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berriesandjunnie · 2 years

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❝ want me ❞

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° synopsis so i’ll be everywhere you’ll be and i’ll go anywhere you want me. ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° genre & tags fluff / non-idol!au / somewhat mutual pining / definitely pining of some sort besties / very soft scenes of angst / best friends to lovers / slight insecure reader / this will come as a surprise when you get to his part but junhui is not a love interest / sexual topics (just conversation and gyu + reader awkwardly in an adult shop) ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° pairing mingyu x afab!reader ┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° w.c 4.5k words

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° author’s note inspired by ‘want me’ by baby queen; synopsis is lyrics from the song. anyways i cant have another bias, gyu.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ now loading… enjoy! ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

You’d spend all day admiring him if you could without seeming like a literal psychopath outside of your daily schedules. Your best friend and housemate Kim Mingyu worked in a fancy suit and tie store you’d already expressively said was way out of his league - in the politest way, that is. In your eyes, Mingyu should have followed his college passion of fashion design yet he was spending his day greeting men with more money than him and showing them different coloured blazers. Yourself on the other hand had found yourself working at a local florist shop after you dropped out of college early. It was owned by a college senior who’d already graduated - Wen Junhui and you’d acquired the job through a close friend of yours, Lee Seokmin.

“What’s for dinner?” Mingyu commented as he kicked off his shoes, following you as he stretched his shoulders while you shuffled your coat off.

“Why don’t you cook for once?” You scoffed, looking over your shoulder at him as you walked through the entrance of your house together. Mingyu huffed, his suit blazer folded over his arm and a few buttons of his dress shirt were undone. Clearing your throat, you turned back around and flopped onto one of the couches in your living room.

“Y/n, I literally cooked last night,” Mingyu whined, placing his blazer on the back of dining chair before he sat on the other couch, “if you don’t want to cook we can just order food.”

You pursed your lips, folding your arms across your chest and he flicked through the TV menus using the the remote. Unfortunately you could still catch the way his arms flexed when he moved or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped thanks to the muggy heat in the house out of the corners of your eyes and you loathed it. This was supposed to be anything but a crush - he was your best friend. The two of you joked that little college love affairs never made it far but it was like the trope was spiting you. Quietly, your phone pinged from your jean pocket and you pulled it out.

seokminnie: when is our next delivery boss junnie: tmrw boss junnie: why boss junnie: what have u done seokminnie: i DID NOTHING seokminnie: i feel betrayed seokminnie: anyways we got a semi decent order from some guy wanting to ask a girl out boss junnie: love how you call it semi decent seokminnie: well he’s supposed to be bringing a small gift tomorrow morning before he goes to work for us to put in the bouquet seokminnie: he wants it after his work tmrw y/n: seokmin do you know how to send things in one message seokminnie: don’t sound so middle aged y/n we’re in our 20s y/n: if it means you put coherent sentences together, i’d even let you call me a karen boss junnie: who is even scheduled for shift tomorrow y/n: not me chief seokminnie: me and heeyoung i think boss junnie: i’m coming in just to make sure you two dont fuck shit up seokminnie: yknow i’m starting to doubt if you like me

“Work group chat?” Mingyu quipped as you threw your phone down onto the couch beside you, tilting your head back as you tried to relax for a few moments.

“Mhm,” you hummed, not opening your eyes as Mingyu made a soft noise, “what are we ordering?”

“Well I was about to ask you that.” Mingyu chuckled and you grimaced, chewing the inside of your cheek as you raised your head and grabbed your phone.

“You choose, I’ll be in my room so call me when it’s here.” You sauntered to your room, not pausing to even see if Mingyu would argue your sudden disappearance as you shut your bedroom door with a sigh.

Things shouldn’t be this difficult, you thought as you fell onto your neatly made bed, ruffling the sheets. Yet you knew you were at Mingyu’s beck and call without him even acknowledging it and you had been for years. He could have told you to move out this morning and you’d be gone in a heartbeat if that’s what he wanted.

You sang softly to your music as you cleaned the house’s kitchen that you shared with Mingyu. It wasn’t overly messy but there were empty takeaway containers everywhere and some still had leftovers in that you would sort into tupperware for tonight’s dinner. Seeing things all over the counters frustrated you but it was a rare sight, Mingyu was a good hand at keeping the house in tip-top condition if you hadn’t already. Your phone’s notification sound interrupted the song playing momentarily and you groaned, hoping they weren’t calling you in to help with this bouquet order.

seokminnie: yah y/n y/n: no i’m not coming into work seokminnie: rude i don’t need you anyway seokminnie: but thats not why i’m here boss junnie: long story short, y/n your mate mingyu? y/n: what about him? boss junnie: is he seeing someone? seokminnie: she must be so pretty to get mingyu’s attention seokminnie: mr fashion expert

You held your phone away from your face, your hand shaking slightly as you looked around the kitchen and tried to process Junhui and Seokmin’s interrogation. Was Mingyu seeing someone? He would have told you but putting a gift in a bouquet of flowers would be definitely something he would do, he’d expressed he liked the idea in the comments of one of your instagram posts showcasing an example of said bouquet idea.

Clearing your throat as if they were expecting a response in person, you lifted your phone again.

y/n: idk he hasnt mentioned anything y/n: bet he chose nice colours tho

You put your phone down on the counter once more, leaning back beside it as you stared at the white lights in the ceiling and swallowed a suffocating lump in your throat. Maybe you’d fucked up the chance to finally be honest with your best friend and that thought was eating you alive. Not only that but Seokmin was right, she had to be pretty in order to get the Kim Mingyu’s attention - you’d long learnt that he was not only picky with most things but also his partners.

Mingyu came home slightly later than expected after he’d texted you to eat the leftovers without him. He carried this big beam on his chiseled face and radiated the most excitable aura as he entered the house, shuffling his extra items of clothing off as he made his way to where you sat in the living room. You glanced at him before continuing to paint your nails.

“I guess she liked the flowers?” You commented as you set yourself to focus on your task at hand. Out of the corner of your eyes, Mingyu faltered in the doorway and paused.

“How did you know-” Mingyu began to question as if you’d been stalking his date, causing you to cut him off.

“You went to my work place, Gyu. You expect Junhui and Seokmin to forget who you are when you literally live with me?” You quirked a brow, raising your head to look over at him. His face fell from its beam.

“Sort of,” he whispered, clearing his throat as he slowly moved to sit on his couch as he noticed the tense aura you’d created, “look I was going to tell you, y/n but you know how my past dates have gone and I didn’t want to say anything until it was a positive conversation.”

“You don’t have to tell me, you know?” You sighed, finishing your nails as you admired them slightly, putting the nail polish down carefully. Mingyu frowned, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Mingyu mumbled, his eyes glancing over your form as you sat in a pair of clean silk pajamas that still smelt of fresh cotton and laundry detergent. He looked over the yellow nail polish you’d chosen and the iced coffee you had sat on the coffee table in front of you or the way you had your crocheted blanket his friend Minghao had gifted you for Christmas over your legs that he bet you’d shaved. He knew your routine well, he knew fresh silk pajamas meant you’d shaved because you loved the feeling it had on your skin and bedsheets.

“Nothing, Gyu,” your voice was meek and quiet as you hung your head low in nothing but disappointment towards yourself, “I hope she treats you better than the last.”

boss junnie: y/n are you okay y/n: why are you texting me outside of the gc boss junnie: is it illegal??? y/n: if i say it is will you delete this convo boss junnie: i’m just trying to check on you omfg boss junnie: you called in sick but i know damn well it aint your hayfever y/n you work in a florist all year around y/n: gyu never told me he was talking to someone y/n: idk its stupid jun boss junnie: you still like him? after all these years boss junnie: damn y/n y/n: told you it was stupid boss junnie: ill be over in five

A soft noise came from your throat as you placed your phone down on the bed beside you, laying back down on your back as you sighed. Junhui was stubborn but he also knew you well for some reason, you’d considered Seokmin leaking your secrets but you weren’t interested enough to interrogate either of them and certainly not now since you’d been keeping yourself in your room rewatching your favourite TV series ten times over. Call it stupid, you’d reckoned since you wasn’t even dating Mingyu in the first place but this felt like heartbreak.

When another text from Junhui confirmed he was outside your front door, you slowly emerged from your bedroom quietly, listening to the mellow sounds of female laughter and Mingyu’s voice downstairs. A heavy lump formed in your throat and you hurried down the stairs, bee-lining it straight for the front door as you unlocked it and was met face-to-face with Junhui, who held a bouquet of baby’s breath mixed with roses. Your eyes fell to the bouquet and you cracked a soft smile, not missing Mingyu’s voice in the background as he stated “that’s my housemate, y/n.”

“Come in, do you want a drink?” You asked quietly, stepping aside for the tall male who simply showed his teeth in a grin, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, let’s just get you back to your room.” Junhui murmured as he slipped out of his canvas shoes. You let out an affirmative nod and turned on your heel, heading straight for the staircase and ignoring Mingyu’s calls for you in the living room as Junhui followed closely.

To Mingyu, he sat looking over his shoulder at the doorway since he knew you had no choice but to pass it if you’d headed to the front door. Mingyu assumed you’d ordered takeaway but he wanted you to quickly meet Jisoo - and he also wanted to see your face since you’d seemed to have avoided him as of recent. But all he got in response to his calls of your name was your figure saunter by, wrapped in your comfort blanket as you didn’t even acknowledge him and eventually, the tall figure of Junhui following behind you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands.

Mingyu cleared his throat, pretending that he wasn’t lowkey pressed over the situation but he was in fact wondering why Junhui was here at ten o’clock at night and especially with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. Turning back to Jisoo, who was cuddled up to his side, he smiled sweetly - “she must not feel well, I’ll get her to meet you another day.”

With Junhui on your heel, you shut your bedroom door and let out a stressed sigh, falling to the carpeted floor with your blanket still wrapped around you - turning you into a swaddle of fabric on the floor. Junhui sighed, pouring some of your water from your bottle into your favourite vase that had been empty for a few months before quietly arranging the bouquet he’d brought you.

“What gift was it?” You uttered in a hushed voice from your gremlin form on the floor. Junhui made a noise, raising a brow as he turned to face you.

“Hm?” He tilted his head, his hands still dandily working on the flower arrangement he was creating.

“The gift Mingyu put in that bouquet,” you exhaled, finally raising yourself to shuffle over to your bed, “what was it?”

“If I tell you will you stop asking questions for the rest of the time I’m here?” Junhui finished his arrangement, sitting on the edge of your bed gently as you made a gentle noise, “I am here to distract you after all - but it was a bracelet.”

A sickly smile crossed your face as you nodded, further wrapping the blanket around you as you laid down and brought one of your teddies to your chest. You couldn’t help but reminisce all the times Mingyu would window shop jewellery with you and you wondered if he’d gotten a bracelet you pointed out once. Junhui shuffled to sit beside you, his back against your headboard and his lanky legs stretched out before him as he grabbed your TV remote.

“I was watching something.” You mumbled into the fabric around you and Junhui scoffed with a laugh.

“For the hundredth time? You could quote that by now,” Junhui mused and you narrowed your eyes up at the older male, who simply smiled down, “is your playstation connected? You wanted me to do a full playthrough of Resident Evil 7 for you because you’re too coward.”

“I’m not a coward,” you quickly interjected, somewhat offended by the male, “but yes it’s connected... thank you.”

Junhui brushed back the blanket covering your head to stroke unkept hair from your face with a faltered smile. You cracked one back, your lips chapped and slightly busted from where you had chewed them.

“Of course, y/n, now come on.” At his words, you shuffled to rest your head on his lap, still a little swaddled by your blanket and a teddy tucked into your chest as you watched him play. Junhui would occasionally stroke at your head, slowly brushing it with his fingers during cutscenes and what not.

You were slowly overcoming Mingyu and his new partner and Junhui kept you plenty company, even bringing takeaway some nights when he came to play horror games for you to watch because like he said, you were too coward to play them yourself - yet you still brought them knowing Junhui would happily play them for you. Eventually you returned to work, tending to the flowers as Seokmin and Junhui bickered behind you.

You were too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge what they’d started bickering about this time, still debating how pretty this girl must be to have Mingyu so set on her. She must be so much prettier than you, you thought and proceeded to sigh. It hadn’t been long since you’d even had a dream where Mingyu had called you pretty and stupidly, your dream self had told him he was wrong.

“Y/n?” Seokmin whined, as if asking you for an opinion on their argument. You raised your eyes, glancing between the two men. Junhui quirked a brow before laughing.

“She hasn’t a clue what’s going on...” Junhui teased and you rolled your eyes, continuing to cut the stems on today’s delivery. You shook your head.

“No, I don’t.” You mumbled, not catching the frowns that fell onto the two men’s faces.

❝No offense but it makes no sense You're in her bed then you're driving home and playing my cassette Because you want me and you just don't know it yet❞

Humming to your music, you scrolled through the Spotify app on your laptop whilst you laid on your front, kicking your feet in the air mindlessly. Your eyes fell to the sidebar which showed what your friends were listening to and Mingyu was active, listening to the playlist you’d made for his car. You remembered begging him to let you make a playlist that you could play in his car and he was so reluctant but he grew on it. It surprised you that he was listening to it right now. You paused, recalling that he was going out with Jisoo today. Was he driving with her?

Slowly you began to come to terms with the situation. You shouldn’t be sulking in your room and avoiding Mingyu after all the years he’d been your best friend simply because of your own pathetic obsession with unrequited love and guilt of a missed chance with him. Sitting on your couch in the living room, you sipped your iced coffee as you thumbed through social media on your phone.

“I’m making steak tonight,” Mingyu called as he kicked shut the front door, causing you to lift your head as he appeared in the entrance way, “my treat.”

He grinned, his hands carrying flimsy plastic grocery bags that looked like they were just about to rip.

“Should probably put them down,” you gestured to the bags in his hands which caused him to hesitate as he looked down at them, “before you’re scrambling to pick up onions.”

Mingyu laughed awkwardly, nodding as he disappeared as quick as he had appeared. You listened to the rustling of the grocery bags fade into the kitchen before you let out a melodramatic sigh.

❝Be my guest, go on and waste your life inside her bed now I bet you get bored having sex Because you want me and you just don't know it yet❞

How the fuck you’d let Mingyu drag you into this shop, you had no bloody idea. In fact, you could barely drag him into it on a good day so now the roles were reversed you didn’t quite know how to process it. You flickered your gaze to Mingyu’s furrowed brows as he examined the multiple toys in front of the two of you. You were keeping your distance, just in case the staff assumed you were the girlfriend at hand here.

“Y/n help me,” he whined softly, turning to look at your stiff posture as your eyes widened, “why are you girls so difficult to please?”

“Maybe it’s down there,” you scoffed, gesturing to his crotch and Mingyu pouted, jutting his lower lip out in offense, “I don’t know. Has sex really got this bad with her?”

Mingyu sighed, standing straight once more - causing the male to tower over you again. One of your hands propped itself on your hip as another one stroked the silk material of a blindfold, not that you were debating it but you certainly had a thing for silk and it was heavily reflected in all of your pajama sets.

“I think, yeah,” Mingyu mumbled, tilting his head back and giving you a chance to examine that sharp jaw he’d refined with his gym obsession recently, “I guess I’m a little bored. Maybe she is too, but I just don’t seem to be doing anything right.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy for either of you.” You quipped, quirking a brow as you turned back to the toys in front of you. Recently every time Mingyu spoke of Jisoo, something negative was admitted. She was spending more time with her friends than him now, so he was seeing her less and now this.

Mingyu made a soft noise of acknowledgement, grabbing your wrist and leading you out of the stuffy store.

gyu: r u awake y/n: what do you want y/n: you’re not having my leftovers gyu: seriously y/n gyu: can i come to your room gyu: i’m on my way home rn y/n: are you driving?? y/n: wtf gyu y/n: you should have fucking called y/n: fine you can come to my room y/n: drive safe asshole

Mingyu’s knock on your bedroom door when he arrived home was almost mute but you still managed to hear it over the lowered volume of your TV, playing a video game playthrough you’d started in placement of missing Junhui’s gameplay - he said he’d start uploading some to youtube if it appealed to you though. You called Mingyu in, watching as he appeared in the slither of your door and shut it behind him. His eyes were red, his tanned cheeks tearstained and his hair a ruffled mess as you quickly sat forward.

“Gyu?” You whispered, knitting your brows together as you beckoned him to your bed from where he stood awkwardly by your door. He sauntered over, not uttering a word as he sat down on your plush mattress and sniffled softly.

“We should have seen the signs,” he laughed with a voice crack, a sickly smile on his face as he fell back on your bed and stared up at the ceiling, “she was cheating, y/n.”

Your face fell as you crawled across the bed to his side, resting your legs by his head so you could lift it gently onto your lap. Mingyu’s teary eyes fell to your figure above him. You cupped a hand to his face, frowning as you wiped a tear with your thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Gyu,” you choked out apologetically and he shook his head a little, leaning slightly into your other hand as it ran through his fluff of hair, “it seemed so good at the start too.”

“Too good to be true apparently,” Mingyu mumbled, one of his clammy hands reaching up to cup your hand on his cheek. It suffocated your skin in heat but you didn’t mind, “maybe it’s for the best I don’t date.”

You scowled, shaking your head as Mingyu’s other hand raised to rub his eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving his body as his chest rose and fell to calm his crying.

“Of course not, don’t be so stupid,” You scolded him, almost tempted to flick his forehead like you always did, “you’ll find someone Gyu.”

Every part of you wished it would be you, now that the deities above seemed to have opened a new chance for you to admit a year long obsession with your best friend but you held your breath, mentally shaking the thought from your head. Mingyu needed time and he needed you - as his best friend. His eyelashes fluttered shut and you hummed.

“Go get washed up and changed into something comfy, you can come watch playthroughs with me,” you stroked his cheek once more before you pulled away from the male, watching him rise to sit as he let out a soft yawn, “you can fall asleep in my bed if you want, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be so stupid it’s your bed,” Mingyu scoffed, glancing over his shoulder at you before turning away, “actually, y/n, is it okay if we cuddle? You don’t have to-”

“Of course Gyu,” you cracked a smile at his request, watching his eyes light up a little as he looked over at you again, “now go on, you stink and I’m not cuddling you while you stink.”

❝So I'll be everywhere that you'll be And I'll go anywhere you want me Yeah, I'll go anywhere you want me Want me, want me if you want me❞

“Good day at work?” Mingyu chirped as you slid into the passenger seat of his car, your thighs already sticking to the leather seats in the South Korean heat. You let out a groan as you buckled your seatbelt in.

“I swear there’s too many wedding anniversaries recently - who even chooses summer to get married?” You whined as Mingyu began driving, listening as he laughed at your complaints.

“Plenty of people, y/n, it’s nice weather.” He rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers on the wheel as you sat in traffic. You huffed, puffing your cheeks out.

“Yeah, well it’s stupid,” you threw a tiny tantrum as you folded your arms across your chest, looking out of the car window, “I just want to run a bubble bath and chill.”

“About that,” Mingyu hummed and your eyes narrowed in his direction instantly, “ayo, lay off the daggers young lady, I just want to take you to the beach.”

You furrowed your brows momentarily, debating whether you should complain about Mingyu’s nice gesture but you ultimately decided to keep your mouth shut. Anyway, where ever Mingyu was you wasn’t far behind, so if he wanted to go to the beach than so be it.

By the time the two of you arrived at the coast, the sun had began its darkening red fade into the horizon, reflecting into the waves as you slipped off your sandals and wandered in the sand barefoot. Mingyu stood beside you in the shallow water, his socks and shoes beside yours not that far behind you in the sand.

“It’s so pretty.” You whispered as you let the breeze blow your hair and pleated skirt lightly, hugging you in light evening warmth. Mingyu hummed in agreement.

“Just like you.” He mused and you tensed, your body still as you debated whether this was the dream you’d had all those months ago.

“Yeah right,” you laughed lightly, a little awkward as you tried to process his compliment, “nothing beats the beauty of the sunset.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes with a scoff you barely heard over the sound of the waves.

“You’re so stubborn, you know?” Mingyu huffed and you opened your mouth to bicker at his statement but he continued speaking, leaving you to close your mouth, “How come you’re always on my mind? Ever since we were in college, I see you in every girl I try to date and even when things go south you’re always by my side to do whatever stupid request I think would comfort me. Even after all this time you’re by my side. Then it hit me - with Jisoo, maybe I wasn’t that heartbroken because I never truly found interest in her because the whole relationship I was thinking about you, why you’d been avoiding me and if you was okay. I saw you everywhere.”

The breeze suddenly stung at your eyes - at least that was what you was blaming as you became teary. Your teeth tugged at your lower lip, still somewhat smiling as Mingyu let out a loud sigh as if he’d just released years of pent up emotions out. Slowly, you looked up at him, catching him already looking down at you as the cool water splashed at your feet.

“Of course I’ll always be by your side,” you whispered, a tear rolling down your rosy cheek, “Anywhere you want me, I’ll be there, Gyu.”

“Is it too bold if I want you under my arm, y/n?” He mumbled, taking a step closer to your body and sheltering you momentarily from the breeze, “please give me a chance.”

You nodded, tip-toeing to kiss him but he’d already leaned down, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as if he would lose you if he was any looser with his grip. But you wasn’t going anywhere, for as long as he wanted you.

#cafeshuaaa #kim mingyu #seventeen #seventeen mingyu #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt mingyu #svt fanfic #svt #non idol au #want me baby queen #song inspired fic #afab!reader

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l-eternity-l · 1 year

Text

-Loving You

summary. - when a young lady has a little bit too much to drink, a certain singer comes to her rescue.

pairing. - Elvis x Black OC

warnings. - age gap, alcohol, creepy dude

word count. - 3k

author's note. - ahhh okay guys this is my first fic. I'm honestly thinking about turning this into a long series because I already have an idea for a few more chapters. The only thing is I don't know what name to give the character so I literally just named her after me, but I really want to change it. I hope you guys enjoy!!! (also feel free to send request!!)

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MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE 1957 The Country Club

MERCEDES clapped her hands together as her brothers finished rehearsing their new hit song.

"You guys sound great," she tells her brothers as people walk onto the little stage at the front of the building, fixing the boy's microphones and retuning instruments.

"We did just as expected" Luther breathed out "everyone was off-key, not to mention Raymond forgot the damn words" he takes a quick sip of his water before handing it to Mercedes.

"Oh, can it Luther!" Raymond speaks up "why don't you focus on whatever the hell you need to do and stay the hell outta my business" Luther sends him a harsh glare.

"This is my business Raymond, fuck it's all of our business. These people pay us to put on a good show".

"Okay, so what!" Raymond becomes more frustrated by the second "all you ever wanna do is please some white man by dancing and singing like a damn fool, you ever realize I don't put effort into this shit because I don't care!" he throws his water onto the ground before storming off the stage. Mercedes sighs.

"Why do you guys always have to do this" before her brother can respond she keeps going "always doin' something right before you have to perform. you know he may not be coming back" Luther shrugs.

As far as everyone was concerned, Luther cared more about the music industry than anyone in the world-- blasting music and putting his all into everything the band did.

He played the instruments, mixed the records, and wrote most of the lyrics. people may say that he takes some things too seriously but Luther never cared--he was going to be a star and no one would hold him back from that. not even his own family.

"As if we need him, if push comes to shove we pull you up here and make Jerome a back up".

"Hey" Jerome yells out "don't punish me for what ray did" Luther just shrugs him off, walking over to his brother Ronnie "Raymond just needs a second to calm down, he’ll come back after he's had a smoke" The boy tries his best to reason with his angry brother.

Jerome and Mercedes were less than a year apart, their parents not being able to wait another second to try for a girl.

Even though he's one of the lead singers, people still tend to forget about him, especially his mother.

Jerome has no interest in being famous--by the time he was born his brother had already started their carer singing outside of their father's barbershop to bring attention to it. Jerome's real dream is to become a pilot --singing is just a small hobby to him.

"I don't know why you ain't performing now Sadie" Ronnie speaks up causing the young girl to roll her eyes and lean up against the stage with her arms crossed.

"Because the women specifically asked for a male quartet. those poor girls have a hard enough time keeping their men from cheating under their own roof, much less outside of it" she picks at the skin around her nails in boredom.

Mercedes has always been the most outspoken of the siblings, the exact opposite of what her mother wants from her. The only one their mother actually likes is Ronnie.

Ronnie is the quiet sibling, he does whatever his mother says--doesn't matter if it's something small as bringing her the TV remote that's right next to her, or big as donating a kidney, Ronnie would do it in a heartbeat.

Even though he does all of this for his mother, it doesn't save him from being called ungrateful and useless--but that's just how things went in the Estelle household.

"If it were up to me you'd replace Raymond right now, he's sloppy and he doesn't care about anything or anyone," Ronnie says fixing his bow tie in the reflection of a mirror.

In the boys' defense, Raymond has been causing issues lately. if he's not showing up to rehearse late then he's off with some girl, it drives their mom crazy, which only causes her to snap at the rest of them.

Raymond wasn't always like this. As a child, he was charming and loved to sing and dance when company came over. it wasn't until his mom and dad started fighting, he came a little devil.

Raymond has gone through more than the other siblings--having to be the one who dealt with their mom and her outburst when dad had got done beating on her. When their dad had just died and their mom left, Raymond was the one to take care of everyone.

After all these years, Raymond's care for anyone but himself faded, and so did his relationship with his family.

"You know mama wouldn't let that happen. He has a great voice, he just doesn't like to perform. Thinks it's silly" Mercedes reminds her brother "besides, he's just angry because it's gettin' late and he ain't had dinner yet".

"Well, he needs to get over it because people are gonna start showin' up soon. We've only got a few minutes of rehearsal time left" the girl pushes off of the stage.

"I'll go try and find him, you guys just keep practicing".

