#5 mill to get that stupid clock

[slamminslamminmcgill]

thinkin abt working w gene takovic & being generally shit at the job and he gets tired of reader slacking off and decides to give reader a little motivation to do better ……….

workplace harassment but if it was epic 😌

my immediate thought was "reader comes into work high and gets disciplined" so im adding intox to this hope that's ok :3

warning: intox, possibly dubcon? (you're high and he's your superior)

You hated your fucking job.

I mean, it wasn't horrible. It was just a run of the mill food service position at the Cinnabon in the mall. Standing for 8 hours, shitty customers, all the glitz and glamour you could expect, but hey, free cinnamon rolls was a nice perk. It's not like you were planning to make a career out of this anyway. You could afford to dick around on the clock from time to time. Plus, y'all were short-staffed anyway, so what were they gonna do, fire you?

Well, today, you had pushed your luck too far.

It was supposed to be a busy day, some huge sale happening in the mall, and that meant a bunch of entitled pricks needing their cream cheese frosted insulin bombs. You didn't want to risk strangling the first boomer that yelled at you, so you figured why not pop a few edibles before your shift?

Big mistake. You realized that when you clocked in.

One of your coworkers called out, and another was coming in late. That meant it was just you and your manager Gene tackling the first few hours. He wasn't horrible to work with, but a skeleton crew was no one's idea of a good time. Let alone the fact that you'd be stupid high in about an hour and there'd be no one else to cover your ass.

When they kicked in, it didn't take long for him to notice. You were staring at the register blankly for maybe 5 minutes, but it felt like eons in food service time. Once your other coworker came in, Gene took you into his office to reprimand you, making sure to lock the door before he slumped down at his desk.

"Look, kid. I get it. I don't wanna be here either, but you can't be doing that. Not only is it against the law, but it's dangerous. If you're spacing out like that you could cut or burn yourself, and-"

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. You ever talk to your cat and wonder if they can understand a goddamn word you're saying? That was basically this. You were just staring at how his nipples poked through his officially licensed Cinnabon® polo shirt. He was kinda cute, for a sad old man. Wait, fired? Did he just say fired? You snap out of it and make eye contact with him.

Gene sighed. "You haven't been listening to me, have you?"

You shook your head.

"I said, corporate has kind of a zero-tolerance policy for drug use on the job. I'm supposed to fire you, but," He got up from his chair and approached you, stroking your cheek with a pensive look on his face, no doubt a dumb, ditsy look on yours. "you're a good kid. I'd like to see you do better. I'm hoping there's another way we can work this out. Call it positive reinforcement, yeah?"

You nodded. Positive reinforcement. Sure, whatever.

He smiled. "Good boy."

You whined. Oh fuck, that felt nice to hear. He could tell.

Before you knew it, you were on your knees in front of him, servicing his cock with your mouth, messily. Drool was seeping out from your lips, pooling onto what you hoped was the floor and not your shirt. The weed was making this far more intense than you'd ever imagined. His taste was addicting. However deep you could take him just wasn't enough. You ran your tongue all over him, his head, his shaft, his balls. God, it was so fucking good. Shit, you were probably enjoying this more than he was.

That's not to say Gene wasn't enjoying it. He threw his head back and sighed. He rested his hand on your scalp and ruffled your hair, making you whimper around him. "That's a good boy."

Positive reinforcement indeed.

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Bonnie(FNAF) x Reader Part 6

Not enough sassy Bonnie fanfic so here we go...I'll try to upload at least once a week.

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Bonnie is terrible but he likes you

5 greenrooms on RSR (we include Monty)

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Moon has a lil touch of the virus

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

Also just using the gif to have a gif... we know Bonnie is actually blue in this house B)

Your alarm went off and you were up and ready to start another night. A quick shower, some basic makeup, and a fresh pair of clothes. You were about to head out the door before you caught your look in the mirror. There was something else you decided to add. Walking back to your vanity you took out a little compact with different colored eyeliners.

You took the little makeup brush and dipped it in a little cup of water to activate the eyeliners. With a quick dip in the bright yellow color, you drew a little star right under the corner of your left eye. Dipping back into the yellow once again, you drew a little sun underneath the corner of the other eye.

You admired your artistry in your vanity mirror and nodded. You were ready for your shift.

-----------------------------------+++---------------------------------------

Walking through the Plex doors you were a little early so you passed more employees on their way out. Everyone mostly kept their head down as they passed you, eager to be off of work and head home to their families. You felt a pang in your chest since you knew that the only thing you were going back to was your apartment full of half unloaded boxes.

But that’s okay. Because I’m okay now. And I’m away from them.

You quickly cleared those thoughts from your head as you made your way through the maintenance tunnels to the locker rooms that contained your locker.

There was a few people milling about in the locker rooms, gathering the rest of their things to head out for the day. As you were putting a few things in your locker, you picked up on a conversation that was happening behind you.

“I’m going to mention to Frank that Montgomery and Bonnie both need another reset. Montgomery’s attitude is getting worse and Bonnie threw a fucking bowling ball at me today.”

“Do it. I’m tired of having to put my safety at risk for these stupid robots.”

Your jaw clenched as you listened to the two people talk. They must have not known that you were the new nighttime mechanic who would be over that. So they obviously didn’t know that whatever they told Frank, a ‘reset’ would never be happening again. You were about to turn around and give them a nice taste of your opinion but instead you bit your tongue and waited for them to leave.

Let them complain. Nothing was going to happen. Not if you could help it. You also gave a silent thank you to the universe that you worked mainly by yourself. It wouldn’t look so good if you lost your first new job in another state because you couldn’t control your temper.

You grabbed your tablet and checked your Fazwatch. Almost time to clock in. You started out the door and towards Rockstar Row to start your day. Your task list didn’t mention anything specific. Just a general check in with everyone along with your normal maintenance tasks. Checking the stage was your favorite, so far, because it’s like you felt a tinge of the lingering show magic.

On your way to Bonnie’s green room, you wondered what made him toss a bowling ball at someone. It wasn’t funny because they could have gotten hurt but you couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit thinking that that definitely sounded like something Bonnie would do.

You neared the familiar teal light that shone above Bonnie’s green room door and you felt your heart start to involuntarily beat a little faster. You were just excited to start your night. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Approaching the door, you knocked a few times but no response. You called out Bonnie’s name and after a few more minutes, you used your keycard to open his green room door. You let out a sharp gasp when you saw the state of his room.

It was a disaster.

The couch was turned over, there was trash thrown all about, and there appeared to be a bowling ball stuck in the wall.

What the hell happened today??

Or was this how his room always was… You remembered you’ve never actually seen inside of his green room.

You decided that this was a problem for another time and you started your way to Freddy’s green room instead. And just like Bonnie’s, his room was empty. Upon inspection, every green room on Rockstar Row was empty. Where was everyone?

You checked your FazWatch to see if you were able to send one of the Glamrocks a ping. You vaguely remembered Frank mentioning it only when 100% necessary. You thought now was pretty necessary.

You scrolled through the directory and thought about who to send a ping to. Immediately your mind jumped to Bonnie, at first, but something held you back. You decided to shoot a quick message to Freddy instead.

Where are you guys? :)

You waited for a few minutes before you got a message back, but it wasn’t from Freddy.

It was from Bonnie.

U forget about our date?

You felt a blush spread across your face and sent a quick message back.

I’m on my way!

You rushed to Bonnie Bowl. You wondered why Bonnie responded instead of Freddy. You were trying not to read too much into it but it was hard not to, considering his attitude towards the other employees.

And he called it a date.

You took a shortcut through the tunnels to the atrium where you started towards Bonnie Bowl. You were extra excited to bowl with everyone so you were moving faster than normal.

You approached the large purple opening of Bonnie Bowl and went through the sliding metal door. You could hear lively conversation coming from inside. You caught the voices of the Glamrocks seemingly laughing and having a good time. You stood in the spacious bowling lobby and looked over the rails to see them all getting the game started.

Roxy was the first to turn and notice you, saying your name while the others turned their heads towards you and also gave you hellos as well as little friendly waves. You hopped down the stairs and jovially skipped towards your ‘coworkers’.

“Hey guys!”

“‘Bout time you showed up, peeps.” Bonnie glanced over at you and did a small double take, his eyes looking straight at where the little yellow star was painted on your face. "And I like that star." He muttered the last part.

You giggled and batted at him with your hand. “I didn’t know we were starting so soon! And thank you.” You also muttered the last part while inspecting the tip of your bowling shoe.

“Are we bowling or are we meant to stand around while you two flirt?” Roxy stated very unenthusiastically.

You saw Chica’s hand fly up to her mouth and Monty rolled his eyes. You immediately felt your face heat up as you looked away and watched Bonnie try to shove Roxy but she was too quick for him and sidestepped out of his way. He turned back to the computer system in front to start the scoreboard and cue the balls while shaking his head.

The game was starting.

You could feel a shift in the air of Bonnie Bowl. The competition was starting. You even felt a buzz in your own veins as you zoned in and mentally prepared yourself for the match. You didn't know how you'd do with precision perfect animatronics, but you were darn sure going to try.

"Alright!" Bonnie turned around and clapped his hands. "The goal is to knock down all 10 pins," he glanced at you, "obviously. The score is determined after the 10th frame. If you don't understand how to play at this point, you probably shouldn't. So let's start the game!"

The music in the background was definitely getting you pumped. This was exciting. Bonnie was obviously up first. And not surprising, he rolled a perfect strike on his first roll.

You heard Roxy boo as he went to take his seat, showboating a little in front of everyone.

Freddy was up next. His first roll he knocked down 8 pins. You were a little shocked since you figured they would all be pretty on point. Unless he was trying to do worse so you'd have a chance. On his next roll he knocked over 1 more pin with a first score of 9.

You were up next. You felt everyone's eyes on you as you approached the lane in front of you. It was your first roll and you were honestly so nervous. You didn't want to mess up, especially not in front of Bonnie.

You took a deep breath.

I got this.

Grabbing a ball you you lined up your shot, swung your arm back, and let the ball go. The rolled effortlessly across the shiny lines and collided right into the pins, but only knocking down 8. You heard Bonnie snicker behind you and paid no attention to him. You had one more ball to roll.

Gearing up again, you let the ball fly. It soared down the lane and crashed into the last remaining pins. You had got a spare! 10 points!

You shot Bonnie a smug look as you made your way back to your seat and saw him roll his eyes but not before you saw the corner of his lips twitch up, fighting a grin.

The game continued. Roxy rolling a 9 and Monty getting a strike but also throwing the ball so hard that he cracked a few of the pins. Which led to a briefly heated argument between Bonnie and Monty that everyone had to collectively help settle.

You were having such a great time. By the 9th frame, you had 4 strikes and 2 spares under your belt. You weren't in last place (Poor Freddy) but even if you were you wouldn't care. Even with the intense competition it didn't stop the jokes from Roxy and Bonnie, it didn't stop Freddy from trying to enforce rules on 'no cussing' which led to more cussing from Monty, and you all had to keep an eye on Chica or she would wander off to eat the trash in the ice cream kitchen.

Bonnie tapped the ball return and turned towards all of you before making his last few rolls. "Let's make it a liiiittle more interesting."

Everyone quickly got very quiet and looked up at Bonnie, a little confused as to what was coming next.

"If I strike out on this frame, I'll have a perfect score. If I do, which I will, then I get one favor from each of you at the time of my choosing."

Bonnie looked very pleased with himself as the others started making notes of protest.

"I am not giving you anything, ever." Roxy growled.

"I don't even like you." Monty stated which caused Roxy to roar with laughter.

"I don't know if betting is ethical..." Freddy's input.

"But what if you don't?" You were quiet until now. Everyone turned to look at you and Chica immediately started to giggle.

"Yeah, Bonnie, what if you don't get a perfect score?" She said.

Bonnie rolled his eyes, the smug grin disappearing off his face at the even mention of him not coming out on top.

"Like that's even an option-"

"If you don't hit a perfect 300, then you have to help clean all of the greenrooms for a week."

There was a moment of silence before everyone, even Freddy, started to roar with laughter and shout words of agreement.

"Perfect Bonnie actually getting his hands dirty?" "I would love help from Bonnie with cleaning my greenroom!" "I don't know if I trust him around my stuff..."

Bonnie locked eyes with you and looked as if considering whether or not to throw you down the lane. After a moment, he nodded.

"Fine. Like there's any chance of that anyway."

Bonnie turned back to the ball return and picked up his first ball. He had 2 rolls, 3 if the first two were strikes. And the first roll was, unsurprisingly, a strike. You heard Monty boo and friendly competitive remarks from some of the other Glamrocks. Bonnie grabbed his second ball and sent it flying down the lane as well. Strike. Another sea of protests.

Just before Bonnie was about to roll his third ball, he turned his head over his shoulder to look at you. Just for a moment. And in that moment you knew you had to do something or Bonnie was going to get that 300 score. So while your eyes locked, you boldly took the tip of your fingers and pressed them against your lips, then tilting them forward, quickly blowing Bonnie a little kiss.

His reaction was just what you wanted. His eyes went wide, you heard his fans kick on into overdrive, and he quickly looked away from you, focusing back on the ball in his hands before visibly trying to refocus on the game.

Not everyone saw, but Roxy certainly did. So a new round of comments and hoops and hollers set off among the Glamrocks. Including Chica singing, "Bonnie's got a girlfriend!" They knew you were doing it just to fluster him, and they wanted in on it now too. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

"Oh my God, shut up!" Bonnie yelled at the others.

"Take your shot, bunny! If you're so confident." Roxy yelled back.

The laughs died down as Bonnie stepped back up to the lane. Bonnie Bowl was his game, his territory. But he couldn't shake the buzzed feeling that he got from what you did. Teasing or not, he couldn't get his mind off of wanting more...

You saw Bonnie shake his head, line his arm up with the lane, and launch the ball. Everyone was silent as they watched the ball float down the lane towards the pins. It was like time had slowed once again. You watched as the ball collided with the pins. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9. 9 pins down. The one last, stubborn pin wobbled dangerously but stood tall amongst the sea of his downed brothers. 299. Bonnie did not get the perfect score.

