys track Dan down over the course of Monday night. Tyler makes a sign for the bar counter that says ‘Want To Quiz The Bartender? Hope You Like The Taste Of Ass...phalt’, which helps a little, but doesn’t entirely ward off the AmazingPhil stans.

Dan just keeps his mouth clamped shut for the night. He’s not really in the mood to talk to anyone anyway. That photo of Charlie and Phil seems to be burned into the back of his mind; it’s there every time he so much as blinks, taunting him. He refuses to take his break halfway through his shift, sure that the photo will dance teasingly in front of his retinas for the whole twenty minutes.

It just makes so little sense. Phil had seemed beaten down by the weight of Charlie’s anger when he and Dan had Skyped last night. How is it that, hours later, they’re knee deep in the warm waves of a tropical beach, holding hands in celebration of their anniversary?

“Hey, you’re him right? Dan Is Not On Fire?” It’s a giggling pair of young guys this time, nudging each other forwards. “Phil is totally into you.”

The other one squeals, clapping a hand over the first one’s mouth. “Oh my God, I can’t believe my friend I’m so sorry.” He releases his hold on the other guy, laughing. “But seriously, we both ship Phan way more than Chil.”

It feels like a bolt in his chest, screwed too tightly, digging in just below Dan’s ribs. “Guys, do you wanna order something?”

“Oh, no, we’re seventeen,” one of them says, and the other one smacks him. “Shit, I shouldn’t’ve said that-”

“Matt!” Dan yells for what feels like the millionth time tonight. “Matt, get over here!”

“Wait, wait, can we just, like, get a selfie?” They’re snapping the photo before Dan can turn away, and he scowls at them both. “Thanks! Follow us on Insta!” They chirp, laughing, and are gone before Matt can push through the crowd.

Tyler throws a plastic cup after them, which Dan is grateful to him for. “We’re gonna need to hire more security at this rate.”

“It’ll blow over when Phil gets sick of me,” Dan says.

“Gets sick of you? He’s in here all the time!”

For now, Dan thinks privately.

He doesn’t reply out loud, he just turns to the next customer, who is, mercifully, just another regular. The realisation that Dan is coming to with the blow of each crushing Phil/Charlie couple photo, is that eventually Phil is going to seek out greener pastures.

Once he’s settled into Brighton, Phil will find his own social class of people to hang out with, people more like Charlie, that understand designer labels and spend their weekends at fancy  film premieres or in their second homes in Bali.

Up with the elite is where Phil belongs, even if Dan was able to tether him in the dirt for a while, playing Mario Kart and plying him with sugary alcoholic drinks. Dan is an ‘in-the-meantime’ friend, someone to pass the time with until he finds a better crowd. Someone to house-sit for him, and someone who doesn’t have a lot of free time, and is therefore low-commitment. There will come a time, Dan is sure, when he will once again be just a bartender to Phil. Sure, Phil will wave and chat when he comes into the bar, but they won’t hang out, and the fans that followed Dan out of curiosity will drop away like flies when they realise that Dan is simply… dull.

It will be difficult when it happens. But Dan won’t struggle against the current; he’s not stupid, and he’s been poor since he was a kid. He knows how society is separated into the wealthy and the not-so-much, and how the divide can rip through even the tightest of bonds.

He barely even knows Phil, still. There’s no doubt in Dan’s mind that one day, yet again he won’t know Phil at all besides the pictures that occasionally flash up on his phone.

*

On Tuesday morning, Dan wakes up earlier than usual. At first, he thinks it might be the seagull screeching right outside his window, but he’s lived in Brighton for years; it takes a lot of squawking to wake him.

He rolls over, still swathed like a baby in the thick covers of Phil’s bed, and immediately freezes, realising what it is that has woken him. There’s a body beside him, faced away. Even if Dan couldn’t recognise him by the shock of black hair, he’d know the bare, pale back, dotted with tiny freckles. He’d know the Emoji pyjama pants, and the shallow, even breaths that come out with a slight snore.

For a long, long time, Dan doesn’t move an inch. He just stares at the silhouette of the man he’s dreamed about laying next to for so, so long. He suspends his belief, and allows his mind to wander, to imagine that this is real, that Phil is his, and that he’ll roll over any second, give Dan a lazy smile, and kiss Dan’s world into colour.

None of this happens, obviously. So Dan just watches him, counting the minutes he gets to have this, and prays that it never ends.

(Part 8 !) 

#phanfic #phan #bartender au #phanfiction

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 8: Bridge Bricks and Babysitting

Becoming The Mask

The Museum of Arcadia was very different during its hours of operation. Much more brightly lit. Much less filled with the uneasy feeling he might run into Bular at any moment.

Jim veered away from his scattering classmates to loiter near their history teacher and the museum curator.

Eli was peppering Ms Nomura with questions and Mr Strickler was watching with poorly-concealed amusement as she indulged the boy's curiosity about Renaissance-era pottery. After a few minutes she sent Eli off to the exhibit in question and fixed Jim with a piercing stare.

Jim flashed his eyes and Nomura's shoulders relaxed, though her expression remained sharp. She flashed her eyes back at him. They were green in both her human and troll forms, but when she was in human form they lit up gold and red like every other Changeling's.

"At least one of them was actually interested in the lesson plan this year," Ms Nomura said to Mr Strickler. "So few of your students actually appreciate the history of ceramics and how they influenced the build-up to the Industrial Revolution."

They casually walked through a partially roped-off doorway and disappeared behind a hanging tarp. Jim glanced around to ensure no witnesses – all his classmates were elsewhere or actually focused on the displays – and followed the other two Changelings.

"It's more than halfway done?" he gasped in amazement.

Killahead Bridge was mostly under sheets, but the shape was distinct, as was the gap where they hadn't yet finished building the arched form.

"Hidden in plain sight as an upcoming exhibit," Stricklander boasted. Nomura rolled her eyes at his pomposity. Jim sat on one of the wooden crates and started toying with the stones and bricks in the open crate beside him.

"I anticipate full construction within three months, if the latest rumours lead to the final stones," said Nomura to Stricklander. "But just in case they don't … In the interests of growing Gunmar's legion, we're bringing in someone new." Nomura glanced sideways at Jim. The most recently-planted Changeling sat up with an attentive expression. "Any suggestions for their cover?"

Damn Toby for not being young enough to send to safety.

"What about the Nuñez baby?" Jim suggested. The question had been directed at Stricklander, but Jim wasn't sure Claire Nuñez gushed about her little brother to the teachers the way she did to her peers. He rolled a rounded stone thoughtfully over his palm. "Mrs Nuñez is involved in local politics, right? Might be useful to have an eye on the inside."