...

Mercedes wanders around the expensive country club in an attempt to find her oldest brother.

After what felt like hours but was only a couple of minutes, she found him leaning against their car with a freshly lit cigarette between his lips.

"I ain't goin' back in there" Raymond starts before his sister even gets the chance to speak "I ain't gonna make a fool of myself for all of those people. singin' bout love and rainbows and girls all while swayin' back and forth and dancin'".

He takes a long drag of smoke before continuing "I'm gonna quit and tell momma to go get somebody else to do it. I ain't doin' this shit no more!".

"Are you done," Mercedes ask, unamused by his outburst "because you have a show to do and all of your brothers are waiting on you to stop throwing yourself a pity party" he shakes his head.

"You're just as bad as the rest of them Sadie. if you think doing dumb shit like this is what's gonna help us be famous then you go and do it. I know father wouldn't have wanted this for us, he wanted us to be stars, not clowns" he take another long drag "and I ain't gonna be a clown no more".

"I don't care what you wanna do or what you don't wanna do, it's about what you gotta do. Fathers gone and Mommas crazy, we gotta make ends meet somehow" the boy tosses his cigarette on the ground and crushes it with his heel.

"I can't keep on doin' this stuff Sadie. I wanna be able to do what I want with my life, not what momma wants." Much as Mercedes wanted to tell her brother he could do that, she also didn't want to lie to him.

"Look I don't like the way momma does stuff around here either, but as long as we live under her roof, we have to do what she says." he runs his hand through his thick hair "We need you ray" she places his hand on his arm "Only for a few more years, then we can stop doing shows and just make music" he lets out a long sigh.

"Let's just head back," he slides his hands in his pockets and starts to walk away from the car, Mercedes next to him "Mamas gonna be here in a few minutes and if I'm not there she'll just take it out on y'all".

"See now you're using your brain" his large hand forcefully shoves her away from him "Oww, what the hell-".

"Go find somethin' to do while we rehearse, you look like you wanna put a pistol in your mouth just sitting there".

If Mercedes was being completely honest, her brother wasn't wrong. they've all performed together since childhood, her and Jerome switching who'd lead, often doing duets. Any time Mercedes didn't get the chance to perform she felt an extreme sense of jealousy. Her mother only ever took her out saying it looked better with the boys singing, the boys are too tall and she doesn't fit in, and that four people on stage looked better than five. All this did was make Mercedes want to perform more.

Mercedes and her mother didn't have the most loving relationship. After Luther was born, all Her dad ever talked about was having a girl-- after begging for years she agreed but they had another boy. This only fueled his want for a little girl more and they immediately had another child, even though Grace never wanted more than 3 kids. Soon after Mercedes was born, her father passed away from an unknown illness-- leaving her mother alone with 5 kids. Because of this Grace had resented her youngest child for years. Mercedes being unruly and never taking no for answer, only made this situation worse.

She walked around the country club for a few minutes, trying to find something to cure her growing boredom. She feels an arm brush against her and quickly moves over to give the person more room, only they don't walk away. Mercedes glances up at the culprit. The man was older, maybe 25-35, with jet-black hair that was combed over and slicked down. you could see the gel glistening from the lights. He held a cigarette in his hand and sported a kind yet devious smirk.

"I'm sorry sir" Mercedes voices, quick to apologize in an attempt to avoid conflict. he waves his hand as if to dismiss her apology.

"Don't worry honey, it was my fault. What are you doin' here anyways" his gentle voice surprised Mercedes. Though the girl has never had a bad interaction with a white person before, she had heard many war stories of what her people go through on a daily basis-- this lead her to avoid them as much as humanly possible. "don't seem like the kind of place you'd find a nice young lady such as yourself," thought every cell in Mercedes's body told her to run away from the man, something else was begging her to stay--to figure out what it was this man wanted.

"I'm here with my brothers, they're performing tonight" he slowly nods his head.

"And they left you all alone out here, all by yourself" he sets his hand on her arm, a gesture that would normally make her pull away with fear, but the kind smile on his face seemed to soothe the thoughts that ran through her head.

"What? don't think I can take of myself" she says dripping with fake innocence. his smile grows.

"Oh the exact opposite," he moves his arm around to the small of her back, leading her away from where they stood "Why don't you come sit with me and my friends while you wait for your brothers, they're right over here," thought the situation feels off, Mercedes doesn't really have anything else to do at this party-- Not to mention, she loves the thrill of a little danger.

...

Surprisingly, she ends up having a good time, talking to the men along with some of their girlfriends. They talk about music and performing while they sip on their expensive drinks. the night was going well and her brothers were putting on a good show, even though Raymond looked like he wanted to die the entire time. She sat beside the man she had met earlier, James. He had his arm resting on the back of her chair as he bragged about his yacht club and how much his soap company makes in a month. Even though Mercedes couldn't give a shit about his boat and his money, she did enjoy the drinks that the man kept handing her, Loving the burn of her stomach as she sipped on the fruity cocktails. One of the boy's songs comes to an end as Mercedes laughs at another one James' corny jokes. normally she wouldn't have, but her intoxication could make her laugh at a blank wall.

"So," he pulls the drink away from her lips "why don't we get out of here" he runs his course hand up and down her knee, going a bit further each time "we should head someplace a bit more private". though Mercedes was so out of it she could barely form a sentence, she knew when something sounded sketchy. and in that very moment, she realized just how close he was to her. she clears her throat, sliding her chair a bit further away.

"Yeah," she pushes his hand off of her leg, "I think I'm gonna have to pass on that" She lets out a nervous giggle as she takes another sip of her drink.

"Don't be like that, I bought you all of these drinks and you're not gonna give me something in return" he leans to place a kiss on her cheek before whispering in her ear "Come on baby, I'll take you to my boat."

"Sorry Captian, guess I'm not the girl you took me for" the man plasters on a fake smile, sliding his hand back onto her knee.

"Why don't you have another drink, maybe then you'll change your mind" she pushes him off again, the chair letting out a loud cry as she stands with haste.

"I've gotta go check on my brothers, I'll be back later" Mercedes says in an attempt to remove herself from the situation. She shoots the others at the table a quick smile before she quickly maneuvers her way through the crowd with unsteady feet, using the wall as a crutch. A sea of various people occupied the dance floor as she tries her best to make it to a less crowded area. The girl spots some public restrooms not too far away and makes her way toward them, stumbling with every step. Once she's there she lies against the side of the building before sinking to the plush grass, resting her head against the smooth concrete wall, a nauseating feeling overcoming her. Mercedes knew that people got drunk, hell she had to carry Raymond back into the house several times, but what she didn't know was how it felt. Her vision was clouded and her head was pounding. it felt as though her world was spinning. For a second, she even wondered if the man had slipped something inside her drink. The distant sounds of toilets flushing could be heard as she tried her best to regain her composure.

"You okay there?" a southern voice draws her out of her dazed state. Mercedes looks up to yet another white man with slicked-back hair, only this time it was a bit longer and more in his face. though she felt like she really shouldn't be talking to him, the alcohol had clouded her judgment.

"Umm... no. I don't know" Mercedes drops her head into her hands "I drank," she tells him.

He lets out a slight chuckle "Well I can see that" he sits down next to her, lighting the cigarette between his lips. "What's a pretty girl like you doin' out here all alone?" he asks. Mercedes knows this trick all too well--in fact, she had experienced this trick less than two hours ago.

"I ain't gonna leave with you" her words slurred together, getting to the point as soon as possible.

"I ain't tryna take you anywhere honey, just wanted to make sure you aren't here alone. My name is Elvis, what's yours?".

"Sadie, and I'm not alone, 'm here with my mom and my brothers. There performing tonight." he hums.

"Your brothers are the Estelle's" the girl nods "I used to play basketball with them. I remember when you were just a baby. Your momma let you drink at this age?" he asked tilting his head. she shakes no.

"No, she doesn't. But what she doesn't know won't hurt her" he raises his brows, amused at the girl's response.

"Guess no one can tell you anything huh?" Elvis's voice was laced with sarcasm. Mercedes- not finding his little joke too funny, rolls her eyes.

"What do you want" you'd swear you could see the annoyance radiating from the girl's body.

"As I said before, I just wanna make sure you're okay" The girl scoffs as she tries to push herself back to her feet, failing miserably. Luckily Elvis helped her before she slid back down the wall.

"Well, you can go find some other dame to save because I'm fine" The amusing thing is that Mercedes is definitely not fine, seeing as the only thing holding her up is Elvis.

"I'll believe that when hell freezes over." he moves her arm around his shoulder for support before he leads begins to lead her away from the restrooms "Don't worry little girl, I'm gonna take you to your momma" she immediately starts to resist against his attempts to move.

"No!" she says franticly "Are you crazy? If she finds out she'll beat me 'till I'm black and blue" Elvis stops for a moment, trying to think of a better option.

"Okay, then I'll go get your brothers. How 'bout that?" Elvis offers.

"No they'll kill me too " she argues "If they find out I was talking to a man they'd...they'd...oh, I don't know what they'd do but I know it wouldn't be pretty."

"Look I gotta tell somebody, I can't just leave you sitting here drunk outta your mind!" Mercedes lets out a frustrated sigh "I don't care how mad it makes you you've gotta chose somebody. So who will it be? Your brothers or your mom?" Though both options sounded like a death wish, she knew that her brothers wouldn't lay a hand on her-- the most they would do is yell at her for a few hours and act distant for a day or two.

"My brothers have an intermission in a few minutes, they usually smoke by the car." Mercedes reluctantly tells him, slightly pissed at the fact he's so hell-bent on getting her in trouble today.

PART TWO IS POSTED!!

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polarisbibliotheque · 2 years

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Devil May Halloween - The Horror Amusement Park (Halloween with the crew)

Devil May Halloween 2022 - The Horror Amusement Park, Prologue (Reader and the crew spending Halloween together)

Pairing: During this Prologue, none. You can read it pairing the reader with anyone you want ;)

Summary: The 'Nightmares From Hell' horror amusement park had just stopped by Redgrave. After a few talks and Halloween enthusiasts, the DMC crew decide to visit it together, in order to have a bit of fun and wind down... Tough a cursed puzzle box might change those plans. (buckle up, it's a long one)

Author's Notes: You guys didn't think I'd forget you this Halloween, right? This is just the Prologue, then I'll update with Dante x Reader and Vergil x Reader parts, in a sort of "choose your own path" adventure (meaning, they'll have the same prologue, but then you decide if you want to read the whole ~incident~ with Dante or Vergil. Or both! Then the ending will be the same when the crew gets together again)! If I manage to finish them both by Halloween and have some time left, I'll try to deliver a Nero one too ^^

Happy Halloween, devil hunters, demons and lil' critters :3

Prologue

“Oh, hell yeah! This place looks friggin’ awesome!”

It seemed like Christmas was approaching to Nico while she looked at the ominous gates of the horror themed park the whole crew decided to visit on Halloween: the Nightmares From Hell.

It wasn’t too planned really. Nero saw someone talking about it on TV, Nico heard something on the radio, you talked about it with Dante, Kyrie seemed a little too nervous about it, Lady saw something about it while looking for a job and brought Trish on the loop… And Vergil eventually got what you were all talking about. Soon, everyone seemed to agree it would be something nice for the crew to do together.

Well, not everyone. Trish was neutral: if everyone decided to go, she’d go as well. Vergil had absolutely no interest in such human foolishness – to think they could do something as terrible as what he had experienced in Hell. Kyrie was adamant in not going: she loved kids Halloween, but hated the more adult side of things – all the scares, horror and gore was definitely not for her.

Dante had to do a little convincing with his brother, you helping Vergil understand it all was for fun – it took the blue devil quite a long time to even begin to comprehend why humans would find anything Hell related remotely fun. In the end, you had convinced him to go as a way to bond with everyone in the crew – especially since Nero would be there.

Now, Kyrie had to be convinced by her devil in shining armor. She kept denying until Nero showed her something he found to be incredible: Lady, Trish, you, Dante and Vergil all talking about the horror park and what you guys would do together, what kind of costumes you’d wear and how Vergil would scare people more than the actors themselves – Lady, though, seemed to be a child on her first Halloween. Nero and Kyrie had never seen her so excited for something; perhaps only Christmas at the Devil May Cry.

With that, Kyrie had to say yes.

“I really don’t know about that…” Kyrie sighed, getting closer to Nero. He didn’t even think twice before wrapping one arm around his girl.

There was something of sweet about their Halloween costumes: Kyrie put on one of her flowy white dresses, pairing it with feathery angel wings on her back and a golden crown adorning her coppery hair. Nero, on the other hand, went for the demon look: wearing his dirty, fake-bloodied clothes from his last job, you insisted on painting his ‘half-trigger’ looks – the blue lines that appeared on his face, some fake fangs and nails, his arms like his old devil bringer and a cheap plastic tiara adorned with blue devil horns.

No one could deny it: they were indeed a perfect couple.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m here, remember?” Nero cuddled her closer, smiling while watching her eye nervously at those gates. He wouldn’t admit, but he loved being her one and only protector. “Anything bad happen, I’m stayin’ with ya. No need to do somethin’ you don’t want, angel.”

Kyrie had to look back at him and smile when Nero called her like that.

“But not going on things is soooo not fun! We’re here to have fun together, dumbass!” Nico had to complain, all in her Eddie Munson costume glory. The thought of not having Nero around inside the horror mazes to poke some fun at her co-worker demon hunter was, actually, unthinkable.

“We’re all here, lil’ angel! No reason to be scared!” Dante playfully pinched Kyrie’s cheek, making her laugh. The Crimson Slayer decided to go all out during the Halloween and, with your help, dressed up as an 80’s rockstar. You were positive Mötley Crüe would be proud of his looks. “If things get too ugly, we just call lil’ ol’ Verge over there and even the monsters will run away; that, I’m sure!”

Vergil just limited himself to give his twin brother an annoyed look that could freeze the coldest of hearts. Keeping his arms crossed, it was one of the first times he ditched his usual attire for something else: the crew’s very own Necromancer. It was your idea and it seemed right up Vergil’s alley – plus, he found a way to carry Yamato as a makeshift staff, avoiding the terrifying thought of going out without his most beloved weapon.

Dante and Vergil couldn’t have planned to be more opposites than those last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Also, you can stay around us.” Trish threw back the lock of golden hair she was playing with, letting it rest on her shiny, vinyl Catwoman suit. Full Michelle Pfeiffer movie look, she opted for having her hair lose under the torn mask and messy makeup. “I think no one will want to mess with me, Lady or y/n.”

You and Lady exchanged a knowing look and laughed after that comment. Trish was right: having the beautiful devil as Catwoman, Lady full on her 90’s goth attire as the witch Nancy from The Craft – a movie you three ended up watching together and discovered it was one of her favorites – and you full in black and the iconic makeup of Eric Draven from The Crow, it was very unlikely people would mess with you.

Needless to say, Kyrie was safer than anyone else in that park.

“Well, are we going to just stand here and watch?” Lady finally put her hands on her waist and questioned the crew – receiving both eager, fearful and bored looks. “Let’s go in already!”

“You heard the woman! Let’s go!” You, charged with keeping the tickets safe, started distributing them so you could finally cross the gates of Nightmares From Hell. As Dante would always say, you all expected that to be one hell of a party – and it surely would be.

“The only hellish thing about this place is the amount of people screaming and running around aimlessly.” Vergil scoffed with an annoyed look in his eyes, one hand safely inside the pocket of his pants while the other safely held Yamato.

It was funny, really. The guy at the entrance of the park tried to make Vergil show him if it was a real blade, but just one glare of the blue devil made him give up on that. He allowed entrance when Vergil simply muttered it was a cane.

The man definitely wouldn’t argue.

“Oh, c’mon. I bet you’re having fun, necromancer.” You side eyed him, a tiny smile showing on your black lips. Vergil responded the look.

“Perhaps I was wrong bringing you back from the dead, Draven.”

That little comment made the whole crew stop on their tracks and look back at both of you.

“Did you…?” Nero started blabbering, pointing at his father – still protecting Kyrie with one of his arms. “Did he… Just made a joke? And a movie reference? All in one?!”

“Boy, this Halloween sure promises to be creepy!” Dante had to laugh while Vergil rolled his eyes, seemingly impatient. All you could do was laugh with everyone else.

“I know, right? There’s hope for the Dark Slayer!” You patted Vergil’s shoulder, immediately pointing at something else that caught your attention. “Wait – are those candied apples?!”

“Where?!” Lady immediately turned around, seeing a witch booth, selling all kinds of candied apples and what it was labeled as love potions. “No way! We gotta get one!”

“You don’t have to say it twice!” You entangled your arm around hers and off you both went, talking about your favorite Halloween foods.

“Didn’t know they loved those things so much.” Dante had his eyebrows raised, as Kyrie started to pull Nero towards the booth.

“C’mon, man! Everyone loves candied apples!” Nico answered the red devil before turning around and running after all of you. “Hey! Wait for me! You bunch of hungry raccoons!”

Vergil and Dante just glanced at Trish, who started following the group with a faster pace, but still gracefully swinging her hips.

“Not gonna lie – I love candied apples too. Like all humans apparently, huh?” She winked at the twins, spinning on her heels to turn back to the booth and making her golden hair elegantly flow in the night.

Dante and Vergil stood there for a while, watching as you all made a fuss around the witch and discussed the love potions – different drinks with all kinds of flavors, but, of course, Nico would never stop annoying Nero and Trish had to tease Lady, at least a little bit. You and Kyrie just laughed as you watched all the mayhem, nibbling at your apples and choosing the best love potion for each of you.

“Maybe they got some strawberries with chocolate…?” Dante finally suggested, making Vergil close his eyes with a tiny smile hidden in his stern lips.

“Our preferences have never really been human, right?” Even though Vergil’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, still holding tightly to Yamato, he had quite an amused tone to his voice.

“Eh, what can I say. Demons have different tastes.” Dante shrugged, satisfied with the sort of relationship he and Vergil had built so far. It wasn’t the most loving or amazing brotherly dynamic, but they had their laughs and internal jokes – and Dante missed that, honestly.

Vergil would never admit it, but it was one of the things his heart bled for in Hell. Only after having it back, rebuilding that sort of dynamic with his twin brother, Vergil noticed there was a void inside of him only family could fill – only Dante. Of course, he loved Nero, and the boy was his son, but having a brother who grew up with him, went through the same family trauma, survived all the horrors they had both seen… It was different. It was home.

“Remember when mother tried to make candied apples…?” Vergil’s voice barely broke the noises of music, screams, laughs and horrifying sounds of the park, but he knew Dante could listen to him very well. Both had the same kind of hearing, inherited from their father.

“Hah! I thought you wouldn’t remember that!” Dante rested his hands on his hips, letting a good laugh out of his chest. “We couldn’t break that coat of sugar if our lives depended on it!”

“Father had to use his demon fangs to taste it just so mother wouldn’t be sad her recipe didn’t work.” Vergil finally looked at Dante, now having a noticeable smile on his face. It was one of the very rare times Dante saw him smiling in such a carefree manner – and it made his heart happier.

The whole night was worth it just because of that moment, in his opinion.

“We didn’t know how to trigger back then, it broke her heart when she saw dad breaking our apples!” Dante could see that scene as bright as day, and Vergil couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“We never ate candied apples again.”

Dante rested one of his hands on Vergil’s shoulder, almost breathless from laughing. Vergil kept his arms crossed, but his body was turned towards his brother, laughing alongside him with rare care in his cold eyes. They had completely forgotten about the candied apple incident, but being there with each other and the crew, talking as if they had no worries and putting down their alertness for a while, it had all come back – and, honestly, they hoped for even more moments like that.

“Let’s hope for strawberries, or else we are doomed.” Vergil adjusted his posture, starting to walk alongside his brother.

“Strawberries with chocolate, bro. Let’s not forget your favorite part!” Dante winked at him, resting his hands inside the pockets of his old coat he wore during the Temen-ni-gru incident. It still fitted absurdly well, given how much time had passed. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d be ready for candied apples again.”

“I would like to keep all my fangs.” Vergil scoffed, making Dante burst out in laughs.

“You’re supposed to be a necromancer, don’t start with the vampire lingo.” You took another bite of your shiny, bright red apple – just ignoring how much of your makeup you would have to retouch after eating.

“Hey, it’s not our fault we do have fangs, beautiful.” Dante winked at you, making you giggle in response. He was a perfect rocker from the 80’s. “But hey, ya think they’ve somethin’ other than apples?”

“Why? Do you guys have a trauma of apples or somethin’?” Of course, Nero asked as a joke – but Dante and Vergil just stared at him seriously in response. Everyone stopped their laughs and Nero furrowed his eyebrows, immediately worried he joked about something he shouldn’t have. “What…? Are there… Demon apples?

“You don’t wanna know, kid. Trust me.” Dante replied in his completely out of character serious demeanor.

“It is safer if you remain in ignorance. All of you.” Vergil used his stoic tone, eyes cold as ice from the nineth circle of Hell.

It was safe to say the whole crew got creeped out – the Sparda twins, in another hand, were internally laughing together, as if they were still two children pulling pranks on oblivious people during Halloween.

They wouldn’t let the rest of the crew know, though. It would be another of their internal jokes.

“I can assure both of you there’s nothing demonic in my apples.” The lady from the booth used a sing song tune to lure their attention, a perfect and deadly witch who dealt with all kinds of delights and afflictions of love. “Would you like to taste one?”

“Well, you see, babe, I’m more of a strawberry kind of guy.” Dante leaned on the booth, and you could clearly see: if he had ever found some bandmates, he would have been one of the greatest rockstars the world had seen. He had the looks, the sass, the attitude – and, of course, you all knew he could break the gates of Hell with his guitar playing. Literally. “And my bro here, he’s really into chocolate. A lil’ too much, if I might say so.”

Vergil, once more, rolled his eyes at Dante’s antics, while the witch giggled gracefully, completely smitten by those charming men that had stopped by.

“I can say the same regarding his love of strawberries. It borders unhealthy even.” Vergil had to use his voice to sting like the thorns of a rose. That made her even more delighted by them – even if Vergil wasn’t even trying to be charming.

“Yeah. I’m an unhealthy stuff kind of guy too, if you know what I mean.” Dante winked at her, making you shake your head while laughing. He was hopeless. “Would you by any chance have chocolate strawberries for us?”

“Well… I don’t have it here right now…” She glanced the twins, taking her cellphone from one of the pockets on her skirt. “But I can work some magic to bring them. Can you wait a bit?”

“I can wait all night for magic like that to happen, babe!” Dante let out one of his hearty laughs and she immediately started typing.

“Does he always makes himself look like a fool like that…?” Lady took a bite from her glistening cherry red apple, crunching it on her teeth – just like you, she would have to retouch her black lips.

“U-hum.” Trish didn’t even think before answering rather uninterested, cleaning a little bit of red love potion that dripped from her blood red lips. “A trainwreck, really.”

“I bet Nero wants to die right now.” Your comment came right before taking another bite from your apple. That immediately turned your attention to Nero, Kyrie and Nico – he didn’t know what to do with himself, blushing viciously while apparently trying to get Kyrie out of there, but she and Nico insisted on staying and waiting for Dante and Vergil’s food to arrive. “Poor boy is gonna die out of shame because of his rockstar uncle.”

“We should’ve told him to dress as something else.” Lady sighed a little hopelessly, one of her hands resting on her hips. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s fun. Look at Vergil’s face.” Trish pointed at the blue devil with her apple, giggling right as you all focused on his painfully annoyed expression. Every bit of shameless behavior Dante had, Vergil seemed to lack. “I wouldn’t mind watching this the whole night. That’s the best I’ve ever seen of the great Sparda twins.”

“C’mon. You gotta do something.” Nero finally approached you, holding Kyrie’s hand while she and Nico followed him with giggles on their lips. They obviously were having a little bit too much fun with all of that as well.

“And spoil all the fun?” Trish was painfully honest sometimes – making Nico burst into a fit of laughter and Kyrie try her best to hold hers in, while Nero just stared soullessly at the woman in the shiny vinyl catsuit. “You have to admit this is at least… A little fun.”

She winked back at Nero, just enhancing everyone’s reaction. He wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“C’mon… We can at least leave ‘em here and do somethin’ else…” Of all the families he could have had… Nero had to be on that one.

He loved all of you, with his heart and soul, even. He wouldn’t flinch if it came to sacrificing himself for anyone in the crew. But that didn’t mean sometimes you were all too much for him to bear and he just wanted to leave you all laughing together in a fit of anger.

Of course, at least assuring Kyrie he still loved her and it had nothing to do with her.

“Hmmm… I think the kiddo is right, we could get to a line or something.” Lady pointed at the nearest horror maze around. “I mean, the place is packed. It wouldn’t hurt to get us some spots in the waiting line.”

“Thank you, Lady!” Nero seemed like he was about to grab her by her shoulders and kiss both of her cheeks. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling as soon as he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders, still holding Kyrie’s hand. They were his girls now. “You heard her! She’s right! We’re goin’ to the line, get us a spot, someone should be responsible here!”

“Oooooh, c’mon! What if your ol’ man needs some help, huh?!” Nico had to tease him, making Trish laugh gracefully while already following Nero, Kyrie and Lady.

“Nico, the man escaped Hell with only his hands and his fuckin’ will – I’m pretty sure he can handle a night with Dante in a horror park!” Nero barely turned around, holding Lady forward so she wouldn’t turn back. The woman just laughed alongside his girlfriend. “We’re goin’, ya can stay if ya want!”

“Hey! Wait for me, dumbass!”

“I’m staying with them, Trish.” You winked at the devilish woman, making her agree with her head. “I’ll meet you guys at the line, ok?”

“Ok, beautiful. Just don’t take too long or die of shame, ok?” She winked back at you, slightly waving her hand with shiny claws. “If you do take too long, we’ll wait you at the exit.”