The sounds from the Glamrocks were deafening as you heard laughs, squeals, jeers, jokes, and friendly reassurances coming from Freddy only. Bonnie just stood there, staring at the pins like he couldn't believe it. He always got a perfect score in Bonnie Bowl. He always won.

The only thing that was different was you.

He turned and looked at you and you gave him a sheepish smile. You knew what you had done but you didn't regret it. Bonnie glared at you at first but couldn't stop the grin breaking out across his face. You let out a sigh of relief that he didn't resent you for your little stunt and joined him in joining the Glamrocks in their friendly banter and camaraderie.

After finishing up the last of the game, you came in 4th place out of 6, which in your opinion wasn't bad considering you were playing with people miles ahead of your skill level (even if Chica and Freddy may have done a little worse on purpose just to let you get ahead).

Everyone eventually started to disperse and tend to their own activities for the night but you felt a large hand grab your wrist and pull you back from the exiting group. You looked over to see Bonnie looking down at you.

“I have something for you.”

You looked up at him in confusion.

His other hand came around and produced a small cup. Upon closer inspection, you saw it was the same kind of ice cream that Bonnie took from you last night. You slowly took it from his hand.

“Good game, dollface. Enjoy the ice cream. It’s my favorite flavor, too.”

He winked and let go of your wrist, stepping around you and heading out the exit. You watched him walk out the door of Bonnie Bowl and you couldn’t help but notice the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

To be continued…

Authors Notes:

Hello friends!! So sorry this chapter took an extra day but I haven’t been home the past few days. I also had to research a few things about bowling lol. Next chapter we get to meet Moon B) Slowly starting to heat things up and dive more into the plot. There is one, I’m just kind of forming it as I go tbh, but there will be a plot xD

[andromeda-nova-writing]

🎤🖤🩵Lyrical🩵🖤🎧

I've been wanting to make a prompt list pulling lyrics from my favorite songs for a while. If any lyrics I have don't inspire you, please check out the playlist. There may be a different lyric that you vibe with.

All lyrics are written out under the cut. I just wanted to make fun graphics

1. Last Time I Saw You - Nicki Minaj “Maybe I pushed you away because I thought that I bore you” 2. Make It Look Easy - Chloe “I just want to feel hope and fill up the hole completely”

3. In Pieces - Chloe “And I don’t want nobody else to hold me when I’m in pieces”

4. SandCastles - Beyoncé “I scratched out your name and your face, What is it about you that I can’t erase”

5. Be Careful - Cardi B “Be careful with me, do you know what you doin’? Whose feelings that you’re hurtin’ and bruins’?”

6. Buy A Heart - Nicki Minaj, Meek Mill “But when you’re away, I can’t get you out of my mind”

7. We Belong Together - Mariah Carey “Who else am I gon’ lean on when times get rough?”

8. Told Ya - Chloe “Swallow your pride, how it tastin’ now”

9. Angel - Halle “Do you ever make it out of your head?”

10. Be Alive - Beyoncé “Do you know how much we cried? How hard we had to fight?”

11. Self Love - Metro Boomin, Coi Leray “You don’t know love, you just show love”

12. Desperado - Rihanna “There ain’t nothing here for me anymore, But I don’t want to be alone”

13. All The Stars - Kendrick Lamar “Love, Let's talk about love, Is it anything and everything that you hoped for? Or do the feeling haunt you, I know the feeling haunt you”

14. I Could Fall in Love - Selena “Tomorrow, will you want me still?”

15. Forward - Beyoncé “Go back to your sleep in your favorite spot just next to me”

16. California King Bed - Rihanna “Just when I felt like giving up on us, You turned around and gave me one last touch”

17. Refill - Elle Varner “He approached me and asked for a minute, Which turned into five, then turned into ten”

18. Cuz I love You - Lizzo “I thought that I didn’t care, I thought I was love impaired”

19. If I Ain’t Got You - Alicia Keys “Some people need three dozen roses, And that’s the only way to prove you love them”

20. Only Wanna Give It To You - Elle Varner, J. Cole “Your kisses hold me hostage and I don't wanna stop it”

21. Fallin - Coco Jones “Locked in your spell when you come around”

22. Weak - SWV “Your love is so sweet, It knocks me right off of my feet, Can’t explain why your love, it makes me weak”

23. I Hate You - SZA “What I would do to make you feel just like this”

24. I Miss You - Beyoncé “It hurts my pride to tell you how I feel”

25. Broken Clocks - SZA “Think I forgot, You love me”

26. Can’t Remember to Forget You - Shakira, Rihanna “The way he makes me feel, I never seemed to act so stupid”

27. Hazy - Chloe x Halle “You have permission, To shake my world ‘til it falls down”

28. Don’t Make It Harder On Me - Chole x Halle “I need you to stop lookin’ at me like that”

29. Fallin’ - Alicia Keys “How do you give me so much pleasure, And cause me so much pain?

30. We Need A Resolution - Aaliyah, Timbaland “You got issues, I got issues, But I know I miss you”

31. Ordinary People - John Legend “I know I misbehaved, And you made your mistakes, And we both still got room left to grow”

32. Switch! - Jasmine Sullivan “Know what I want and I want your best friend”

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.5

Summary: Bucky & Steve’s date has some unintended consequences forcing Bucky to make some hard decisions. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: Attempted child abduction. Emphasis on ATTEMPTED. Becca will be fine ya’ll. 

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Remember last chapter where I was like “oh hey enjoy this unusually large chapter”? Well, I went to write a normally sized chapter and my hand slipped. Whoops! Enjoy another giant beast chapter lovelies! And don’t hate me for the angst!! I promise this fic has a happy ending, it’s just a long road to get there. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Five

Bucky wakes to bright light streaming in his bedroom window and Becca sitting on top of him. “Wake up sleepy head!” she chirps, shoving his shoulder as hard as she can. 

“Whoa, calm it down little miss.” Bucky grumbles. 

“I’m gonna be late!” 

Bucky looks over at the alarm clock and realizes she’s right. “Shit.” 

“Bad word!!” 

“Becca!” Bucky snaps and instantly regrets it. “Quieter, bug. Please. Come on, let’s get moving.” 

Bucky hurries Becca through her morning routine, grabbing her tiny backpack and breakfast on their way out the door. Bucky knows he’s a mess, hair sloppily thrown up in a bun, sweatpants and a hoodie because he just can’t take the time to find real clothes. He doesn’t even bother to throw on his prosthetic. Becca nibbles at her string cheese and mini muffins as they hustle down the busy city sidewalks to her school, just finishing as they round the last corner. He gives her a quick hug and kiss before she runs into the building screeching hello to the teacher at the door. The teacher gives Bucky an odd look that he chalks up to him looking like a hot mess and he gives her a small wave and terse smile in return. 

It’s early yet and Bucky doesn’t have to worry about work for a few more hours so he decides to splurge and stop for coffee and a breakfast sandwich on his walk home. One treat won’t hurt and he’s still holding on to the warm feeling in his chest from last night’s date with Steve. Waiting in line a few other people give Bucky strange looks and he wonders how rough of shape he’s in. He prays there isn’t a giant rip on his clothes or something but after a discrete check he doesn’t think that’s the case. Just a weird morning then. 

The hoodie actually comes in handy once Bucky realizes he can’t carry both a sandwich and his coffee when he’s down an arm. Tucking the sandwich in his hoodie pouch, he sips the pumpkin spice latte slowly enjoying the sweet fall flavors on his way home. His phone starts chirping at him but with no free hand Bucky is forced to ignore it until he gets back to the apartment. It was going off earlier too and he figures who ever needs him so damn bad can just wait five more minutes. 

Bucky stretches out on the sofa to enjoy his breakfast, throwing on a random movie from his queue, when he finally looks at his phone. He wonders if the world is ending and he missed it somehow. Eight missed calls from Steve, two voicemails, and four texts. Two calls from Natasha, one voicemail, and two texts. Three texts from Clint. 

Natasha wants to know if he’s seen the news, if he’s okay, and what she can do to help. 

Clint also asks if he’s okay and tells him he’s an ass for not sharing the deets. 

Steve asks him repeatedly to call him, frantically apologizing in between. 

Still confused and becoming increasingly worried, Bucky brings up the news on his phone and finds his own face on the front page. The picture is from the night before, he and Steve walking back to his place with Becca on Steve’s shoulders. They look so happy that it tugs at Bucky’s heartstrings before the realization of what this means sinks in. He shoots a quick text to Natasha assuring her that he’s fine and he’ll catch up with her tonight. Clint gets two emojis in response: a thumbs up and the middle finger. Steve, he actually calls back. The blonde had sounded so worried in his voicemails. 

“Bucky, thank god.” Steve blurts out in lieu of hello. 

“Well good morning to you too.” Bucky jokes. 

“Are you okay? Is Becca okay?” 

“Yeah, Steve, we’re good. I just dropped Becca off a preschool. I don’t know what you’re worried about, it was a normal morning outside of a few funny looks. But honestly that was probably me going out looking like a hobo because I overslept.” 

“Buck…” Steve falters, “It won’t be long ‘til they figure out who you are. We can keep the press at bay here in the tower but you’re going to have some serious issues as soon as a reporter gets your name. You and Becca could come stay here for a bit or I can have a security team allocated to you both until the news dies down.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down a minute. We don’t need security and I’m not dragging Becca to Manhattan just because some dudes with cameras may or may not come pester us. We’ll be okay.” 

“I’m just worried about you guys. You didn’t sign on for the shit storm that’s blowing up right now. I’m so sorry, Buck.” 

“Actually, I did.” Bucky points out, “I’m not stupid, Steve. I knew what I was signing on for the minute we started talking. It’s gonna be okay, nothing lasts forever and Becca is a resilient kid.” 

Steve is quiet for a long moment, trying to compose himself to say what he knows he needs to say. “If you need to take some time apart until this all dies down…” he chokes up and lets the sentence lie. 

“No.” Bucky’s voice is firm. “I’m not running on you again. We’re gonna deal with this together.” 

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily in relief, “I’m going to be tied up today doing interviews. Apparently there’s no hiding the fact that I’m bisexual now. It’s funny that I’ve never tried to hide it but the news is claiming I’ve been ‘publicly outed’ by the tabloids. I’m not going to say a whole lot about you, about us. I don’t want to speak for you or anything. But if you’re okay with it, I would like to confirm that I’m in a relationship and that I care about you very much.” 

“Aww, you big sap. Yeah, of course that’s fine.” 

“Can I call you later when I have time?” 

“I’m working tonight but I’ll have a chance for a quick break around 10pm.” 

“I’ll talk to you then. If you need anything, I mean it Buck, anything, just call me. I’ll pick up on national TV if I have to.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes and hopes Steve can feel his exasperation through the phone lines. “Get going, ya punk. You have a country full of conservatives to horrify with your secret homosexual agenda.” 

Steve laughs, the first bit of happiness he’s had since waking up to the news. “Will do.” he says quickly and hangs up before his overly dramatic heart can blurt out something terribly stupid like I love you. He pushes down the tender, fledgling emotion, knowing it’s too fast but feeling the gentle flutters nonetheless. 

Natasha arrives at Bucky’s apartment a full hour early that night so he can get her caught up while making dinner for her and Becca, while Becca watches an episode of Wonder Pets in the living room. Natasha apparently watched a few interview clips of Steve’s and teases Bucky over how completely smitten they both are. It’s nice and normal, the teasing and banter over a new relationship with his best friend. It makes him think Steve really was just being overly concerned with his fears.

It’s a blessedly slow night at the ER and no one seems to recognize Bucky as he hops from one patient to the next, getting people stabilized and ready to be seen by one of the doctors on shift. When Steve calls at ten he sounds better than he had that morning. He’s exhausted from the media circus but pleased that he was able to get the story out in his own words. He asked for privacy for all their sakes but knows it won’t last long. Bucky continues to assure him that they’ll handle things as they come and to not worry. Steve can’t help but feel like it’s the calm before the storm. 

The calm only lasts until 2am. Dr. Strange pulls Bucky out of a patient room, pushing Darcy in to take his place and dragging him down the hall to the staff break room. “What the hell?” Bucky demands once the door is shut. 

Strange’s face is grim, “There are currently fifteen reporters in the lobby all asking if you’re working and if anyone has a statement they’d like to make.” 

Bucky’s stomach drops, “Fuck.” 

“Yes, fuck indeed. I’ve already made some calls and the police are on their way to clear house. We don’t expect that to last however. HR is willing to give you the rest of this week off, paid, while we sort out protocol for this sort of thing. Amanda will call you tomorrow to talk details once the board meets and decides what we can do to protect both you and our patients. We obviously can’t have reporters milling around every time you work.” 

Bucky doesn’t even know what to say. 

“If you want to go gather your things, Paul in security will escort you out the back away from the reporters.” 

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, because really what else can he do?

Darcy catches up with him as he’s packing up his locker, “They’re sending you home?” she cries, pulling him into a hug. 

Bucky nods numbly, “Rest of the week, yeah. They have to, there’s too much going on right now. It’s paid at least.”  

“Well that’s something.” Darcy concedes. “How are you getting home? It’s a madhouse out there.” 

“Paul’s gonna have me go out the back. I’ll be okay.” 

“Call me if you need me.” she insists, giving him another tight hug. 

Bucky promises he will and then follows the kindly old security guard through the maze of hospital halls and outside. 

The air is bitter cold and Bucky’s thankful for his heavy jacket as he hurries down the mostly empty streets home. Natasha is tapping away on her laptop when he arrives. She does cyber security work and swears she gets most of her work done after midnight anyway. It works out well when he needs help on his overnight shift rotations. 

“What happened?” she demands and slams the lid of her laptop down. 

Bucky shucks off his jacket and joins Natasha on the sofa. “Reporters showed up at the hospital, like a lot of them. Strange was on tonight, thank god, he’s a tough son of a bitch and he wasn’t putting up with crap from anyone. They snuck me out the back while the cops got rid of the reporters.” 

“But what about tomorrow? Is this gonna affect your job?” 