"It's a good thought," Stricklander agreed. "Now, Jim, Ms Nomura and I have more classified information to discuss. You'd best rejoin your class."

To some Changelings, that would be practically an invitation to spy. Jim tossed two of the three rocks he'd been toying with back into their crate and slipped the third, smallest one up his sleeve as he gave Mr Strickler a casual salute with his other arm.

I'm not ready. I need time; to think; to plan. We can't finish the Bridge yet. I haven't convinced anyone that Mom needs to stay alive.

It was selfish and petty and treasonous and he was being ridiculously foolish and he knew it. Gunmar would not reward the loyalty of a Changeling who delayed his escape.

But Gunmar didn't need to know. No one needed to know.

Jim would sneak the piece back into place once he had a guarantee of Barbara's safety. It should only take a short while longer to wrangle Stricklander into it. Otto might not even be back in the States until afterwards, with or without the Eyestone. Stealing a piece of Killahead was just a momentary fit of harmless foolishness for Jim's peace of mind. He'd give it back.

He slipped it from his sleeve into his pocket.

That night, in Trollmarket, he hid it behind one of the many bookcases in Blinky's library.

"Claire, I'm sorry, I can't babysit tonight."

"But you promised! Mom and Dad have that charity thing, and I have a Papa Skull concert – Papa Skull! I, like, live in their t-shirt!"

"Sorry, C-Bomb, but Dean finally asked me to a movie – and then Hank invited me out for ice cream. Tight Jeans Hank! Love can't choose, Claire!"

"But Mary, I need you!"

"I can babysit," Jim offered. Both girls jumped, having not noticed Jim and Toby listening in on their drama. Toby gave Jim a surprised look. Jim and Claire had worked on class projects together once or twice, but they didn't exactly know each other well.

"You can?" asked Claire excitedly. "Wait, have you ever babysat before?"

"Uh, yeah," Jim lied, and then added, truthfully, "Plus, my mom's a doctor, so I know infant CPR and everything."

"You're a lifesaver, Jim! Come to my house around seven? No sooner."

"Got it."

"I wrote his routine on the fridge – after playtime you can just put him down. He's a good sleeper. And he'd rather play with his food than eat it. He loves games. Peekaboo, hide and seek. What am I forgetting?"

"We'll be fine," Jim promised Claire. Enrique burbled delightedly and bounced in his swing.

"Here's the emergency contact numbers." She pressed a paper into Jim's hand. "Whatever you do, do not call my parents first."

"Because they don't know you're going to the concert, do they?" he teased.

"They'll be back late-late, and I should only be a couple hours. Three max. Um, help yourself to anything in the fridge … and if you eat babies, now is the time to tell me."

He forced a laugh and shook his head and tried not to think of Bular.

There was a honk from outside, presumably her ride.

"Hey – thanks for this." Claire smiled shyly and sweetly at Jim. "You're my hero."

"Have fun," he told her. Once she was gone, he lit his eyes red and gold. "So, Enrique, how's it going?"

The baby changed into a small green troll. It took a while for human vocal chords to develop enough for speech. "Fine enough. Pretty cushy assignment, even if I can't eat the cat."

"I brought some old argyle socks," Jim offered.

"Oooh, gimmie-gimmie!"

The smaller Changeling unbuckled himself from the swing while the bigger Changeling got the bag of socks from his backpack. They settled onto the couch. Jim switched forms as well. The couch felt strong enough to hold him.

"Yummy," Enrique mumbled with his mouth full. He'd bitten right into the zip-locked plastic bag like it was a calzone.

"Enjoy them while you can. After a few years in human guise, they start to lose appeal." Jim crinkled his nose. Even in his trollish form, he hadn't eaten cloth in years. At least plastic, glass, and metal still tasted good.

"Bossman send you to check up on me?"

"Nah. I just had a free evening." He scratched idly at the stub of his horn. "Plus I wanted to know how things have been on the other side, and you've got the latest news."

"Eh, what's to say? Still dark, gloomy, boring. Nobody knows how to have fun."

"What are the numbers looking like? There were thirty when I left, counting you."

"Down to twenty-three now."

Six Changelings lost was not an ominous death count for a fifteen-year period, Jim reminded himself, willing himself to keep breathing evenly. That averaged out to one death every two and a half years. They sometimes went decades without a death only to lose several in the same week.

"Hey, funny story," Enrique continued. "Somebody from this side's been sending blankets and candy and stuff through the Fetch once in a while."

Good; the Changelings left behind had been finding Jim's 'care packages'. He kept his expression mildly curious.

"They send books sometimes, and Dictatious hoards them if he finds them first." Gunmar's advisor was notoriously selfish with reading material. "But here's where it gets good. I've got some of those same books in the nursery here. They're stories for fleshbag kids! And he's been puzzling over the 'code' they're written in!"

Jim cackled at the mental image of Dictatious trying to 'decode' Dr Seuss or Robert Munsch.

His options for what to send had been limited to his own old things until a couple of years ago. Maybe he should print out the photographed pages of A Brief Recapitulation of Troll Lore and send that through, in case he needed Dictatious to do him a favour at some point. On the other hand, his 'care packages' were sent anonymously, and this was comedy gold.

"Hi, Mr and Mrs Nuñez!" Jim, sitting on their living room couch, plastered an I'm-trying-to-look-innocent-but-know-I'm-in-trouble grin on his once more human face. "I'm Jim; Claire and I go to school together. She –" was sneaking in behind them. "She's just in the bathroom. We were doing homework together, and Enrique started fussing, so we took a break to play with him."

They still looked suspicious, but now it was 'a strange boy was alone with our daughter' suspicious rather than 'we found a stranger in our house holding our baby' suspicious. Claire gave him a grateful look and ducked behind a door, closing it quietly and opening it loudly.

"Mom, Dad, hey!" She gave them the same nervous smile. "I, ah, see you met Jim."

"I should get going." He handed Enrique to Claire and grabbed his backpack from the coffee table. "I'll see you at school, Claire. Gracias for your help with the Spanish review. Let me know if you have more History questions."

"Bye, Jim!"

Jim ducked past her parents and bolted like – well, like a teenage boy who had just been caught in a teenage girl's home by her presumably-protective guardians while she was supposed to be home alone.

Damn it, his cover did not need this. He'd hardly ever get to compare notes with Enrique now.

Claire approached him at school the next day.

"Hey. Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I would've called to warn you they were headed back early but my phone died just after Papi texted me. But you were great. That was some pretty quick thinking. I owe you."

"Hey, no hard feelings. Did they buy it?"