“Ok, gorgeous, have fun!”

With those words, you walked back to the twins, patiently waiting while Dante casually chatted with the witch – pain filling Vergil’s eyes.

“In need of some salvation, blue devil?”

“I don’t think there’s absolution waiting for me…” Vergil sighed, looking down back at you, moving only his head. “I am forever stuck with this fool as my own blood.”

You could almost see sarcasm dripping from his words, Vergil’s silvery eyes filled with a delighted amusement. You were already proficient in reading the twins, so you knew quite well his foul humor was all just a façade so he wouldn’t show his real feelings towards his brother – and even how much he was enjoying that night.

“Ei, I’m forever stuck with ya as my twin too, asshat. Don’cha go thinkin’ you’re the only one sufferin’ here.” Dante immediately joined the conversation, shifting the witch’s attention to all of you. “I’m not the one with a long history of doin’ dumb shit.”

“You guys are twins?” The witch finally asked, pointing back at Vergil.

“Unfortunately.” The blue devil answered in monotone, making her giggle with endearment. Vergil seriously questioned himself why some humans tended to find his sharp comments and stoic expression so adorable sometimes.

“Ditto.” Dante had to agree with his brother. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at those clowns. “He’s the one who does stupid shit and I’m the one who cleans the mess, though.”

“Oh, really?”

“You’d think it was otherwise, right?” You jumped into the conversation before Vergil could begin arguing. You knew if he decided to go all out on Dante, there would be a monologue fit for Shakespeare and you’d never leave that place before the rest of the crew got inside the maze. “Who’s the more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?”

Vergil immediately turned at you with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes clearly questioning what kind of quote you had just said. It was something he did know, for it was vaguely familiar to him, but escaped him completely.

It was quite a feat to win a quote war against Vergil.

“Star Wars, A New Hope.” You murmured back while Dante’s and the witch’s attention were grabbed by another witch bringing the skewers with strawberries covered in chocolate. “Wise words from old Ben Kenobi.”

“Clearly I need to watch it again.”

“Clearly, blue devil.” You winked back at him, while the witch handed Vergil his skewer.

“I hope it is to your taste, necromancer.” She had so much suggestion dripping from her eyes, you could almost feel it. You had to hold back your laugh while Vergil seemed completely uncomfortable with her flirty demeanor – Dante, in the other hand, didn’t give a damn. “You too, rockstar. Do come back if you want another one, ok? Or if you want something else.”

“Thanks, babe! You’re the best!” Dante replied her wink before leaving the booth alongside you and Vergil – you in the middle of the huge Slayers. Some actors even tried to get you three by surprise in the moment and scare you, but neither you, Dante or Vergil flinched.

Vergil’s hand tightened its grip around Yamato, though, making you hold it as a reflex. It was something he did unconsciously every time he was taken by surprise – and you and Dante always made sure Vergil would know he was safe and there was no reason for using violence.

You were quite lucky he didn’t spawn any summoned swords – that would be a little difficult to hide and to explain.

“Wanna a strawberry, beautiful?” Dante wrapped your shoulders with one of his arms, like a perfect rockstar. He was in character, and you could tell he was loving it.

“Thanks, red devil. I’m pretty satisfied with my apple.” You showed him your empty skewer, having devoured your whole snack. “Nero was too ashamed of your antics and went hiding on the line of that maze over there.”

“Ashamed? I see no reason why!” And, to your and Vergil’s surprise, Dante seemed genuinely confused.

“I am starting to deem myself the more foolish for following him around.” Vergil mused, biting one of the strawberries and taking it off the skewer – some of its juices dripping from his lips. For the first time, he didn’t seem to care about making a mess.

“C’mon! I got us strawberries! With extra chocolate! You should be thanking me, mister smart pants!” Dante pointed at his brother with his skewer, making a small smile appear on the corner of Vergil’s lips stained with chocolate.

“Indeed, that I have.” He recognized, finally relaxing the grip around Yamato – something you felt in your hand that enveloped his. As you started to let it go, though, you felt him tense again, as if asking you not to. You kept holding his hand. “Your foolishness paid off this time.”

“Hey, it always does – and you both can’t disagree!” Dante pointed back at you and Vergil before you could say anything.

“Well… It kinda does, really. I’m not complaining.” You raised your free hand as if you were at gunpoint. “You would’ve been a great rockstar, handsome.”

“Finally, a compliment! You’re gettin’ a strawberry, whether you want it or not, babe!”

You couldn’t really argue against Dante on that – he was always extremely giving, and you wanted him to be a little more selfish, even if it meant starting by enjoying his food all on his own. But Dante couldn’t do that: if he didn’t share it with you, he wouldn’t enjoy it enough. You accepted the strawberry covered in chocolate – with all the help Dante could give so you wouldn’t let it fall or it wouldn’t smear your makeup.

After all, you had just retouched your black lips while he had all that conversation with the witch.

“Oh! She really brought you strawberries! That’s so kind of her!” Kyrie waved as you approached, so you could find them on the line more easily.

“I wouldn’t say it was kindness…” Trish set her devilish eyes on the Sparda’s, making the meaning of her words quite obvious. “But you are dressed as an angel today, dear Kyrie.”

“C’mon, Trish. If you keep like that, Nero’s gonna cover her ears every time you open your mouth to speak.” Lady had to laugh of her co-worker, watching as Nero glanced at them with such an offended expression you didn’t know if it was because of Trish’s comment or Lady’s.

Even though you wouldn’t doubt he would cover Kyrie’s ears whenever someone said something ‘wrong’.

“I’m nooooot…!” Nero didn’t even know what he was disagreeing with, he just wanted to disagree with something.

“You aaaaaare…!” Nico had to drop her two cents on that conversation. “You’ve done it every time I cursed in the van!”

“That’s ‘cause you curse more than a truck driver!” Nero immediately turned at her, looking like he was on the brink of triggering.

“He’s got the short temper from ya.” Dante murmured back to his brother, only you being able to hear what they were talking about.

“The awful vocabulary comes from you, though.” Vergil had to strike back.

There, holding Vergil’s hand and wrapped around one of Dante’s arms, all you could do was smile. You couldn’t have asked for a better family to be a part of.

“I really don’t want to go first…”

Kyrie seemed to have her feet – adorned with beautiful and sparkly golden shoes – glued at the entrance. Both of her hands rested over her heart, and you and Lady immediately stepped by her side, each of you entangling your arms around hers. No one would leave Kyrie alone, it was a rule.

She was the innocent angel of the whole crew who should be protected at all costs. It was unnegotiable.

“Hey, if we go first, the actors will think they are the ones scared, remember?” You winked back at her, tightly holding her hand while pointing at the others behind you.

“Besides, we’ll stay here all the time! We’re not letting you go, Kyrie!” Lady smiled at her, making sure the three of you were tight against each other so you all could fit in the smallest of aisles. “If they want to get you, they’ll have to go through me and y/n!”

“Also, they’re all actors. Remember they can’t touch you.” Trish towered behind you, using her nonchalant tone of always. She was born in Hell, it wasn’t like she could get easily scared. “If they do, we can always sue them.”

“Spoke like a true devil.” Dante winked back at her, making Trish blow him a kiss in response.

“I’ll make sure to scream like crazy here behind you!” Nico practically jumped as she followed your footsteps while going into the house-maze. Kyrie couldn’t stop herself from giggling. “They’ll think I’m the scaredy cat of the crew and run after me! It’s a perfect plan, angel!”

Nero, Dante and Vergil followed all of you, like wolves guarding their pack. Dante talked about it with all of you before going to the park: he wasn’t sure how Vergil would react, so it was better if he stayed beside his brother. Nero volunteered to keep his own father on track, making him and Dante casually walk with Vergil in the middle.

The blue devil wasn’t dumb. Even though they acted in their easygoing manner, pointing at the stupid decoration and laughing instead of being scared, Vergil knew why they were flanking him – and was secretly grateful for it. He was used to go full into survival mode whenever something sudden happen – and whenever he was jumpscared. It wasn’t uncommon for Vergil to grab Yamato and judgement cut the TV when you were watching horror movies and he was taken by surprise. He was prone to flinch – but in a deadly way.

You were there to have fun, not to deal with him accidentally killing innocent people out of a survival instinct or having a PTSD meltdown causing mayhem and distress in the whole park. What Dante said was true: Vergil was aware people would fear him more than whatever ‘horrors’ the park could have.

“Ok… Can we run through this room?” Kyrie suddenly stopped on her tracks, pointing a single opening on the other side, lit only by a faint red light. The middle was engulfed in shadows, having no lights whatsoever. You didn’t know what expected you. “I don’t like the dark.”

“Hmmm… I have to be honest, I’m not much of a fan of darkness too.” You eyed the room suspiciously, trying to see if there was something inside – the pitch-black darkness didn’t allow you to do it, though. “I’m all for running and never looking back.”

“Thanks!” Kyrie whispered, looking genuinely happy with your support. After all, you were a demon hunter, just like everyone else in the crew. They weren’t very keen on admitting their fears, so she knew you were admitting that one out loud for her to feel better about it – and it worked. Kyrie didn’t feel like a scared little child.

After all, if a badass devil hunter like yourself was afraid of the dark, it was ok if she was as well.

“We’ll count to three and run for it, ok?” Lady held Kyrie’s hand and you did the same. She looked back, seeing Trish and Nico agree with their heads, ready to run with you. Kyrie giggled – it was one of the very few times she felt invincible.

“Ok. You two, make sure we’re not gonna lose ‘em, ‘kay?” Nero looked at his father and uncle, with them just agreeing with him. He smiled back – there was something warm about them accepting Kyrie was human and having human fears instead of making fun of it. Nero couldn’t be more thankful.

“1, 2… 3! Let’s go!” As Lady announced, you all started running – and, immediately, everyone was laughing. There was something of stupid about it – after all, you killed demons on a daily basis to survive – but that just made it… Special.

It was the first time Lady actually felt like she had friends; like she was part of a group of girls in school who liked to visit haunted houses and giggle as if nothing mattered in the world. It was something she always wanted to have, but it was robbed from her. You could understand that: you finally had friends you were free to be yourself, to hold their hands and laugh, knowing they wouldn’t deem you stupid – knowing they were having as much fun as you were.

With you all, Trish got to live a life she never thought a demon like her could have. You weren’t scared or smitten by her devilish antics, and she was allowed to live, to experience everything humanity had to offer – every feeling, every sorrow, every happiness. Nico and Nero finally had a family: as if you all were siblings, parents, aunts and uncles, knowing none of you would let the other go.

Dante and Vergil… It was the first time since they were kids, they weren’t running side by side to save their lives or stop apocalypses – they were running for fun. It seemed like they were in their home again, playing hide and seek with each other. It was foreign, distant… But warm. Their hearts missed that – they missed being actual brothers, even if they wouldn’t admit it out loud.

As you were nearing the red light passage, though, a door closed and you were all trapped in total darkness.

“Hey, what happened?! What’s goin’ on? Everyone there?!” Nico started asking in a slight panic. It was safe to say everyone was caught by surprise.

“Yeah, we’re here, Nico! Nero and Verge with me! How ‘bout you, ladies?” Dante could see his brother in the dark, Nero a few feet away from them. If they wanted full night vision, they’d have to trigger – but it was probably just something to scare everyone, not an actual problem that called for demonic powers.

“We’re here too! I got Kyrie and y/n with me!” Lady still didn’t let go of Kyrie’s hand, who practically hugged the woman now. “Trish?”

“Safe and sound. I can actually see what’s going on, don’t worry.” Of course, Trish was completely unbothered. “Demon, remember?”

That made everyone let out a nervous laugh. For a few seconds, you forgot there was an actual supernatural being alongside you.

“So, what happened? Is there a way out?” Nico was almost stuttering from the scare, but now she had a slight smile on her voice.

“Hmmm probably. We’ll have to find it, but…” Trish didn’t finish her sentence. She kept looking around the room, seeing all kinds of terrifying decorations as if you were all locked inside a torture chamber. She was sure they’d light some points to help you all see something soon enough.

“But…? What’s wrong, babe?” Dante had his hands on his hips, looking back at Vergil. His brother looked as worried as Trish did, and something weird stirred inside Dante’s chest.

“Nothing. It’s probably nothing.” She dismissed, trying to ignore that pull inside her stomach that told her there was something out of place.

“Hmmm… Probably not, Trish. My hand…” Nero was looking at his fingers on his new arm, now painted as his devil bringer, but he wasn’t sure what was going on. “It’s tingling.”

“Oooooh it’s the spidey sense! His Nero-tingle!” Nico didn’t know where to look, so she was pointing somewhere she thought Nero was standing. “Oooh somethin’ is very wrong!”

“Hey! Don’t call it like that! It’s not a Nero-tingle!”

“Wait, what is it, Nero? I’m out of the loop.” You finally asked, trying to find him in the dark. Kyrie was hugging Lady, who bravely guarded her, so you could try to find the rest of the crew and see what the hell was going on. “We don’t know the Nero-tingle.”

“It’s not a Nero-tingle!” You could swear he would trigger in a matter of seconds. Nero audibly sighed, so done with all of you. “My arm, the one where my devil bringer was, remember? Before dad of the year here tore it off!” Nero pointed back at Vergil, who didn’t say anything. If you all could see, though, you’d see the blue devil looking at the floor like an ashamed puppy. “It tingles whenever there’s somethin’ wrong!”

“Woah, like Frodo's sword? That glows blue when orcs are near?” You had to ask. The words flowed faster than your self-control.

“Ha! That’s even better than the Nero-tingle!” Nico couldn’t stop herself from laughing, even if she was genuinely scared. Whenever Nero felt like that, it wasn’t good.

“I am feeling something as well.” Vergil finally spoke up, knowing Dante agreed with him. “Trish. What do you feel?”

Before she could speak again, a dimmed red light made you all able to see the gruesome decoration. Kyrie flinched in Lady’s arms and you couldn’t stop yourself from at least wincing a little bit: it looked like something straight out of the Hellraiser movies.

“To find a way out of eternal torture, you must solve the room. Good luck.” An ominous voice announced, making you all sigh.

“I don’t think it’s an actual demon…” Trish finally answered Vergil’s question. “I do feel it's more of an object. They probably stumbled into something very real while doing this whole decoration.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Nico waved her hands, finally being able to see everyone. “You’re sayin’ there’s some devil arm or somethin’ like that in here?!”

“I’m saying there is a probability.” Trish sighed, slightly opening her arms to show the room around her. “But there’s a lot of stuff here. We could get started on solving the puzzle and see if we can find whatever it is.”

“Works for me.” Dante immediately started looking around. “Just make sure whatever it is, you guys give it to me, ok?”

“The guardian of the weird devilish stuff.” You teased him, making Dante smile in return.

“What can I say? The shop is almost a museum already!”

It didn’t take long for Kyrie to find a hidden door – eager to leave that gruesome place. The only problem was that you all needed a key to escape, and said key was hidden in that dim lit, cluttered room with fake blood dripping down the walls.

Vergil seemed completely unfazed by all the decoration. No one ever asked him what Hell looked like, but, given his reaction, you all could conclude he saw much worse. Dante seemed completely unbothered just like his brother, always with his carefree smile and even playing around with the fake decoration – to Kyrie’s horror. Nero had a little bit more of good sense, telling his uncle to knock it off, but doing a joke or two.

Trish kept looking as if it was all normal, agreeing with you wincing at some gruesome detail every now and then – even if she was a demon, she lived among humans for so long now, she knew what was right and what was wrong. Any of you would consider her a full devil.

Lady and Nico wandered around with Kyrie, telling her not to look at some things and trying to figure out where the key to the door would be. They avoided some things, calling either Dante or Vergil to take a look when it was a little too much for them but it could have something interesting inside.

It was just when you opened a cabinet that you called Nico to take a look at it with you.

“What’s up, pretty thing?”

“Puzzle boxes!” You pointed at the various rows filled with puzzle boxes of all sizes. If you thought that place reminded you of Hellraiser, now you were positive. “Do you think one of them can have a key inside?”

“Absolutely! If it was me, I’d definitely hide a key in a puzzle box!” Her eyes were now glowing with excitement, seeing the different shapes and forms, from the most intricate to the simplest of contraptions. It was even better than Christmas for the gunsmith virtuosa. “Say, if each of us try to solve a box, we’ll go through ‘em in no time!”

“You gotta leave the simple ones to the Spardas, or else we’ll be stuck here forever.” Your comment made her snort right away, shaking her head in agreement.

“You’re right. If we depend on that nut-head, we’re screwed!” She pointed at Nero, taking one of the simpler boxes and immediately calling him. “Ei! Demon boy! Catch!”

“What?” But Nero immediately caught the box, his reflexes never failing. “The hell is this, Nico?!”

“A puzzle box, you dumbass! Never seen one?” She made it sound like it was obvious, throwing everyone a box she got from the cabinet. “I’m pretty sure they put the key in here. We gotta open them to get out!”

“That… Is actually very smart.” Kyrie turned her box between her fingers, seeing how the flowery patterns complimented each other.

“I know, right?” Nico smiled proudly, having a bright red box in her hands. Each one already worked on their own – you having a cube box that you could swear Pinhead was going to spawn right behind you saying ‘the box, you opened it, we came’. “The faster we work, the faster we’ll get out! Let’s get to it!”

Vergil was the first to solve his box, finding nothing inside and asking Nico for a new one. She was quite impressed he was faster than her, working even harder on her red box. Trish kept her eyebrows furrowed, but couldn’t concentrate: that feeling inside her got stronger and she didn’t know why.

Until the box in Nico’s hands started glowing.

“Hey, guys! It’s an apple! Is that why you’re scared of it?” She laughed it off, while getting ready to press the last button of her box – now a perfect, shiny, red apple.

“What…?” Trish looked at the gunsmith’s hands. Her blue eyes immediately recognized it and the woman tried to reach out to Nico before it was too late. “Nico! Stop! No!”

But it was to no avail: Nico pressed the last button and the whole room started to move, glowing until you all had to close your eyes.

And, when you opened them, you weren’t inside that room anymore.

To Be Continued…

*****

More Author's Notes, 'Cause I Want To Talk To You People:

I'm actually doing a horror movie marathon! I've already watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Hellraiser (the 1st one), The Collector, The Love Witch and Hellfest - got this idea while watching Hellfest and Hellraiser! Mostly Hellfest, because the movie looked like a rom-com in a horror themed park during Halloween and I swear to you guys, Hollywood is missing out on that horror-romance niche. Just putting the idea out there.

So, I just imagined how fun would be to have the crew in a place like that - I've always wanted to go to a horror amusement park, but we don't have much of those here in my country and, when we do, I don't have a group of friends to go with. Halloween isn't much of a thing around here.

Also, while watching Hellraiser, all I could think was Dante and Vergil would seriously kick those cenobites asses.

(and if you guys have any movie recommendations, do tell me! I'm not much of a fan of gore, but I can handle ~some~ of it, if it isn't the whole theme of the movie. Also, hate exploitation movies, aside from that, recommendations are welcome!!)

I actually went on a deep dive on Halloween costumes to decide what would match with each one of the crew xD

And the only reason why the witch from the candied apple booth is a love one, selling love potions as well, is because here in Brazil, candied apples are literally called 'love apples'. It's cute ^^ even though I never ate one, just ignore me

That whole thing brought the candied apple incident idea - I just want to write more wholesome interactions between Dante and Vergil. I think they quite deserve it at this point. There was something of comforting writing the crew's interactions - that's the kind of group of friends/found family I'd love to have. I hope you guys can find your place in here too ^^

And coordinating 8 characters at the same time while trying to give all of them the same amount of "screentime" is actually absurdly chaotic. So do apologize if you felt someone was under-represented, I tried my best while writing. I'm still trying to figure out how to juggle so many characters at the same time hahahaha

Hope to see you guys around for Dante's and Vergil's parts! They will have the same ending when the crew gets together again, but the ~incident~ will be different - and the reader will be their s/o. If I get to make Nero's version, it will, as always, be Nero x Kyrie with the reader being his best friend ;)

Once again, Happy Halloween! I'll be back in time for the Day Of All Saints (that's how it was called here in Brazil ^^)!

118 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 2 months

Text

Boarded Up Paradise pt 5

Nash decides to take care of a problem.

Warning: Nash is still underage and some sexual-ish things do happen in this fic. Certain non-consensual actions are implied here and there.

Song: The Floor is Lava-Epic Mountain Music

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont

As the weeks ticked by, Nash built up his 'savings', sought out little foxholes to hide in and create his traps, and settled into the weird domesticity of living with a demon. Lust was quickly becoming a stable presence in his life, which made sense considering Nash had previously lived such a transient lifestyle, and never spoke anyone more than a few days in a row. Yet Lust was there almost all the time, and always told Nash if he would be gone. He cooked for Nash, even though Nash could never eat much, and often took his leftovers to Mons. He continued reading the demonology books, and Lust continued to take an interest in his schooling and especially his extracurricular activities.

Sometimes the two collided; there was a school resource officer who had been giving Nash trouble lately, and Nash had been building a trap especially for him. Nash knew he wouldn't pass the test, just as Nash knew he would not be missed. He wasn't the only kid on the officer's harassment list, and Nash felt certain that the other students would keep their mouths shut, even if they suspected him. By his calculations, their hatred for him was not as strong as their hatred for authority with a gun.

He had continued to play on his teacher's pity for his new orphaned status, and had even gained a few points with the principal, just for acting like a pathetic, lost little kid. That would be fewer detentions, as long as he kept the ruse up.

People were beginning to notice him more, though he didn't know why. He hadn't changed the way he dressed or acted, and he wasn't sure that his fellow students were looking out for him more because he'd lost his father, or if it was some other change. One girl had even told him he smelled nice. Why would she even say that? He wasn't even wearing any cologne or lotion, or anything!

He'd stolen some lotion from a corner store on the way home that afternoon.

All of these things delighted Lust, who wanted to know what he thought of the girl (nothing), what he got so many detentions for (speaking, mostly), and what kind of traps Nash made.

So he gave Lust one of his special Rubic's Cubes.

They were piecemeal contraptions, taken apart and recombined with sensors and taser parts, a little crude, but he was always improving.

“If you don't make any moves in within a certain time, it zaps you. If you try to tamper with the stickers, the sensors will pick it up and zap you. If you don't finish a row in a certain time, it zaps you. And the zaps get worse the longer it goes. I have a remote that I can use to control them, so I can make it worse if I want to, and start or pause the timer. I can also make them overload and self destruct.”

Lust plucked the little cube up in his long claws.

“~So it is a portable puzzle~”

“It's a toy.” Nash said. “They've been around since long before I was born; basically everybody knows what they are and what you're supposed to do with them. I've just improved that one so that it's more of a challenge.”

“~And you can solve it~”

“Of course!” he took the cube back from the demons claws. “Let me show you.”

Nash poked a button on his remote 'just to keep it fair', then his hands flew along the cube, a rainbow of spinning colors that swiftly resolved themselves into solid faces. He set the finished cube down well before the first electric pulse, and tapped the remote again.

“~That...was quite swift. So it is a color matching puzzle. I see. I think I could do that~” Lust mused.

“Go ahead and try.” Nash challenged, remixing the colors. Lust delicately took the cube and waited for Nash to start the timer. His deft movements were not fast enough, and Nash grinned as the demon yelped, nearly dropping the cube at the first zap.

“Not as easy as I make it look, is it?” Nash teased.

“~I merely need to get an initial grasp on where the colors are-ouch! Why~”

“No movement for too long. Gotta keep going.”

Lust continued, absorbing the increasing electrical charges, but not without complaint.

“~Ouch! Where is the last blue? Ow! I thought it was over here, why is it over there? Ouch! Why is this side solid, but this one mixed? How did that even happ-oww~”

Lust dropped the cube from stinging fingers, scowling at Nash's smug giggle.

“~Perhaps I am a touch rusty~” Lust admitted imperiously. “~Lofty Hellish plans tend towards greatercomplexity, after all~”

“Uh-huh. You got beat by human ingenuity, own up.”

“~So this is what you plan to do to your cowardly officer~” Lust asked.

“Maybe. I'm gathering info on the guy to see what the most fitting plan would be. I want him to really feel his inadequacy. He wouldn't be a school cop if he was actually worth anything. When all you're good for is bullying kids, you know there's either something nasty or utterly pathetic in your past. I'm gonna dig it up and rub his face in it.”

Tampering with evidence, petty theft, wrongful arrest, and soliciting sexual favors from a suspect in custody. Nash had been right: it was pathetic. The kind of shallow evils that apparently made someone the perfect authority for kids. Surely, nothing could go wrong there.

No, this one would definitely not be missed.

The police force had really been going through it these past couple of years. First the old commissioner had been indicted under massive corruption charges. Then' he'd put out a hit on the DA and the judge looking over his case. The DA survived, but had been horribly scarred, both inside and outside. A new name began trickling down the ranks of Gotham's organized crime rings. Even Nash, currently the pettiest of criminals had heard.

Two-Face was a damn stupid thing to call yourself, but Nash would bet all the bodies being dredged out of the harbor hadn't been laughing in the end. Especially not the old police commissioner.

The new one reminded Nash a bit of Mr. Rodgers in a kevlar jacket. He had all the seeming of a kindly old grandpa, but had dodged assassination attempts, ousted prominent cops who were also under investigation for corruption, and was even rumored to be working with Gotham's own urban legend: The Bat himself.

A lot of people thought the Bat really was just a legend; a huge bat that lived somewhere in the bristling, stony rooftops of Gotham. Nash knew though: Nash had seen him. Once. He was a man. Just a man in a costume, who had practically flown high over Nash's head, and away into the dark. It had given him an idea.

He also had the advantage of knowing that the Bat existed on other worlds, and could be outwitted, if necessary. Arkham still fought him regularly. Nash didn't really want to fight him though; he agreed with what the Bat was doing. He agreed with vengeance. He would join in soon.