Bucky shrugs, trying to ignore the low level fear humming in his veins over that exact concern. “I honestly don’t know. HR is gonna call me tomorrow once they figure out ‘protocol’ for this. Somehow Strange got them to give me the rest of the week off with pay. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself for the next six days.” 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, surprised and happy for him. “I vote catching up on your Netflix queue and being a lazy ass. You never take a break, Bucky. And you of all people deserve one. Maybe go spend some more time with that gorgeous boyfriend of yours. Some kid-free time, if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her eyebrows until Bucky throws a pillow at her. She ducks easily, laughing. “I’m just saying! It’s been a long time since he-who-shall-not-be-named.” 

Bucky bristles at the mention of his ex. He should have seen Brock for the piece of shit he was, but he’d missed it at first, too wrapped up in the bliss of a new relationship. In the end, Brock’s true colors had come out and Bucky had ended things before it could become even more toxic than they already become. He sighs, pushing the ugly memories away. “It hasn’t been that long. And you’re forgetting Micah from the hospital cafe.” 

“It’s been four years since him. And Micah doesn’t count. That was a year ago and it didn’t go past a lunch date where he, and I quote, kissed you like a St. Bernard.” 

Bucky shudders at the memory. “Okay, so it’s been a while. Maybe I will go see Steve one day while Becca’s at school.” 

“That’s more like it!” Natasha cheers quietly, cautious to not disturb Becca. “So, do you want company or should I scoot and let you get some rest?” 

“I love you for offering but I just wanna crash. If I can get a few hours now I’ll be able to get back on daytime hours easier.” 

“Love you too.” Natasha leans over to hug him before packing up her stuff and heading out. 

It was a crazy day but as Bucky climbs into bed, he’s still resolved that it’s going to be okay again soon. 

Bucky is groggy when his alarm goes off at 7am but it’s better than he would have been if he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Becca is thrilled that he’s home and even more so when he tells her that he’ll be home the rest of the week. They make plans over breakfast for things they can do after she gets out of school since they have all the time in the world now. Bucky compromises with one quick park trip, which he cringes thinking about but he’ll just have to pack her inhaler and make sure she takes breaks, two trips to the library, and one night they’ll grab dinner at the neighborhood diner for their kids eat free night. 

The week flies by and Bucky gets the all clear on Thursday to return the following Sunday once the hospital is able to put additional security in place. He’s thankful they’re not just letting him go to avoid all the hassle but several nurses and doctors apparently made their opinions loud and clear that he was worth the additional security measures. Bucky is eternally grateful for his coworkers and makes plans to take in a tray of thank you brownies on his first shift back. 

A second round of good news comes in a few hours later; Steve is back early from his latest mission. They make plans for the following day, unwilling to wait any longer to see one another again. Steve will be, in theory, just hanging around the tower wrapping up some post-mission paperwork from earlier in the week so he’ll be able to take most of the day to show Bucky around the tower and spend time with him. He also offered to take them all to The Met after Becca gets out of school and Bucky said he’ll consider it. It’s a little extravagant, but something about picking her up together and going on an outing tugs at his heartstrings. It’s so perfectly domestic, like a real family would do. Bucky tries to ignore the longing he feels for something he’s never let himself consider before. 

There’s a lone reporter lingering outside his apartment when Bucky heads out to pick up Becca from school. There were a lot the first two days but their numbers dropped off drastically when they realized he really wasn’t all that interesting. “Hey man.” Bucky gives the reporter a little wave. He has to give the guy credit for determination. “Still not going to do anything interesting, sorry.” 

The reporter huffs a laugh, “Ya never know!” 

Bucky laughs in return and heads off, trying to ignore the fact that the man is following him a few steps back. He gives the guy a few more days before he gives up too. Bucky is a single parent with a full time job, he doesn’t have the time to do anything interesting. 

Rounding the corner to Becca’s school he spies the little girl talking to a man in a long beige wool coat. The man is tall and thin with greying hair and wire framed glasses. His appearance screams of wealth in a way that would make him fit right in as a parent of someone at the school, but something is off and Bucky steps up his pace. Becca hasn’t spotted him yet but he hears the man ask “Your daddy is friends with Captain America isn’t he?” 

Becca, all proud smiles, informs him, “He’s my brother, not my daddy. And Captain America is his boyfriend.” 

“Isn’t that nice. Hey, I have something you can give your brother for me, okay? Can you be a big helper? It’s right over here.” Becca looks unsure so the man smiles brightly and takes her hand, leading her down the sidewalk away from the school. A black van pulls up at the end of the block, a door swinging open and the man hurries her along. 

Bucky screams Becca’s name and breaks out into a full run. Icy fear consumes him, driving him to move faster than he ever has before. Please God no, please, don’t let them take my baby girl. 

The reporter realizes what’s going on and sprints right along with Bucky. They collide with the man and Becca at the same time. The reporter tackles the man, pinning him to the ground, leaving Bucky to grab Becca and roll to the ground shielding her in his arms. A teacher runs over with her phone out yelling “The police are on their way!” to them. 

The man writhes underneath the reporter, trying to free himself while looking panickedly at the van. The van door slides shut and then the vehicle flies off with screeching tires. Once it’s out of sight the man lays his head back on the pavement in defeat.

“Just stay put buddy.” the reporter grumbles. 

Now that Becca is safe Bucky is filled with a depth of rage he didn’t even realize he was capable of. Somebody tried to snatch his baby girl right in broad daylight. Bucky checks her over one more time before passing her off to the teacher who’s still holding on the line for 911. 

Bucky stalks over to where the reporter still has the man pinned. His movements are predatory, his voice low, practically a grow, when he demands, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

The reporter just stares at the man, also waiting for an answer. 

“I am one of many.”

Bucky shakes his head. God, he just wants to punch this guy in his smug face. “Fine. Who do you work for?” 

“Cut off one head and two more take its place.” 

“I’m getting real sick of riddles and I still got at least two minutes before the cops show. Last time, asshole. Who the fuck do you work for and why do you want my kid?”

“The child, or you, it matters not. Either will get us the captain. We are everywhere. We will come again, and we will succeed. Hail Hydra.” The man crunches down on something and within seconds he’s foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling lifeless back in his head.

Bucky looks to Becca, thankful the teacher is shielding her away from what took place. Ice cold fear runs in his veins. He knew there could potentially be a risk dating Steve, but it was an abstract sort of knowledge. Up until minutes ago he’d thought the only real concern was pesky reporters. Most of which, he has to admit, are actually good people just trying to make a living. A real threat, a fucking terrorist threat, is something he’d never really put much thought into. That name too: Hydra. Everyone knows of the Nazi group who Captain America has been trying to destroy since the 40s. A threat from them is very, very real. 

The cops arrive and start dispersing the crowd that’s formed. It seems like forever until they’ve taken statements from everyone and the body is removed. Becca holds up as well as a four year old can trying to answer the police man’s questions, and Bucky fills in gaps as he can. They take his statement too and let him know they can provide a security detail if he wants. The officer looks sheepish but also recommends he call Steve because Shield and the Avengers can likely provide better security than the NYPD can. Bucky thanks the officer and agrees to call Steve as soon as possible. 

Becca is shaking so hard by the time they head home that Bucky scoops the little girl up to carry her the whole way. Two uniformed officers follow them back and do a full sweep of the apartment just to err on the side of caution. Buck appreciates the security but as he stands in his too quiet apartment he realizes he can’t do this every day. He adopted Becca to give her a better life and now he’s put her in more danger than she ever would have been in being raised by their parents. All because some small part of him still held on to the hope that there was someone out there that he could love and would love him back wholeheartedly and forever. That despite his upbringing, he could have a perfect family of his own one day. Bucky feels painfully childish that his pathetic longing for a partner had almost cost him his sister. 

Ever the responsible parent, Bucky stifles the emotions whirling in his chest and puts on a good front for Becca’s sake. She falls asleep halfway through Frozen II and Bucky doesn’t even bother trying to wake her. He knows there’s no fighting the adrenaline crash she’s feeling. His own crash will be equally brutal when it comes, but for now it’s still nowhere in sight. Bucky is too keyed up, restless and desperately trying to find a solution that keeps all of them safe and happy. He drags a cup of coffee and a blanket out onto the fire escape where he sits to watch the sun drop lower and lower among the roof tops. He’s almost finished his drink when a knock sounds on the door. 

The security detail is supposed to be vetting anyone going near his apartment so the odds are good it’s someone he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from slipping a kitchen knife into his hand on the way to the door. Peering through the peephole Bucky sees red hair, black leather, and a very pissed off Natasha. “Let me in.” she says, it sounds like a warning. 

Bucky opens the door and stands out of the way. It’s not worth arguing with Natasha when she gets like this. 

“You turned off your phone.” She comments without emotion. 

Bucky nods. “I don’t want to deal with it right now.” 

Natasha follows him as he heads to the kitchen to return the knife, seemingly pleased by his caution. “By it, you mean Steve.” 

“Amongst other things.” 

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just name it.” 

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I keep coming to the same answer and I hate it, Nat. I just… I can’t do this to Becs.” Bucky’s voice cracks on the little girl’s name and Natasha wraps her best friend into a tight hug. 

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.” 

“I don’t even know how to do what I want to do. I’m sure it’s not nearly as easy as movies make it out to be.”

“Let me help. You and Becca mean the world to me. Whatever it is we’ll figure it out together.” 

Bucky sighs heavily, still leaning on Natasha. “We need to disappear.” 

Natasha goes still, “Are you sure?” 

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I can’t think of any other way to keep her safe. Even if I break up with Steve, Hydra can still use us as leverage. Feelings don’t just disappear... But people can.” 

“Okay. Give me four hours.” Natasha pulls back and starts texting rapidly on a small cell phone Bucky has never seen before. 

“What the fuck, Nat.” 

“Working in cyber security has some perks.” She shrugs. 

“I don’t think it’s normally supposed to have those kinds of perks.” 

“Well, it depends on who you’re keeping secure.” Nastaha’s smile is cheshire. 

“Damn. Okay, then. What do you need me to do?” 

“Stay put. I’d say try to get some sleep but I know you won’t. Pack a duffel bag for each of you. No more than that, I mean it. Think in terms of what you absolutely can’t leave behind, this is not packing for vacation. You can buy basic stupid shit when you get where you’re going. Two outfits and whatever else you can’t leave that fits in two duffels. Got it?” 

“Okay, got it.” 

“Oh, and your phone. You won’t be needing that anymore.” 

Bucky holds the phone out but doesn’t let go. “I have all of Becs’ baby pictures on there.” 

Natasha gives him an understanding smile. “I’ll move them all to an online cloud storage site. You won’t lose a single one.” 

Bucky releases the phone. “Thanks, Nat.” 

Natasha hugs him tightly again. “Four hours. Be ready.” 

And with that Bucky is left alone in his living room in shock. He supposes he shouldn’t be all that surprised. Natasha has always been a badass. He used to joke she was really a Russian spy and their friendship was just a cover for her real identity. Bucky now wonders now how close to the truth he might have been. 

Four hours later, down to the minute, Natasha is striding through his door once again, a large envelope tucked under her arm. There’s no warm welcome or pleasantries, Natasha has her game face on and Bucky is still too rattled to try for levity. Spreading the papers out on the coffee table Natasha organizes everything quickly. “Birth certificates, immigration paperwork, social security cards, school records, medical records, a resume with work history and references, and a quick life history fact sheet for both of you.” She places a wallet from her pocket onto the table as well, flipping it open quickly to show him it’s fully filled with cards, cash, and an ID card.

Bucky scans over the documents, unable to believe she had pulled this off so quickly and how real everything looked. “Sebastian Stan?” he asks, nose wrinkling. 

Natasha nods, “Yep, you’re Romanian. You moved here with your daughter Elena when she was two months old. Your wife died in childbirth and so you brought her here to start over.” 

He spies the address on the drivers license. “Rochester? Is that where we’re actually going?” 

“No, of course not. You and your daughter have recently moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine. That’s where you’re headed. You’ll be happy to know their local urgent care center is looking for a new triage nurse. The pay is pretty good and it’ll be enough to cover rent for the cute little apartment that you just put a down payment on.” Natasha pulls something from her pocket, it’s flesh colored and rolled up tightly. She hands it over with a simple, “Here, you’ll need this too. Don’t want that guy drawing too much attention to you.” 

Bucky stares at the silicone sleeve, realizing it’s a perfect fit for his prosthetic. The details are down to an art, from light arm hairs and tiny freckles. It’s soft enough too that as long as you don’t grasp it very hard, it’ll feel shockingly similar to his right arm. “Damn. You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Of course not. Who do you think you’re dealing with?” Natasha glares at him affectionately.

Bucky chuckles, of course she’s the best at this. She’s been the best at everything since the day they met. “What happens to Bucky and Becca Barnes then?” he’s afraid to ask but he needs to know.

“They got on a flight to Moscow two hours ago. There’s a few nice security officers and cab drivers who will all verify they were sighted leaving the airport about eight hours from now.” 

“That works for the rest of the world, but what happens if Steve goes looking? He has an awful lot of friends in high places.” 

“Steve isn’t going to go looking right now. And even if he did, the alibi will hold up. Trust me.” 

A tiny piece of Bucky’s heart shatters that Steve would just let him go so easily. 

Natasha recognizes the look on his face and quickly adds, “He called you non stop after the news broke. Sent you dozens of texts too. You very nearly had the full force of SHIELD and the Avengers on your doorstep if it wasn’t for Tony Stark.” 

“What happened?” 

“Tony convinced Steve that if you weren’t calling or responding that he was as good as dumped. The rumor mill always hinted their relationship was strained but Tony really is good at kicking Steve when he’s down and Tony played his cards right on this one. Steve has been holed up in his apartment all night, he’s not doing too great.” 

It kills Bucky to know he’s putting Steve through this pain, but he’s firm in his decision. He’d be more disappointed in himself but he’s too tired. Things got tough and he’s doing exactly what he’s been doing since he was a kid to protect himself: he’s running. “How do you even know all this?” Bucky asks, realizing Natasha shouldn’t have this level of detail on the goings on at the tower. 

“I hacked into the security feed at Avengers Tower. Jarivs was a handful but not more than I could handle. Tony Stark is brilliant but he’s also arrogant, and that’s his downfall.” 

“You are, without a doubt, the scariest person I’ve ever met. I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky can’t hold back the tears at the thought of leaving Natasha behind. 