"Mm. Sort of." She readjusted her backpack. "I'm still in trouble for having a boy over, but at least they think I was there the whole time. You might've even convinced them we really were studying. You should've tried out for the play."

"Ah … no, I'd never have found the time. Last night was … I've usually got a lot going on. But if you need a babysitter again, I could make time. Enrique wasn't too demanding; I really did get homework done."

Claire kissed his cheek. Jim was not sure how to react to that.

"Or maybe we could have a real study date sometime," she said.

He stared blankly after her as she walked away. Toby elbowed him in the gut and said something congratulatory.

Jim felt awkward and a little gross. Claire didn't know how much older than her he was, but he did, and her kissing him felt … not okay.

It was an innocent and unsolicited gesture indicating affection not necessarily of a romantic nature, he decided. As long as he didn't say or do anything to suggest he was flirting back, Claire flirting with him was no more inappropriate than Toby's crush on Dr Lake. And that was assuming she even had meant it flirtatiously. Platonic kisses and study dates were a thing.

Previous Chapter (Jim expresses affection through food and protective oaths)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Toby gets suspicious of Jim’s recent behaviour)

This was originally imagined as two chapters, 'Grand Theft Bridge Piece' and 'Grand Theft Baby'. But I couldn't stretch the theft of the Bridge piece out; it was more plausible for it to be an impulse decision on Jim's part, rather than having him sneak into the museum later for premeditated treason. 

As for Enrique, there would be too much risk of being caught if Jim were directly involved in stealing and swapping him, rather than letting the goblins handle it as they do in canon, so the Changelings wouldn't have sent Jim along on that mission. If he were already scheduled to babysit, they might have planned the swap to take place that night, but Jim babysitting was a very last-minute substitution on Claire's part which the Janus Order couldn't have planned for.

I hope Not Enrique being referred to as Enrique didn't confuse anyone. From Jim's perspective, they're both Enrique, because Changelings assume their Familiars' names. Not Enrique won't actually be called Not Enrique until non-Changeling characters find out that he's a Changeling.

Jim actually has no objection to troll-human romance. But he is an actual adult, if a young one (the troll equivalent of being in his early-to-mid twenties), so having an adolescent flirt with him is uncomfortable. If they were in college instead of high school, the ‘age difference’ would not be an issue. (Instead the main issue would be that he’s more attracted to trolls than humans, which, like his relative age, hasn’t come up in-story yet.) Jim’s relationship with Claire in this AU will ultimately be a platonic friendship ... assuming she ever forgives him after she finds out he had her brother kidnapped.

#trollhunters #Becoming The Mask chapters #Changeling Jim #Not Enrique #Nomura #Walter Strickler #Claire Nuñez #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day! #caution: contains swearing #Tales of Arcadia #Familiars #Jim Lake Jr #Enrique Nuñez

[blood-red-lion]

Not that anyone really needs more of thissss BUUUUT it’s my blog so I’m’a do what I want. Read more for what is basically my “live blogging” season five starting with episode 2.

What the fuck is he using What the fuck is he— That looks like a BAYARD bro—

Ooooh my goooood he’s using his fathers weapon. How the fuck did we see Lotor use it before we saw Shiro use it lmaooooo

Yoooo ya’ll fuckers I love my space Legolas okay he’s a babe and he did his best and look at what he managed to do saving your asses THANKS.

Allura trying to make him feel better oMg

“Look, Prince Lotor, just hanging out on the bridge.” “That’s a thing that happens.”

“Lance this is not your call.” OUCH. Shush up. YOOOO SHIRO BACK THE FUCK UP.

—-YOOOOOO HOW IS HAGGAR WATCHING THIS SHIT——

And omg they’re trying to kill her fuck fuck nah she’s waking up guys let the crazy witch chill.

Ahhhhh my beautiful lovely lady generals. I love all of them. The little traitors... Is Haggar taking them in— yes she is ohhhhh my gosh. Also can we talk about how Acxa was sitting causeeeee.... lol.

Iron will to match his iron fist.... -stares at Haggar- WHAT THE FUCK IS KURON STAGE FOUR MOTHER FUCKERS.

I mean Allura is being generally nice and tolerant of Lotor like... it’s cute she’s grown so much. She’s apprehensive, fair, but she’s trying. I love her.

I’m LAUGHING that line was said by A GENERIC GENERAL?!?? Lmaoooooo. Ya’ll fuckers.

WHERE IS SHIRO

WTF

ALRIGHT GUYS

YOOOOOOOO

OMG SHIT IS— SHIT SHIIIIITTTTT

LANCE BABY ITS GONNA BE UP TO YOU ahhhh my heart guys my heart

YOOOO HE PUNCHED THAT THING INTO NONEXISTENCE ahhh my baby I can’t. Give him his boyfriend /someone/ should cuddle him.

If I don’t see Keith soon I’m gonna flip a table tho ngl.

Also yooooo Earth finally being in on the loop.

And UHM. Yeh no Lance knows. He deeeeefinitely knows. He HAS to know.

I’m FUCK INF LAUGHING HE WAS LITERALLY SHOT INTO SPACE DUDE HOW IS HE STILL AROUND

okay yeah the iron fist thing makes sense now lmao.

Fucken stupid.

-dead- WHERE IS MY SON THO?!???

OH LOOK THERE HE IS. Tiny child with his off color fanny pack.

LOTORS LITTLE SURPRISED FACE “oh-! May I, princess???” Like this babe— ahhh I love him. Soft eyes lotor is my FAVORITE thing.

Pidge: “he definitely color codes.” Omg.

Also... does lotor not realize Haggar is honerva...??? ......babies......

LOOK AT HIM HE’S SO SOFT??! I mean that was WEIRD but ahhhhhhh

Yooo Sen looks like he’s been through some SHIT.

Also that one hacker galra like “we should /not/ let them do the thing.” Clearly speaking sense I mean they’re all shitty but /clearly/ speaking sense.

YOOOO SAM JUST SAID THAT. Sam JUSTTTTT said that. Punk is such a funny thing.

Yo did Shiro like. Take a joy ride with Lotor what is this. This is not the ship I wanted. Get away from me.

Bet. He fucking did.

Keith’s fucken concern.  Jesus.

Ya know by the rules of succession, lotor killed his dad, he was next in line, like— why should he have to fight for this, he literally has both and only legitimate claims.

“I return the black lion to the galra.” Yo what.

BRO HAGGAR FUCK OFF WITH THAT HALF BREED BULLSHIT.

Yo Keith almost sounded concerned for Lo too like ngl I’m gonna cling to that.