His Riddler persona didn't need to be an enemy. The Bat could patrol the skies, and he could take the underground, make it into something productive.

And if they ever did end up on opposing sides, well, Nash had the combined experience of six other Riddlers behind him.

“~Vigilantes do tend to be romanticized, don't they~” Lust mused over it. “~There's a definite sexappeal in the mystery, the apparent altruism, the fantasy of justice~”

“I don't really care about that.” Nash said. “I'm just tired of it. Things need to change, and they aren't gonna change unless someone does it.”

“~Perhaps. Many were the hopes of those who beheaded the king. What happens if the next one is the same~”

Nash shrugged.

“He's got a neck too.”

“~Ah. Bloodlusssst~”

The sensuous hiss that escaped the demon sent goosebumps shivering across Nash's skin. Lust glided closer, looming over him until Nash bent backwards against the kitchen table. The scent of ozone and rose intensified around him, and Nash found himself swimming in it, floating in the hypnotic ocean of Lust's eyes. Anxiousness strangled him, left him short of breath. Lust both braced and unbalanced him, long arms blocking in both sides of his trembling shoulders.

“~Why, Eddie...you're salivating. Is that what drives you? Is that where your hunger lies~”

“I-I-” Roses on the demon's breath, so close he could see the hidden fangs. “P-please...”

“~Yessss~” Lust's deep voice neared a whisper.

“M-move back...”

The huge blue eyes dimmed with the demon's startled blink.

“~Ah, yes. Of course. Well, that form of lust isn't solely under my jurisdiction anyway~” he grumbled.

Nash relaxed as the demon moved away. Apprehension swirled in him, and something else. What would have happened if he just hadn't said anything? What was he willing to allow? Lust seemed to listen to him, more than their pact really demanded. All Lust really needed to do was not hurt him. He didn't need to feed Nash, or keep him company, or teach him things about Hell and beyond. Hostless, the demon was also alone in the world. Was he lonely too, or just an opportunist?

Why did Nash like it so much? His body reacted to Lusts teasing, but wasn't it supposed to? Could Lust tell when it happened? The demon never said anything about it, which was good, because Nash didn't know how to feel about it. He kept telling himself that it was because he was a teenager, and didn't have control over it. That Lust's presence was supposed to affect people like that. But what if it wasn't just that?

Nash wasn't very concerned about sexual orientation. Detective, Puzzles, and Swag had been effective roll models, and Nash had decided that it really wasn't that big a deal if he was gay. The only reason he'd been afraid of that in the first place was his father, and that was no longer an issue. It was very, extremely clear that Lust didn't care either, and why would he? It would all be food to him.

“Sorry, what?” Nash asked. Lust had been speaking.

“~I said that somethings are too complicated to be assigned to just one of us~” Lust repeated, tilting his head to look suspiciously at Nash. “~I cross lines often enough with both Gluttony and Love, and sometimes even Wrath and Trust, that things sometimes blur together. Why Eddie, it's unlike you to be so distracted~”

Nash scowled. Lust did like teasing him.

Narci seemed surprised to find Nash on his doorstep, but quickly ushered him inside.

“Are you free of that thing now?” he asked, concern in his airy voice. “I was talking to Arkham, and-”

“Really?” Nash said, skeptical. Narci's pale ears flushed.

“Well, I was talking to Puzzles, who talks to Arkham, and we were trying to figure out how to maybe banish-”

“Don't bother. I'm fine. I told him not to mess with you anymore, and besides, I don't want him gone. I like him.”

Narci stared at him.

“Nash, it's a monster!” Narci insisted. “It's going to hurt you!”

“No, no.” Nash waved his hands in front of him. “We have a pact, I'm safe. You don't have to worry.”

“It's a liar.” Narci shot back heatedly. “You can't believe anything it says! It just wants to take advantage of you. It'll swallow you if we don't drive it off. You can stay here with me while we figure out how. It's a demon, right? So, salt. Lots and lots of salt. I think it's...gold and amethyst that drive off evil spirits? I think I read that somewhere. I can get some of that easy, I might already have it, actually.”

He retrieved a box and began spinning through the complicated puzzle lock. He flubbed once, swearing in irritation at the needle that pierced his thumb upon his mistake, grabbing ad slurping down a vial of something from a nearby rack of what looked to Nash like fancy toiletries, and continuing on until the box cracked open.

It was full of beautiful jewelry, which sparkled in a dozen flashing colors as Narci rummaged about within, turning over loose stones and finished pieces alike, until he fished out a thick gold band topped with a shimmering purple stone the size of a penny.

“There! That oughta do it.” He handed it over to Nash.

“You don't actually believe this'll work, do you?” Nash asked.

“It's a start.” Narci said. “We can't let that thing have you.”

Nash handed the ring back. “Maybe you should wear it, if you're that scared.”

Narci grimaced and pushed the ring back into Nash's hands.

“I'm not scared!” he insisted. “I'm worried about you! That thing showed me awful visions. Awful lies. It's planning something for you, I know it.”

“Narci, they were just fantasies. That's what he does. Shows you something you want-”

“No! It's all lies! I'm not like that!” Narci struggled to regain control of himself. “Anyway, you keep that on. Just in case.”

“If you insist.” Nash said, pocketing the ring. It was a bit large for his hand. I actually wanted your help for something.”

He laid out his plan for the school officer, the why, the where, and the what.

“But I think I'll need help getting him there.” he finished. “It's not like I can dump him in a wheelbarrow and cart him around Gotham, you know.”

Narci smiled his cherubic smile.

“I think I might know a guy.”

#shards of the nexus #nash!riddler #narci!riddler #personification of lust

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years

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“It takes radio signals more than a decade to reach this offworld colony. (Something about the speed of light.) So, having lived through the eighties at Reagan’s ground zero, I get to live through them again out here. The worst of all Reagan’s horrors, the Drug War, is just hitting its stride here, even as it’s losing steam back in Vampire Central. Back there, even bloodsucking monsters like Henry Hyde are deciding they might have been a bit excessive in mandating the death penalty for anyone caught with a quarter-gram of powder. Hyde got a cameo role in Traffic and, like any red-blooded American, changed his convictions instantly in exchange for a bit part, a moment being petted poolside by a bevy of Malibu Stacies. A repellent tableau, certainly; but if that’s all it takes, why not find a bit part for every Republican drug warrior? Have Soros fund huge fake Hollywood parties for every slavering Phalangist in DC! Rent a few blondes, a cheesy Elks Hall, deck it out with limos and fake cameras! Stage an entire fake Academy Awards ceremony at which Hyde, Jesse Helms and Ashcroft are the leading contenders for Best Actor, nominated for their role in dueling anti-DEA epics! Let them make tearful acceptance speeches that go on for hours, if only they’ll stop sending harmless nerds to a lifetime as the maytag of D Block.

But here, the nightmare has years to run. The old radio signals keep hitting us, and the zombie colonists do exactly what America circa 1985 tells them to do. So right now they’re busily destroying the lives of those who are desperately trying to find a few hours’ warmth in the poppy.

The poppy is the literal, chemical answer to that Philosophy 101 question: What is happiness? Happiness is, chemically speaking, opium—is the poppy. Not a syllogism but a resin, a sap, dark brown and smelling like milkweed.

It came here with the Chinese. While the Anglo settlers were bashing each other with whiskey bottles, the Chinese were growing the poppy behind their shacks. They were expelled, but the poppy survived. It fought for its life, a tough plant which loves marginal soil, high altitude, scanty rainfall.

It knows what things are like here. It wants to help. It’s a very beautiful plant, the original of Marty in Little Shop of Horrors, as well as the pods in Body Snatchers. The flowers are so beautiful—frail crimson or lavender panels around a yellow core, at the end of long gray-green stalks—that old gardening bastards still grow them here. And then stay up all night with shotguns, waiting for a desperate loser to try to steal them.

That’s what separates the drug war here from the real thing, back in Reagan’s California: at least people there had real drugs to risk their lives for. Here, where bleakness and raw pain are the background of every life, the authorities have managed to block any import of processed opiates. It’s like banning fire in Alaska, or pools in Arizona. And yet they’ve made it work. That’s the beauty of an offworld colony: the officials really can control who, and what, gets in.

So those who can’t find solace in rugby and booze—that is, the people with some decency in them—must become gardeners, or thieves. They become little Johnny Poppyseeds, planting the tiny lousehead seeds in the most remote gulches. Or they simply tour the place, noting every garden where the poppies grow. And when the plants are finally ripe, they drop in late at night to grab the crop and boil it up to make crude homebake morphine.

Unfortunately, most of these people are not exactly ninjas. I found that out myself a few years ago. I bought this house from some hippies who had planted the odd poppies among their feral cabbages. I had little interest in the cabbages, which seemed to serve mainly as slug cities, but the poppies drew me back for some quiet summer nocturnal gardening. I knew what you were supposed to do, thanks to hours spent drooling over old National Geographics showing Turkish women moving among head-high endorphin-bulbs, shaving the sap and collecting it on wooden trays. I knew you were supposed to slit the pods, let the sap ooze overnight, then come back and collect it. I was worried about the neighbors, though, so I only did my slitting late at night: a fat James Bond stalking through my own back yard with a paring knife, imagining infrared cop cams watching me stumble through the wet grass feeling for pods.

All that stealth was for nothing, because the National Geographic articles failed to mention that the pod-slitting method doesn’t work in a climate where it’s always windy and always raining. There was never any sap on the pods next day. It ran down the stalks. There may’ve been some remarkably relaxed grubs in the soil beneath, but I was getting nothing out of it. A more crude and effectual method was called for: I snuck out at night, cut the bulbs off and boiled them. This yielded a truly foul-tasting tea, which I drank…and then waited. That’s the worst thing about these homemade opiates: the drug itself is so modest that you can’t always tell if it’s working. When you’re using weak unfiltered versions, you really can’t tell at all. And if it’s that weak, it’s probably not worth doing.

Apparently, one needs to collect hundreds of poppy plants and boil them up to get any effect. That’s why those enterprising collectors go on long night runs, sucking up all the plants in town like magic gophers. Except that, unlike cartoon gophers, they make a lot of noise. One summer night I was awakened by an elephantine crashing in the back yard. Something was stomping around in the high grass, grazing or dancing. I assumed it was what they call a “possum”—a nasty creature not at all like the pink-footed, white-haired possum of Earth. The only way to deal with these offworld possums is to bluff them hard and fast. So I got out of bed, ready to blast the door open and stun it with a scream like sperm whales do. I didn’t bother to put on any clothes: what’s modesty to a possum? Just leaned naked against the double glass doors and slammed them open, roaring at 747-takeoff volume.

A moment of social awkwardness ensued, because it wasn’t a possum out there. It was a tall thin human in black, with the standard lowlife haircut: short on top, long Rod Stewart rat tail down the back. This human was holding a big bunch of poppies—my poppies!—and preparing to pick more.

I took all this in quickly, while pushing the door open and screaming as loud as I could. The scream, or the sight of my naked body, which must have seemed at that instant a terrifying barrel of hair, fat and noise, discomfited the ninja harvester enough that he threw up his hands, turned and ran. The poppy bouquet went straight up in the air and landed right where he’d been standing. I ran outside, grabbed the uprooted poppies, took them inside and spent the rest of the night patrolling with a butcher knife. My poppies. Nobody gets my poppies, my little desperate hope for a couple of hours of warmth on this bleak rock. Thus one desperate wretch is made to fear another, to arm against another. That’s why the drug people all have pit bulls. After that night, I wanted to rent one myself, and tether it around the poppies.

This sort of undignified, desperate behavior is one of the great pleasures of the drug war for the Imperial drones who run it. They enjoy seeing the desperate writhe. Yachts are legal; Private tropical islands, casinos, concubines, betrayals…all not just legal but admired. But those are the pleasures of the victors; the pleasures of the defeated will always be illegal. And the poppy, the plant brought by Prometheus, will always be illegal.

When they get caught and put on trial by the peasants, everyone enjoys it. There was such a trial here a week ago. Three men got caught trying to boil up some poppies to make a few hours of respite from the wretchedness of life here. It made the papers. Here’s the story, from the Otago Daily Offworld Times of April 14, 2001:

Three Jailed for making opium from poppies

“Three men convicted of producing the class B controlled drug opium were each jailed when they appeared at Dunedin District Court. Before Judge John McDonald were Aaron Gourlay (28), unemployed, Walter Philip Poutama (29), solo parent, and Martin Douglas Upton (30), employed. Gourlay and Upton received 18-month prison terms, while Poutama’s sentence was 15 months. In each man’s case Judge McDonald took two years’ jail as the starting point for sentence.”

Two years. For gathering poppies and trying to make an ersatz opiate from it. Three poor losers trying to brew up a few hours’ respite from the bleakness here—and you can’t imagine that bleakness until you’ve spent a winter or two in the wind, in the rain, the decaying Calvinism, a bleached and contemptible evil gnawing the ends of its old plot.

That’s the difference, really: in California, the heroin is real. But these poor bastards could well have spent the day brewing and baking and stewing and fricasseeing—and ended up with nothing. It takes a field of poppies to yield even a few hours of relief.

But one is not supposed to want relief. Maybe that’s the real logic of the drug war: it’s unpatriotic to want relief. Alcohol is in tune with the horror, celebrates it, wallows in it. The poppy is truly an alien plant, a Promethean import, a subtle Asian critique of rugby and coalsmoke and crosses and false-toothed, double-tongued meanness. Perhaps they’re right to suppress it. But they can’t tell you to say No. The poppy has preempted that. That’s why they hate it: it is a quiet and complete “No” unto itself.”

- John Dolan, “Live From The Witch Trials.” The eXiled. March 2001, issue #111.

#poppy #opium #war on drugs #live from the witch trials #john dolan

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fanficimagery · 3 years

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When Enough is Enough pt. II

Imagine being let down one too many times by your best friend, only to end up making some new ones in the process.

Words: 8.5K Author’s Note: Okay so some of you asked to only be added to part 2 of this while others asked to be added everything Bucky.. and a few others weren’t exactly clear. So if you want to be tagged in any future Bucky related imagines please let me know so I can get your blog name written down on my list.

Tags: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @mimilh @felicityofbakerstreet @eternalharry @eliwinchester99 @intothesoul @wintershadowkat @b1sexualtonystark @meredeph @miszswan

The Sunday before you are to return to work, you sleep in until nine in the morning. Your thoughts are immediately on Bucky's impending arrival and you couldn't help the butterflies that took flight in your stomach. He's a friend, just as all the others are, but you couldn't help but notice just how attractive this new friend of yours is. But not only does his attractiveness draw you in, his easy-going teasing and protectiveness does too. However, Bucky Barnes is still a man trying to find his footing in this world after all that's been done to him and finally getting his name cleared, and if he finds comfort with you then you're going to try your best and be the friend he needs.

So since you're not dressing to impress, you dress in your favorite lazy outfit after your shower- leggings, sports bra, a faded sleeveless band tee with the arm holes having been cut down to around your ribs, and a pair of socks. Damp hair gets gathered up into a messy bun and you walk around your apartment to pick up some things you had unknowingly left out.

You've skipped breakfast, so when there's a knock on your door and you open up to find Bucky standing there, you groan in relief. He raises both hands with paper bags hanging from each. "I come bearing sushi. Wanda let it slip how much you love it."

"Yesss." You step back, quickly taking in his own comfort outfit of sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt under an opened jacket. "Did you bring plenty of wasabi? And you can just kick off your shoes anywhere."

"Of course." He hands you the bags so he can kick off his shoes and strip out of his jacket before hanging it up. You don't know why, but seeing him in a short sleeve shirt makes you happy, knowing full well he was weird about his metal arm being out in the open. "And plenty of dipping sauce as well. Wanda was more than happy to give me advice."

"Wanda, huh?" You chuckle, leading the way to your kitchen. "You actually told her where'd you be?"

"Apparently I looked very pensive this morning. She asked and I figured she was a better confidant than Steve or Sam who would have made a big deal about us hanging out."

"True." Setting the bags down, you let him empty them while you head to the fridge. "Beer?"

"Yeah."

Grabbing him a beer and yourself a can of Cola, you return to the table and your eyes widen at the sight of all the sushi. "Damn, Barnes. That's a lot of sushi."

"Don't act like you won't eat half of it."

You laugh as you take a seat, handing him his beer and pulling a few trays to your side of the table. You take a container of wasabi and dipping sauce for yourself, and grab a pair of chopsticks to start digging in.

You moan in delight at your first taste, happily shimmying in your seat before taking another. Eventually, you ask, "So what are you going to do when I'm back at work and I can't keep you entertained by getting shitfaced?"

Bucky grins around his mouthful of food before chasing it down with a swig of his beer. "We actually got a mission comin' up so I'll be leavin' around mid-week."

"Well that sucks." You sigh. "Now who am I going to send random pictures to when I have downtime at work?"

He grins. "You can still send them to me. I just won't get back to you until after the mission's complete."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you continue to eat- Bucky dodging Steve's texts about where he is and when he's coming back, and you sending the middle finger emoji over and over to Wanda who keeps wondering how your date is going. Then once most of the sushi is gone and Bucky puts what little is left into the fridge, the two of you head to the living room. You immediately flop onto the couch as Bucky takes the plush recliner, only for you to hear him moving the chair into its reclined position seconds later.

"Oh. I definitely need to get one of these."

You laugh as he snuggles down and you pick up the remote to bring up your streaming services. "Anything you've been meaning to watch?"

"Not really. Just show me your favorites."

You start off with some humor by playing the Goonies. It's a movie that no matter how many times you've seen it, it always seems to make you laugh. And it seems Bucky is not immune either when they make Chunk to the truffle shuffle. Titanic plays afterwards, but only after making sure Bucky found it somewhat interesting after reading the movie summary to him. He is interested from beginning to end and doesn't even laugh at you when you shed a few tears for the old married couple who opt to stay in their bed as the room floods.

When a break is needed, you head off towards the bathroom as Bucky finishes off the leftover sushi. Both of you check your phones and read each other the missed text messages from Steve and his worrying behavior.

"Wanna tell Steve to fuck off via video message?" Bucky takes a moment to think on it before he grins and nods. "Excellent. Sit in the recliner. I'm gonna crawl up all in your business. That okay?"

"Yeah."

As Bucky gets comfortable in the recliner, you sit on the armrest before sliding down sideways onto his lap. You bring up the camera app on your phone and switch it to video, sliding your right arm behind Bucky's neck while holding your left arm out to capture the two of you on the screen. "Ready?"

"Sure, doll."

You chuckle quietly and then smirk mischievously as Bucky relaxes his expression into his best resting bitch face. After you hit record, you say, "Hey Rogers, stop being a little bitch and sending us text after text. I'm tryin' to fuck your best friend here." Bucky's expression cracks as he barks out a laugh and you turn to face him while grinning. You share a laugh with him before facing the camera once more. "Only joking, but seriously stop buggin' us. I promise to send him back in one piece."

As you prepare to send the text to Steve, Bucky says, "You're terrible."

"Whatever. Admit it, you adore me."

"Occasionally."

You huff another laugh as the video message finally sends. You and Bucky both watch as the delivered status turns to read, and then those three little dots appear as Steve starts typing his reply.

"Tell Bucky to wrap it before he taps it." You burst out laughing at Steve's text, Bucky's rumbling laughter only fueling yours even more. "God I hate your best friend sometimes." And before you climb off Bucky's lap, because honestly you were getting a little too comfortable, you send Steve a few middle finger emojis before deciding on a third movie to watch.

The third movie you choose is one that never fails to make you laugh- Bridesmaids. You had a moment of hesitancy because of the sex scenes, but you figured they were ridiculous enough that it wouldn't be awkward. Thankfully you're correct and you get the added bonus of hearing Bucky's laughter again during Megan's scenes, especially when they get food poisoning and are all fighting for the bathroom.

You and Bucky take yet another break after the film, just stretching and finding something to drink.

"So what's the verdict, Barnes? Are you enjoying the films?"

He grins. "Your taste is all over the place, huh? That last one we watched was raunchy."

"But hilarious! You need to watch the Hangover trilogy, but you definitely need to watch that with Steve and then watch him squirm at the pictures that roll with the credits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jurassic Park holds his attention and he can't help but comment how stupid one has to be to replicate dinosaur DNA and then open up a park with live dinosaurs. You laugh, but don't bother commenting. You'll tell him later there are more movies involved, with yet another idiotic man who felt he could get the park up and running once more.

It's getting dark, but it's still a little too early for dinner. One more movie and then you'll order or go out and pick something up.

"So this last one for the day is a movie that's directed more towards the female viewers, but you did ask for my favorite films and Practical Magic is my absolute favorite."

"Well put it on, doll."

As you press play on Practical Magic, you quickly grab a throw blanket and snuggle in. Instead of watching Bucky, you watch the film and mumble certain quotes to yourself. The magic scenes always bring a soft smile to your face just as Gary's confession to Sally of I wished for you too breaks your heart, and Sally and Gillian's heartfelt sister moment makes you cry.

Afterwards, Bucky hums in thought. "So that's your favorite?"

"Absolutely." You tell him. He's watching you curiously and you grin. "If I show you something, you promise not to laugh?"

"I'll try."

"Whatever. That's good enough for me." Standing up, you walk towards him and kneel, and tell him to pull your shirt sideways by the armhole next to your left arm. There on the back of your left shoulder and forever etched into your skin is a salt shaker, a rosemary plant, a lavender plant, and a heart. You then rattle off one of your favorite quotes to him. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

Bucky chuckles as you get up, retaking your spot on the sofa. "You really are a fan of the movie."

You nod. "As a little girl, I was fascinated by magic. I thought I'd grow out of it, but I only grew more fond of it. And then I found Practical Magic and it had a bit of everything I adored."

"So what's the one scene that just gets you every time?"

"Ugh. You're making me choose?!" You feign being distraught and he grins. As you think about it, you keep coming back to two scenes in particular. "So there's two," you tell him, "and I'm not choosing between them." Bucky nods, awaiting your answer. "Gillian's possession. When Sally calls together the other mothers who were mean to her in order to make a temporary coven to save her sister, and Gillian begs Sally to just let her ghost ex have her."

Bucky hums. "That was a bit sad, doll. I saw you shedding a few tears over that."

"Mhm. And the other scene is when Sally comes clean to Gary and admits that she did a spell as a child to call forth her perfect love thinking it wouldn't exist, only it did. When Gary tells Sally that he wished for her too, it just breaks my fuckin' heart."

"Let me guess, you were one of the girls who cast her own spell after seeing that scene." You stay quiet for a moment and the second you feel your face heat, Bucky laughs. "What did you wish for?"

You groan quietly. "If I tell you, you can't laugh!" He only smiles in response and you know he won't drop it until you tell him. "Fine. So even though I knew it would never work, I gathered the weirdest objects and wished for a significant other with dark hair and colored eyes. He had to be protective and funny and love me for me. Simple."

For some reason you can't seem to meet Bucky's gaze then and you feel awkward the longer the silence stretches on.

"So dinner?" He asks.

"Oh god, yes please. Pizza and wings?"

"Sounds good."

You have the nearby pizza place on speed dial, so after finding out Bucky's preferences you make the call and place the order. It's going to be about a thirty minute wait, so you fill the time sending Steve pic after pic of Bucky who's none the wiser as he scrolls through his own phone and adding the most asinine comments to each picture. Steve thinks it's absolutely hilarious.

Then when the pizza and wings arrive, you beat Bucky to the door and thrust several bills at the delivery boy. He's more than happy with his tip and you hurriedly wave him off before shutting the door. You laugh at Bucky's disgruntled expression and then place everything on the table while gathering a beer for both you and him.

"Don't let me have more than two," you tell him while handing him his own bottle of beer.

Bucky agrees and the two of you dig into your own personal pizzas and boxes of wings once you're situated around the table. As you're eating, Bucky asks about what other movies you hold near and dear. You fill him in on a few others and he hesitantly puts it out there that he'd be up for another movie marathon when you both have a day off. You agree that that's doable.

Halfway through dinner, as you and Bucky are chuckling over the thought of making Steve sit through Bridesmaids, there's a sound of glass breaking from your living room and a muffled curse. The two of you immediately cease making any type of noise and Bucky is up with a gun in hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?! You hiss.

The telltale sound of a window then sliding shut can be heard.

"Shut up and get behind me."

The authority in his voice makes you freeze and your heart flutter at the same time, and you have to mentally scold yourself before you quickly do as he says. You follow Bucky towards the living, ready to duck at the ready, only to sigh and roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bucky stands tall and lowers his gun. "Parker." You can practically hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Mr. Barnes?" Peeking around his shoulder, you raise your eyebrow at your best friend who's been too busy for you and is now frowning at Bucky. When he catches sight of you, he asks, "What's going on?"

"Uh, well we were having dinner until we thought someone was breaking in."

"Alone?!"

Your brow furrows at Peter's incredulousness, only for him to realize you're not impressed with his tone. You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms over your chest. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, um, yeah." He shifts from foot to foot, gesturing to his face where there's a scrape on his cheekbone. "My ribs took a beating too. Can you patch me up?"

"Sure." You sigh. "Why not."

Before you can leave to go to the bathroom to get the supplies you need, Bucky says, "I'll just get out of your way then."

You stop and face him. "What? But we haven't even finished our food. It won't take me long."

"It's fine, doll." He grins when he realizes you're trying to get him to stay. "You gotta hit the hay early anyway. We'll talk soon."

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, sighing when he won't budge. "Well at least take your food with you. No use in it going to waste."

Bucky nods and heads back to the kitchen, collecting his food. You watch him and then follow him to the door, holding his food while he bends over to lace up his boots. Once he retakes his food and you open the door, he thanks you for the time away from the tower and disappears down the hall.