“What do you mean, miss me? You went to college with Natalie Rushman, you’re even Instagram friends. You haven’t seen me in a few years but we still keep in touch regularly.” Natasha brings out yet another little black phone he’s never seen and shows him Natalie’s Instagram account. 

“How many of those little phones do you have tucked up your sleeve?” he teases.

“The world will never know.” she quips in return. “I do need to go though.” she adds in a more serious tone.

Bucky nods, he knew this was coming. He can’t get words past the lump in his throat.

“You have a train to catch in about forty minutes. That one will take you as far as Boston and there’s more tickets from there. Try and get some rest, you’ll be getting into town in Maine around eight in the morning.” 

“I’ve gone longer without sleep pulling doubles at the hospital, this won’t be nearly as bad.” 

Natasha gives him a half hearted smile, “You’re all set then.” 

Bucky pulls her in for one last hug. “I’ll message Natalie when we arrive.” 

“Mmm, yes. Sebastian would definitely snap a pic of his new hometown when he arrives. I’ve heard it’s very Insta-worthy.” Tears shine in Natasha’s eyes but they don’t fall. She swallows thickly. “Be safe.” 

“You too.” Bucky manages to croak out through the overwhelming tide of emotions. He holds her for one last heartbeat before she slips out the door like a ghost. 

Bucky goes through all the documents Natasha left behind and finds a thin red iPhone in the stack. There’s a post-it note stuck on top warning “do not activate until after you are on the second train”. So much for keeping himself occupied while he waits. In the end he spends most of the time pacing around the apartment and double checking his bags. He checks the time again, making sure he’s down to the final few minutes when he finally goes to get a sleeping Becca from her bed. She barely stirs as he carefully slides her into her warm purple jacket and slips socks and shoes on her feet. He slings her over his shoulder and collects the two duffels with his free hand. It’s a little jarring to see tan skin where he’s used to seeing shiny steel but he appreciates that Natasha thought of everything. 

He worries momentarily about the security detail outside his apartment but quickly realizes they’re distracted helping an elderly woman catch her escaped pomeranian who’s barking up a storm. It’s a good diversion, one clearly planned out. Bucky holds on tightly to Becca and all but runs down the hall to the stairwell. He doesn’t slow down until he’s two blocks away and he realizes he really did escape without being sighted. Slowing his pace to a normal New York hustle, he heads towards the train station and to their new lives.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

“She’s my best friend.”

“Your very nosy best friend.”

Dana threw Kyungsoo a glare, but coming from the soft-spoken mate, it didn’t really pack any heat behind it, especially when compared to Kyungsoo’s icy stare downs.

“When is she coming?” Junmyeon asked, his worried expression etching lines into his otherwise youthful face.

“In a couple days,” Dana replied. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She said she’s bored where she’s at and that she misses me. I miss her too, but….”

You were still confused as to what the big deal was. “Is her coming to see her friend a bad thing?”

“(y/n)…,” Soomi scolded. You shrugged innocently at her.

Dana sighed. “Kyungsoo’s right. Mina’s very nosy, especially if she even thinks she senses something’s off. She doesn’t know about werewolves or witches or anything supernatural. Keeping her unaware is going to be a challenge.”

“She can’t come to the farmhouse,” Junmyeon said as he let out an exasperated sigh.

Kyungsoo nodded. “Of course.”

“Quite the time to make a surprise visit, huh?” Jongdae snapped. He definitely wasn’t the only one thinking it given the nodding consensus around the room.

“The timing is weird,” Kris agreed, “but coincidences happen. Dana will keep her away from the farmhouse and the woods and we’ll go about as usual. It’s not like we haven’t been practicing how to be normal our whole lives.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that. Several wolves gave you confused looks. Maybe it was because you’d spent a majority of your life trying to pretend to be the witch equivalent of “normal” that you found amusement in what the alpha had said. You’d learned a while back that “normal” was just a setting on the washing machine.

“I guess you’ll have to stay at your apartment while she’s here,” Kyungsoo muttered disappointedly. Dana gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, but it did little good. The wolf turned and went back to the food still cooking on the stove top. Apparently, that was the end of the conversation because everyone went back to their business from before Dana had shown up with her news.

You’d come to the conclusion that not much bothered these boys. Whether it was because of what they’d gone through in the past or because they didn’t deem too much to be a threat to them, they didn’t worry easily. Besides the alphas, that is. You had to admit, it was a bid admirable, but it could also be considered stupid. You didn’t think this Mina was anyone to worry about, however, looks could be deceiving. Very deceiving. And assumptions could be dangerous…

**

For the millionth time since you’d come to the farmhouse, you were sitting on the couch, going over all your notes on your visions that you’d taken down. You were desperate to figure out what it all meant, but looking at the half-sentences and vague descriptions made you feel like you were trying to put together a thousand piece puzzle without any sort of hint to what the final picture may be. It didn’t help that your mind wanted to focus on the vision with the wolf. To you, it was irrelevant. There was no immediate danger attached to the scene – accept maybe the wolf itself. However, you didn’t think it would hurt you, at least not on purpose. By now, you were pretty sure it was Sehun, the other supposedly white wolf, Luhan, easily ruled out. Part of you was even hoping that is was Sehun. But why?

You refused to fall into the same trap Soomi did. And yet, how many times did you find yourself replaying the garage in your mind? You wanted to hit the memory out of your head with your notebook, but it was no use. It was stuck there, refusing to budge. Being tortured like this was not what you had signed up for when you reluctantly agreed to come here. Stupid wolf. Stupider witch.

“Hey, witch girl!”

You peaked over the edge of your notebook to see who’d called out to you. Hae In – one of the more outspoken mates – stood behind the arm of the couch where your feet rested, hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips. Behind her was Harper. The ex-hunter was shifting nervously as her eyes darted around the room. She always seemed to be on edge no matter what the situation.

“We’re going to meet up with Dana and her friend,” Hae In informed you. Her usual boldness and straight-to-the-point attitude was still very much present. It didn’t matter that the two of you hadn’t interacted much, she treated you like everyone else around the house. But you liked that about her. It made you feel less ostracized in a way. “Soomi said we could take you with us. Let’s go.”

Harper threw her cousin a tired look, “Innie….”

Hae In wasn’t fazed at all. “What? If I was her, I’d want out of this house, too. I can still remember poor Jinyoung going crazy.”

Harper rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue further. And neither did you. Closing the notebook, you tossed it down on the coffee table and leapt to your feet. “I’m down.”

“Awesome!” Hae In threw Harper a triumphant look before spinning on the balls of her feet and waltzing out of the room. The latter simply shrugged at you and followed her out.

You were hot on their heels until you came to a screeching halt just before the steps on the porch. Baekhyun, it seemed, would be coming with you. So this was not to be a “girls only” thing. With the energy that was brewing in the air at the moment, you were half tempted to go back inside. Currently, Baekhyun had his fingers wrapped around the handle of the front passenger door. He wasn’t glaring at Harper, but you could tell there was an uneasiness behind his eyes. You weren’t aware of the entire situation that occurred between former enemy and the pack, but you figure that if she was going to betray everyone, it would have happened by now so there was no point in not trusting her.

With a short nod, Harper stepped up to the back car door behind the driver’s side and slid in. It seemed she was letting the wolf take the front seat. Hae In honked her horn, bringing your focus back to the present, and you ran to take the remaining seat in her little Honda. It was about an hour into town, a shorter trip than what you had to take back home. As each road sign passed and the buildings on the horizon grew larger, you became antsier, eager to get out and wander around civilization. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harper slightly smile at you before turning her head to face out her own window.

Hae In parked near the center of town in the business district. Decorating the middle of the prosperous area was the red brick clock tower, like a beacon luring in shoppers with money to spend within its territory. But as intriguing as the timeless structure was, it was the figure leaning up against the base that caught your eye.

The unmistakable orange hair stood out even as dozens of patrons milling about the square, blocking most of him from view. His arms were crossed lazily over his chest with his eyes focused in on the cracking cement by his feet. Just to his left, Dana and Kyungsoo were having a conversation, the wolf looking a bit annoyed, but even from where you stood by the car you tell it wasn’t directed at Dana. When the group you were with approached the others, you found out the reason for his annoyance.

“Mina’s going to meet us at the restaurant,” Dana explained while you tried extremely hard to focus on her and not let your eyes wander over to Sehun. He hadn’t even acknowledged the group’s arrival. “She’s running a bit behind.”

“She overslept and thinks she needs to spend an hour getting ready,” Kyungsoo elaborated with a blank face.

“Let’s just go,” Sehun said in a bored tone as he pushed off the clock tower. It seemed he’d come out of whatever thoughts were keeping his attention previously. “I’m starving. She can just join us when she does.”

Dana looked like she wanted to argue, but Kyungsoo reached out and took her hand, squeezing her fingers reassuringly. That seemed to be the catalyst to give in. “Okay,” Dana agreed. “I’ll send her the name of the restaurant. She’ll find us.” Under her breath, she added, “Hopefully.”

The group made its way across the square towards a small Mexican restaurant squeezed in between a clothing boutique and an eyebrow salon. Keeping to yourself quietly near the back, you learned as you walked that Luhan wouldn’t be joining the group since he was out on perimeter duty at the moment.

“What’s perimeter duty?” you asked out of curiosity. You had a pretty good guess, but….

Sehun was the one who answered. “Kris and Junmyeon have everyone running the surrounding area in case we come across something that might be considered helpful.”

Both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo threw the youngest an odd look, but nothing more was said as the group entered the restaurant. Right away, the hostess should you to a table off to the side of the large room. You were thankful that you and Sehun sat on the same side with Hae In and Baekhyun in between. That way you were less tempted to look at him. That didn’t stop the occasion glance out of the corner of your eye, but you hope it was subtle enough to go unnoticed by the others.

As soon as the chips and salsa were placed on the table, you took that as the perfect distraction to occupy your attention. Baekhyun was keeping most of the table entertained with the random facial expressions and nonsensical sentences leaving his mouth. The waiter came around and took the drink orders, leaving to give everyone a minute longer to pick what sounded good from the menus that had barely been looked at. Another fifteen minutes went by and you were starting to wonder if Dana’s friend was going to show up at all.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!”

You looked up from the pieces of tortilla chip in your hands and froze.

Dana’s friend Mina was a tall girl with light blonde hair and milky skin to match. Just like the woman in your vision.

Jumping up from her seat, Dana gave her best friend a long hug, completely unaware of your reaction to the new arrivla’s appearance. In fact, no one else seemed bothered or to make the connection they took their seats.

“Hey,” Harper whispered, leaning towards you from her seat in front of you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded a little too eagerly, leaning back in your seat. The waiter, noticing the newcomer, brought Mina a cup of water and took her order after she barely glanced at the menu.

“You get the same thing every time,” Dana teased.  

Mina shrugged, flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder in the process. Her eyes wandered over everyone at the table before they landed on Sehun who sat across from her. Like lightning, her hand was out, reaching over the chips and salsa. “Hi, I’m Mina.”

Sehun shifted in his seat, uncrossing his arms long enough to shake her hand before assuming the position once again. “Sehun. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re one of Kyungsoo’s friends, right?” He nodded. “I’m surprised that Dana is comfortable around so many people,” Mina commented, barely glancing at who she was referring to before going back to the one person she was actually addressing. “Groups like this used to make her uncomfortable.”

“A lot’s changed in the last few years,” Dana defended. Making eye contact with Kyungsoo, she slipped her hand into his. The usually stoic wolf let his lips spread into a wide grin, the kind of look that he reserved only for his mate.

“And I’m so happy for you,” Mina said happily as she pulled her friend into another hug.

The conversation drifted into what Dana had been up to lately. She was careful to avoid anything that might accidentally roam into the area of the wolves that lived in the woods.

“So, Sehun, what do you do most days?” Mina asked out of nowhere. She placed her chin in her folded hands as her elbows rested on the table. A glance was exchanged between Baekhyun and Hae In, but if Mina noticed she wasn’t deterred.

In reply to her obviously flirtatious inquiry, Sehun shrugged. “Depends on the day. Sometimes I’m home, sometimes I’m at Kris’ shop, helping out there.”

A sparkle shine in her eyes. “So, no girlfriend to hang out with?”

You shoved your tongue in your cheek, biting down hard to avoid any sort of sarcastic comment flying out of your mouth. She was being shamefully obvious to the point that by now even the mated couples at the table – who weren’t particularly shy about PDA and innuendoes – were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Sehun, however, was just as unconcerned as ever. “No. No girlfriend.”

Mina nodded with a Cheshire cat grin. “Interesting. When I asked Dana if she had anyone to introduce me to, she said all of her friends were taken.”

“You’re just visiting,” Dana murmured, a deep frown on her lips. “What’s the point?”

“Well, you know me, I’m always on the move.” She sent her friend a wink and a sly smile.

Your blood was boiling even though you had no reason to be irritated. Part of you kept waiting for Sehun to tell her he wasn’t interested, but he kept his mouth closed, letting the nerve-grating comments keep on coming.

Perhaps what was bothering you was the fact that she looked just the woman in your vision. No, you never saw her face when the premonition hit, but the hair and skin was almost a perfect match. Maybe that was why you were on edge. Yeah, that had to be it… right?

You stared at the glass of water in front of you, fighting with yourself, repeating that what happened in the garage meant nothing – as nothing even happened – and it didn’t give you any right or reason to be jealous. Closing your eyes, you started the deep breath exercises Mother Willow had taught you when you felt your emotions getting out of control.

“You know,” Mina said, “Dana can’t hang out with me all the time. So, would you be interes- ah!”

You jumped at the sound of the glass rattling against the table before it rolled away. Water splashed all over Mina’s pretty sky blue skirt, leaving a spot the size of your palm in the most unflattering of places. Crap. You hadn’t meant to do it. Your guilt must have been written all over your face. When you risked looking up from the fallen cup, your eyes met Sehun’s. He was staring at you with a furrowed brow, head tilted to the side. As quickly as you could, you shrank back in your seat to hide yourself from view. Harper was glancing at you as well, her eyes flickering back and forth from Mina to you. Right in this moment, you were wishing that invisibility was a power you possessed. 

So maybe some damn self-control.