Keith trying to turn off all the bombs baby honestly just go tell them to skedaddle or something shit lmao Ya’ll bombed sacred ground. Annnnnnd Lotor is alone. Fack. Please protect my purple space Legolas.

WAIT THEY WERE TOGETHER SENDAK FUCK OFF

ACXA REALLY JUST DID THAT.

BRO EITHER SHES HIS MOM OR HIS SISTER THAT’S IT ITS OVER ITS DONE SHE IS DEFINITELY /ACTIVELY/ PROTECTING HIM

Also. Seriously. Like. How are they supposed to pick a new ruler now? The point is for lotor to take the throne and ya know— stabilize the galra guys. Ahhhh...

More Keith plz.

Look at lotor. Still fucken finishing it. Looks so annoyed. My boy.

Ilovehim.

Archivist don’t give a fuck that his emperor is a half breed fuck all y’all.

Is that the end tho is that the end of his time in the castle ship cause I really enjoyed how he and Allura talked like please—

OH messages for their families. Yo that’s important. Lance’s—-FAMILY HAS NAMES. MARCO. LUIS. VERONICA. NAMESSSSSS.

“There is a lot of space dust in here.” “ITS FILTHY.”

KROLIA LOOKS LIKE KEITH. SHE LOOKS LIKE KEITH SHE LOOKS LIKE KEITH. Whaaaaaaaaat the fuckkkkk.

LOTOR oNGHGG “Thank you for coming my friends!” BABY. Changing banners and looking all— Ahhhhhhhh I love him. Soft baby. SOFTTTT baby. Just letting them do what they want. Lil smiles. Ahhhhhhh!!!!!! “Come princess.”

WHAT IS FUN. Omg. Okay this makes sense now.

I want lotor to walk in and for pidge to have to explain they broke one of his sentries for shits and giggles

Blending too much keith. Tooooo much blending. (Also I’m still pissed about the last time you were in one of those WHAT the fuck.)

SHE HAS HIS BANGS. THIS IS NO JOKE WTF. Who the hell is Acxa then...?

LOTOR STILL LOOKS SO SOFT GDI

Yoooo is Allura only figuring that out now?? Also can we talk about how proud Lotor is of his mama? Yeh he definitely doesn’t know Haggar is his mama well shit.

These three literally being chased by galra like its a sitcom guys poor things. Th—EY KIDNAPPED THEM AND ARE JOUSTING THEM WTF GUYS— At least they made them popsicles... Omg.

KROLIA FUCKINg— She’s also got Zethrid style hair and it’s cuteeeee af.

I like Lotor being obvious enough that allura can see him get annoyed— Allura just tried that ahhhh baby no he hates haggar.

“Wait a tick!” HIS FACE. MY SON. Hessocuteomg. And soooo into his Altean heritage that’s fucking adorable.

HE RECOGNI—- “I left you once, I’ll never leave you again.” BABY. FUCKING. BABIES.

MEANWHILE LO BEING SOFT AS FUCK WITH ALLURA OMG SEND HELP I CANT BREATHE LOOK AT HIM TRYING AHGODMYHEARTICANT

The fucking droid. Oh my god. “Later paladudes. Weeeeeeeeeee.” This is bullshit.

“You compromised the mission!” “Keith! Shut up and listen to me!”

“I handed them over to it.” WELL. Alrighty then.

Keith gonna have a conversation with her now??? Yup there we go. Keith did you really not get it? Baby is more dense than we thought guys. Everyone go home.

“Perfect place to hide a magical world.” “Perfect place to crash and die.”

“We’re navigating by cave poetry now?”

“Lotor is sending you to your doom!”

“You need to zip it!”

Lotor stands by just :)))))))

Where is Lotor anyway?

OMG OMG OMG OMG BABY BABY BAYBNSUSLAJCKAKKDLQHFLAJDJSKKANFJSLB I’mSCREAMING

OH GOD if he keeps those the galra are nooooot gonna be happy... also white lion legit just /chose/ Lotor guys. He’s so PROUD of himself tho look at him. Ahhh and she looks so cute too.

I don’t think kuron knows he’s kuron. I mean I never did but I’m just gonna voice that now.

Yoooo Acxa still seems loyal to lotor wtf.

LOTOR TALKING ABOUT HIS CHILDHOOD. BABY. BAAAAAAAABY. Look at his pouty face ahhhh omg they’re bonding FACK guys so ngl this was kinda my original ship when I first saw Lotor like I’m dying lmao they’re fucking adorable.

His hair floof <3

I want his markings back yo like I know they’d screw him but they looked /lovely/ on his faaaaace.

Lotor private spiritual journey.

Ahhhhh....

Lotor’s approach is so funny lmao... “We come seeking knowledge!” “I /will/ know your secrets!”

Ahhhhh baby you fucked up. I hope he isn’t too upset about that. I mean that was his conditioning it’s not fair. He even /said it/. Victory or death. Poor baby.

Yeah he’s looking kinda pissy. But he seems to be trying to handle it okay. Still soft. Good soft.

—OH NO. Oh shit and that’s it.

Well. Fuck. :(

#vld5 spoilers #spoilers #gen watches vld5 #live blogging #vld5 #voltron #gen babbles #for her own amusement #-shot- #personal

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 32)

“Sweet Mother Beatrix, how is it even possible to have stored all of this without the house falling off from the sheer weight concentrated in this section alone?!” Diana cried as she sat on a crate, sweating and exhausted.

“It’s a skill myself, Nick, and the rest of the original crew picked up when we were still jetting all across Remnant on expeditions,” Freya said as she sat right beside her, holding her scroll out and tracking how many more boxes Ruby and Akko needed to take out. “As he would say: ‘It’ll fit, you just have to pack it in the right order.’”

“Mayhaps Atlas’ research into super-efficient storage containers should consult with you,” Diana muttered.

“We would, if not for how some of their new breed of researchers can be with the very notion that a problem has already been solved, before they brought their expertise and modern equipment to it,” Freya spat.

“I think we’ve got the last of them!” Ruby called out through scroll, before she read out the labels and their serial codes.

Freya double-checked her record, before she said, “Verified, that is indeed the last batch.”

“Really?” Akko asked. “Are you sure there isn’t more? Because I don’t feel that tired yet.”

“Fret not, Akko, you’ll probably be begging to be hauled back to bed once you’re done working through all your new reading assignments,” Freya replied. “Shutting off communications now, see you two back here.”

Diana groaned. “I really rather regret taking advantage of Atlas’ high-speed trams to get everywhere...”