Shutting the door and then heading back into the living room, you tell Peter to get back into his regular clothes so you can get to his ribs while you go gather your medical supplies.

Meeting Peter back in the living room and setting everything down on the coffee table, he says, "So you and Bucky-"

"Don't." You pick up the peroxide bottle and soak a cotton ball in it. "Bucky and I are friends."

Peter manages to keep his mouth shut as you clean the scrape on his cheek and place a small bandage on it. Then when you've checked his ribs and tell him he just needs to ice them, he mumbles, "Friends who apparently lick each other." You snort and think nothing of his sullen tone, but when you look at his face you see he's actually being quite serious. There's no chuckle or boyish grin and for a moment you're absolutely floored at his attitude. "I don't think I'm comfortable with Bucky being alone with you in your apartment."

"Are you- are you kidding me?" You huff and take a step back from him. When Peter just continues to frown, you shake your head at him. "First of all, I'm an adult woman who can make her own decisions."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not finished!" You snap. Peter's eyes widen, but he smartly ceases talking. "I am allowed to have friends whether you like them or not. We have a pact, Petey, and since I'm still abiding by it I would hope that you would too."

"Yeah, but that's for significant others!"

"Significant others or friends, it doesn't matter. And you should be grateful I've kept my mouth shut when it comes to you and Leslie because let me tell you, I've been biting my tongue a lot these past few weeks. Bucky and the others have stepped up since you've abandoned me, so you have absolutely no room to tell me that you're uncomfortable with him or any of them being around me."

"Leslie isn't that bad and I have not abandoned you." You snort, but don't bother opening that can of worms even further. He finally gets annoyed with your quietness. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here because you needed a bandage. Tell me, Peter, where are you going after here? Where are you going after making five minutes of small talk and calling it a night?" He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut, shrugs, and you shake your head at him once more in disappointment. "Exactly. Just go, Peter. I'm so over this conversation right now and I have work in the morning."

"Wait, but we promised we'd never leave a conversation where we were still annoyed with each other!"

"And we also promised we'd never judge who the other decided to spend time with, but here we are." He frowns at you. "Go to your girlfriend, Peter. We'll talk again in another few days or weeks or whenever. I don't care right now."

Peter stands there, gaping, before he pulls himself together and makes his way back towards the window he had crawled through. He glances at you one last time, but you merely keep staring until his mask encompasses his head once more and he lifts the window before taking his leave.

As the window shuts behind him, you sag in on yourself and your breathing stutters in your chest as your eyes fill with tears. You've never been this angry at Peter and the fact that he thinks it's okay to ignore you until he needs something and then has an opinion about who you hang out with was just too much for you to let slide.

You quickly gather everything from your coffee table and return it to its rightful place in your bathroom, and throw away the trash. Your appetite is long gone, so you put up what's left of your food and then head to your room to gather some clothes so you can shower and get into bed.

By the time you've crawled into bed, you're still a bit annoyed. So grabbing your phone, you pull up your text messages and click on Bucky's thread.

To Bucky: Well that was a shit show. I don't think I've ever made Petey leave my apartment while we were still angry with each other.

From Bucky: I'm sorry, doll. Anything I can do?

To Bucky: If he gives you attitude, get a non-serum individual to punch him. You, Steve, and probably Nat will send him flying into the wall.

From Bucky: If I remember..

To Bucky: Well I mean if you forget, I won't complain. I'll probably laugh when he comes crying to me.

From Bucky: You're a terrible human being.

To Bucky: Whatever. You adore me just the way I am. And now I should get some shut eye. I'll talk to you soon. Night, Sarge.

From Bucky: Night, sweetheart.

For the next couple of weeks, you keep yourself busy with work. Bucky and a few others do go on a mission as he said they would, so you keep your texts to a minimum of three each day- a good morning, a random story from that day, and a good night. They're gone for four days and in those four days you've not heard from Peter. The only reason you know he's not completely done with you is the fact he likes your posts that you put up on social media.

But since you're not currently speaking to your best friend and are too exhausted to hang out with anyone else, you're in a bit of a funk and completely caught off guard one evening when the patient a police officer brings in smacks you right across the face. You had been trying to insert an IV into his arm when he completely lost his shit, and then you were hit so hard that you were strewn across the gurney behind you. And in your vulnerable position, a fistful of your hair had been grabbed and yanked right before the police officer had intervened and pulled the patient off of you.

You had been given a bit of time to ice your cheek before you had to get back to work, but your face and scalp were hurting you the entire time.

On your way home, however, you're surprised to receive a call from Pepper. You're heading towards your apartment complex when she invites you to dinner there at the tower since Darcy is finally back in town, and you hate to do it, but you're not exactly up to be around such a rowdy bunch. So you apologize to Pepper and ask her to apologize to Darcy for you, and take a rain check. Immediately she knows something is wrong, but you only tell her you had a rough night at work and all you want is a hot shower and to crawl into bed. She hesitates but wishes you well, and the call ends moments later.

When you get home, you waste no time in locking the door behind you and heading straight for your bathroom. You strip down and take the hottest shower your body is capable of handling, and let yourself relax in the steam-filled room. Afterwards, as you're drying off, you gently dry your hair since your scalp is still sensitive and then get dressed in some of your comfort clothes.

Then heading out into the kitchen, you find some leftovers in your fridge and heat those up, tiredly sitting at your kitchen table and digging in. Just as you're done with your food and heading towards the living room, someone pounds on your apartment door. You sigh, hoping they go away, and have only plopped down onto the sofa when a familiar gruff voice speaks through the wood.

You quietly groan as Bucky tells you he knows you're there and you get up to open the door for him. He's on the verge of knocking again when you swing the door open. "Hey. Pepper said-" He trails off as he takes in your appearance, expression going slack before his jaw clenches in anger. "Who?"

You shake your head, gesturing him inside as you turn around and walk towards your sofa. You hear your door click shut before the footsteps follow you. "Work got a little hectic. No need to hunt down anyone, Barnes. I'm fine."

"Half your face is bruised, doll. You are not fine."

"It's all part of my job." You shrug and plop down onto the sofa once more. Pulling a blanket over your lap, you stare up at your friend. "There will always be a drunk and disorderly patient. I was just lucky he didn't do more damage."

Bucky frowns, but he doesn't push you on it. Instead, he walks over and sits next to you, angling his body towards yours when gentle fingers grasp your chin to angle your face more towards him. "What exactly happened?" He asks as his eyes dart over every inch of your face.

"Some petty criminal did some damage to his head in the back of a patrol car. Police officer brought him in and he seemed pretty docile up until I jabbed him with the IV. He got the drop on me. It happens." Gentle fingers brush along your cheekbone and you flinch. Tears sting your eyes as you sniffle. "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep sayin' that doesn't mean it's true."

Your bottom lip wobbles at his words and you lose the battle with keeping the tears at bay. The moment they fall, Bucky pulls you into a hug and you cry into his shoulder. "Dammit," you mumble. "See what you started!"

Bucky chuckles and he holds you a few moments longer, rubbing a hand up and your back to offer a semblance of comfort. When he lets you go, you fall back against the sofa cushions and wipe the tears away with your blanket. "So what are we watching?" He asks while settling in next to you and draping an arm behind your head.

"Shouldn't you go back to the tower and have dinner with the rest of them? I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I will drag you back to the tower and let Steve motherhen you."

You sigh. "Low blow, Buckaroo."

"And for that horrendous nickname, you've lost the privilege of choosing what we're going to watch."

You laugh and don't bother arguing with him about it as he leans across you to snag up the remote. When he settles back down and you snuggle into his side, you huff a small laugh when he settles on TLC which is showing 90 Day Fiancé.

"Why this show?" You ask.

"Because it blows my mind that some people are so oblivious and can't see that their chosen partner is only in it for the green card."

As you let his reasoning sink in, you can't help but giggle as you picture Bucky sitting in his own apartment and bad mouthing the TV because he didn't like the decisions the people were making in their love life. You watch along with him, cringing at the more obvious couples that are only headed for future divorce and smiling when one of the couples is actually in it for love.

You manage to almost watch a complete two hour episode when there's a knock on your door, but you're too comfortable to get up and answer it.

"You get it," you say as you nudge Bucky.

He nudges you back. "It's your apartment."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like getting up."

"You could have at least come up with a better excuse."

You grin, finally taking your eyes off the screen and glancing up at Bucky. "M'too tired. Brain's not working fast enough." He continues to give you a deadpan stare until you jut out your bottom lip. "Please?"

The second Bucky's lips twitch, you know you've won. He huffs and roughly pushes himself up off the sofa as if answering the door is a hardship, and you go back to watching TV. At least until you hear a familiar voice stammer, "Uh, h-hey Mr. Barnes. Is Y/N home?"

Your gaze snaps towards the door where Peter is standing out in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he sheepishly stares at Bucky. The man in question turns and raises an eyebrow at you as if saying what do I do and you give him a terse nod to let him know it's okay. Bucky steps aside and Peter readily walks in.

"I should be getting back to the tower," Bucky suddenly says. "You kids have fun."

This time it's your turn to give him a deadpan stare and he smirks right before slipping his boots back on. Then as soon as they're laced up, he's walking out the door and shutting it behind him. Peter, who hadn't stopped staring at the intimidating man, finally turns to look at you. And when he does, his eyes widen.

"What happened to your face?!"

You sigh. "I'm fine. Just had a little incident at work."

"And Mr. Barnes was what? Comforting you?"

"First of all, can you stop calling him Mr. Barnes? You two avenge together and what not. I'm pretty sure that means you're on a first name basis." Peter grins as he takes a seat on the recliner near you, shrugging. "And Bucky was here because when I turned down dinner at the tower, Pepper figured something was wrong. Bucky took it upon himself to check in."

"So are you two like a thing or something?" He wonders.

"We're just.. friends," you say. "For some unknown reason we clicked and we're comfortable in each other's company."

For a moment Peter doesn't say anything, nor will he meet your gaze, but then he's looking at you and sighing. "I'm sorry." You blink at him, surprised to hear the apology. "I shouldn't have freaked out that one night. Who you are friends with and who you decide to date is your business."

You finally smile, even though it's rather small. "Thank you. And don't get me wrong, I know you meant well, but you should have dropped it and just trusted my judgment."

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

"Soo.. are we good?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"Good. I was getting tired of you liking my posts and not commenting on them."

Peter snorts. A moment of silence passes and then he says, "So you'll be glad to know that Leslie and I aren't together anymore. I broke it off earlier tonight."

You wince. "Sorry."

"Nah. Don't be. She was totally using me for access to the tower." You're torn between being smug about being right and being sad for your friend who just ended his relationship. "I only realized it earlier when she got upset because Mr. Rogers posted a picture of you and Mr. Barnes together, and she had a few choice words to say about it."

"What? Steve posted a picture of us?" You quickly pull out your phone, checking social media for any notifications. There are none, but as you get on Instagram you check Steve's page and sure enough there's a new pic that shows Bucky staring fondly at you as you laugh at something on your phone. "That little shit didn't tag us!"

As your thumbs move furiously to give Steve a piece of your mind and to comment how adorable you and Bucky look, Peter can't help but say, "You're attracted to him."

Your texting falters and you quickly glance at your friend to gauge his reaction, but when he just looks amused, you shrug. "I mean have you seen him? How could I not be attracted to him?"

"Does he know?"

"I have a feeling he does. Asshole likes to fluster me every now and then."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure he likes you back." You snort and go back to finishing up the comment on Steve's post. "I'm serious. When we stopped talking, he threatened me. He was pissed that I made you cry and said I was lucky. He's actually really scary when you're on his bad side."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you can feel your ears heating up, followed by your cheeks. Peter starts to laugh and you groan in embarrassment. "Why is this so weird? Dating should be easy!"

"Well he is an Avenger.."

"I don't care about that! He's just- he's really, really hot. It's intimidating."

"Wait, what?" Peter huffs. "So you're intimidated by his hotness and not because he's a super-soldier with a metal arm?"

"Well yeah."

Expression melting into one of confusion, your friend eventually shakes his head at you. "You're on your own with that. Good luck."

You hadn't realized how much everyone had known about your and Peter's brief falling out until the two of you were laughing together once again at the tower. It seemed like everyone had sagged in relief now that the two of you were poking fun at one another once more, and you had to apologize for apparently making it awkward for them.

And now that your best friend knew of your crush on a certain super-soldier, there was lots of teasing material. Of course you kept him in line when you could, but there was no stopping the force of Peter, Wanda, and Darcy combined.

It's a random Tuesday night when you've driven over to the Tower, Bucky having called you over for dinner with a few friends. You had the day off so you didn't mind heading on over, but as the elevator doors slide open after having ridden up to the communal floor, you yelp in surprise as the small gathered crows that shout, "Happy birthday!", at you.

Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Peter pop confetti poppers as you step out of the elevator, eyes wide as you glance between each of them. "My birthday is not until tomorrow!" You hiss.

"But you work tomorrow." Wanda frowns.

"Mhm." Your eyes then narrow, glancing behind them at the streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling. "And how'd you guys even know?"

Everyone glances at Peter and he takes a step back when your gaze slides to him. He chuckles sheepishly. "I might have hid your birthday cupcake here and Steve found it."

"Petey," you groan. "Why couldn't you just hide it at aunt May's like usual? You know I dislike birthday celebrations."

"You don't dislike them. You just dislike all the attention being on you."

"Whatever. Where's Barnes? He's the one who lured me here under false pretenses. I got a bone to pick with him too."

Everyone turns around and Bucky's head appears from around the corner. He smirks and you glare at him. "Not false pretenses. We are having dinner," he says. "It just so happens to be a birthday dinner. And it's running a little bit late, so until the food gets here you get to open presents."

"You guys all suck."

Peter and Wanda each take a hand and drag you further into the room, heading towards the kitchen. Bucky fully steps out from behind the wall and you aim a kick at his shin as you're walking by. He laughs as he easily dodges it and then you're standing by the kitchen island that's been cleared of everything other than birthday presents.

You huff a small laugh and shake your head fondly at them. "I love you guys, but you do know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Shut up and open the presents," Bucky says.

"Open mine first," Sam says, reaching into the small pile and pulling out a white envelope. "Unlike the others, I was literally told within the last thirty minutes we were doing this so yeah. It's not the best present, but I think you'll enjoy it."

You smile at Sam as you open it, chuckling at the plain birthday card and his brief personal message written inside. But it's what else that's inside that makes you meet Sam's gaze once more, smiling fondly at him. "Thank you. I can't get enough of bubble tea and I'm sure I can do some damage with this gift card."

"You're welcome."

"Mine next." Peter reaches in for a medium-sized box and hands it over to you. "I know you're not a fan of presents, so I got you something I actually knew you'd enjoy."

Raising an eyebrow at him, you pull the lid off of the box. Then glancing down, you snort before pulling out a bottle of Patron Silver Tequila. "I knew we were best friends for a reason."

Steve groans. "Please drink responsibly."

"Please. Responsible is my middle name, Rogers." Everyone snorts and instead of trying to remain serious and feign offense, you end up laughing. "Sam and Buck are good babysitters. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's to be determined," he says. "Here. Open mine. I honestly had no idea what to get you, but Peter assured me you'd enjoy this."

Putting the bottle of tequila back in its box, you accept Steve's gift. Pulling off the ribbon, you can't help but laugh when you see what's inside. "Cards Against Humanity." Peter cheers. "We're playing this the next time I have off," you say, grinning at Steve.

"What is Cards Against Humanity?" He wonders. "I just picked it up and boxed it."

"It's possibly one of the most confusing card games or raunchy card games you'll ever play," Sam says. "I, for one, am looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Steve. I seriously can't wait to play it."

"You're welcome."

Wanda claps her hands. "Mine and Darcy's next. She ordered online and I had to pick it up earlier. But, um, I'm not sure you want to open it up in front of everyone."

"Oh god. Don't tell me it's a vibrator."

Sam laughs out loud as both Peter and Steve start blushing. Bucky looks rather amused and intrigued as Wanda slides two boxes over to you. She shakes her head, giggling. "Not quite."

For a brief moment you're relieved, but then her answer sinks in and you're hesitant all over again. You groan. "Is yours safer? I feel like it is. Which one is it?"

Wanda only smirks as she pushes her box towards you. You open it, marvel at its contents, and then put the lid back on much to the boys' displeasure. Trying to keep a straight face, you look at Wanda. "How many sets did you get?"

"There's four. All in colors that will look amazing against your skin tone."

"Thank you. I'll send you pictures when I wear them."

"Yes please! Natasha wants to know how they fit as well. She was the one who suggested them."

"I'll send them to the ladies group chat then."

"Well that's not fair," Sam complains. "First for not showing us what's inside the box and then you guys have a ladies only group chat. I wanna be in the ladies only group chat."

"But then that defeats the purpose of it being a ladies only group chat," you muse.

"Come on," Peter then whines. "What was the present?"

Your gaze slides to Peter, but instead of outright saying what it is, you say, "Think back to that one Halloween night where you wouldn't let me out of the dorm until I switched costumes."

It takes him only a minute to understand and when he does, he snorts. "That wasn't a costume! That was lingerie."

"Whoa, what?" Sam exclaims, grinning.

"Lingerie can be worn as a costume?" Steve wonders.

"I was actually a Victoria's Secret Angel, complete with the most amazing set of wings, and Petey forbade me from leaving the room. It was a sad, sad night."

"As much as I wanna get into that," Sam says, "I wanna know what Barnes got you more."

You chuckle and glance at Bucky, smile faltering when you see him tense. But then he seems to shake himself out of it and offers you a grin. "Open the bigger one first."

Wanda clears away the other presents as Bucky slides his two towards you. You feel giddy as you grab the bigger box, untying the black silk ribbons and lifting the lid. There's tissue paper you open up and you gasp, happily giggling. "You didn't?!"

"Well you did say it was your favorite movie, sweetheart."

"Yes!" You glance up, beaming at Bucky, and your heart swells at his own smile being directed at you. "I really, really love this. I can't wait to hang it up."

"What is it?" Peter wonders, trying to peer across the island.

"It's a quote from Practical Magic," you say and Peter huffs a laugh, knowing full well your love for that movie. You carefully pick it up and turn it around so everyone can see it as you read it off by heart. "Always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck and fall in love whenever you can."

"Aw," Wanda coos. "That's adorable."

"I made Bucky watch this movie a while back," you say. "I need to show it to you one of these days."

"I'm looking forward to it," she says.

With nothing else to say, you place it back in its box and set it aside in favor for the second box. It's a little smaller, but you're excited for it nonetheless. Untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, you immediately laugh at the white petals scattered atop the tissue paper.

"Barnes, you smooth sonuvabitch," Sam mutters.

Steve and Peter laugh, but you're so focused on the notecard that's under some of the petals. Lifting it up, you read the note to yourself because immediately you know it's personal. My better half has to be funny, get along with my friends, won't judge me for my past, and has decent taste in movies.

Heart fluttering, you bite the corner of your lip when it feels like you're smiling way too much.

"Well what does Prince Charming have to say?" Sam asks.

"That's none of your business." You close the note and then tuck into your back pocket, chuckling when Sam and Wanda complain. When you meet Bucky's gaze, you immediately flush and mentally curse yourself when you see him smirk in return.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you center yourself and then part the tissue paper. You look at the second portrait and gasp after you read it.

"What? What is it?" Peter wonders.

This second portrait is of a hand drawn bowl with a tipped over salt shaker, a small bundle of lavender, a small bundle of rosemary, and a heart beneath it. Above the bowl is a swirl of flower petals and inside the swirl of petals, in very pretty cursive writing, are the words I wished for you too.

Did he just- did he confess his own feelings by using a Practical Magic quote? Or was this just you overthinking his present? You glance to meet Bucky's gaze and at his gauging expression your eyes fill with tears.

"What did you do, Barnes?!" Sam scolds him. "You made the poor girl cry at her own birthday celebration!"

But Bucky isn't paying him any attention, instead he's solely focused on you. You set the present aside and walk around the kitchen island on shaky legs, and Bucky readily reaches for your waist as you grab his face and pull him down into a kiss.

You can't believe you're kissing Bucky, but then he squeezes your waist and returns the kiss, and you know you made the right choice.

Someone gasps, but then the following words let you know exactly who it is. "Darcy is going to be so angry she missed this." Wanda. That is Wanda.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam wonders. "What type of present can cause this type of reaction?"

You smile against Bucky's mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth before falling flat on your feet after having been on the tips of your toes in order to reach his mouth.

"It's my favorite quote from my favorite movie," you say. You turn around to address your friends, but Bucky doesn't let you go far. He wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you back so you're resting against his chest and tucked beneath his chin. "It's a movie about witches," you explain. "These two little girls are being raised by their aunts and they see them performing love spells for a local woman. Basically, one of the young girls refuses to fall in love after witnessing a love spell gone wrong and she does her own spell to call forward a love that would be impossible to find- a man who's favorite shape would be a star and who had one green eye, one blue. Years down the road, the sisters accidentally murder a man."

Sam snorts. "How the hell does one accidentally murder someone?"

"Shush." Wanda admonishes him. "I want to hear the story behind the gift."

You and Bucky chuckle, and you continue to explain. "Anyway, they send in an US Marshall to investigate the disappearance and the one who had done the love spell at a young age starts to fall for this man. She ends up telling him about the murder, but he doesn't quite believe her. Then they're on the verge of hooking up when she gets a good look at his eyes- one green eye, one blue."

"Oh my god. That's so cute!" Wanda says.

"It gets cuter. And sadder," you say. "So she explains to this man about her family, the murder, and how she can't be with him because he's only attracted to her because of a love spell she did when she was just a little girl. At first he's skeptical about this spell bringing him to her, but then he ends up believing her. And as he's walking away from her, he stops to tell her I wished for you too."

"So you made out with Barnes because of that?" Sam shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow."

"It's fuckin' adorable. Stop ruining the moment, Samuel!" Bucky laughs at your words and pulls you closer to him.

"So while I'm happy for Buck," Steve says, "I'm still really curious about what Darcy's gift is."

Peter nods. "Same."

Wanda giggles, but says nothing as she grabs the box and slides it over to you. You groan because you know it can be nothing good, but you still open it since everyone is watching and waiting. As soon as you part the tissue paper and read the box, alongside taking in the picture on the box, your face flames as you shove the lid back on. Wanda cackles.

"I hate her."

"She said to give the remote to-"

"Don't!" You cut Wanda off, blushing even further. "I know who she means to have control of that."

"They- they make underwear that does that?" Bucky muses and you die a little on the inside in embarrassment. You elbow him as he starts to laugh behind you.

Sam instantly knows what the gift is now and starts to laugh, but Steve and Peter apparently need some help.

"Lewis got you vibrating panties, didn't she?"

"Oh my god, Sam, if you don't shut up I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

Steve is torn between laughing and trying not to make you even more uncomfortable, but his amusement wins out. "Given Y/N's flustered state, I'm assuming Darcy wants Bucky to have the remote."

"I mean this seems like it could make for an interesting night."

Everyone laughs at Bucky's sudden interest in the box you're doing your damnedest to keep shut, but luckily Peter steps in. "As much I love watching Y/N squirm, can we get ready to eat? I'm starving."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go wait downstairs for it, kid."

Sam and Peter head for the elevator to take them down to the lobby, and you turn around in Bucky's hold. "Help me take this stuff to my car so I don't have to do it later?"

"Sure thing, doll." He grins. But instead of stepping away, he pushes you further into the kitchen island. You smile as he cages you in and then huff a laugh when he reaches for the box behind you. "So exactly how long do we have to be dating before we can test these out?"

You slowly lean upward so your lips brush his as you say, "I'd say very, very soon if you would put your ass into gear and help me move these presents like I asked."

Bucky laughs and presses a quick kiss to your lips. "Then let's get to it."

The telltale sound of a phone's camera goes off and you turn your face towards the sound. Wanda is beaming, her phone pointed towards you and Bucky. "Darcy wanted evidence I wasn't lying. She's going to be so happy."

Bucky turns his face to look at her then, his cheek brushing against yours where he's yet to back off from you. "Tell Lewis I said thanks for the present. I'll give her my review of them in a few weeks."

Wanda's eyes widen and you immediately blurt, "Don't you dare!" But she's already texting and you know the group chat full of ladies is going to be full of messages that you'll have to reply to later. Quietly groaning, you slap your hands against Bucky's waist and push him back. Looking up at him, you shake your head but the corner of your lips turn up in amusement. "You're terrible. I would threaten to withhold sex, but I've been looking forward to that for a while. I'd just be punishing us both."

"Just tell me when and where, sweetheart, and I'll be there."

"Oh no. You guys are going to be that couple," Steve complains.

And without missing a beat, you face him and say, "Fuck off, Rogers!" Bucky snorts.

"You're cranky when you haven't gotten laid."

You gasp as Bucky bursts out laughing right in your ear, but he quickly catches you as you try to lunge for his best friend. "You know what, I was going to be discreet when banging your best friend, but now I'm going to tell you all the filthy things Bucky likes to do just to annoy you. I will go into excruciating detail about the look and taste of his dick!"

Steve blanches as it's Wanda's turn to burst out laughing. "You've done it now, Steve."

And as Steve looks to Bucky for help, he merely shrugs. "You brought this on yourself, Stevie. Hope you enjoy the play by plays."

Relaxing in Bucky's hold and moving so you're hip to hip with him, you slide your arm behind his waist and hook your thumb into the belt loop of his jeans. "We're going to have so much fun."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #peter parker #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #darcy lewis #the avengers #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel

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sincerelyella · 2 years

Text

How’s Your Beaver?

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Characters belong to Pixelberry, MC Ella Brooks belongs to me; I do not authorize anyone to copy paste and or use my moodboards or stories on tumblr or any other website.

Summary: The gang finds out Ella’s secret.