**

After getting home from the restaurant, you immediately rounded the house and bee lined for the woods. You’d let your emotions control your powers. Again. And in front of witnesses, no less. While everyone at the table had assumed it was a strange accident possibly caused by an unstable surface, you could tell that Harper’s mind was going in a different direction – you. Her eyes shifted to you throughout the rest of the meal, noticing that you were barely touching your food and not joining in on any of the conversation.

Despite being doused in water, Mina insisted on continuing her flirtatious pursuit of Sehun. Your nails dug into your upper arms with each new line, surely leaving behind half-moon indentions that were thankfully covered by the long sleeves of your shirt. All you wanted to escape from this internal embarrassment.

The forest created the perfect cover. As soon as you thought you were far enough in to be invisible from the house, you slowed down a leisurely walk. You knew you were going to have to tell Soomi about the incident eventually. From what you’d gathered about Baekhyun’s personality, this was not something that would remain among the group. He’d find it too funny that while Mina was hitting on Sehun her glass suddenly spilt all over her to keep it to himself. While she didn’t exactly know about your conflicting emotions regarding the wolf, she’d still be suspicious enough to confront you about it. You just needed some time alone before you faced that conversation. The last thing you wanted was for her to worry about you losing control.

After half an hour or so of walking, you came across a river that intertwined through the trees. It wasn’t very deep, but the water was clear to allow you to see the small, hand-sized fish that swam through the barely existent current. They were unbothered by your presence as you sat down near the edge. Tiny fins kept them stead as they searched the tiny pebbles for possible food.

With the sun shining down through the tree leaves, you could just barely make out your reflection on the surface of the water. Sometimes you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Sure, you knew the features – the nose, the eyes, the hair – but the person behind them had become lost. You toed the line between being the witch you were expected to be and wanting to use the powers that were given to you, see how far you could push them until they reached their limit. It was easily to blame the elders in this. To you, the smart decision would have been to teach you how to control your powers, not force you to suppress them. They wouldn’t magically go away through non-usage. But no one cared about your opinion. To them, you were just a young witch with horrible impulse control and lesser knowledge about these things.

The rustling of leaves pulled you from your thoughts of self-pity. Your eyes grew wide as Sehun sat down beside you on the ground, leaving at least two feet of space between you. Great. Was he cautious of you now? With a roll of your eyes, you turned back to the water. “What are you doing here?”

“Harper said you came out here,” he shrugged. It was lost on you why he would even care whether you were out here or in the house or anywhere in the vicinity. He couldn’t be upset at what had happened at the restaurant. If he was, well then, he could just suck it up.

You threw your hands up. “So, you found me. You can go about your business now.”

“You made the glass spill over, didn’t you?”

Well, wasn’t that just fantastic. He really had made the connection that it was you after all.

Picking up a smooth rock barely the length of your pinky, you flipped it over in your palm a few times as you mulled over his question. For as long as you could remember, keeping your powers a secret beyond the coven had been the number one rule in your life. Scratch that – rule number two. The first one was to not use them in the first place. Soomi had emphasized the importance of that rule before you came here. The pack was already wary of witches and you couldn’t entirely blame them. For the first time in your life, though, you were scared to admit to them, to your powers. In the past, you’d never shied away from admitting to their existence; that yes, the strange incident was all your doing. Hiding who you were had never been something you liked to do. But in this moment, you were afraid. How could you be so worried about what this wolf would think of you? In this moment, you were the most afraid of being considered the freak than you ever had been before.

You pulled in as much air into your lungs as possible before emptying them once again. You flipped the rock over in your palm one more time before tossing it into the river. The ripples blurred your face in the water before slowly disappearing. If only you could fade away like the waves. “Yeah,” you admitted. “That was me.”

Sehun nodded. Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting any other answer. “Can all witches do that?”

“No,” you said bluntly. What was the point of beating around the bush? “Not without a lengthy incantation and even then, some can’t.”

“But you can just… do it?”

“Yup.”

There was nothing but the sound of the river for a moment or two. What you would give right now to be able to read minds. The possibilities could be endless for whatever was going through his mind. Which part was he focusing on? Was it the fact that you could do things like tip over a glass of water? Or was he making an assumption as to why you did it?

“Which did you move?” he suddenly asked, making you jump.

You frowned, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

For the first time since he arrived, he turned to look at you. “The water or glass? Which one were you moving?”

“Oh.” You blinked, trying to figure out the best way to explain this. “It was the water. I’m not telekinetic, although that wouldn’t be a bad gig.”

“Being able to move water doesn’t sound too bad, either,” he said with a small, crooked smile. His reaction to your confession was so understated, as if this was something he’d come across before. It made you comfortable. Perhaps a little too comfortable.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. “But when you add in the other stuff, it kind of freaks people out.”

Sehun leaned back on the palms of his hands, looking at you with eyes full of curiosity. “The other stuff?”

You picked at your cuticles nervously. It was a bad habit that you thought you’d broken a while back, but the compulsion was rearing its ugly head again. “It’s not just water that I can manipulate. It’s… kind of all the elements. Fire, water, air, earth. All that jazz. It’s kind of a rare thing, for witches. Like, it’s been a few centuries kind of rare.”

“That’s….” He struggled to find a word to put to the news you were telling him. Unable to do so, he went another route. “If you can do this, why has Soomi been teaching you about plant magic?”

This was a question you were subconsciously dreading. “The elders are… concerned about the fact that I can do these things since, according to history, it didn’t end very well last time. A lot of people died because of that witch. They think it’s best if I don’t use them too much. Plant magic sort of defaults to good. There’s never been a witch who trained in it that went dark. A few evil ones have used that kind of magic before, but that was never their specialty. The mothers think it’s safer.”

“But you don’t agree?”

You scoffed. “How could I? You saw what happened at the restaurant. There’s times I can’t control it and things like that occur. They think suppression is the answer, but-” You swallowed back the words that were about to leave your tongue. Never had you been tempted to release those thoughts to anyone – not Mother Willow or Soomi – so why did you almost let them go now? There was something about Sehun that got to you; something that caused holes to appear in your walls. Fearful that you might actually make him run away, you looked down at the eroding rocks that decorated the riverbed.

“But what?” he surged.

“It’s nothing.” The lie felt like acid on your tongue, but it was the kind of lie you were used to telling. Somehow, though, saying it to the orange haired wolf made you feel guiltier than normal. “I’d just prefer to be able to use them, that’s all.”

Everything about Sehun’s demeanor screamed that he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t verbalize his suspicions. He nodded as he sat up, pretending he was taking you at your word. His eyes danced around the surrounding area, careful not to land in your direction. You couldn’t help but think that you made him uncomfortable now, the element controlling witch residing not just in his home, but in his bedroom.

“You must think I’m a freak now, huh?” You hadn’t meant to ask that out loud, but his reaction was… well it was hurting you.

But when Sehun finally looked at you, he seemed confused as to why you could ask such a thing. His brow was scrunched, forming a harsh line above the bridge of his nose. His eyes shined a dark amber for only a second before fading back to their usual brown. Shaking his head, Sehun scoffed. “You’re not a freak. Different, sure, but not a freak.”

“You were acting like I make you uncomfortable,” you pointed out.

The way he sucked in his lips and ran a hand through his hair told you that you were right. “I- I don’t think you’re a freak,” he repeated.

That made you roll your eyes. “You can say that as many times as you’d like, but have you ever heard of the phrase that actions speak louder than words?”

Sehun growled at your argument, but you didn’t flinch at the aggressive sound. Your response was to simply raise an eyebrow and wait. Heavy air escaped through his lips as he looked away. Tension was visible in all his muscles, especially where his neck and hands were exposed. It was like you were watching an internal struggle before your eyes, having seen the signs before within yourself. There was no telling what was going on with him, what he was wrestling with. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know, in case it harmed your ego. Suddenly, he turned to face you, his eyes a brighter amber than before. And they stayed that way. Not once did they flicker or fade back to a normal, human color. The change made you lean back, the tiniest bit of fear lighting up inside you. But that small movement seemed to encourage him.

Your heart was pounded again, exactly like it did back in the garage. Sehun was coming closer. He leaned in as if the space between you didn’t even exist. Why was it that every time he came in close proximity you froze like a deer in the middle of the road? He certainly felt like a speeding car coming at you a hundred miles an hour and whatever damage was done when the two of you finally collided would resonate for the rest of your lives.

In time, however, he swerved away, squeezing his eyes shut as he replaced the space between you. The veins on his hands were visible from how hard he was clenching his fists. “You should go back to the house,” he suggested through gritted teeth. “Soomi’s worried about you.” When you continued to sit there and stare at him, he growled, “Go!”

You huffed. What the hell had you done? He was the one who kept invading your space, saying cryptic things, and flipping back and forth between ignoring you and seeking you out. “Whatever.” You jumped up to your feet and made your way back to the clearing, happy to be putting distance between the two of you.

[artificialqueens]

Like They Do in Vegas, 1/5 (Vanique) - Mac

AN: This fic came about from a series of prompts I did on my blog and is entirely Ortega’s fault. I blame her, and this is also dedicated to her because Vanique is a god tier ship and I needed to contribute in some way.

As always, Meggie is a lovely person and I thank her endlessly for betaing this.

And to you at home I hope you enjoy!

BGM Challenge Notes: Vanessa and Monique’s friends show up in Chapter 4! And I’m working on a playlist for this AU that I’ll link next chapter!

Summary: Vanessa is a Casino Girl just trying to get by. Monique is a mysterious rich stranger. They meet in the city of sin. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 1: Go Big or Go Home

Vanessa arrived exactly twenty minutes before she was scheduled to clock in.

She threw her purse into the row of lockers and headed for the back of the small employee lounge. She passed the clock-in computer, the whiteboard on the wall, the flyers for various shows around town, and walked all the way to the last dressing room, after noticing the other two were already occupied. Vanessa smiled instinctively at the sound of Vixen’s voice raised above the sound of someone else playing music. She was yelling to whoever was in the adjacent dressing room, recounting a story of the night’s events.

Vanessa got dressed quickly, slipping out of her plain black jeans and sweater combination and into her sparkly silver dress that caught and reflected beams of light in a way that she had been told was mesmerizing. Vanessa never really noticed before she started working here, the dress most likely having been picked off a sales rack back home. It didn’t matter where it came from now.

What mattered now was that Vanessa’s hair was a mess.

Aquaria told her so and tried to sound exasperated when she did. It only ended up coming out fondly. Vanessa gave her a winning smile and batted her lashes too for good measure before the younger girl rolled her eyes and motioned to the chair beside her. Aquaria went to town on curling the particularly unruly strands, but there wasn’t time for much else; they both knew another round of patrons was due to hit any minute now.

Everyone that worked in Vegas knew the waves.

11 p.m. brought the moms and the bachelorette parties.

11:30 p.m. brought older couples and divorcees.

12 a.m. brought the guys with girlfriends.

12:30 a.m. brought the guys without girlfriends.

1 a.m. brought the wealthy singles, and the wealthy not-so-singles.

1:30 a.m. brought in the drunk people.

2 a.m. was what girls like Vanessa liked to call ‘closing time.’ Seal the deal or your ass was out on the curb for the night.

Luckily, Vanessa had an apartment, unlike some of the other casino girls. And the 300 square feet could be roomy—if she closed her eyes.

Vanessa made do.

Aquaria shooed her away from the chair at 12:55, giving Vanessa ample time to squeeze every last detail from Vixen, who was more than happy to recount yet another story about a creepy man trying to get her to join his brothel.

Offers like that were strangely common in this line of work. Well, maybe they weren’t so strange.

Most people thought they were sex workers anyway. Prostitutes or strippers, whores hired to seduce the male patrons and run them dry. Some of the other girls saw it that way. But as far as Vanessa was concerned, she was a glorified waitress. Her job was to facilitate the purchase of alcohol. The more people drank, the prettier she looked; the more they bet, the more they lost or won, the more money the casinos made.

In a lot of ways, it was a dream job. Vanessa got paid to look pretty and talk. Two things she was naturally gifted at.

Out on the main floor of the casino, Vanessa began her usual route around the space. She spent a good few minutes just drawing eyes, pulling focus from the card games, slot machines, and general greed. She walked slowly, careful to tilt her head down, flutter her eyelashes when patrons were close enough to see the eye makeup she had hurriedly done on the bus.

Vanessa was good at her job. She found a mark within five minutes.

Older guy. Late fifties. Nicely dressed. Seemingly ordinary. But what Vanessa instantly noticed was his watch. Rolex, one of the older ones. That’s ultimately how Vanessa picked all her marks. Her daddy used to say ‘what a man wears on his wrist he wears with pride.’ There was something more about shoes and hiding, but Vanessa never remembered that part.

She was fine with the Rolex, but she had really been hoping to find a Patek tonight.

Rolexes only started at $5,000.

But Vanessa made do.

She waltzed over to the roulette wheel, making sure to smile warmly at the employee behind the table. She gracefully rested her hands on the edge of the table as the casino employee gave a nearly imperceptible nod toward Mr. Rolex. Vanessa winked at him in thanks.

“You know I always go for 32,” Vanessa said to the group of men who had just started to take notice of her presence. She honed her sights on Mr. Rolex to see his reaction.

He practically preened under the attention. Vanessa rolled her eyes internally.

This was getting too easy.

Mr. Rolex eventually pulled up another seat and sent Vanessa to the bar three times before turning to ask her name.

If she were anywhere else, doing any other job, Vanessa might have been offended.

She only batted her eyes and giggled animatedly. “Vanjie,” she lied.

Mr. Rolex took that as his cue to lean in closer and press a whiskery kiss to Vanessa’s neck. She did her best not to freeze up under the attention and to just go with it.

It was then while pretending she was anywhere else, that Vanessa noticed a woman at the opposite end of the casino. She was sitting alone in one of the plush chairs that made up the lounge. It was noticeable because she was alone and fucking gorgeous. Long flowing dark hair and the tightest red dress Vanessa had ever seen that fell off her curves like water.

Vanessa was intrigued instantly. No woman that looked like that was alone in Vegas for no reason.

She convinced Mr. Rolex and his new buddies that they needed more gin and made her way quickly over to the bar, allowing herself the immense pleasure of ogling the strange woman from afar.