“As someone who once thought she’d be just fine being the ‘intellectual’ of a dust prospecting team: yes, it would do you well to work on at least your cardio from here on out,” Freya said as she put her scroll back in her pocket. “If nothing else, be faster than the slowest member of your team.”

Ruby and Akko arrived soon after with a trolley loaded with Akko’s old study notes. “So, what’s next, Diana?” Akko asked as she and Ruby started loading the boxes from earlier onto it.

“What’s next is that we all get a fresh change of clothes before we head out, then all of us get a bath!” Diana replied as she and Freya got off the box. “I’m sorry, I understand the attitudes about personal hygiene are very different here in Mistral, but I just can’t while we’re all like this!” she cried, gesturing to herself.

“Bath first it is, Diana!” Akko replied. “You want to bike to Hoshiko, or just use the stream by here? I gotta warn you, though: the first is really tiny, and the second’s always cold, since it flows in from the tundras up north.”

“Stream, to save time,” Diana replied as she stepped past the doors leading to Nick’s workshop and Freya’s laboratory, and back to the living room. “It’s probably what I’m going to be stuck with come second year and when I’m deploying out in the field for real, might as well get used to it now!”

“Are you sure?” Akko asked as she and Ruby followed after her. “We need to have a wood stove right there for winter and really cold days, because otherwise we’d freeze.”

“Feel free to use it, we don’t lack for firewood up here!” Freya called out.

Diana sighed as she opened the front door. “Akko, Dr. Schnee, I lived in Atlas; I’m pretty sure all my years of winter survival classes, field trips, and venturing outdoors in general have adequately prepared me for the ravages of the cold, whatever phenomenon is sapping the heat from my body.

“Your concern is appreciated, but trust me: I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you say so, Diana!” Akko said as she and Ruby hauled the trolley out and to the elevator, before they were off to the training grounds.

Aside from physical conditioning and combat training, it also had facilities for trade skills and much more theoretical and practical learning, such as a small shaded classroom with a well-worn blackboard and simple desks, a bare-bones workbench with the tools missing, and a counter for both chemistry and cooking, cast iron pots and pans present and stored underneath, but no glassware to be seen.

To Diana’s surprise, however, Akko kept on leading them on till they reached what looked like a massive, sprawling obstacle course, with platforms built up in the trees, tunnels and slides, sturdy climbing nets and rope ladders, even a series of zip-lines and pulleys to get people and materials around quickly and efficiently.

“Is this where you usually studied?” Diana asked as they started unloading the boxes.

“Yep!” Akko replied. “I pretty much know this place by heart from all the times Uncle Nick had me run it for agility practice; just have to combine the muscle memory with all the other stuff, and it’s just going through it enough times that I can run through it in my head, even while I’m sitting still, or especially while I’m taking a test.

“Does that make sense?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to see how it work later...” Diana muttered. “Where’s the stream again?” she asked as they reached the last of the boxes.

“Just over there, actually,” Akko pointing off into the distance. “Want to head out now?”

“Yes,” Diana said, picking up a Duffel bag with all their clothes and towels and handing it to Akko.

“You guys go on without me,” Ruby said as she scanned the labels on the crates, pulled out her scroll. “I wanted to actually crack open these boxes and see how it might all fit together, have it on the back-burner,” she said as she started scribbling with her quill.

“Alright, but don’t take too long!” Diana said. “I’d like for all of us to be present and setting this up as soon as possible.”

“I won’t, I promise!” Ruby said as she wrote.

Akko and Diana headed off to a well-worn wooden path leading downhill, the brush and the branches recently trimmed and cut back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Akko, what was it that you said exactly to Weiss all those years back?” Diana asked as they walked at an unhurried pace.

“It was a speech I made up on the spot after I helped Weiss get out of one of her most serious depression funks,” Akko said. “I didn’t want to say it because it’s really long, Weiss’ looked tired from all the crying, and you’d need a lot of the context and history between us to really understand most of what I was saying, and why it was so important.”

“Do you mind enlightening me about some of it, then?” Diana asked. “How you two met, and became friends would be a good place to start.”

“Oh, that’s easy! A long, long time back, when Shiny Chariot was still performing, I wanted to know everything there was about her—looked up all the CCT sites, read all the interviews and the press releases, even tried to send messages to all the people that worked with her to try and learn more about her, like the head of her technician crew, Croix Meridies.

“Well, the first two didn’t have as much as I wanted to know, and a lot of the third just never replied to me, or sent me one of those canned responses— except Croix, anyway. I still have her response on my scroll, actually,” Akko said, pulling it out, opening the decades old message, before handing it to Diana.

“’You ruin the wonder of a magic trick as soon as you learn how it’s done. Ask yourself if you really want to know, Akko.’” Diana read. “Well...” she muttered as she handed it back. “That’s… cryptic, and more than a little ominous.”

“Yep!” Akko said put her scroll back into her pocket. “At first I thought it was just her saying I’d spoil the fun of her shows, but then, after all the news that popped up after she stopped performing… aaaanyway, I was a super huge fan, and I was desperate for anyone, anything that could tell me anything new about Chariot.

“And it just so happened that this was right around the time Weiss and the rest of her family sans her dad moved here to Mistral.

“I always knew that Uncle Nick and Aunt Freya lived up in that house by the mountains, but they mostly just kept to themselves, and all I knew about them was that they were retired from their old jobs except when people called in favours, that Uncle Nick was super nice to everyone even if he shouts and swears a lot, and Aunt Freya is a mean old lady you don’t want to mess with.

“Well, I mean, they still are, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Right.”

“Anyway, I was trying to talk with her and make friends while her family was having lunch out at Hoshiko this one time—you know, just in general, because they’re new and anyone moving in is big news—and since I opened up with how much I love Shiny Chariot, Uncle Nick mentioned how he and Aunt Freya actually worked with Chariot and Croix back when they were studying at Haven.

“It was mostly because of their finding the Shiny Rod then, but Croix’s work in aura tech and dust applications caught their attention, too.”

“But why them, specifically?” Diana asked. “I’d have understood if they were full-time staff like they are right now, but why not any of the many other scientists, archaeologists, and/or engineers in Remnant?”

“Two reasons, Uncle Nick told me.

“One: they had a LOT of hands-on experience dealing with weird, mysterious crap no one understands—dust deposits big enough for a mine usually tend to attract a lot of weirdness, generally the kind that could kill you, seriously mess you up, or both.

“Two: it was easy to just call them up whenever and they’d come over, and because Croix and Chariot got into a LOT of trouble, pretty much all the time, it was hard to get anyone you had to get an appointment with a few weeks ahead of time, let alone have around almost as much as the full-time staff.

“Oh, hey, we’re already here!” Akko said as they rounded a bend.