A/N: If you haven’t read The Loft, all you need to know is that this AU is based on the show New Girl and it is sooooo far from canon. What is canon? LOL and I took a scene out of the show How I Met Your Mother because ... that’s also a hilarious show. I hope you enjoy!

A/N2: Participating in @wackydrabbles this week (holy shit I feel like I haven’t written anything in years) so the prompt will be in bold.

Thank you @alyssalauren @burnsoslow @ofpixelsandscribbles for reading through this and watching that stupid video this is based on LOL love you!

Warnings: adult language; sexual innuendos; the gang craziness; alluding to actor/singer LL Cool J; mentioning of actor Alan Thicke because he was Canadian (may he rest in peace).

Words: 1245

Ella had moved into the loft just shy of three weeks ago and she was slowly getting to know the guys and their very different personalities. Drake was broody, made himself scarce when there was conflict, and seemed to be happiest in his room alone with nobody talking to him. Leo was one-half of the Rys brothers and had zero filter. He said and did the most ridiculous things and they even had a large “douchebag jar” that was labeled and out in the living room. Every time Leo said something crazy, he had to put money in the jar. At the end of every month, the group would use the cash to buy themselves a nice dinner. Liam was the other half of the Rys brothers and he was the exact opposite of Leo. He was well-mannered, sweet, and sometimes even shy when he was around Ella. She figured it was because he wasn’t used to her yet and she hoped he would come out of his shell once she was around him more. Maxwell was the last roommate and one word to describe him was … fun. He was always down for a good time, and pretty nosey too.

Even though the whole loft knew Ella was a nurse at UCLA, she had a past. A past that she didn’t want to share with her new male roommates for fear that they would look at her differently.

“Ellaaaa!” Max sang as he banged on the door. “I have a surprise for you!”

“What?”

“Come out and seeeeee!”

Ella sighed. “Be there in a few, I’m hanging the rest of my clothes!”

“See you out here,” Max chuckled to himself and scurried back into the living room. “You guys! You know my Pictogram and PikTok skills are beyond legendary-”

“I’m not interested in seeing your ass again, Maxwell,” Liam shook his head as he avoided eye contact with his friend.

“No! I mean, that was a great dance, but I found something better!” Max grabbed the remote from Liam, ignoring his protests, and pulled up Pictogram on the full screen.

“What is this? I’m not watching porn with you, and you can’t trick us into doing that again!” Drake complained as he sucked on his beer.

“Who said porn?” Leo quipped as he sat on the edge of the couch. “I’m down.”

“It’s not porn!” Max yelled. “You guys know I’ve been googling the shit out of Ella because I know I’ve seen her before-”

“Why do you do that? That’s borderline creepy,” Liam arched his brow at his friend. “Actually, it's just plain creepy, forget borderline.”

“Remember when I went to the Madeleine’s Secret show a few years ago?” Max blurted out.

“The one where Leo ditched you for a model but it turned out to be a hobo that stole some dresses?” Drake snorted as he struggled to keep the beer he had just sipped in his mouth.

“Yeah, that one,” Max rolled his eyes.

“She was hot though,” Leo shrugged.

“I just knew Ella looked familiar and this is why!” Maxwell flipped on a video of a woman walking the catwalk, dressed in a white bra, a silver crop top, with matching shorts and heels. She had long dark hair that curled and her smile radiated as she sashayed her hips.

“Oh my God in Heaven,” Drake mumbled. He quickly tipped back his beer bottle for a swig but growled when he found it empty.

Liam’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Is that-”

“Dude, that’s Ella!” Leo exclaimed as he stood from the couch. “We have a Madeleine’s Secret model living with us?!”

“That can’t be her,” Drake rationalized as he stood to grab another beer. “Why would a model need roommates?” He came back to sit on the couch, opened his drink, and handed the other one to Liam.

“It is her,” Max moved to another clip and clicked on it. The large TV filled with the same woman dressed in a white sheer lace bra and panty set, along with a golden bodysuit with matching wings. “It’s Ella and she’s fucking famous.”

All four men stared at the television, taking in the fact that their new roommate was a model and not just any model, but a Madeleine’s Secret model.

Leo broke the silence. “And you guys didn’t even want her moving in here,” he cackled. “Your boy Leo knows how to pick them. Ladies love Leo - LL Cool L.”

“Jar!” Drake yelled.

“Hey, what’s this?” Max asked out loud. He clicked on a random video and began to laugh.

Liam’s head tilted slightly. “What’s that?”

Drake and Leo stopped bickering and turned towards the TV. “Is that Ella with a … beaver?”

“No!” Ella screeched as she ran out of her bedroom.

“Hey, why are you touching her beaver, El?” Leo smirked. Everyone turned to stare at the television.

Ella: Hey Anna, how’s your beaver?

Liam and Drake’s gulp of beer immediately flew out of their mouths and they began to sputter and cough while Max and Leo turned beet red from trying not to laugh.

Anna: He’s doing great, how’s your beaver?

Ella: Busy as ever.

“We were in Canada on a Canadian television show in space. They brought us pet beavers,” Ella pursed her lips, arms crossed over her chest.

“They’re such … noble creatures,” Drake disguised his laugh with a cough as he forced himself to take a sip of beer.

“The beaver is the official animal of Canada,” Ella explained as she helplessly gestured to the TV.

“I’ve never seen one … that big,” Maxwell snorted as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Ella rolled her eyes in annoyance. She knew exactly what these guys were thinking. “You guys are so-”

“Oh my God, it’s Alan Thicke!” Leo exclaimed as he pointed at the TV.

Alan: Alright ladies, everyone knows that a beaver’s favorite food is wood.

Liam snorted.

Alan: I just hope we brought along enough of it for our three-day space journey. So, why don’t we practice our math? If Anna’s beaver devours six inches of wood every half an hour, and Ella’s beaver eats eight inches of wood every 45 minutes, how much wood will I need to keep both of these beavers well fed the whole three days?

Leo threw his head back and let out a loud laugh, one that he had been trying to not let free for the last five minutes. Drake and Liam’s drinks were forgotten on the coffee table as they rolled back onto the couch in silent laughter. Maxwell’s large grin and tear-filled eyes met Ella’s irritated face.

“You all are such children,” she admonished as she grabbed the remote from Max’s hand and shut off the TV.

“Hey!” Leo managed to get out while still giggling. “We were … watching that!”

“Well, if we aren’t watching beavers” - Max snickered as Ella gave him a glare - “I have another idea!” He quickly stood and grabbed the remote control back and brought up Ella strutting the catwalk. “You didn’t tell us you’re a model!”

With a defeated sigh, Ella sat on the couch between Drake and Liam. “Okay, fine. I was a model. Now I’m not. Happy?”

“Not happy,” Liam nudged her with his shoulder as he flashed a smirk at her. “But very … interested.”

Ella bit her lip as she fought back a smile. I guess he’s not all that shy.

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citrineghost · 3 years

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Avoiding Scams on Freelancing Sites

Hi there! I almost just got scammed today, and I’m going to take the LITTANY of red flags from this interaction and use it to teach you all about how to avoid scams.

I am not making very much money right now. I just lost one of the accounts I was writing for, so I am not not even making enough to pay my rent. So I am desperately looking for work. And, like many people desperately looking for work, my panicking subconscious is willing to see a red flag and brush it under the rug because

“I’m probably being paranoid.”

So, to all of my lovely artists, writers, editors, and other types of freelancers who are desperately looking for work, I would like to create a comprehensive list of things that you should NOT FUCKING IGNORE while looking for a job. Actually, the list will be formatted as things you should expect from your employer/interviewer and if these things are missing, get the fuck out of there.

1. Reputable Platforms

The first thing you should be expecting is to use reputable platforms. If you’re being asked for a virtual interview, you should expect your interviewer to invite you via Skype, Discord, (Maybe slack if they’re middle-aged), perhaps Whatsapp, or whatever website you’re using to find your job.

DO NOT go for interviews on Telegram. This app has been reported as very commonly being associated with scams. This is where my recent experience took place.

2. Willingness to Verify Legitimacy

The first thing you should do when being in contact with an interviewer or HR is ask them to verify their identity.

This may not be necessary if doing a video call with someone pictured on an official company website, receiving emails or texts from addresses/numbers that are listed on an official company website, or if the job you’re being interviewed for was applied to directly on the company website. In these cases, you are not likely to be scammed, as you’re working with verifiably information.

If you meet someone on Indeed, Fiverr, Upwork, or any other freelancing/job site, keep your contact within the website’s chat system, email system, or whatever. This is how you remain protected under the hiring site’s TOS/Legal whatever. If you get scammed because you took your hiring process elsewhere, they will not help you.

That being said, if you DO take your interview off the site, it should be somewhere reputable and you should ask for your interviewer to verify their identity before doing literally anything else. The best way to get them to verify their identity is to ask them to email or text you from an address or phone number listed clearly on the official company website, by asking them to show you their state ID and checking it for photoshop influence, or by asking to do a video call for the interview and seeing for yourself that you’re being interviewed by someone who is pictured on the official company website as an employee.

3. Clear and Professional Procedures

Any professional working as an interviewer or human resources personnel will have a skillset related to communication and organization. When being interviewed you should expect a number of questions about your skills and how you’re valuable to the company, etc. However, this is easy to fake, as a scammer. What you need to look out for is that they show a clear amount of structure.

If you’re asked for an interview, no real company will demand you be quick about responding. If they’re interested in an interview, a legitimate company is not likely to ask you to do the interview immediately. They will ask you to schedule an interview time with them. They may ask if you have availabilities that day, but they will not just start interviewing you immediately.

After the interview, any professional company will tell you that they will get back to you when they’ve made a decision about your interview. No professional company will tell you to wait for an indefinite amount of time while they talk to HR peers. If a company Does want you to wait, because they intend to make a quick decision, they will give you an expected wait time, as that is the courteous and professional thing to do. They will not expect you to be on-call for this period of time. A time projection is simply to give you an idea of what to expect. For example, “I’ll be in touch within the next 1-3 hours about the results of your interview. Thank you for your time.”

Furthermore, if you are accepted for a job, any professional company will make a clear outline of exactly how they plan to introduce you into company life. They will respect your time and ask you to schedule things with them. For example, “Is there a period of 2-3 hours within the next few days where you would be available for an orientation?”

No professional company will demand you do anything at any particular time. That is not how legitimate professionals treat new employees. You will be asked to schedule things with them. Even when you’re assigned work hours, if the exact hours you’re applying for are not listed in the job description you applied for, they will ask you to fill out some kind of time sheet to outline your availabilities, then schedule you for times within that outline.

4. Doesn’t Show Signs of Money Scamming

There are two major red flags when it comes to money scams. Your interviewer should never ask you what bank you use and your interviewer should never ever tell you they’re going to send you a check, unless they send your paycheck as a check.

One of the more common scams at the moment is run by people pretending to be members of legitimate companies, hiring freelancers for things like proofreading and editing. These remote positions may require home office hardware, right? The interviewer will tell you you’re missing some hardware and software that are required for the job. Then they’ll tell you that they will send a check that you can cash and use to buy the required materials.

This is even sketchier if they email you front and back images of the check and tell you to print it and then deposit it through mobile banking. The way this works is that, if you cash the check successfully, you will then buy the list of software, which is usually completely unrelated to the job you’re being hired for, then they will cancel the check, which hasn’t cleared completely. That leaves you with ~$2k dollars less in your bank and their money right back where it started in theirs. Presumably, the scammers are the ones selling the software. So, that $2k dollars you just spent is also going into their bank account.

Professional companies will never offer to send you checks to buy products. If they have official hardware or software that they want you to use, they will buy it themselves and then send it to you. There is never a reason why a new hire should buy hardware or software out of their own bank, whether they have been given money for it or not.

Furthermore, a legitimate company will never ever pay you before you have signed and sent your contract to them. One of the obvious giveaways of the scam I was almost caught in was that I was sent the contract last night and I asked if I could send it in today, since it was getting late. The interviewer agreed. I signed it in the morning and then asked him if I should send it in a reply to the email I got the original contract from or if there’s another email I need to send it to. He completely ignored my question, asked me how I was doing, and then went into the check-related information so I could buy software.

The issue was bothering me ALL DAY. I knew there was something extremely weird about that, so I asked again a few hours later. His response? “You have nothing to worry about.” ?????? I was aghast. I wasn’t worried at all! I just wanted an answer! If he had simply told me to respond to the email I’d gotten the contract from, I might have fallen for his scam! What a terrible scammer smdh

A Non-Exhaustive List of Other Red Flags

Your interviewer shows a poor grasp on the language

If your interviewer is making frequent grammatical errors that are glaringly obvious to any native speaker, that is a huge red flag. HR reps and interviewers are hired because of their communication skills. It is highly unlikely that someone who makes non-native-like errors is legitimate unless they are actually openly non-native, in which case, it’s not so alarming.

Your interviewer is showing impatience or demanding you at certain times

If your interviewer is telling you to “report back by 8am tomorrow” without any kind of prior agreement that this is an acceptable time for you to meet, that is extremely unprofessional and shows a lack of patience. Scammers want to get to the meat of their scam quickly and will use an air of professional superiority and authority to scare you into moving faster than necessary.

Your interviewer shows a lack of opening and closing statements

Along the lines of the clear processes that I mentioned above anybody who is initiating you in the job you’re taking should show clear opening and closing statements. What I mean by this is: professionals in human resources or management positions will not keep you as a social hostage. If you’ve been discussing how you’ll begin training or somesuch, they will not just leave you hanging. You should have a dedicated time slot where you will have your discussion and, at the end of it, your supervisor should make a closing statement. For example, “It looks like our time is running out for today. What would be a good time to pick this up tomorrow?”

If you feel like you are “on-call” and unable to leave the room because the interviewer or supervisor keeps messaging, has not outlined a time slot for you to talk in, won’t seem to let you go, or shows no indication of stopping, that is a really bad sign. Either the company is legitimate and TERRIBLE at professionalism (a great sign you should run anyway), or this is a scammer intent on getting you to follow their instructions as soon as they can.

Your interviewer ignores time zones or gets them wrong

When I was contacted about doing an interview yesterday, it was 4:30pm. I did the interview and was told I got the job. Immediately after, without asking if I was free, he began listing off instructions and things I was to expect. It wasn’t until 7:30pm that he sent me the contract and asked me to review it, sign it, and send it back that I finally asked if I could do that tomorrow. The interviewer was supposedly on the west coast and knew that I was on the east coast. He agreed by saying “Alright” and then told me to report to him “by 8am your time.”

There are 3 things about this that are weird. The first is that he demanded I show up at 8am to continue where we left off. Any professional would have asked when I’m available the next day to continue. the second is that he said “your time” instead of saying EST, as most professionals in the US would be apt to do. And, lastly, I showed up at 7:50am, ready to continue, because I’m that desperate that I’m willing to be pushed around, and he showed up at 9am on the dot. He had gotten the time wrong. Nobody who works professionally on the west coast is incapable of adding 3 hours to their time. It was a rookie mistake, or a mistake made by someone in a completely different time zone than they say they are.

When asked to verify their identity, your interviewer attempts to reassure you or refuses

When I finally was fed up and knew this must be a scam, I politely asked my interviewer to verify his identity by either showing me his US ID or by contacting me from his email or phone number listed on the official company website. He sent me a photoshopped nametag with a completely different person’s name and photo on it and said it was the company ID of the HR director.

I have never seen a facade fall so pathetically. Why would literally any even remotely legitimate person do such a thing? It was sad, really. He deleted the message in less than a minute - no doubt to keep me from looking at it long enough to see how badly it was photoshopped - and then aggressively reassured me that the company meant me no harm and would pay for everything, etc. Any real professional would have simply sent me an email from the legitimate address, stating that they’re legitimate, and then continued on with the initiation process.

Learn from My Mistakes

I hope some of this was helpful for all of you lovely freelancers trying to find work. I thought I would know a scam when I saw one, and I did have a Bad Feeling about this whole thing, because it did feel too good to be true, but I was desperate enough that my judgement was heavily clouded, and that could happen to anyone.

Don’t ignore red flags - especially these ones. Stick up for yourself. Avoid confirmation bias. I looked things up repeatedly to confirm that the company was legitimate and that it’s normal to do things like mobile deposit a printed check and so on. Every time, I found an explanation that suited me. I even tried to cash the check. The only reason it didn’t work was because there was an error with the name on the check because I recently legally changed my name and PayPal was having some kind of issue updating in some areas of its website. It was after that that I realized this was all crashing down and I needed to reassess it all. Don’t let yourself get that deep into it.

#job hunting #job #interview #hiring #scams #advice #psa #important #upwork #freelancing #writing #writeblr #editing #ghostpost

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

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Succession Chapter 5 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Here’s chapter 5! I hope y'all enjoy the sexual tension!!!

Title: Succession Chapter 5

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, the Duke

Rating: PG-13 for language, sexual tension (also may be triggering with kidnapping and forceful grabbing) this is a slow burn; it will get very smutty and spicy later on!

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter 5

When he left you to go retrieve your belongings from the crash, you had very little to do to entertain yourself. You looked over the books he had lying around. A few books were in German. The other books were of topics you didn’t find interesting. But there were a few pieces of fiction that proved to be of interest and passed the time until Heisenberg returned.

Five hours later, you heard the keys in the lock and you jumped for joy...not because he was back, but because you were in terrible need of the bathroom.

“Honey, I’m home!” Heisenberg called out before laughing at his own joke. You looked down to see your suitcase and messenger bag as well as two other small suitcases under his arms. Son of a bitch, you thought, he actually found my stuff!

“You were actually able to find my bags?” you asked, watching as he placed them down at your feet.

“I sure did, doll face,” he answered, “I also found a few other suitcases that I think could be of use to you...they look to have been owned by women on the flight...and I doubt they’ll be using them anymore…”

“Hey!” you said with an air of disbelief, “everyone on that plane died! I appreciate you bringing me more clothes, but show some respect!”

Heisenberg chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. As you stooped down to inspect your bags, Heisenberg gave you a thorough once over. His long sleeved shirt hung on you, the hem of it coming to your mid thigh. Your hair was rustled and in need of a good brushing, but it gave you a wild, post-sex look that made him stiffen slightly in his pants.

You stood up and looked up at him. “Thank you, Karl,” you said and his cock stiffened even more at the sound of his name on your lips.

“It was nothing,” he said, turning and walking towards the table, “I was going through the wreckage for scrap metal anyway...just thought I’d try and look for your stuff while I was at it…”

“Karl?” you spoke...and once again Heisenberg had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning at his name, “can I use the toilet? I really have to go and there isn’t one in here…”

“Yeah, sure…” he muttered. He turned towards you and grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the door.

“Oww! You don’t have to grab me so hard!” you spat as he walked you across the hall. Heisenberg said nothing; he simply opened the door. You looked in to find a small room with a toilet and a steel sink.

“Come back into the room when you are done,” he growled, “do not make me chase after you again…” You ignored his moody temperament and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. Cursing under his breath, Heisenberg walked back into his room.

“What the fuck are you doing, Karl?” Heisenberg muttered to himself as he grabbed a drinking glass, filled it with water, and sat down at the table. He reached down to adjust his cock in his pants before digging in his jacket for another cigar.

A few moments later, he heard the bathroom door open. He listened for fast retreating steps running down the hallway, but was pleasantly surprised when he heard you walk back into the room.

“How’s that, huh? Comfy?”

Heisenberg had secured your wrists in the makeshift handcuffs that hung from his headboard, making sure that you were not going anywhere for the evening. You looked up at him and shot him the most murderous glare you could muster, to which he let out a laugh. Releasing your wrists, he walked over to his dresser.

After you returned from the bathroom, Heisenberg left and locked you in again, allowing you to change into your clean clothes. When he came back, you were in your pajamas: a black halter top and blue drawstring shorts. You were sitting at the fireplace, keeping warm and sitting on a blanket. You noticed his jaw clench and his shoulders stiffen when he looked at you.

He draped his trenchcoat over the back of the chair and told you there was an area in the factory where you could wash your clothes and hang them to dry and that he would take you there in the next few days. You thanked him, but just when you thought he was actually kind, he grabbed you and began cuffing you to the bed.

“What time is it?” you asked as you plopped down on the bed, curling up on your side. You pulled on the long chain so you could reach for the sheets and covers, pulling them up over your body.

“Past midnight,” Heisenberg answered, walking to his dresser. You had lost all sense of time since the crash and you couldn’t believe how late it was.

You looked over at him, wanting to ask another question, when your voice and your brain stopped. Heisenberg had removed his hat, his sunglasses, and the objects hanging from his neck, placing them on top of the dresser...and removed his shirt. Your mouth opened as you took in his body. He was in good shape; his back, chest, arms, and torso well defined from working in the factory. He had scars that peppered his body, but seeing as he worked with steel and metal all day, that wasn’t unusual.

Heisenberg undid his belt and pulled it from the loops of his pants, wrapping it around his hands and placing it on the dresser. Impure thoughts flowed through your mind of him using that belt on you...spanking you...restraining your wrists behind your back...wrapping it around your neck like a collar…

You laid your head back down on the pillow and pushed the intruding thoughts away. This was a man who kidnapped you and is keeping you locked away in his factory. He had countless bodies down below and who knows what he did with them. He wouldn’t let you use a telephone or any sort of communication to get help. Why was he keeping you here?

Heisenberg walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers. He left the lamp on the table turned on in order to give you an ounce of comfort. God knows you wouldn’t be able to sleep in the pitch black next to a stranger.

He glanced over at you curled up facing away from him, taking in your shoulders, your back, and the curve of your hips underneath the covers. His lust for you was growing. Hell, it took every ounce of self control not to throw you on his bed when he walked in and saw you sitting at his fireplace. The light dancing off your face and the way your pajamas hugged your curves nearly did him in. You had left his shirt on the table once you put your clothes on. He picked it up when your back was turned, lifted it to his nose, and smelled your scent on his shirt. He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could take.

Heisenberg turned his gaze to the ceiling, adjusted his cock in his pants again, and relaxed back into his pillow.

You awoke to the sounds of drawers opening and closing loudly. Heisenberg didn’t make any attempt to be quiet so as not to disturb your sleep. You blinked and groaned, turning your face into the pillow.

“Well, good morning, sunshine!” Heisenberg greeted as he tucked his shirt into his pants and grabbed his belt. You groaned again. You hadn’t slept well at all. The weight of all that happened came to reality once again as you laid cuffed to the bed. Anxiety brewed in your belly and the only reason you were able to drift off was after a long bout of crying once Heisenberg had fallen asleep. The man had slept soundly, as was evident by his fitful snores throughout the night.

“Come on,” Heisenberg said, unlocking your restraints and letting them fall to the floor. You sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing your wrists.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you knelt beside your suitcase, grabbing some clothes.

“To see the Duke,” Heisenberg answered, “I need some supplies…”

He allowed you to dress in the bathroom across the hall and take your toiletries with you in order to brush your teeth, wash your face, and brush your hair. Once you were done, you opened the door and found him leaning against the wall. He had put on his trench coat, hat, and gloves while he waited.

Heisenberg made his way down the hall and you followed behind, much to his shock. He half expected you to turn around and run the other way, desperate once again to get away from him. The fact that you still stuck by his side made a slow smile spread across his face.

He slid open the large doors one at a time. The air was cold in the early morning. The sun was shining with just a few clouds in the sky. It was a pretty day. You looked over at Heisenberg as he put his sunglasses on.

You followed Heisenberg down the path and looked out towards the gate. They were open wide and sitting there was a large wooden carriage. The back doors were opened and there was an array of things hanging from the doors and sitting along the ground on either side of the carriage. As the two of you approached, you saw a man sitting inside the carriage amongst the supplies. He wore clothes that were smaller than his big frame. A cigar was in his hand and he lifted it to his mouth. Once his eyes fell on you, they widened slightly.

“Well well well...who do we have here?” the man asked, looking down at you. Heisenberg said nothing to the man and immediately began searching through the wares.

“I’m Y/N,” you answered.

“You can call me the Duke, Y/N...and it is lovely to meet you…” He leaned down and extended his hand. You stepped closer, stood up on your tiptoes, and shook the man’s hand, smiling. He had a kind face and seemed very nice and polite. “I don’t suppose you know anything of that plane crash I saw not too far from here…” the Duke mentioned.

You nodded just as Heisenberg grumbled under his breath. “I was on the plane,” you said softly, “I don’t think anyone else survived other than myself…”

“Well,” the Duke said, “it’s a miracle you did survive. The crash looked very unpleasant…”

“What will you take for this?” Heisenberg interrupted gruffly, holding up something wrapped in paper with PORK written on it. The Duke rattled off a price to which Heisenberg offered a cheaper price. The two of them bartered as you stood there in silence.

A loud huff came from the front of the carriage and you stepped to the side in order to see what made the noise. A horse stood facing away, reins hanging from its mouth. The horse was jet black with long hair falling from its neck. You smiled. You had always loved horses.

Walking closer to the animal, you placed your hand on its hip and ran your hand along the horse’s body as you walked closer to the front. You remembered one summer when you took equestrian lessons and the trainer told you to always keep one hand on the horse as you walked around it in order not to spook the animal.

“Hey…” you said softly as you looked up into its eyes. The horse let out another huff, the steam of its breath pushing out of its nose. You smiled and slowly began to pet along its neck and hair. The horse seemed very relaxed, allowing you to pet it. You raised your other hand in front of its face and it nudged your hand. You laughed softly as you praised the beautiful animal.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”

You jumped back from the horse and turned to see Heisenberg standing at the back of the carriage. His gloved hands were balled into fists as he stood glaring at you.

“I’m petting the horse!” you answered shrilly.

Jesus Christ, you thought, I wasn’t doing anything. You were about to yell obscenities towards the man, but then you took in Heisenberg’s rigid stance and his chest rising and falling. You knew exactly why he was so upset. “...you thought I had run off, didn’t you?” you asked.