For all her smooth grace and easy confidence, Vanessa was rendered nearly incoherent when it came to women. Men were easy. You leaned over the table and their monkey brains took over. Women on the other hand… Women were a different species.

Vanessa tried to squeeze information from the bartender. He knew nothing, only that she ordered a martini and had been sitting alone all night.

Vanessa couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her. So she did something stupid. Something stupid and silly that she would beat herself up over later: she ordered the mystery woman a martini. Vanessa went back over to Mr. Rolex and his friends, placed the drinks in front of them, and then made up an excuse about ‘being right back’ and having to ‘take care of something.’

Mr. Rolex and his friends were too engrossed in their game to care and Vanessa slipped away without any fuss.

As she headed back over to the bar, Vanessa noticed the woman was gone from her spot in the lounge. Vanessa’s heart sank in her chest and she was tempted to throw the whole night out as a waste when she noticed the woman perched at the bar looking directly at her.

“So you’re the cute thing that ordered me a drink,” the woman said by way of a greeting. “This one,” she nodded her head at the bartender, “was tellin’ me you don’t do that for many people. Should I be honored?”

“You tell me,” Vanessa shot back, surprising even herself with her quick wit.

The woman chuckled in response, throwing her head back and causing a commotion with her joy. Something inside Vanessa ached to be that free.

The woman motioned to the barstool next to her and Vanessa took it without another thought.

“You play much?” Vanessa asked, motioning to the various gambling methods.

“Betting?” the woman asked. “Not usually. I get sucked in, and you know what they say.”

“Hmm?”

“Greed is a sin.”

Vanessa laughed. “Oh baby, you in the city of sin.”

“Monique,” the woman corrected.

“What?”

“Not ‘baby.’ Monique.”

Vanessa smiled, and the woman, Monique, smiled back.

She raised up her hand to take a sip of her drink and Vanessa nearly choked at the sight of a Mille RM 51-02 draped elegantly over Monique’s wrist.

She had never seen a Mille in person before, having only ever heard stories of the watches that started at $30,000 and could go up to two million.

The vortex of gold and silver embedded in the watch face drew Vanessa’s eyes and she couldn’t help the smile overtaking her face. “Well, you know what they say, Monique?”

The corner of Monique’s mouth quirked up and she shook her head no.

Vanessa smirked. “Go big or go home.”

…

Vanessa smiled into her drink as Monique threw her head back in a laugh.

The sound reverberated off the glass in her hand, and Vanessa was sure that the joy in Monique’s voice had more to do with the warmth in her stomach than the alcohol.

“So what is it that you do, Vanjie?” Monique asked, her voice alight with humor and warmth.

“You ain’t never met a casino girl before?”

Monique shook her head no.

“I look pretty and get drinks,” Vanessa chuckled. “Speakin’ of,” Vanessa trailed off, looking to the side door where she could clearly make out her boss, Ms. Visage, glaring at her. “I’d love to keep talkin’ but—”

“How ‘bout I play some games?” Monique offered. “That should get her off your back, yeah?”

And now Vanessa was sure the alcohol couldn’t be the cause of the warmth because her whole body lit up under the knowledge that Monique wanted to spend more time with her.

“Thought you didn’t gamble,” Vanessa teased. “Somethin’ about it bein’ a sin…”

“I think if the Lord were in my place, he’d understand.”

They made the rounds: slot machines, poker, and Vanessa’s favorite, Blackjack.

The Blackjack tables were set apart from the rest of the casino, some architect really letting loose with the layout of the section. The ceiling was arched, and the tables were long surrounded by plush seating rather than the stiff angled chairs that lined the other tables.

Vanessa assumed her favorite position, perching herself on the arm of the chair while leaning into Monique’s presence, allowing her easy access to duck down and huskily whisper words of encouragement. All the while keeping their skin from touching.  

It was an old move. One she had learned her first week working here. The girls called it the Blackjack Bag. You made it so you were constantly leaning down to whisper directly in your target’s ear; this gave you the excuse to flaunt your cleavage while also getting a target riled up by the sound of your voice.

The Blackjack tables are where you bagged targets, hence, the title.

Monique seemed to be no different in that respect. No matter how hard she tried to hide her flush, each time Vanessa leaned down to compliment her, her hands tightened on her cards.

She was doing well. She had gotten a face card nearly every hand, and she knew when to fold and when to go for it. Vanessa was impressed. She told her as much.

“Beginner’s luck really does exist,” Vanessa teased.

Monique pulled her head back to look Vanessa up and down, taking her time to really take the younger woman in. “I’ll show you luck,” she said as she moved her massive pile of chips to the middle.

“All in.”

The men at the table squawked in a mixture of shock and protest. Monique just made a vague hand motion to keep playing.

Vanessa’s jaw was on the floor.

Monique only had a three and a queen. Statistically, at least one of the other players had to have higher cards than that.

The house went around, the men to her left and right got another card, but Monique stayed calm, and denied it.

It was then that Vanessa realized what Monique was doing.

She was using Vanessa as a lie detector almost, signaling to the other players what cards she had. Vanessa kept her expression neutral, and did a damn good job of it too because the other players all looked at her surprised.

As expected, they all folded, and Monique took back her mound of chips and the additional bets.

She looked up at Vanessa with a self-satisfied smirk, never breaking eye contact as she flipped her cards over.

The table erupted.

Two can play your games, she had said without opening her mouth.

Vanessa just smirked.

At one point, after Monique bested some business suit out of his measly twenty grand, the man approached Vanessa and attempted to make a move, running his hands harshly up and down her sides. Vanessa rejected him but pointed him in the direction of one of her fellow employees.

He didn’t seem to get the hint until Monique looked up from her cards and wrapped an arm possessively around Vanessa’s middle.

“I think,” she practically spit, “my girl told you to get lost.”

The suit looked at them with a raised eyebrow but didn’t dare say anything more. Vanessa felt white heat in her gut at the feeling of Monique’s arm around her, and she had to take a second to compose herself.

Vanessa turned back to the game and was surprised to find Monique’s eyes searching her own. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” Vanessa tried to brush it off, “but you know, it’s Vegas.”

“And that makes it okay?”

Vanessa shook her head lightly. “Nah, but what can ya do?”

Monique looked at her hard, calculating. She didn’t say anything, but turned back to her game, placing her cards on the table before attempting to stand up

“I fold.”

Vanessa looked at her shocked. “You were winning, wha—”

Monique stood in front of her, eyes wide, asking permission, seeing if this was real. The vulnerability in her expression nearly made Vanessa take a step back.

“You wanna get out of here?” Monique asked, expression unassuming and open. “You can say no. I—”

Vanessa stopped Monique with a hand to her face. The first skin to skin contact. “Do I look like I wanna say no?”

[captcas]

Worth Fighting For (6/?)

WORTH FIGHTING FOR by capthamm

Killian “Hook” Jones is a dominate up and comer in the UFC while Emma “The Savior” Swan’s career was cut short. When Hook’s manager moves up and the office brings in UFC’s youngest legend to keep him in check, will either of them be able to handle it?

read on ao3 // tumblr: ch 1/ ch 2 / ch 3 / ch 4 / ch 5

[CHAPTER 6/?]

“Humbert, huh? Didn’t peg him as your type, Swan.” When Emma called to move today’s check-in meeting with Regina to tomorrow afternoon, he pried as to why. He was foolish to assume it had something to do with him.

Why would it? It’s not like she kissed the living daylights out of him on Friday.

One day he’ll stop chasing this woman.

“Yeah, well he asked if I wanted dinner and I figured why not.” She’s deflecting, and he can sense she didn’t plan on telling him this. “That’s none of your business anyway. Can you move the meeting or not?”

“As you wish, Swan.” He hangs up after agreeing to her new meeting. Not wanting to hear anymore about her date.

He had hoped the kiss meant something, that he meant something.

Seems like foolish is the word of the day.

He calls up Will and Robin and they agree to meet him at the pub for a drink. He doesn’t care if it’s a Monday, the radio silence after their kiss followed by this phone call warrants at least one glass of rum. Killian spent the entirety of the weekend trying to run into her again. He worked out more than he has in months, feigning the need to train but really just hoping to catch a glimpse of her at the gym. She never showed. He sits at the bar waiting for his friends and replays Friday night in his head for what must be the hundredth time.

He knew nothing good would come from challenging her, or kissing her, but he couldn’t help himself. It’s like he loses all sense of balance around her, his entire world tilting on its already unstable axis. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to numb the migraine that’s been pounding in his head since she kissed him.

He thought his life may actually be looking up for a change. Foolish.

Robin and Will walk through the door as he polishes off his second glass. The looks on their faces mirror one another and he knows they’re going to make him talk. “Not tonight, mates. Just drink.”

He waves for the bartender to bring over their drinks as Robin speaks up, “We are not playing that game, Killian. You don’t call us on a Monday for ‘just drinks’ if there’s nothing to talk about.”

Sometimes Killian forgets Robin isn’t really his father.  

“Aye, out wit’ it, mate. Who’s the lass?” Will wiggles his eyebrows clearly amused by whatever Robin told him. “I haven’t seen ya like this since–” Robin elbows him in the side. “Oi, mate what was that for?”

Robin shoots Will an icy glare before turning back to Killian, “Come on, what happened?”

Killian sighs, knowing there's no way around this, “Emma and I shared a kiss.”

Robin chokes on his whiskey (again) and Will whoops and slaps his back. “Aye, mate! Thatta boy! What ya looking so down in th’ dumps fer then?”

Robin rolls his eyes before turning to Killian warily, “What happened after?”

Killian shakes Will’s hand off his shoulder, and finishes his glass of rum. He responds through the burn of the liquid coating his throat, “She moved our meeting with Regina because she has a date,” he holds a finger up to Will who looks ready to order a round of celebratory shots, “with Humbert.”

Robin hisses and Will lets out a low whistle, “Aye, that’s rough, mate. Next round on Rob.” Robin goes to argue but it falls short to Will shouting their order. In an unspoken agreement, they spend the rest of the night talking about anything but Emma Swan.

This is why he called them, enough humor and good sense to help him ignore everything that’s weighed him down for the past three days.  It works until he finds himself alone in his room wide awake at 2am. Finding the events of Friday night flooding his thoughts once again.

Where’d he go wrong?

He couldn’t have “gone wrong”; she kissed him.

He grabs his phone, accepting his fate of yet another sleepless night. He mindlessly scrolls through Twitter begging for anything to take his mind off the woman who won’t leave his thoughts. Before he knows it, the glow of the clock threatens 3am and he feels his body gives in where his mind would not. The last thing he hears is the slight ding of what is probably a Facebook notification before drifting off to sleep.

. . .

This date is probably the worst idea Emma’s ever had— besides maybe kissing Killian Jones— jury’s still out on that one.

It’s not that the date is bad, it’s actually damn good . The food is fantastic, Graham is a complete gentleman, and the conversation is easy. It feels like she’s known him her whole life.

So why does it all feel so wrong?

She has no idea until they’re standing on the sidewalk and Graham is chatting about some ancient bottle of whiskey he has back at his place and she tries to smile at him in that specific way she wants to reserve for Killian.

Killian.

She suddenly understands why this entire night has felt off. That kiss with Killian meant more to her than she ever wanted it to– she had really hoped it would get him out of her system, not engrain him deeper into it. She knows it’ll more than likely take some time, and they should really know more about each other than their fight records, but she finds herself oddly willing to put in some work.

Dammit, Killian Jones.

She smiles politely before thanking Graham for the food and feigning exhaustion despite the fact that she’ll be lucky to catch even a wink of sleep tonight. She’s positive he expected their night to continue, but she’s not in the business of leading men on. Graham isn’t stupid and can probably tell this is their last date, but he’s nice all the same and ends the night with a chaste kiss to her cheek and helping her into the cab.

She gets home and thanks Ruby for watching Henry, before checking to make sure he’s actually sleeping. Ruby tries to ask about the date but gives her a knowing look when Emma practically shoves her out the door. “That’s ‘cause it was with the wrong hottie.”

Emma rolls her eyes when she hears her friend through the door and decides pretending like she never heard that is probably for the best.  She jumps in the shower, her mind racing with all the realizations she had after one night with a man who was not Killian Jones. She  isn’t sure if it's the buzz of the wine from dinner or the electricity that is still lingering in every single nerve from their kiss on Friday night, but as she lays in bed she finds herself grabbing her phone before she even realizes what for. She scrolls to his name and types out a ridiculous amount of text messages before landing on something decidedly simple:

Emma: Tomorrow? Same time. Same place. I’ll buy.

She fully expects to regret it in the morning, so she’s surprised at the anticipation which she feels stirring in her gut. Emma’s not usually one to kick things off– she doesn’t usually kiss men like that either– but with Killian Jones she finds that fear dissipating leaving behind only excitement and maybe the smallest trace of hope.

Emma wakes to find an abundance of texts– mostly from Graham who apparently didn’t get the hint– but is disappointed to see her text to Killian left unanswered. She tells herself he’s probably not up at the ass crack of dawn like she is– kids will do that to you and she’s pretty sure he doesn’t have kids. She makes a mental note to ask– subtly of course– he doesn’t even know about Henry.

Shit.

She somehow makes Henry breakfast and wonders the best way to tell her client/guy-you-kissed that she has a son. She’s truly shocked when she gets said son to the bus on time, and walks into the office around 8:15 giving her enough time to prepare before her meeting with Killian. As she’s settling in at her desk, she sees Regina call her over. Emma sighs, nerves fluttering in her gut for more reason than one, and walks into Regina’s office.

“It comes to my attention you’ve never attended a Fight Night?” Regina asks while stirring creamer into her coffee. She’s not sure how Regina knows that; she mentioned it to Sidney in onboarding, but— well, that’s how she knows. There’s no judgment in Regina’s voice, but Emma can’t help suddenly feeling inadequate for the position she’s been given.

Emma sighs before rambling a bit, a habit she’s consciously trying to kick, “Well... obviously I’ve fought in them... but that was when UFC was still on Fox... and since they’ve moved to ESPN I haven’t–”

Regina cuts her off, “Alright then, we will set up a time for you and Jones to attend one. I will book the hotel rooms and secure tickets. It will be good PR for him and a good way for you to get a lay of the land before his first official fight.” Regina is scrolling through her calendar now, Emma assumes looking for the next time there’s a fight relatively close. “Ah, yes, Miss Swan, they are in Maine this weekend. Can you make yourself available Friday and Saturday night?”