Diana looked around, saw they were indeed at a gently burbling stream, the path ending at a wooden platform with benches for sitting; large tubs for throwing filthy clothes in; what looked like an antique washing machine if not for the clearly modern components; the wood stove Akko mentioned earlier; and toiletries and smaller tubs like in the Haven bathhouse.

“Guess I’m just going to have to tell the rest of the story another time!” Akko said as she put her bag down by the benches, started stripping out of her clothes and tossing it into one of the big tubs. “You sure you don’t want to try and fire up the stove?”

“It’ll take too much time,” Diana said as she followed suit. “As necessary as that conversation with Weiss was, it rather broke our original schedule.”

“Suit yourself!” Akko said, tossing Diana a tub, before she tested the water with her foot. She yelped, before she laughed, and waded in, shivering slightly. “It’s colder than usual today, Diana, last chance!” she said as she leaned down and scooped up some water.

“Again, I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary,” Diana said as she tested the water, too. She bit back a yelp as she pulled her foot back—it was cold, really cold.

Splash!

Akko squealed with laughter, shivering for a moment before she reached out for the pump bottle of soap, and lathered up her hands and her arms. So it was that Diana figured that if Akko could handle dumping a tub full of freezing cold water over her head, she’d be fine.

Splash!

She was wrong.

Diana felt her body lock up as the tub fell from her hands, making a splash as it hit the water, floating for a bit before silently coming to a stop to a wooden bar made just for that. The scream that came from her as soon as she regained control was much, much, much louder.

Akko flinched, instinctively looked around in case Grimm had sneaked up on them. She relaxed when all she found was Diana now shivering and hugging herself, trying not to whimper or tear up. “Too cold…?”

Diana shakily nodded her head.

“Want to fire up the stove?”

Diana carefully turned to Akko and shook her head. “I-I-I’ll...” she started, before a cool breeze came by and her teeth chattered too hard to speak.

“Want me to use an old trick me and the others used when it was WAY colder than we expected?” Akko asked.

Diana furiously nodded her head.

“Okay!” Akko said as she waded over.

Diana’s eyes widened as she began her from behind, a noise died in her throat as she felt Akko’s soapy hands on her stomach, her cheeks began to heat up as she felt Akko pressing her chest against Diana’s back.

“Hugging always works, whether it’s warming up before soaping up, or keeping warm while we wait for the water to heat up!” Akko explained cheerfully.

A few moments later, Ruby rounded the bend herself. “Hey guys, so just studying the materials and the instructions for setting it up didn’t really...”

Silence.

“Oh.”

“No! Not ‘Oh.’!” Diana would have cried if she could, but instead it just came out as a pained whimper.

“We’re just hugging because the water was too cold for Diana!” Akko called out.

Ruby slowly nodded her head. “Should I go…?” she asked as she thumbed back the way she came.

“No!” Diana managed, even if it was just a whimper.

“… Okay then!” Ruby said as she headed down to join them. “So, how’s the water?” she asked as she took off her hooded jacket, laid it out on one of the benches.

“It’s a lot colder usual!” Akko replied. “I don’t know if you can handle it, so might want to pour it slowly than just dump it all over your head than Diana did. I’m good for hugging if it’s too cold with you too, by the way!”

“Thanks, appreciate it!” Ruby said as she stripped out of the rest of her clothes, stepped a foot into the water. “Woah!” she cried as she pulled it back. “Man, you weren’t kidding!” she said as she grabbed her own tub, and waded in.

“Want to try and fire up the wood stove?” Akko asked, still hugging Diana. “Diana might not agree to it, though.”

“Nah, it’s cool—it’s not nearly as bad as some of the winter-time courier runs I’ve had!” Ruby replied, before she dumped some water over her head.

Splash!

Ruby squealed with laughter, shivering before she set the tub down besides Akko’s. “Yep, not nearly as bad—and I don’t even need to keep moving to stay warm!”

“Speaking of which… you all better now, Diana?” Akko said, casting a glance at her.

Diana nodded, her face red. “Yes… you can let go now, Akko...” she whispered.

Akko did, and the three of them went back to cleaning themselves up, though Diana was noticeably quiet as she faced away from them. However, things quickly went back to normal as they toweled themselves off, changed into fresh clothes, and headed back to the Training Grounds.

“You were saying earlier, Ruby?” Diana asked as she looked the opened boxes, some of their contents laid out.

“Studying them by myself wasn’t as productive as I thought it would be,” Ruby replied. “The instructions for setting them up had a lot of short-hand and code that I can’t really understand. Lack of proper, legible documentation: as much a problem in engineering as it is in programming,” she finished with a nod.

“Really sorry about that,” Akko said as she unpacked their test model. “We used to make it easier for other people to understand, until we realized it was really only just me, Weiss, and the rest of her family setting these up, so we all got used to reading the code without a key on hand to save time and effort.”

“None of your other friends ever helped with these reviews?” Ruby asked.

Akko visibly winced as she was pulling out rolled up tarpaulins.

“… Sorry.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Akko said as she pulled out the rest of them. “I figured it was going to come up at some point, anyway, so I might as well tell you guys that I was always the one dragging the entire class behind. I was pretty terrible at basically everything about being a huntress, up until I became friends with Weiss, and Uncle Nick and Aunt Freya started offering to have me over for training and tutoring over the summer and on Saturdays.

“I couldn’t get good grades at grade school, sucked at all the electives meant to get a leg up for when I was old enough for combat school, and because my aura levels were super low back then, and I found my semblance SUPER late, no one really wanted to be teammates with me.

“It was even harder when Shiny Chariot disappeared, and everyone but me seemed to forget all about her...” she muttered as she pulled out a box full of random knickknacks, got a far-off look in her eyes. “… So, yeah, even if this IS how I learn best, it’s going to be a hell of an uphill climb in a snowstorm, and you forgot your warm jacket at home.”

Diana put a hand on her shoulder, and smiled. “Fret not, Akko: I know the feeling.”

Akko looked at her in surprise. “You do...? But you’re super good at, well, everything.”

“But it wasn’t always that way,” Diana countered. “My aura levels were exceptionally low when it was unlocked for me, and it took a full two years for me to finally manifest my family’s semblance. I only have such ease with academics because I spent all my free time in my family’s library studying, or training, which, ah…”

She sheepishly looked away. “… Had its own consequences... mostly to my social life as well, actually.”

Akko blinked, before she smiled. “Huh. You know, it’s kinda funny how we’re all so similar in a lot of ways; except for Weiss, I thought we couldn’t all be more different, like oil and water, wouldn’t mix kind of different.”