“Come back over here where I can see you…” he growled.

You walked back to Heisenberg and the Duke, mentally calling Heisenberg every filthy name you could think of. Your arms were crossed in front of you and you kept your mouth shut. You took in the scenery around you, kicking the dirt and rocks on the ground.

Finally, Heisenberg seemed to be finished with whatever supplies he needed from the Duke. He paid for his things, loaded them into a sack provided by the Duke, and turned to you. “Let’s go,” he muttered, grabbing your arm and walking back towards the factory.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N,” the Duke said. You turned to look back at him, giving him a small smile and a wave. As you continued walking with Heisenberg, a sudden ounce of defiance sprung in you and you turned back to the Duke, pulling your arm from Heisenberg’s grasp.

“Oh, and Duke,” you said, “if you hear of any search parties in the area, please let them know a survivor is here at the factory…”

“No!” Heisenberg interjected, “don’t say anything! Y/N will be just fine here!” He grabbed your arm again in a sudden jerk and marched quickly to the double doors of the factory, practically dragging you behind him.

Once the two of you walked over the threshold and into the building, he pushed you forward with a loud grunt. You shrieked and fell to your hands and knees as he dropped the sack and quickly closed one door and then the other. Once he secured the lock, Heisenberg grabbed you by the nape of your neck, pulled you to your feet, and whirled you around so that your back was pressed against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck are you trying to pull??” Heisenberg growled, his right hand wrapped around your throat. He pressed his left hand against the wall next to your head, keeping you from escaping. “First off, the Duke will not help you. He stays neutral in all things pertaining to this village. And second, if you wander away from me again, I’ll make sure you permanently stay shackled to my bed for the rest of your days!”

“Fuck you!” you spat at him, hitting at his arm and trying to wriggle away. His fingers tightened on your neck. You tried to kick him, but you weren’t quick enough. Heisenberg pushed your legs apart with his feet and thrust his hips against yours, keeping your body pressed against the wall. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you struggled to push it from your neck.

You looked up into his face, both of you breathing heavily. You could barely see his eyes through the sunglasses. He tilted your head up. The softest touch of the tip of your nose touched his nose. Heat grew between your legs at the feel of his groin against yours. Your eyes widened when you felt the growing hardness of his cock through his pants. Without thinking, you slowly tilted your hips upwards.

With a soft groan, Heisenberg rolled his hips against yours. A quiet whimper escaped your lips and you instantly regretted it. You watched as the ends of his mouth curled upwards in a knowing smile. God damn him, you thought. Your fingers continued to tighten on his arms. Heat flushed your cheeks and your pupils grew. Your hips tilted upwards once again.

Just as Heisenberg was able to press his lips to yours, you snapped out of it and brought your right hand across his cheek. He barely registered the hit as he slowly took his hand off your neck and took a step back.

“Get your ass back to my quarters,” Heisenberg growled.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #heisenberg #house heisenberg

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kpopxx · 3 years

Text

Spy Games [Chapter 1] : More Than It Seems

Characters: Twice Momo, Male Reader

4579 words

Authors Note: This is literally the first fiction writing I have done since I was a little kid writing stories about a town full of hamburgers. I was inspired to try my hand at writing by the plethora of amazing kpop smut writers out there right now, but by @lockefanfic, @nsfwtwicecatcher, @nsfwflint, and @ggidolsmuts in particular. If there are any similarities between my writing and theirs, please forgive me as I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit “researching” their work.

One thing that amazes me is how the hell everyone cranks out thousands of words with such frequency, as this post isn’t even 5k and it took forever to write. I can’t begin to explain how much respect I have for all the authors out there who can write so much and maintain such high levels of quality.

As a new writer, I welcome any and all feedback! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any critiques, or if you just want to chat!

***

“Coming up on the target now.”

“Roger that, remember the office is on the top floor. Let us know when you’re inside. And remember, no elevators...” teases your handler, Choa.

“Thanks for the reminder,” you reply sarcastically.

You survey the skyscraper against the night sky--it would be impressive if it weren’t one of a hundred just like it downtown Seoul--and wonder what you had done to deserve getting the short end of the stick. Of course, you knew there was a reason to avoid the elevators: they sat directly in front of the building’s concierge and the cameras in the lobby, while the stairwell lay in a remote part of the first floor. The logic behind your impending hike didn’t make the reality any less abhorrent.

“Meanwhile, Seolhyun gets to infiltrate an organization in the Caymans. Just my fucking luck.” you grumble to yourself.

“Oh, stop whining, you big baby,” says Choa, reminding you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

You sneak past the lobby and towards the back of the floor you find the entrance to the stairwell in a poorly lit area.

“Beginning my climb.” you report, shaking out your legs as you prepare to go up.

“Sir, I-I’m getting some interference over comms,” chimes in the timid voice of the girl you knew to be your newest team member, Yoo Jeongyeon. “It could just be local chatter, but I want to make sure it’s not someone trying to listen in.”

“Probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about.” Choa assures you.

As you climb up the stairs, you wonder why anyone would want to listen in on this particular mission. This was a run-of-the-mill operation to investigate money laundering at an accounting firm. You’d infiltrated foreign governments, broken into and bugged the offices of billionaire CEOs, and tailed enemy agents. You could understand people wanting to hear those comms, but this? Either someone wanted something to listen to as a sleep aid, or this mission was more interesting than it looked.

A tip had come in through one of the new girls at the Intel Desk reporting that there was some fishy activity related to organized crime going on at the accounting firm. This was routine and you’d gone on dozens of similar recon missions before: break in, find suspicious intel, get out. But if someone wanted so badly to hear what was going on, the new girl may have stumbled onto something worthy of a promotion. Hayoung, you think her name was. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair along with her well-endowed physique reminded you of a young mother, but her mature beauty belied her young age. You had caught yourself more than a few times fantasizing about her in your off hours…

You stop mid-way in the stairwell, scolding yourself for losing focus. Too often over the course of the last year you found yourself fantasizing about the women in your life. Sure, before the incident with Eunha you had sexual thoughts about your coworkers--you were surrounded by beautiful women, after all. But recently you noticed that your life was increasingly preoccupied with sex: both in your thoughts and the real-life exploits you carried out.

Much longer than a few minutes later, you reach the 63rd floor out of breath and sweating, wishing more than ever that it was you and not Seolhyun lounging on the beach. You take a moment to compose yourself before peeking out into the office floor to see if the coast is clear.

“We may have a problem, boss. Jeongyeon looked into the comms disturbance and someone much more sophisticated than the average joe is definitely trying to tap in,” Choa says. “Jeongyeon’s kicking their ass right now blocking their access, but there’s only so much she can do alone. Eventually we’re going to lose control of this channel.”

“Dammit. I knew something was off with this op,” you grumble. “If they want to listen in to whatever I find, it must be important. We’ll go dark. Recon says this should be a quick in and out anyways. I’ll tag you once I’m out.”

“Be careful. Signal us if anything goes wrong. Just don’t do anything stupid.” replies Choa.

“What do you think they pay me all this money for?” you tease, wanting to put her nerves at ease. “See you on the other side. Over and out.”

You could hear the concern in her voice. Even though keeping you safe was part of her job, you knew she cared about you. You also knew as well as she did that anything could go wrong even in the five minutes it would take you to break in, especially when it appeared that someone knew exactly what you were doing.

You switch off your comms link and head out the door and into the office.

It looked exactly as you expected--rows and rows of non-descript cubicles, with a princely office lined with glass walls occupying the far corner. Jeongyeon had retrieved the floor plan by hacking into the building’s security database earlier in the week, and you knew after her effort tonight in detecting and fending off the comms interference that Choa would want you to acknowledge the work the new girl had been putting in. She certainly was more skilled than the five previous team members you’d fired after Eunha, but you found it difficult to bring yourself to praise her. The Ops Officer position she occupied was a sore point for you, after all.

You deftly pick the lock on the corner office door and immediately sit down in front of the terminal on the desk, logging in with the security bypass Jeongyeon drew up.

Again your thoughts drift to Eunha. Eunha was your longtime Ops Officer--highly skilled, you trusted her more than anyone. It also helped that she was your fiance. It made you sad to think about her; about what could have been, what should have been. Over the past year, you were constantly reminded of her absence by the utter incompetence of her replacements. You suppose it was nice that at the very least, Jeongyeon didn’t give you many opportunities to bemoan her performance in the same way--to remind you of Eunha.

You shake your head, compelling yourself to rise out of your funk and get on with the mission.

As you scroll through files, you stop on one with a familiar signature. Reading its contents, your eyes open wider--suddenly you understand why someone would be interested to listen in to your communications. You quickly save the file to your flash drive and stand up to leave, only to be startled by a figure in the doorway.

“Care to tell me what’s on that?” comes a familiar voice from the darkness that you knew to be Hirai Momo’s. Momo was an agent for a foreign espionage agency--you had as friendly a rivalry as you could have when working for different governments.

“What was the point of trying to hack our comms if you were just going to show up and ask me that?”

“I had no intention of coming until you decided to ghost your girlfriends,” teases Momo. “Besides, I like showing you how much better I am at sneaking around.”

Momo flicks on the light and she comes into focus. The Japanese government made a good decision when they hired her, you think. She was built for the job of a seductive spy. Her perfectly toned legs had a lovely sheen all the way up to her short skirt, while her cleavage suggested that her tits were ready to burst out of her tight, patterned blouse. Where most of your attention was drawn, however, was her lustrous blue hair, which fell to her shoulders.

“I may actually need your help with this, once you see what’s on it,” you say, nodding your head at the flash drive.

“Oh, so you’re willing to give it to me? I thought I was going to have to fuck you for it,” she says sarcastically. You knew behind the humor was more than a nugget of truth, though. Sex had been the primary vehicle for information trading with Momo over the years. You decide to test your reading of the situation.

“Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m giving it for free…”

Momo brings her thumb to her mouth and bites gently as she ponders your not-so-subtle proposition. She takes her turn to look you up and down, making you feel more than a little self conscious in her gaze of judgment. After so many years in the dangerous world of espionage, there were only a handful women who could make you feel so small. Then again, Momo was no regular girl.

Once she’s satisfied she has properly appraised your worth, Momo lets go of her thumb and straightens her blouse.

“Fine,” she says matter-of-factly, “let’s get to it,” unbuttoning her blouse as she walks towards you.

You are surprised by the lack of fight she put up, but you thought it best to keep that to yourself. Her tone reminds you of a business meeting--that is, if you hadn’t seen her pull her top off as she approached you. She sits in your lap on the chair, wrapping her arms around your neck as you meet her lips for a kiss. Momo’s mouth was familiar to you, introduced to you many times throughout your career. It seemed like every time you ran across her you had sex. One thing you adored about your relationship with her was that it was absolutely without strings attached. You fucked for work, but just because it was part of the job didn’t mean you both didn’t enjoy it.

Momo, however, was loath to admit the pleasure she got out of her liaisons with you. Call it pride, call it being professional, whatever--Momo refused to act like sex with you was anything other than work, no different than working in a spreadsheet.

You feel her reach down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them as she sinks to her knees in front of you. You smirk--her eagerness to please you betrayed her air of ambivalence.

Momo wastes no time getting down to business. You are certain the Japanese trained her very well in tender foreplay, but it seems she doesn’t care much for subtlety at the moment. Instead, she utilizes a more direct method to extract your pleasure--one that must have required its own fair share of training--as she spits on your cock before immediately forcing it as deeply in her mouth as she can take it. One, two, three bobs is all it takes for her to reach the base of your cock, her nose buried in your pelvis.

“Fuuuck me, that’s good,” you groan as you hold her head in place for several seconds, and Momo replies in turn with a cough that spits a healthy serving of saliva on to your cock. You release your grip on the back of her head to give her a chance to breathe, but she surprises you when she simply continues to work her mouth on your increasingly saliva-drenched cock, swirling her tongue around your base. Most of the other women you had slept with in recent months would be gasping for air by now, but Momo’s demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. Almost as if she was reading your mind, Momo paused her slurping and pulled her mouth off your shaft--but not forgetting to continue stroking it with achingly deft corkscrew motions.

“What’s the matter? Girls in your department not able to take care of your cock like a real woman?” Momo clicks her tongue and grins. “I’ve told you for years, you’d never be treated so poorly if you came to work for a professional outfit like ours.”

“Shut up and suck my cock.”

Momo shrugs, and gets back to the task at hand. Slobbering even more as she takes you into your mouth again, you pause to thank your lucky stars that you had a job that paid you in part to fuck women like Momo. You gaze upon her face, which has become just as messy as your cock. Momo’s sloppy blowjob has not only left liberal amounts of spit on your cock, but on her face as well--with strands of her blue hair plastered to her cheeks. Even though you thought it impossible, you feel your cock get harder at the sight of Momo’s messy face.

For several minutes, Momo continues inhaling your cock as you find yourself nearing the point of no return, you yank Momo’s head off your throbbing cock in order to prolong your session. A bit too forcefully, it seems, as Momo falls over onto her side.

“What the fuck!” yelps Momo as she picks herself back up, glaring at you. “I suck your cock and you thank me by throwing me on the ground?

“I didn’t mean to, I’m just not ready to cum yet. We both know you would’ve ignored me if I had asked you to stop.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” Momo replies sheepishly. You knew from previous run-ins with her that she loved nothing more than swallowing cum. Even though you had just denied her that favor, you were already thinking about how to make it up to her in a few minutes.

“How about I repay your kindness? Get up on the table and let me eat you.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I’ll get up on the table, but you’re going to fuck me.”

“Someone’s eager to see what’s in this thumb drive,” you tease, inadvertently reminding yourself that this was a transactional liaison. You suspected that Momo’s interest in you extended beyond her desire for the information at hand, and part of you yearned to take her outside of the confines of work. You’re skeptical such a day would ever come, however, given how ambitious Momo was.

You knew her story--she applied for a job in the Japanese spy agency several years ago, making it all the way through the process before being cut at the very end. She ended up receiving an offer shortly after one of the other finalists died in a ‘training accident’, but Momo lived with a chip on her shoulder ever since. She lived and worked with a pathological drive to prove the agency wrong in their original decision to cut her. Already the youngest lead operative in her country’s history, she had an eye on the directorship and seemed destined for it. So, you supposed, it was nice to be able to fuck her before she became famous.

Momo hops on up on the desk, hiking up her skirt to reveal a delicious-looking blue thong that matches her hair. She looks behind towards you with lust heavy in her eyes as she pulls her thong to the side, revealing her glistening pussy--already dripping, you noted.

“I don’t have all night.”

More than happy to oblige, you line your painfully throbbing cock up with her pussy and you can feel the warmth radiating from it. You take a second to appreciate Momo’s incredible physique as your hands graze downward from her upper back, to her hips, and finally to her ass. As you rub it, you cannot help but appreciate how sublimely taut it is.

“Jeeze, you act like this is the first time you’ve seen a woman naked,” Momo jabs, interrupting your reverie.

You are starting to get annoyed with Momo’s demeanor. It was nothing new, really--she always carried an air of superiority--but it nonetheless grates on your nerves to see her be so dismissive. You are mature enough to understand that at least a part of this aggravation had to do with the fact that you knew Momo slept with plenty of men for work. Not so mature, however, to be able to stifle the primal urge deep inside of you that wanted Momo to see you as the best of all her lovers. More than ever, it seemed that sexual vanity mattered a great deal to your self-confidence.

With a renewed sense of purpose and your cock in hand, you enter Momo slowly with a long stroke until you fill her to the hilt. In unison with your initial insertion, Momo lets out a whine that crescendos as you bottom out.

As you begin to thrust in and out Momo settles in and widens her stance ever so little, which has the added benefit of allowing you to go even deeper into her warm, wet pussy. Momo was not a girl of surprises. Her face was gorgeous, capable of angelic beauty and fiery lust. Her body reflected the many hours she spent in the gym with ample breasts, insanely tight abs, and a toned ass to match. Her pussy feels exactly as sublime as her beautiful face and incredible body suggested. The perfect combination for a woman who used her body to seduce and take advantage of brainless men. You decide to push out your mind the realization that at this very moment, you are in fact one of those men.

You wanted to make sure Momo felt each and every drive into her hot flesh. Momo continued to moan quietly, each breath punctuated with a new thrust and the sound of your skin meeting hers.

“Looks like someone’s gotten real quiet all of a sudden,” you say, noticing her haughty attitude had subsided as pleasure took you both over.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Momo says, looking back at you with rekindled determination in her eyes, “you’re no better than half the guys I’ve been with. I’m here for the file, not for whatever you call this.” She cooly turns her head to face front again, leaving you seething.

Your twinge of annoyance was now a bubbling boil.

You slow down before withdrawing your cock from her warmth--Momo lets out the faintest whine of disappointment, betraying her dissatisfied front.

Just as Momo turns her head again to complain, you quickly slam your cock deep inside her. Momo yelps, and you notice her eyes bulge as you move your hips in a circular motion with your cock filled to the hilt, scraping deep inside her pussy. After several seconds of this you grab a makeshift ponytail out of her hair and yank backwards, causing her to gasp and arch her back instinctively. As much as she bothered you with her air of indifference, you had to admit that the image in front of you was the stuff of dreams.

Taking advantage of the highly erotic sight before you and the increased leverage offered by your grasp of her hair, you began to truly fuck her with quick and powerful strokes.

“Take it, Momo,” you grunted, beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.

Momo said nothing, emitting only breathless gasps from her open mouth. You noticed that their intensity was gradually increasing, so you increased the speed of your shaft penetrating her young, sinful body. You knew she was enjoying this, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you broke her facade. You wanted her to lose herself to you.

You speed up even more, and the volume of your skin slapping together increases as her pussy drips wetter and wetter, mixing with your leaking precum. You are slamming your cock into her now, and Momo has to grab on to the table to steady herself. Slowly but surely her pretense was crumbling.

“You want it, don’t you Momo? You want more?”

“Fuck yeah,” Momo gasps hoarsely, struggling to speak with her hair being pulled, “Give it to me...o-oh...fuck, give it to me!”

Satisfied that she had succumbed to her pleasure, you relax your grip on her hair slightly and lean over to growl in her ear.

“I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna make sure you remember this, make sure every time you’re with another man you wish it was me.”

Momo acknowledges your promise with a deep groan, giving you great pleasure as you resumed fucking her gorgeous body.

Your eyes drift downward to her glorious ass, now shining with sweat and jiggling violently with each crash of your cock inside her. Inspired by the sight, you release her hair and put one hand on her hip and begin striking her ass with your other. Momo shrieks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with lidded eyes while biting her lip to tell you she wanted more.

Again you oblige, and it was quickly becoming clear that lust and pleasure were staging a coup of Momo’s senses. She’s making lots of noise, but nothing intelligible. Nothing but guttural moans interspersed with high-pitched squeals. You continue spanking her ass, alternating cheeks--noticing a deep pink beginning to form on both. She’d most likely be dealing with soreness for several days after this, you think.

“You wanna cum, Momo? Cum for me, I know you want to.”

“Mmmmm...Ah, ah, AH! Unggghh,” comes Momo’s response.

“Come on Momo, fucking cum baby...cum all over this cock,” you shout, sincerely hoping there was no one working in an adjacent floor to hear.

“FUUUUCK!” Momo screams eloquently, suddenly dropping her head as her body begins convulsing. You knew what to expect having slept with her before, but you are nonetheless surprised to see how completely overtaken her body was by pleasure. Her upper body jerks spastically as her legs tremble with your cock plunged deep inside her pussy, all the while letting out a high-pitched whine that turns into a soft whimper. Just a few minutes before she was defiant and happy to throw insults at you...now she was a mewling, writhing mess incapable of speaking. The dark, primal part of you is satisfied by her tacit recognition of your talent.

After a short while, Momo begins to compose herself and lifts her upper body from the table. You take it as a sign to slowly resume taking your cock in and out of her. You decide to give her now glowing pink ass a rest and caress her back, tracing long lines with your nails.

“Mmmmm, that feels good,” Momo says, her eyes still closed, “you fuck me so good.”

You slowly begin ramping up the pace, rolling your hips with each stroke. You want to make sure your cock pleases every inch of Momo’s pussy, and make sure it craves you when she’s alone at night.

After several minutes of this tender, softer version of lovemaking, Momo comes back to her senses. She arches her back again and turns her head to gaze in your eyes as you continue to take her. She begins to move her ass back and forth on your cock in unison with your own strokes.

“Oh my god, you feel so good in my fucking pussy! Every...fucking...stroke!” Momo gasps, the final words punctuated by the force of her majestic ass crashing against your cock.

“You’re a bad girl, Momo,” you tease, “you like being taken and shown who’s boss, don’t you? You like me grabbing your hair and slapping your ass?”

“Yes!” she gasps, “Yes I love it! Mmmmm...I want you to fuck me until you cum. Fuck me until you cum!”

There was no command in the world easier to follow.

Satisfied that you had fulfilled your vain, immature desire to see her acknowledge your skill as a lover, you now focus yourself on extracting pleasure from the young woman beneath you. You settle into a pace with rough strokes, fiercely pounding her over and over. Your pleasure rises with each thrust, aided not only by the mindblowing caress of her pussy, but by the incredible sight of Momo on all fours before you moaning with each strike of your cock inside her.

“Fuck Momo...I don’t think I have much longer, I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!”

“Yes,” comes the response from Momo, “Yes, yes! Fucking cum baby, I want your cum so bad!”

A few more thrusts and you can feel the point of no return coming. For a brief moment you contemplate cumming inside Momo, to truly claim her. You quickly reconsider, wanting to give her what she truly wanted--to swallow your load.

And so, you quickly withdraw your cock from Momo’s now sopping wet pussy and she instinctively turns around and drops to her knees on the floor. Stroking your cock with great fervor, her mouth wide open begging for what was to come.

“Please give me your cum, please, please! I want it...I need it! Cum for me!”

Your head tilts backward as a long groan escapes your lips. Your cum explodes from your shaft, shooting long, thick ropes of semen into her mouth and onto her cheeks and nose. Over and over, your cum splashes on her beautiful face until you finally reach the end of your orgasm, panting and exhausted. Momo’s face is a pornographic picture of lust, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallows the mass of cum you deposited in her mouth.

“I fucking love your cum,” Momo says as she wipes the remaining cum off her face with her finger and promptly brings it to her tongue before swallowing it down as well.

“I’m glad we were both able to get what we wanted,” you say, struggling to catch your breath.

“Speaking of getting what I wanted…” Momo says, nodding her head to the part of the floor where the USB drive now sits, evidently thrown from the table during the session that had just taken place.

“Right,” you say, suddenly remembering you’re here for work, “make a copy and let’s get out of here.”

“Great,” says Momo, still on the floor with a satisfied smile of content on her face, “Hey, I meant what I said about having you join our team. As much shit as I give you, we could really use someone with your talent.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m better off staying put. Don’t think the Korean government would let me live if I tried defecting.”

“Probably true,” says Momo as she begins picking up her clothes, “Never hurts to ask, though.”

***

A few minutes later, you and Momo had both gotten dressed and copied the file onto a drive for her. Momo disappeared into an adjoining hallway and you set off to traverse the stairwell again. As you prepare yourself for the descent, you also steel yourself for the repercussions of giving the intel to a foreign spy agency. With the information you saw in the file, you knew the Japanese would have to be looped in sooner or later. If it was going to happen eventually, you thought it made the most sense to entrust that intel to the agent on the other side you knew would make sure things got done correctly. As logical as it seemed to you, however, you knew it wouldn’t be taken well back at the office.

You click on your comms link, now knowing there’s nothing to fear.

“Hey Choa, I’m on my way back to the rendezvous.”

“Oh thank god! That took forever, I was about to call for a tac team!” Choa sighs with audible relief, “I take it you got everything you needed?”

“Got more than I needed, actually,” you say, nervous about Choa’s reaction to what you say next, “Listen, there’s one small thing you should know...”

“You did WHAT?!”

#momo #twice smut #momo smut #male reader #b/g #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55.

He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair.

This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place.

Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you.

He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad.

“Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him.

He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

“Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine.

A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel.

"And, the other girl you saw is—"

"I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?"

"Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago.

Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown.

Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team?

He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology?

Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike.

Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you.

"If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him.

Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing.

With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows.

"Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you?

The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you.

The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

"This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake.

"Happy to be working with you."

It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it.

The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college.

And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all.

"Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic.

You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there.

"Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

"Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not.

"Thanks. Mobs made it."

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer.

You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you.

"Here."

He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable.

"I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that.

"Do you, though?" He asks.

"Do I what?"

"Look forward to working here."

"Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

"Very big."

"It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

"Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head.

He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table.

"Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you?

Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

"Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you.

He needs to fucking call Erwin.

"Hey, bro, what's up?"

"Dude," is all Mike says at first.

"What?"

"You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

"You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly.

"Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years.

"Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?"

"It—Wait, what did she say?"

"Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

"No name-calling or confessions of undying love?"

"No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

"Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts.

"Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

"Could have been better too."

"What? How—"

"Could have bent her over the desk and—"

"Dude!"

Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months.

"I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?"

"Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

"Yeah, yeah."

They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you.

You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice.

"Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!"

"Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

"Hitch—"

"Breathe!"

You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

"What are you, my therapist?"

"I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

"You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away.

"Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her.

"Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself.

"Agreed."

"Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?"

You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

"Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?"

You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

"Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

"Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter.

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up.

You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

"Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice.

You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him.

He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes.

"He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?"

"God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

"Why would you—"

"Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

"I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

"Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

"And, Maddie."

You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to.

"Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort.

"And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet.

Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome.

"I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

"Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

"I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

"Why?" You question with a head shake.

Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

"No, I—"

"I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

"I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums.

"Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

"Then, talk."

"Mm, pass."

A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?"

"Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe.

"Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles.

"Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns.

"You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you.

"Uh, yeah?"

Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

"Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl.

It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door.

Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet.

You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn.

"'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts.

You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea.