“Of course, Mrs. Mills. Thank you, Mrs. Mills.” Emma stands up to leave her office as Regina speaks again.

“Oh and Miss Swan, I trust you can tell Mr. Jones of his new obligations for this Friday and Saturday.”

Emma’s excitement at the prospect of attending a Fight Night without actually having to work seems to have overshadowed the realization that Killian would be attending as well. She sighs, “Of course Mrs. Mills, I have a meeting with him now. Thank you again.”

Emma leaves Regina’s office and immediately pulls out her phone to see if Killian got her message. There’s still no reply but she supposes she deserves that– she did ghost him after kissing the holy hell out of him. She shoots off a message to Mary Margaret asking if they’re available to take Henry this weekend, and grabs her laptop. Taking a leap of faith, Emma grabs walks to the coffee shop with only a sliver of hope that he’ll be waiting for her at all.

She can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when she sees Killian sitting at their usual table– with two drinks. He’s scrolling through his phone and doesn’t notice her walk in. She takes a deep breath— and a selfish moment to really drink in every piece of him— before approaching him. As she enters his space, he looks up politely, meeting her eyes. She can’t help but notice they are almost navy, a stark difference from the normal sea blue she usually finds there. She realizes that she’s staring when he clears his throat and chuckles,  “Good morning, Swan.”

. . .

He didn’t expect the notification he heard just before shutting his eyes for the night to be from her– definitely not after the way he acted during their last phone call– but Killian would be a bloody liar if he said his heart didn’t do something absolutely stupid when he saw her name on his phone. He didn’t answer– a slight jab, sure– but he’s allowed to be petty.

It killed him.

Killian had hoped she’d still come –had thought it daft but had hoped all the same– so when he caught the flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye, it took every ounce of his willpower to not look up. As she approached the table he scrolled through his email inbox (as though he didn’t clean it out every morning), not reading a single word.

She steps awfully close to him and he can no longer play ignorant to her presence. He looks up and meets her emerald eyes. They’re almost hesitant in their gaze, but she’s staring. He smirks at that thought and decides to put her out of her misery with a slight grunt and a greeting. He uses her nickname despite himself, more out of habit than endearment today.

The smile she responds with is radiant.

He’s never going to be able to stay away from this woman, how could he when her dimples– whoa, Jones .

She sits down next to him. “I said I would buy.” She seems happy and he can’t help the flare of envy which runs up his spine.

He turns back to his phone, hoping to filter her ability to read him by averting eye contact and the words slip out before he can stop them, “How’s Humbert?”

He regrets it immediately, but she doesn’t even flinch. “Well, based on the 23 text messages I received today, I’d imagine much more interested than I am.”

Killian’s head snaps up and he has to physically put his hand under his chin in order to stop his jaw from dropping. She smirks - almost knowingly- as he answers, “That bad, huh?”

She shrugs, but it’s everything but nonchalant, “Not bad, just not interested.” She pauses, presumably for him to say something, but he’s already made up his mind. This is her race, he’ll follow her to the end of the earth or time or wherever the fuck she wants to go, but she’s driving. He just nods with a smile and she seems to take that as a hint to keep talking. “Anyway, I have some news.” His breath hitches entirely involuntarily— don’t be ridiculous, Jones, Humbert wouldn’t have proposed after one date — she rolls her eyes. “Not bad news. At least I don’t think it–”

“Come on, Swan, out with it.”

She relaxes as he cuts off her nervous babble, “Mills is sending us to the Fight Night this weekend... in Maine. I’ve never gone as anything but a fighter -and not since the network switch- so she said it’d be a good idea for me to go and learn the ropes. She wants you to come for a PR stunt promoting your match, which is in four weeks by the way...”

Her voice trails off in his head as he wraps his mind around spending a weekend with her. He’s not sure it’s a good idea– he’s hovering awfully close to the line of professionalism Emma seems determined not to cross– but he doesn’t care. This is his chance to really get to know her and he’d be a damn idiot not to take it.

“...Killian are you even listening to me?”

She’s giving him one of her token annoyed looks that he knows means she’s not really annoyed and he can’t help the smirk that forms as he answers, “Aye, love. This weekend is Maine with you, and four weeks until my next fight. Do we know who I’m fighting yet?” He takes a sip of coffee to hide his obvious nerves at the last question.

She rolls her eyes, but he can tell it’s all in jest, “I literally just said that, Jones. They emailed me today. It’s some newcomer, Phillip “Sleeper” Rose. They’ll officially announce it after the fights this weekend. He was on the Contender Series last season and has only fought twice– seems reckless to put him up against you and his lack of fights will probably make training tough...”

Killian nods his head in agreement. It is a stupid stunt and will definitely throw off his usual training which includes researching his opponent’s past fights– usually theres more than two. “Aye, it will.”

Bloody hell.

He sighs, scrubbing his left hand across his face. He’s not usually nervous for fights but somehow he feels like he owes Emma a win, like her career depends on him– it sort of does. She must notice his worry and she reaches across the table. Killian flinches at the unexpected contact but she holds a bit tighter. He should love this, but honestly confusion washes over him first. He can’t read what she wants and it’s driving him insane.

He needs a break.

Killian pulls his hand from hers and he internally winces at the wave of disappointment that crosses her face, but he can't do this. He doesn’t want to sway her opinion of him and he’s worried he won’t be able to take it slow. “Anyway, love,” he winces again– habit betraying him once more, “is there anything else for today?”

She looks confused and he feels his own heart breaking, but it's for the best. He wants this decision to be her own. “Uh, no I don’t think so. Just remember we have the check in meeting with Regina this afternoon.”

“Of course, Swan. I’ll see you there, aye?” He gives her a soft smile and basks in the one she gives back for as long as possible before standing up and heading towards the door.

. . .

Emma isn’t really sure what just happened. The Killian she’s been working with for almost two weeks now was not the one sitting across from her right now. She could read the conflict all over his face.

She did this.

Fuck.

“Killian. Killian! Wait!”  What is she doing?

He turns around at her voice, seemingly stunned by the fact she followed him– she doesn’t blame him. “Did I forget something, Swan?” He smiles warily and scratches nervously behind his ear– she’s not saying it’s adorable, but it’s adorable.

“Uh,” wow, she does not do this, “Can we talk… not about UFC?”

His smile reaches his eyes. “Of course, love.” He leads them back to their table– they have a table– calm down, Emma.

“So, this is weird now, right?”

Killian chuckles at her bluntness and she can’t help but relax a little bit. “A bit, love. I’m just not entirely sure where we stand.”

She sighs, “Me either. I sorta fucked this all up. I want to be a team– friends even? Can we... start over?” She gives him a hesitant smile.

“I’d like that.” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard a more genuine string of words…  or seen more genuine eyes… and that smile. God damn, Emma. “Killian Jones.” He reaches out his hand and looks at her expectantly.

She chuckles to herself and grabs his hand, desperately pretending she doesn’t remember the way it felt tangled in her hair, “Emma Swan.”

He smiles that smile, “Pleasure, love.” She can’t help but smile back. “I’ll see you later, hm?”

She nods, “Friends?” He winks and suddenly life feels back on track.

“Friends.” He’s still smiling and she’s pretty sure it could power the entire city of Boston. “Later, Swan.”

She smiles back and it’s real and she realizes she’s happy. “Friends.”

Really happy. They’re going to Maine this weekend free from awkwardness and the kiss she’s pretending she regrets and they’re friends— they can definitely do friends.

[pocketfulofrogers]

Forever May Be Enough

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: 5 Years after the snap and losing everyone, including the love of your life, you take Scott’s semi crazy sounding plan straight to Tony. Basically bits and pieces of Endgame.

Notes: Endgame spoilers, but in this house we ignore canon. This is my final contribution to @teamcap4bucky summer sun and fun games! I got inspired while reading part 15 of @marvelgirl7 series The Protector. She writes lovely, but heartbreaking stories so in this we have a lot of angst, some Bucky, and a sweet ending.

“It’s not possible.” Tony says simply. “I’m sorry.” He adds quieter. You feel Steve tense, Natasha’ s shoulders fall. You’re almost certain Scott is vibrating.

You however, are frozen. Stuck leaning against the rough grain of a wooden pillar, eyes trained on the lake at the edge of the property. The clear blue burns your throat, turns your stomach inside out. His words swirl around your head and lap at the edges of the last wall of sanity you have left.

It’s the same ones that have haunted you for years. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. They weave their way through your body until you hear them fall from different lips.

Broken consonants and wide blue eyes looking up to you, filled for the first time with true fear. Crumbling fingertips leave ash in the sweat of your cheek as they desperately try to grasp something. Anything. Shaking fingers trail through long hair in an effort to keep him with you and you beg him to hold on just a little longer. You scream for Steve to do something, but you can see in his eyes defeat has already carved its home within him.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers below you.

“Please. Bucky, please.” You beg with a sob, but he disappears anyways. You fold into yourself, howl your grief as you grapple at the empty space before you. Pain sears in your chest and you can taste rust on your tongue. Heaving gasps catch in your throat making you fear you may actually be suffocating. “Make it stop.” You beg.

Steve has to drag you away.

Natasha nudges you and you break from your trance only to see Tony walking away.

“Please.” The word breaks through louder than you intended and wince. “Tony, please.” You add quieter.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” There are those stupid words again.

He grabs your hand, presses the pad of his thumb into your knuckles, and moves to meet your gaze. When he clocks the cracked skin of your lips, the dark skin seeping beneath your eyes, worry builds in the pit of his stomach.

“Why don’t you stay for a while? Get some fresh air and Pepper can teach you about composting. Would be a great time. Morgan would love it.” Tony offers. When you don’t respond, only look off into the distance past his shoulder seemingly caught in a memory, he looks to Steve. He shrugs a response and slightly shakes his head. They all know you’re not well. You haven’t been for a while, but he’s forgotten how to help you. “We still have a room for you if you change your mind.”

His hand slips from yours and with it, your last piece of hope.

Steve walks to the car with you, his hand on your back. When he opens the door and helps you in, you want to scream at him that you are not fragile, you have not broken, but you can’t form the words.

**

Bruce turns Scott into a baby, among other things, and you excuse yourself to get some air. You were clinging so desperately to this second chance, but the harder you grasped, the quicker it seemed to slip away. Steve recognizes the look of you teetering on the edge and follows you.

“We’ll figure it out.” He says behind you.

Raking your hands down your face, you turn to him. “I know, I know.” You huff out. “This is just bringing everything back up. I guess you could say I’m not handling that well or whatever.” 

“I know it’s hard, Y/N.” 

“I just miss him so much.” You whisper.

It’s times like these he wishes Tony came around more often, or that you’d accept the countless offers to stay at the cabin. Time had allowed for apologies, but Steve still carried the guilt from Siberia and your relationship with Tony had forever been tainted after the accords.

Tony doesn’t know if he hates that he made you choose sides or the fact you didn’t choose him more.

Still, he knew you in ways the others couldn’t. Two souls born of similar circumstances; he was always able to read you. He had taken you under his wing after stumbling onto you what felt like almost a lifetime ago. He considered it his job to look after you, never failing to protect you in battle. Despite you arguing you can hold your own.

When Tony pulls up, seemingly answering Steve’s unspoken wishes, his relief is palpable. But when he pulls the shield out of his trunk to return it, your relief sends you flying into his arms.

He stumbles back, slightly caught off guard. “Oh, thank god.” You mumble into his neck.

**

You travel back in time to New York, get a kick out of seeing a younger Tony again and remind him you are well versed with old man jokes. Steve comments that you sound more like yourself, Tony agrees.

“Hope is a powerful thing, boys.” You smile.

Somehow you manage to hold onto it when Tony tells you they have to try 70s New Jersey for the Tesseract. You try to convince him you should go in his place, beg him to let you do this for him. He smiles softly, shakes his head, and disappears.

**

You mourn the loss of Natasha. It settles deep in your bones and you wonder if this will be the thing that breaks you. Steve, ever stoic, reminds you of what you’re all fighting for and he sounds so much like her.

**

Bruce snaps his fingers. There’re several explosions, you’re drowning on the lower level, and then you’re thrown into the next battle for the fate of the world before you’re even able to catch your breath. It’s a scene from your nightmares and so reminiscent of the worst day of your life.

Smoke thick in the air, an outrider pins you down. Its monstrous face snaps at you with rancid breath and you push back as hard as you can. The moment you think this is it, a bullet rips through it spraying blood into the open air.

“Perfect timing.” You mumble as you push the body off you. There’s a chuckle from behind you.

Oh, you know that voice. It whispers to you light as air on your worst days, sings lullabies when you can’t sleep, ghosts its lips down your neck.

“I’m getting pretty good at saving you.” Bucky quips behind you. You don’t want to look, you can’t. Fears that he will only disappear again will not leave you be. He kneels before you, concern creasing his brow. “This isn’t the best place for a break, doll.”

You finally meet his eyes and the air leaves your body. He reaches for you, a ghost manifested, and you flinch away. It couldn’t be, could it? You hover a hand beside his face, graze tentative fingers down his temple and you ache.

“Bucky?” You whisper, broken. You repeat his name again with more weight.

“Unless you know another handsome guy with a metal arm.”

He catches the tears as they fall from your waterline and you lunge for him. Wrap your body around his, bury your head in his chest, breathe him in. It’s sweat and dirt, but it’s him. Truly him. This moment had taunted your dreams for the last five years.

You pull away to take a moment to look at him. Not a day aged, the same soldier you’ve always loved. He gives you a crooked smile and you trace his lip with your thumb.

“We should really get back to it, darlin’.”

You smile at his voice, let his low timber soothe the scars time has left. “Just a moment, please.” He nods. You lean forward, replace your finger with your lips and revel in the taste of home.

“Alright, let’s finish this.”

**

Pepper clings to you when the doctors say Tony will survive. You hold her and whisper soothing words to hide your own tears. Rhodey takes over for you, ignoring your protests when you tell him you’re fine. The bags beneath your eyes and your bitten down nail beds tell him a different story.