“’Dig deeper,’” Ruby said.

“Pardon?” Diana asked.

“’Dig deeper,’” Ruby repeated. “It’s what we said in the Bunker, when it seems like there was someone who felt like they couldn’t make friends with anyone. You just gotta open up more, till you find the thing that’ll make someone want to open up to you, too, and when that happens, you can start making a real connection.

“… Well, actually, we also said that because our storage facilities only ever went deeper and deeper down because of how the school is designed and because we can’t really expand horizontally, and sometimes something gets literally buried underneath a whole lot of other crap…

“But you know what I mean, right?”

“Right,” Diana said. “Look, much as I enjoy how much we’re all bonding, opening up, and strengthening our friendship here, we should really get to studying. Team AWRD to work…?” she said, hesitantly raising her palm in the air.

“To work!” Akko and Ruby replied, smiles on their faces as they started grabbing materials, and setting it all up.

#and the awrd goes to #fanfic #dianakko #white rose #au #little witch academia #rwby

[delicrieux]

RIVALS  [ peter quill x reader ] 0.1

a/n; i wrote a ficaroony because i love peter quill and he deserves more appreciation and also every problem in this story would be solved if the two would just express their feelings /sobbing

summary: Some things are just obvious from an early age: you and Peter were meant to get along no better than a cat and a dog. And not the modern spin on a cat’s and a dog’s relationship either (none of that Disney fun-loving BS). No, we’re talking about that good old fashioned thirst for blood, spite and rivalry.Only that your situation really was Disney like. Which is ironic, since you’ve been raised to spit in anyone’s face that even mentions the name ‘Starlord’.

words;  2,427

warnings: a bit of swearing

0.2 MASTERLIST KO-FI. WRITTING CHALLENGE!

i need your help!

The current state of the ship and its crew can be described in one word: bored.

Whiskey. In Terra it’s high noon but no one really counts space hours so why the hell not? Peter Quill sits idly drinking by his cluttered table, trying to drone out the occasional buzzing and clatter and the piercing sound of squeaky metal by clogging all of his senses with alcohol. There isn’t a particular reason to indulge in daytime drinking festivities, but there simply isn’t anything better to do so he had helped himself to a glass a little while ago. He has finished three in total. Now he sits silent, his mind sometimes drifting out of these cramped walls of his beloved spaceship, branching further and further into the unseen horizon and onto a lonely planet that is just waiting to be looted. His fingers tap of the table and he shakes his head again: that stupid fucking clanking!

Gamora’s lips tighten into a thin line as she continues to keep a close eye on the ship’s monitor, making sure it steers in the right direction. Which really is just a waste of time since it seems like the whole Galaxy has taken a day off: no sudden storms, no space police, not even an asteroid astray. The captain’s chair, though comfortable, grows stiff after a while of not moving. Her arms fold over her chest and she shifts from leg to leg. Her eyes drift back and forth from the processor to the map dully, as if trying to find any bit of excitement in the task. Or anything, really. She shuts her eyes painfully. The clanking is more annoying than usual, that’s for sure.

But where is it coming from? Too close, the only human-like figures think in union. Rocket had dismantled and re-made his makeshift bomb for possibly the tenth time (in counting!), and while yes, he has the silent pleasure in knowing he’s getting on the crews nerves, not even this activity can satisfy the impeccable feeling of absolutely NOTHING happening. He figured making an explosive out of a hairdryer will surely occupy his mind for at least until something interesting happens, but so far not even a message from anyone (the message really doesn’t have to involve cash or danger. A simple ‘hello’ from a long lost friend sounds more exciting than this). And so he sits and fidgets with spare parts, his mood never spiking from ‘mildly entertained’.

No one really knows what Groot is up to, but from the occasional exclamation of his name echoing from somewhere in the ship, the crew breaths out a sigh of relief: Groot is still here. Maybe it’s not even a sigh; they just take a collective breath since the air-conditioning is broken.

Suddenly, a big red dot appears on the map and approaches at an alarming rate. Gamora blinks, jumping from her seat and slamming her palms on either side of the map monitor, surprised that on such a lazy day there is something moving their way at an incredibly fast pace. Her eyes bore into the distance; in the blankness and the occasional shimmer of faraway stars she notes the object swirl and fall from her field of vision. She narrows her eyes – is it a ship?... Her further questions are cut short by the beeping. This calls for the whole crew’s attention.

0.82 Yellow Stripe is requesting to dock.

“Oh no,” Gamora barely surpasses a jerk as Peter’s voice ring just in her ear, “no no no.” in one swift move she is nudged out of the way, “Where is the deny-cancel-delete-forget it ever happened button?”

“Friend of yours?” Rocket inquires. Peter snorts.

“More like arch-nemesis.” He mumbles, about to press the big red button as in ‘No, go away’, but Gamora beats him to it and with all her force pushes the friendly green one that simply states ‘Invitation accepted!’.

“The hell did you do that for?!”

She stares at him, her palm refusing to leave the safety of the green glossy surface in case Peter decides to claw at her fingers, “Look, nothing has been happening. Zip. Nada. If your arch-nemesis, as you put it, decided to suddenly drop by something has to be going on. Something we’re not aware of.” Silence. “People like that don’t just pay a visit out of the blue.”

“Yeah, or maybe she just came to finally murder me.”

Gamora smiles, though it’s hardly affectionate. Her eyes sweep the weapons stocked in one of the closer lockers, Rocket holding his hairdryer-explosive and lastly Groot curiously sticking his head out through the door to see what the commotions is about. Finally, she returns to Peter, “I think we got you covered.” The chilling tone of her voice leaves no room to argue and the ship falls quiet. Peter finishes his glass. Gamora loosens her grip on the button as a heavy ‘dunk’ rattles the whole spaceship. Groot and Rocket tip-toe closer just in case of combat.

This continues for a while. The air tension filled, growing in anticipation and curiosity with every new sound the 0.82 makes as it docks. A cloud of cold smoke leaks from the doorway Groot entered minutes ago and the team shares a look – is this really happening? Rocket tightens his grip on the explosive, though seeing as Peter seems anything but alarmed, disturbed, or in any other way ready for danger with the capital D, he merely raises a brow and slumps his shoulders. The way this is panning out, it seems no fight is going to break out. Rocket’s previous excitement on testing out the bomb grows bitter and he curses under his breath. If anyone heard him, no one said a thing.

“Jesus Christ!” A female voice rings out from the other room, riddled with disgust and Peter can’t help the smirk that grows on his lips. He raises his glass to take a triumphant sip but remembers it’s empty. Awkwardly he sets it down on the console, ignoring the amused look Gamora sends him.

Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Boots with a metal hilt, the only girl in the crew notes as her arms fold over her chest and she stares impatiently at the doorway, trying to paint the picture of this arch-nemesis. She is pretty sure Peter was joking when he said so, but still, knowing him and his pelvic magic she might just be another pissed off ex- girlfriend. These thoughts plague her and she is even more curious than before. Something falls in the other room and another yelp escapes the captain of the small yellow ship. Finally, the short statue of the mystery woman appears in the doorway—

Human, is all Gamora registers as she takes in the delicate glow of the shorter woman’s skin in the bleak lighting of Peter’s spaceship. A bead of sweat runs from her temple and gets lost somewhere near her jaw. And an angry human at that. Her face is scrunched; gloved fingers soon dig into her thick black rimmed googles and slide them off. Pair of (color) eyes meet hers for the briefest of moments she looks at Peter, “You are sick.”

“Healthy, actually.”

“You have serious issues, Peter. Did any of you see the engine room? Docks? No one? No one bothered to shine a LED light? Seems like a Picasso painting—“ Peter clears his throat loudly.

“(Title).” He addresses her. The woman, now dubbed as (Title), contemplates on whether to continue to describe her recent appalling findings or skip them entirely and never put on her goggles again. Her expression falls neutral and before Peter can say anything else, she leans onto the doorway and lowers her voice.

“Quill.”

His shoulders slump, “C’mon, it’s not that hard. Starlord.”

“No fucking way am I calling you that.”

|*|

When the initial disgust melted off you found yourself almost comfortable being in such a…unique spaceship. Unique is the only nice way you could put it without offending Peters feelings too much. Introductions flew by in a flash, one moment you were casually calling Peter everything your mind could come up with instead of Starlord, and the next you were pulled closer by the curious raccoon and his tree friend. The two of them flashed you a smile: Rocket and Groot! For a moment you were surprised that they have a higher mental capacity than a goldfish. You had yet to meet people/aliens/creatures that tolerate Peter and can form a coherent sentence. Lastly you shook hands with Gamora, another reality grasping companion that is female and hasn’t slept with Peter. That trivia earned a pleasant ‘Oh!’ from you. With that you moved on.

There is one particular room in ‘Starlords’ spaceship you always fancied, even after the two of you broke apart. It doesn’t have a name, nor do many go down here as you realized with a quick look through your googles. The walls are made of thick glass that opens the view of the whole universe, a lone boardwalk being the only surface that can hold your and his weight. Your feet teeter over the edge and you look down: the black abyss of space illuminates the edges of your shoes. The buzzing of the motors fills the silence. It’s always silent when you go down here. The occasional footsteps from up above draw you out your thoughts of the good old days when you hated Peter’s guts less and he tolerated you more. History is a tricky thing: whilst it is important, it’s unchangeable. Your parting of ways was inevitable, especially because of his eccentric taste and your strict morale code clashing fiercely on many occasions that almost led to either your or his death. Neither of you felt badly about it.

Except now, maybe. You aren’t sure yourself. You had taken off your gloves and left on a table near a whiskey bottle that much you recall. Your bare fingers grip the metal edge you sit on, shoulder slumped, deep in thought. Through the crown of your lashes you gaze at him – he is staring straight ahead, relaxed, slightly dazed perhaps, as the verbal fight the two of you engaged in long forgotten. A soft blue light illuminates his features and you trace them carefully, trying to remember each detail with striking precision and faintly searching for the boy you knew that long ago. Same home planet, taken by the Yondu Ravager Clan and raised by it too. In the back of your mind you make a side-by side of little Peter, dressed in his pirate gear and trying to operate a gun you had constructed under the strict eye of your kidnappers, and the young adult that sits within arms-length. You find no resemblance between the two. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they are completely different people. Then again, the last time you saw him was roughly five years ago, maybe even more.

Disappointment. Is that what you are feeling? Emotions mix and blur, just like the vast outside creeping behind these large windows. You swing your feet, a childish habit, and Peter snorts with an amused shake of his head, “Strange for you to shut your mouth for once.” You don’t take offence to that. You don’t take offence to anything, but don’t reply either. You tilt your head downwards again and stare at your feet, an action he notes and raises a curious brow, “Yo, (Title), you okay?” He asks lighthearted, leaning in just enough to be close but still minding your personal space.

It feels different somehow. When you first landed this, all of this, was an unpleasant mystery and you were beyond irritated to have made such a long and tiring trip to see a person you didn’t even want to talk to. Now, here, in the secure company of just the two of you the mood shifted drastically: from annoyance it went to heavy mixed feelings you don’t want nor are ready to voice. So instead you shrug and crack a smile. “Not really. Seeing you again is never pleasant.” There’s a tad of truth to every joke, as there is to lie, and while yes, seeing Peter again has raised some long forgotten spikes of emphatic brother-sister feelings, your sudden change from playful to serious isn’t entirely to do with him. He waits for you to continue and you are almost surprised that he doesn’t crack a stupid one-liner as a failed jab at your brooding. “I bet you know that I didn’t come here because I miss you.”

Ouch, he wants to say, but doesn’t. He nods. You continue, still not lifting your head up, “Finding you was…tough. Save me the story of running away and what-not, I don’t care. I didn’t come here to relish in old memories.” Yet you explicitly asked him to talk here, in your favorite place, despite anywhere being okay. You ignore this fact and any that fallow along with it and swing your legs again as if that would help you focus. “You have a good team. Not good good, but, you know…Good.” Your throat runs dry and a spike of nervousness sparks in your chest, going all the way to your fingertips. You gaze into his eyes, feeling your heart jump when your gazes connect in the dim lighting, “I need your help.”

The weight of your words is heavy, and though your request is quiet and reserved he knows you’re desperate. You would go to someone else, to anyone else, instead of him if it was whimsical or within your power. A spurge of pride. He can’t help but smirk. You frown, “Yeah yeah, c’mon, laugh it out, you won’t let me hear the end of this yada yada, I know.” You wave him off.

“I’m going to hold this against you forever.”

“Whatever, I don’t care.” The blankness returns to your face and he knows you’re back to being serious, “Do you…Do you remember the Carnic incident?”

“You mean when you ‘accidentally’ blew up a model spaceship? Of course I remember. It’s on my highlight reel.” He ponders for a minute how this is relevant, “You we’re banned from—“

“-Entering Terra territory.” You finished for him, the same heaviness returning to your voice as it grew quiet again. A note of pain strikes your features and Peter leans out taken aback. Turning away from him you are quick to compose yourself.

“My mom died. I want to say goodbye.”

TBH

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