You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway.

While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead.

Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick).

And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out.

You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too.

It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

It is not a productive work environment.

Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out.

There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake.

"You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

"Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you.

"You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up.

"Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

"I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

"You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

"Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

"Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table.

You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

"I don't wanna talk!"

You really don't. But, you also really do.

Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week.

He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs.

It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.

Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting.

Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings.

Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural?

Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it.

"It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

"You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says.

"I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?"

"I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

"'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching.

"Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

"Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks.

Mike frowns. "Uh, no?"

"Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

"We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks.

"What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

"Well—"

"Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

"Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles.

"I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

"I'm hanging up now."

Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

"Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

"Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

"I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

"Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god.

"Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

"We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks.

"Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

"Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

"Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation.

Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

"Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

"I didn't say anything!" He laughs.

"You don't have to. I know."

Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away.

The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things.

He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now.

Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else.

"Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home.

Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything.

It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday.

"Where'd you even find those?"

You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

"So, you went… dumpster diving?"

Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos.

"Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?"

Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

"I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

"Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

"It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

"Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully.

Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

"I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows.

"You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him.

"Ew."

"Just spitball. Throw it at me."

"Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him.

"Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts.

You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels.

"So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago.

He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it.

"Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

"It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk.

You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college.

"Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's.

"What of it?"

"These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

"Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

"I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment.

"It was easier on the eyes," you explain.

"It was a frat boy car."

"You were a frat boy!"

"And, now I'm a professional."

"Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk.

"Most of the time."

The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive.

He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside.

This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

"Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

Then, you shake your head.

"No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?"

"Tomorrow?"

"I mean, if that works for you."

"Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

"God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe.

"I've always been an early riser."

"Not from what I remember."

Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time.

"Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too.

Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast.

Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections.

His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears.

He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

“Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

“Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I, honestly.”

Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago.

“You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

“What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be.

There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely.

Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

“So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

“Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

“Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

“Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy.

Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago.

It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave.

Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day.

You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

“So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

So much for letting the past stay there.

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

“I really think we do.”

“Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

“Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing.

“I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse.

“I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.”

The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild.

“Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then, what are you saying?”

Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair.

“If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

“Do you not feel the same way then?”

Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

“You were in love?”

“Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

“I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

“Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned.

“Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there.

This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back.

“Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

“Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans.

You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did.

“This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

“Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much.

You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you.

“Oh, fuck.”

You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point.

Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it.

Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue.

“A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open.

Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart.

“Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

“Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears.

It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

“Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?"

You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?"

"Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

"Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?"

Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp.

He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it.

"Jesus fuck!"

"Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you.

Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you.

"Miche, please."

"You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight.

"Good enough to fuck me?"

"Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears.

It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name.

"You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out.

You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time.

Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything.

"I—I—I—..."

"You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you.

Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this.

And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike.

His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

"Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees.

He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it.

Another day.

Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb.

Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly.

His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much.

That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

"Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him.

Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again.

But, not yet. Not yet.

Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit.

He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand.

"Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down.

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss.

He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down.

"You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

"Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you.

"Jesus fucking—"

Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation.

He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen...

Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it.

As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth.

The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry.

The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him.

He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever.

You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you.

"God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with.

"Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses.

He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away.

"We were, weren't we?"

"Mhm."

Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him.

He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

"I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast.

"You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?"

He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands.

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face.

He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you.

Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

"Wasn't positive."

Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you.

He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip.

He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does.

Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them.

But first, he needs to call his mom.

It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field.

When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you.

"Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them.

"I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

"It's been going on for a long time now," you snort.

Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?"

"Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head.

You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind.

The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends.

You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again.

Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes.

"Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps.

"Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles.

"It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds.

You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin.

Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner.

"God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate).

"Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

"Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door.

The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume.

"I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them.

Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip.

Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box.

A small pink box.

A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it.

"Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

"Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

"You are fucking impossible, you know that?"

"Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up.

It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now.

"Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling.

"Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells.

"Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

"Yeah, good call, bro."

"I hate both of you."

"Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him.

And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

"Against my better judgement," you smirk.

He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you.

"Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others.

Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

"I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off.

"Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

"Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?"

Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?"

"Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

"Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles.

You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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insaneoldme · 3 years

Note

Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone!

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

#buddie #buddie recs #recs #fic recs #911 on fox #911fox #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ao3

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cescalr · 2 years

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Aww, thanks mate <3 I'm gonna count 'written' as 'finished' or we'd be here all day hemming and hawing about which ones are my favourite. <3 This narrows it down to 5 of 65 instead of 102, which... i think you'll understand why I needed to do that. Pls. Sanity. I need that. That's something I need to keep having. (Also, no repeat ships/fandoms, just to let my other works shine. Teen wolf has a major bias otherwise, with 40 of my fics being for that show)

In no particular order;

For When The Sunset Turns To Gold - Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Gen. Minor crossovers with Torchwood and Harry Potter, but mostly negligible. More about the Pevensies post-film lives (because they DO NOT DIE, BOOKS, THANKS) than anything else.

To note, I am incredibly proud of this fic! I love the feeling it's got. I was very emotional when I wrote it because I'd just watched Prince Caspian and got reminded of the very sticky ends each of these people meet and i was like NOPE OKAY and wrote this to make myself feel better. I'm pretty sure I cried when I was writing it. Actually, I'm tearing up rn. Onto the next one very quickly-

Keeping This. - Teen Wolf, Stiles/Theo, post-series AU. Soulmate AU, too.

Started in my Journey Across the Dimensions fic/let collection, finished here. This one was interesting because of how long it got, lol, for a one-shot. I ended up using it for my Steoday fic, and I'm still really happy with it. I just think this is some solid character work, and some extra-solid character dynamics work. I'm not so good with the building up romance thing, and I think this is one of the times where I did an actually good job with it, instead of just an ok one. Trying to get more comfortable establishing relationships than having them already established, since that's what I prefer to read anyway esp for non-canon fare. Anyway, I'm pleased with this one. As an AU i think it works, and i think it works more for being pretty canon-compliant. It's simple and it's easy and it's actually quite soft, which is rare for me. Especially when it comes to these two fellas. Stiles and Theo as written by me are... rarely soft. So this is a nice reprieve. Especially since I think I did a good job keeping them accurate despite the sweetness. I'm also pretty sure I managed to keep the tense consistent! But don't quote me on that. Same for all of these, actually. (Working on it, working on it...)

A Muggle Cliché (thank you for making me write this, lol) - Harry Potter, Ron/Harry, coffee shop/squib!harry/no voldemort AU! (Also background Dumbledore time travelled AU, but shhhh not important nobody ic knows that. The fic is fluffy and happy and great and the shadowy background history of the AU is not even remotely addressed.) I am halfway through writing a technical-sequel to this fic that's Cho/Ginny, stay tuned! (I know it's taking forever and the request came in before Easter, but to the person who sent in the prompt, I promise i'm literally like, halfway there. Should be done by the end of summer, at max.)

Obviously you know this one, since you made me write it, lol. Thank you for the prompt, again! I think this is my strongest ronarry excluding your other prompt, but I mean, like, non-canon ronarry is hard for me because i'm super attached to their canon selves, so this was a work in characterisation where I could see how an AU like this would change them without them being totally different people who we don't care about because it's like, in name only shit (which I'm never fond of, as a rule). So, yeah! This is one of the most saccharine things I've written. Good lord. Did pay you back for that, though.... sorry.

Somebody to Someone. - Slaughterhouse Rulez, Don/Willoughby, post-movie AU. Thank the entire Slaughterhouse Rulez discord for this one lol like a few years back. Man, how time flies... I was 17 when the film came out.... i'm 21.... gosh... anyway fluffy Christmastime goodness.

Yeah, I mean, I said it there. fluffy christmastime goodness. Don't blame that part on me, though, I had a lot of help writing this one. I'm proud of the parts I wrote and I'm super grateful for the help from the discord, you guys are great! So I guess this is my first fic that's a collaboration (that's actually a fic - we won't talk about the other one...) so, uh, yeah! Awesome! Collabs are fun. Working with other people on a fic can be a great experience. And I'm very happy with the outcome! Slaughterhouse Rulez is one of my favourite movies. If you take anything from me, it's that you should watch it and also join the discord server. It's a fandom of like 15 people. We need mooooorrrrreeeeeeeeeee-

In Another Universe (Maybe We Were Happy.) - Assassin's Creed, Desmond/Clay, 5 aus in which they (eventually, at least) get together romantically, and one in which they don't. Obviously varies wildly between angst and not angst, as is my M.O. To note I am working on that other AC fic (the soulmate au one) but it's taking forever bc i need to replay ac3. Dumb dumb moment here. Literally forgot the plot *facepalm.* Anway, somehow hoping these 44k words are enough to tide over the literal years people have been waiting for me to finish that other fic... ack.

This one is super nostalgic which is weird since it's not even that old, but I'm really fond of it. One of my first long-fics that i actually finished, which is also cool. Each chapter is it's own AU, so really I'm not sure if this is a fic per se or more a fic anthology, but either way, I'd never done the 5 + 1 format before and I thought it'd be cool. It was a good way for me to work through my characterisation of these guys, who I'd not written before, and my thoughts on the AC universe, which I'd also not written before. I think it's some solid writing and it's got one of my best AUs and romances, in chapter 2, with the coffee shop assassins AU where the Templars are Starbucks. Yeah, I know, I think something about coffee must trigger my romantic sensibilities which are usually stuck somewhere else in hibernation. Or fear. Or something. I'm bad at romance, anyway. The last chapter is some good Angst and I think some of my best angst, so there's that. It's a mite bit confusing if you don't know AC, though, but then that's the case for most fanfics of media. (I've read fanfics of media I've never consumed, though, that made perfect sense to me, so...) Anyway. Uh, yeah. Love this one. Very fond of it. Love my boys <3 Claysmond probably in the top ten for my otps. May even be top five, depending on the day. (Today? Yes.) Desmond and Clay are definitely in my top ten characters, anyway. I could not tell you where they sit, though.

Cheating to add Ginny Weasley, Veteran of War, Time Traveller, Defeater of Dark Lords, and Dark, but Good., which is a series and not a fic, and I don't think the components work as well on their lonesome. Technically hinny but for the first two fics he's dead. (actually, he's still dead in the last fic, it's just that ginny is as well. Not a spoiler.) Basically, well, read the series title: she time travels, she kills voldy, she's a bit fucked up and she's done some fucked up shit but she's still Ginny Weasley, and she's a good person at heart. Anyway, love these fics. Might've cried a little when writing. Might not. Can't prove shit you weren't there! (I did. I definitely did.) Anyway. Mostly Gen with Minor/Background Relationships. Contains Fantastic Beasts canon up to the second movie and kinda including, but veers very AU, and written before the third (which I wouldn't have acknowledged anyway, since i'm not planning on ever viewing it with mine eyes). Uh, yeah. (Premise of this fic series could actually lead to other fics/aus stemming from it..... given how Ginny gets back in the past in the first place. Sooooo that's fun!)

Thanks again!

#con #tw #hp #ac #shr #claysmond #ronarry #steo #myfanfic #myfic #<3 thanks again A!

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deltaengineering · 2 years

Text

Fall Anime 2021: Extra Large

It appears that tumblr has put a limit on the number of images per post. Oh well, I'll just use good ones I have then. Speaking of which...

Tawawa on Monday S2

I watched the original Tawawa and didn't like it, because ginourmous gazongas are as lowbrow as cultured interests get and it occasionally panned up to show faces, which I didn't like either. So why watch the sequel? Well... it made a good companion piece to Douki-chan and a show doesn't actually have to be good for a few minutes a week. I'll say that it's slightly better than S1, because it's better made and at least occasionally as absurd as it needs to be. 4/10

Adventure Anime Triple Feature feat. Takt Op.: Destiny / Fena: Pirate Princess / Sacks&Guns!!

I'm just going to group these three together because they have a lot in common: They're all old-fashioned odd-couple action-adventure hyphenated-anime. They're also all not good, and the most fun I can get out of this is pointing out how they're differently bad.

To start with the most obviously bad one, Takt Op.: Destiny is just severely lacking in most regards that matter. If nothing else, it gave me a lot of newfound appreciation for the kind of deep, multifaceted relationship memetic dumbass Shirou and fencepost-with-a-frown-on-it Saber have. I can really only assume the people behind Takt Op saw that and thought "well, if even Fate can do it it can't be that hard" – but the joke's on them, since for all its faults, Fate is at least intricate and fundamentally well thought out while Takt Op is as shallow as a puddle. This goes from top to bottom: Takt is an utterly unlikeable theater kid that gets a pass from everyone (especially the script authors) because he is good at teh musics – and every time the show pretends to be about music (which it most definitely is not even remotely), it reads as laughably pretentious. The villains are moustache twirlers that would have been parody fodder in an SNES JRPG. Battles consists of overdesigned girls shooting lazors while the dudes stand aside and wave a stick around. The setting only makes sense as an alternate timeline where headphones were curiously never invented. And why yes, this can all be handily explained with this being based on a mobile RPG that desperately wants to be F/go, but that gets us right back to the "lacking Fate's underappreciated fundamentals" part again – and by fundamentals I mean stuff as fundamental as "Masters are humans so shoot them first". That said, it's not all bad; Takt Op has some upsides that keep it from being entirely worthless, such as the fights occasionally looking really neat and things like "Destiny eats a pancake and dunks on Takt" indeed being the kind of surefire, no-effort-required crowd pleaser that the makers seem to have thought the whole show would be. Mostly bad is still bad though, and honestly one of the best aspects of it is that "trying too hard" is not an avenue of failure it opens itself up to often. 4/10

Fena: Pirate Princess has the opposite problem; where Takt Op doesn't seem to aspire to anything but being a superficial Fate copy, Fena goes off in so many scatterbrained directions that it's hard to tell what it's even supposed to be. Sure, at first it seems like it's going to be an Akatsuki no Yona type story where the princess learns to get increasingly badass while going on a treasure hunt, but you might be surprised to hear that by the end of it, Fena barely turns out to be a character in her own story. There's so many characters and subplots that barely any of them go anywhere (I won't even start to list them, suffice it to say that if it's there it probably doesn't pay off), and even the conclusion of the "main" storyline eventually comes down to a version of Indiana Jones that's equal parts about the villain and thinking "huh, Joan of Arc and Noah's Ark sound kinda similar, isn't that neat?" This sounds pretty inexplicable but becomes entirely explicable once you realize that The Guys From Bee Anime Are At It Again. Except B: The Beginning was two anime awkwardly smashed together and one of them was good, while Fena is more like 5 anime awkwardly smashed together and none of them are good. Fena is somewhat more ambitious than Takt is (no shit lol) and the benefit of doing everything is that you're probably going to like something in it, but it really is just a mess. 4/10

Sacks&Guns!! (the original name of Sakugan and one so amusing you can't make me use the real one) handily outplays both of these by knowing what it wants to be and providing a workable narrative backbone. That said while it's usually juuuuust about as good as it needs to be, it's never any better. The main story is interesting, yes, but there's also not a lot of it and everything in between feels like filler that vastly overestimates how fun it is to just watch these characters bicker among each other. This could easily work much better if the characters were stronger, but they just... aren't. And when the story does come around, it's not so much "too little too late", but of course "barely enough and barely in time", which is fine but hardly fulfilling. Speaking of not fulfilling, this show gleefully doesn't have an ending, but in characteristic fashion it provides just enough thematic/character closure and explanation to make me feel like I didn't waste my time. It's still a bold move to leave the entire narrative closure to a sequel that it may or may not get, but I'd probably watch it, accompanied with copious sighing. Sacks&Guns!! naturally gets the lowest possible passing grade. 5/10

Rumble Garanndoll

Gimme some Akio Watanabe character designs in a show that doesn't totally stink and I'm satisfied. Here, there's your review of Rumble Garanndoll. Though that statement is incredibly loaded, since the elephant in the room is why I think this self-congratulating heap of of "us otaku huh" doesn't totally stink. Well, for starters it's pretty funny occasionally, which is a big plus in the sea of brutally unfunny otaku comedies. A lot of it comes down to knowing when to not be funny, since the setup is plenty jocular on its own already. I think Garanndoll just gets the balance right; I wouldn't want a show that is all harem jokes, or all Akihabara celebration, or all heartfelt references to old school mecha, but apparently I can stomach the right blend of these just fine. It works both as a comedy and as a straightforward mecha show, and while it doesn't excel at either, I'm still surprised that even it comes out as "acceptable seasonal fodder". 6/10

Heike Monogatari

Oh boy, where to start with this one. I guess I'll start with the good, and the surprising: Aesthetically, Heike Monogatari is close to perfect – I love how this show is made, how it looks and sounds and moves. And I say this as someone who has been an outspoken critic of Naoko Yamada's directing style before, it just works much better for this somewhat abstract period piece than it ever has for stories about teenager problems. But that gets us right to the issue, and why you're reading about this Very Important Piece Of Literary Adaptation right after the dumb comedy about mechas powered by harem: Quite frankly, I give maybe a fifth of a fuck at best about the Story of the Heike, and this anime failed to convince me otherwise. It's not that they didn't try either, their OC (do not steal) Biwa is easily the best character in the show, it's just that she necessarily doesn't have much to do with the story. If I may be real for just a second, I think it's respectable and a good idea to not dick too much with this literary classic you're adapting, because it really wouldn't be the Heike Story then. But that still doesn't mean I have to like the result. This anime is mainly for people who take the importance of the narrative as a given (i.e., the Japanese), but for me this tale about a bunch of kids who really just want to play the flute but are sad because their Granddad had too much fun being a dick really lacks the sort of gravitas and pathos it seems to be shooting for. Yes, it is insufficiently Shakespearean, this tale from a couple of centuries earlier and the other side of the planet, excuse my gaijin. Anyway, Heike Monogatari really is at its best when it just stops trying to recount whose uncle mustered how many horses and becomes almost entirely abstract, which is at least somewhat frequently. So, didn't care much for it, but A+ for effort. 6/10

Lupin III Part 6 Part 1

Yo, yet again with a show that didn't actually end, what gives? Yeah, Lupin III Part 6 is obviously split into two and the first half indeed had a definite ending, so I'm counting it. First thing, I'm going to view Part 6 (Part 1) as an anthology show, because that's really what it is. Part 5 already flirted with a half-episodic approach but the main difference is that while Part 6 (Part 1) has an ostensible main story, it's really not more complex (or any better) than the side stories, just a bit longer. The real unifying factor is the theme, and that is "referencing famous mystery literature" for the most part. As most anthologies go, there's a wild variety of story content and quality. Some episodes are outright shoddy, a lot of them a "meh" (including the alleged main story, which is actually far too long for how meh it is), many are classic Lupin tomfoolery, and a few of them are excellent. Being the pompous ass that I am, I am of course referring to the too-clever-by-half Oshii episodes, the second of which is hands down the best episode of the season and a big contender for best episode of the year. If you want a practical tip, just watch those two (4 and 10), since they're not connected to anything but general Lupin-ness. Anthologies are hard to rate and this is the definition of a mixed bag, but overall I'll say it's just fine – Lupin has done better before though. 6/10

Yakunara Mug Cup Mo S2

Yakunara Mug Cup Mo was a surprisingly solid Kiraralike (read this if you want the actual take, even if there wasn't much to say back then either), and one should not be surprised that a very quick S2 just keeps on rolling. It's still not much of a show, and its shorter length still helps it immensely. There maybe weren't as many gay Mika daydreams as I'd hope for this time around, but Mug Cup remains an inoffensively good time. 6/10

Ganbare Douki-Chan

Ah yes, here's the Chad to Tawawa's Virgin. I've been debating ranking this higher, but this time around I think I'll disregard the meme. Douki-chan is adorable, and that's the long and short of it. It definitely is less of a cultural milestone than Miru Tights is, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. In actuality, it's probably hurt the most by me having read all the source material already (there's not much), so there was a lot of saying "yep, that's that page alright". Good time, cute faces, rooting for Douki-chan, 3 net minutes well spent. 6/10

My Senpai Is Annoying

So this one is definitely simpatico with Douki, except more so. By that I mean there's more of it (natch), but also that it's even more barebones, if that is even possible. This anime right here is 100% exactly what you would expect. Good thing I generally expect my anime to be good then, amirite? This is Doga Kobo, and they've really made an artform out of taking these basic ass mangas and making them entertaining and it's pretty scary how much I enjoyed this crap. KyoAni cannot pull this off, just watch Maidragon. Oh wait, Maidragon fans already think the manga is exceptional lmao

Uh, where was I. Okay, everything about this is as lame as it gets once you think about it, probably the most extraordinary thing about it is that it has no baseball episode and does a basketball episode instead. But it doesn't do a single thing wrong (incredibly predictable ending emphatically included), and it doesn't mean it's not fun to watch. It is a ton of fun to watch, in fact, and it does put in the work to make you not think about it, but sometimes you just can't help it, such as when writing this down. tl;dr Sakurai is best, don't @ me. 7/10 (while watching) / 6/10 (while not watching)

Tsuki to Laika to Nosferatu

So how much do you care about early 60s Soviet aesthetics and the romance of early space exploration? Because that's what's really going to make or break this show for you. I do on both counts, so this is a show that feels like it was made just for me. It's remarkable that you can still find a light novel with this level of dedication to a setting that isn't... you know. The one. But it's not just the setting and that they care about it a lot, it also gets a lot else right. It has good, rounded characters with an appropriate amount of depth (even if Anya won't let you forget that this used to be a LN in a hurry), it's fairly nuts-and-boltsy but it assumes people who care don't need endless explanations, and it doesn't romanticize its setting too much. So good job there, but there's still a few things that hold it back. First of all, it's not a looker. Not too shabby, but obviously cheap. Second, that ending. I don't disapprove of them not playing hardball to the end, but it really is just far too simple and convenient by any standard. And third, well, it's all good, but besides being a treat for those who care it never goes that extra mile. So go in with limited expectations and you won't be disappointed. 7/10

Isekai Shokudou S2

Can I repeat my Mug Cup bit here? Well no actually, because I apparently never reviewed S1. So first of all, this isn't an "isekai show". No, that doesn't make it one. No, it just doesn't. Secondly, Isekai Shokudou seems like a very simple concept on the surface (one of those food anime where they celebrate uncomplicated dishes), and that's good and all, but it's not what makes it. I'm really here for the sly worldbuilding and how the the restaurant makes an impact on the other world, both globally and personally – it's very amusing to think of this as the wholesome, delicious version of Casablanca. Which is a small but not insignificant part of the show, to be honest, but it being so naturally presented as a side effect of a cute food anime just tickles my fancy. And if you've seen S2, you'll know that I fucking loved the last arc here. Aside from that, it's another slim show that works very well, fundamentally being already good at its thing and then adding another layer of unexpected delight on top of it. Dunno, sort of like a good cake with like, frosting? Soup, salt? Or like, comfort food and stuff? Did I meet the quota of unimaginative food similes every review of Isekai Shokudou is legally obligated to have? 7/10

Taishou Otome Otogibanashi

Taishou + Otome + Fairytale = a winning combination. What we have here is what I'd describe as "the good version of Sangatsu no Lion" and I'm only half trolling. So this is the story of a sad boi who learns to love again with a generous helping of instant cute girlfriend, except it makes much more sense in this setting and Tamahiko actually has very good reasons to have a sad all the time. It's also much more consistently self-aware funny, as opposed to 3lion which just recklessly swings between sitcom antics and drowning in sorrow with no stop at self-awareness ever. But enough about 3lion, Taishou Otome may be a magical girlfriend joint but it's a really good one. It has a really good grasp of switching between broad archetype comedy and serious character work when it matters – and it does get serious, since the "Taishou" is right in the title so things eventually get shaky. The cheesiness can't be denied, but that's what you're here for, I hope. And Yuzu is just cute as a button – which she better be, because that's the show. This is another one that isn't terribly ambitious, but executes very well on the modest ambitions that it does have. 7/10

Shiroi Suna no Aquatope

And finally, here's the last word on Aquatope. I already gave this a preliminary review last season, and I was right about doing that – the second half really is a different show, and in my opinion, a much better one (yes, I know that people seem to disagree with this – let's just say that they were probably here for what it started as, not what it became). It actually turned out to be the second coming of Shirobako that I was hoping for, and in some respects it's actually better – such as not being so in love with its setting that it can't stop talking about it, and also being more evenhanded on the our guys/bad guys spectrum. While the beginning of Aquatope seemed to be mostly about sad Fuuka being healed by Okinawan magical realism, by the end of the first cours it already was mostly about Kukuru – and the second half is almost entirely about her and her struggle in the workplace/growing up in general, with the magic almost completely evaporating (because you see, that is the point – Can I quickly say that "lack of magic is a plot point" is a level of writing I'd ever have expected from the Iroduku team?). It pulls no punches on this because often, Kukuru doesn't actually like what she's doing and also isn't really good at it, which cuts deeper than Aoi just herding a bunch of wacky manchildren for the sake of art. The side character stories (including Fuuka's, but she's now only one of several) are also all very good. So you might be asking, what do I not like? Not much to be honest, the show is now consistently very good and occasionally knocks on greatness. It's still a bit blunt and obvious in places, but that's just anime writing for you. And I'm not sure about the ending. It does absolutely everything it needs to do and then some (including tying up a few story threads from the first half that don't show up at all in the second otherwise), which is an achievement of its own, but it seems a little quick and convenient for everything to fall into place so neatly. So it's by no means bad, it just doesn't go the extra mile that Aquatope otherwise often does and is less good than the "season 1" finale. Still, if you want some well thought out character drama that never forgets the levity, you can't go wrong with Aquatope. 8/10

#anime #review #fall2021 #Tawawa on Monday #takt op.destiny #fena pirate princess #sakugan #rumble garanndoll #heike monogatari #lupin III #yakunara mug cup mo #ganbare douki chan #my senpai is annoying #tsuki to laika to nosferatu #isekai shokudou #taishou otome otogibanashi #shiroi suna no aquatope

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