Bucky finds you outside on a nearby bench pulling at the loose strings of your sweater.

“I hear Stark is going to pull through.”

You smile up at him and pull his hand into your lap when he sits beside you. “He’s too stubborn to let death win.” You chuckle.

“Seems that’s something else you learned from him.”

You’re quiet for a beat and he hopes you’ll take this moment to open up to him. You were different, that much was blatantly obvious. You carried yourself stiffer, your tone had become colder. He tried to ask the others, but it had been subtle changes over the years, things they never noticed. Clint even suggests there may have been no change at all.

But he knew better. For you it was five years, but to him it was five hours. He just wanted to help you.

You tilt your head towards him, turn up the corners of your lips. “Good thing, too.” You joke instead.

**

Steve returns with Natasha. You don’t ask him how, they don’t offer.

**

Bucky awakens to you grunting in your sleep. Your fists have the sheets gripped in a vice; your knuckles are white. You mumble something he can’t quite make out before screaming yourself awake. He pulls you to him quickly. Slips his hand in your hair while he whispers affirmations that he is okay and you are safe.

He waits until your sobs slow to just a hiccup.

“Talk to me.” He pleads softly.

You push out of his lap. “I’m fine, really. Just a standard superhero nightmare. Run of the mill. Go back to bed, Buck.” You flash him a smile, all tear-stained rosy cheeks and bloodshot eyes, and his heart still flutters.

He watches you get up for water and finds himself about to lay back down. You had gotten so good at disarming him, he almost didn’t catch what you had done.

“No.” He says before you’ve crossed the threshold of your room.

You turn back to him and raise a brow. “Well, I supposed you could stay up? I’m not your mother.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He counters.

You advert your eyes and cross your arms before your chest. Bruce had taught him cues to look for when he asked the others for tips. He knew your arms were meant to act as a barrier, which meant he was encroaching on something you didn’t want him near.

He reaches a hand out to you. “Come here.” You don’t budge. “Please.” He adds.

You huff, but walk to take it. He guides you to sit before him, but you’re still unable to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, or even anything, I just want to help you. Five years is a long time, doll. It couldn’t have been easy to go through.”

You’re quiet, only tracing the metal lines of his hand. He lets you turn his arm over and wordlessly gives you his other when you reach for it. Tony said it was how you grounded yourself. Feeling something on your fingertips allowed you to anchor yourself to something real.

“I’d never tell the others, but I think I gave up for a long time.” You start quietly, keeping your eyes down. “After we killed Thanos and found out the stones were gone. Steve tried so hard, he did, but I think it’s hard to hold someone else together when you yourself are falling apart.” You gnaw on your bottom lip to stop its quivering. “Losing you was the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to survive.” You barely whisper.

He squeezes your hand in support. “I’m here.”

You clear your throat and swallow down your emotions. “You are.” You marvel. “The whole world said it would never happen, that we needed to just rebuild what we still had.”

“I’m s-“

“Don’t, please. You came back to me and that is all I could have ever asked for. It’s just going to take a minute for me to make peace with the time we lost, but I’m getting there.” You place a hand on his cheek and he leans into your touch. “You just simply being here is more than enough.”

**

He makes you pancakes in the morning. The smell is what wakes you and you follow it all the way to one of the kitchens of the compound. You find him standing before the stove, back facing you. He’s still in what he wore to bed. Sweats, no shirt. The muscles of his back tightening with his movements distracts you enough that you have to shake your head to clear the number of less than innocent thoughts that come to mind.

“Well isn’t this a treat.” You say from behind him.

He laughs and bows before motioning for you to take a seat. He puts a plate before you, topped exactly how you like it.

“Who went out and got all of this?” You ask.

Bucky licks some whipped cream from his thumb. “Guess Natasha had a sweet tooth.” He shrugs.  

You plop a bite into your mouth. “What’s the occasion?” 

“It’s been a while, Tony’s on the mend, Steve’s still set on retiring for now, and the others are laying low. We have to decide what we’re going to do.”

You hum and raise a brow. “Awful big decision for first thing in the morning, my love.”

He nods in agreement. “Still a decision to be made, though.” He takes advantage of you full mouth. “We could stay here, run some trainings, monitor some missions with the new head of SHIELD. I think we’ve earned a break from saving the world for a bit.”

“Or?” You prompt, sensing the word on the tip of his tongue.

“We trade this life for one of our own. A house, a yard,” He lists. “Kids.” He adds quieter.

Your eyes widen. An awfully big discussion for first thing in the morning indeed, but clearly something that’s been on his mind.

“It’s just something to think about, but there is a question that needs answering. What do we do now?” He asks you.

You swallow the last of your breakfast and smile, commit the image of him hopeful and buzzing before you to memory. “Well, we have forever, don’t we? Let’s figure it out tomorrow.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Dear Dean (Chapter 6)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 3.7k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Dean is confused and is questioning his sexuality

SERIES MASTERLIST

August 6th, 1944

Baker pushed forwards into Vire, covering the lower ground and they needed to be quick. Intel had it that the tanks would roll down from the east and their orders were to clear the west flanks. If the tanks caught them on time, they’d be fucked, but if they were lucky, the tanks would be the problem of Able and Charlie companies. For now, they need to push forward.

And that, they did.

Unfaltering, moving along the lines they discussed beforehand. Dean’s platoon will fall back, setting up a base of fire so the other platoons could advance, holding out the tanks as long as they could.

Dean crouched down in formation with Harvelle and Private Rosen in the front line. He looked back, spotting Bambi in the third line, wedged between privates Campbell and Fitzgerald. Bambi doesn’t looked frightened at all and just as Dean thought that his calm demeanor was weird, a mortar comes screaming over their heads, landing a mere 40 yards behind Bambi and takes out two other privates.

“Shit! Richardson and Turner!” Another private shouted and one private who’s name Dean didn’t have the chance to remember, since he’d just been replaced a day ago, was curled up in a fetal position, crying as dust and smoke rose up from the ground.

“Get him! Move, move! That alley! Regroup!” Dean pointed to the nearest alley, between buildings with bombed out windows and his platoon scrambled up, following him. He could hear Mills shouting as the captain moved forward with Three platoon.

“Advance! Keep moving!” Captain Mills was heard screaming of the top of his lungs. “Winchester! Stay behind, we’re moving forward!”

“Copy, Sir!” Dean shouted back as he ran.

Once they all assembled in the alley, Dean spoke. “Alright, listen close.” He turned to his men and took a knee. “The other platoons are advancing deeper into Vire. We’re clearing the back for them. I want you all scatter around, here, here, here, and here.” He pointed at the map that he fished out of his webbing. “Work in groups. 5 max. Take the upper floors, you can see better from there. Fire through holes in the walls. Get them!” Dean looked around. The fear on the new privates faces were visible, especially after seeing their friend being blasted beyond recognition, but Dean didn’t have the time, nor did he had the patience to babysit them right now. “I want Trenton and Bambi going up here.” He pointed to the highest building around. It used to be a clock tower, only with less clock now. “Aim at the Krauts who operate the incoming 20mm. Intel said there were several around. There will be tanks rolling in too. Keep your eyes out. If you can’t beat them, take cover, displace and advance to the other platoons. I want to destroy them, but I also want y’all safe. Alright?”

“Aye, Sir!” Tran shouted and was already out the door with his group of men.

Bambi turned to run out, but before he could exit Dean caught the private by his arm. “Don’t get dead.” He said, his voice lower than the commands he just gave.

“I won’t, Lieutenant.” Bambi smiled a brave smile at him. He wanted to say more, but his men were already scattering. Getting out of the building and disappear to where they need to be. Where he told them to be.

Dean stayed back on the ground, watching with Harvelle beside him. Their rifles pulled tightly into their shoulders, ready to shoot. Sure enough, there was a 20mm rolling in with three Germans who were operating it, followed by what looked like platoon of men. Not more than they were. Dean could hear the rumble of tanks but they were still far away. He guessed that they still had time.

The first hiss of rounds cut through the air, it came from Bambi’s position and he could hear one Kraut after another drop off the 20mm with a scream. Good job. Really, good job, Bambi.

The German platoon broke through, and Dean’s men successfully diverted them, shooting at them with precision. Taking them down one by one until there were none of them left.

“Shit.” Harvelle let out a breathe as he saw the tanks rolling in. Gurgling and hissing angrily, as they destroyed everything in their way, even the bodies of their own dead men. “Sir, we gotta go!”

They made it out of their hiding place and as they thought, there were no German soldiers around. He could only spot tanks after tanks streaming down the narrow street. Fuck. “Displace! Displace! Move forward!” Dean shouted himself hoarse, trying to be louder than the rumbling of the incoming tanks.

They need to get forward, there was nothing they could do against the tanks. Able and Charlie companies were probably less than a mile away - still it was too far. They would deal with the tanks, since they had the 88s with them. Besides, the RAF should have been there by then with their tank busters. Where the fuck were they? It seemed like since Omaha, people were never where they were supposed to be.

Harvelle and him watched, as the men scrambled out of their hiding places, and ran toward the other platoons. Dean urged them on, staying behind, counting and yelling at them to fucking get out of the buildings and move forward.

Buildings were blown up left and right in a blinding light. Dean and Harvelle hid, pressing their bodies into the concrete wall, as not to be in the sight of the tanks.

They watched as a shot was fired from up high, taking out the commander of a tank who happened to look out of the hatch. “Shit, no, Bambi!” Dean muttered under his breath. Bambi would blow his cover. Dean cursed the young private through clenched teeth, and there it was. The tank’s pipe lifted up, pointing straight to the position of Bambi. Trenton, Dean, and Harvelle were all screaming on the top of their lungs Come down! Get the fuck down already! when the tank fired and destroyed the top half of the tower.

Fuck!

Dean was seeing red and he knew that it was stupid, maybe even the stupidest thing he’s ever done. Sam would be fucking mad at him, but he had to take the chance.

There was just this one lone tank, waiting for the other tanks to catch up, and Dean knew that he had to do it. He had no other choice. “Harvelle! Grenade!” Dean shouted as he broke into a run toward the first tank. It was as if they rehearsed it before, because Harvelle knew exactly what to do. He followed Dean without question.

Dean reached the very tank that destroyed the tower, and he climbed on it in black rage, aiming his rifle into the slit in the front of the tank and began to shoot. Harvelle threw him the grenade in time and he yanked at the pin with his teeth before he dropped it into the porthole that was still slightly open from the dead body of the Kraut’s tank commander. Dean pushed the body inside and closed it.

“Go go go!” He shouted to Harvelle as he jumped down from the tank. Dean landed weirdly and he felt a sharp pain. He needed to run but he wasn’t quick enough, and the tank exploded behind him. The bust pushed him forward, sending him headfirst into dust and gravel. Apart from the pain in his ankle, he felt a pain on his temple, where his helmet wasn’t sitting right, and his shoulder.

“Come on, Winchester!” Harvelle picked him up, threw Dean’s arm around his shoulder and dragged him to cover. They hid some yards away, in an alleyway between two buildings as they heard the rumbles of more incoming tanks.

“Fuck, Harvelle, get yourself out of here, I’ll be alright, get your fucking ass to the others.” Dean said breathlessly as he sat down on the ground with his back leaned against the building. He was in pain and he knew that he was bleeding. He panted and his lungs burned with every breath from inhaling too much smoke and dust.

“Yeah, how about no, Sir.” Harvelle replied and then jogged to the beginning of the alley to check if they’ve been followed. “Hey! Fucking hell, you lucky sons of bitches!” Dean could hear Harvelle say. He closed his eyes to focus on his breathing, and hoped that Harvelle found someone who could help them out of their misery.

Harvelle came running back. “Bambi and Trenton, Sir. They are ok.”

Dean opened his eyes to catch Harvelle’s gaze. He smiled weakly. Thank fucking Christ.

“Shit, Sir, you alright?” Bambi was running over, taking a knee next to Dean and god, was he relieved to see that damn kid.

“I’m fine. Go find the others.” Dean waved him off. He knew that they probably wouldn’t do what he asked of them. At least he knew that Bambi definitely wouldn’t, he saw that look in his eyes. Defiance. He looked like Sam.  

Bambi looked up at Harvelle and Trenton. “You two go. I’ll stay here with the Lieutenant. Send people back when you can!”

“Since when do you give orders?” Dean growled and he chuckled a little. “Fucking hell, Bambi.”

Harvelle just nodded at Bambi and Trenton and they jogged away, leaving Bambi alone with Dean.

“Medic! Medic!” Bambi shouted out before he took the knee next to Dean again, inspecting the wound on his face.

“Fucking hell, you’ll get us both killed, calling out for a medic when the tanks are coming in!”

“Well, Sir, then let me see and don’t be a lil’ bitch about it, alright?” Bambi’s hands worked the strap of Dean’s helmet, taking it off. He dropped it next to him. Dean saw Bambi’s eyes stalling at the photograph tucked inside of it for just a moment, but then his hand was on Dean’s face, the private’s fingers tracing along the sharp pain near his temple.

“Bambi, you should go. You’ll get yourself killed. You can still make it out. Just leave me here.” Dean said quietly, searching his privates face.

“With all due respect, sir,” Bambi searched through his webbing until he found a cloth and dabbed it at Dean’s temple. “Shut the fuck up.”

“If I shouldn’t make it, tell Sam that I -“ Dean started to say, almost too dramatically.

“You can tell Sam yourself, Sir!” Bambi cut him off sharply.

“No, no. Listen. You’ve got to tell him that he should stop being a bitch.”

Bambi looked at him with a frown. “Him?”

Dean chuckled at the word, raising an eyebrow, and wincing from the pain that shot through his forehead. “Yeah, Sam. My brother.”

“Oh,” It was a short exhale, but Bambi went on. “Sir, why don’t you tell him yourself.” He inspected Dean’s wounds. “Shrapnel wound, you’re lucky it just grazed you. What else.” Bambi touched the place where blood was seeping through Dean’s combat on his shoulder.

And then his fingers worked on Dean’s jacket, pulling it open and tugging it down to see. “Splitter graze. Fuck, Sir. You’re one lucky son of a bitch!”

“Takes one to know one, private.” Dean couldn’t help but smile. “It’s the ankle that hurts like a motherfucker.”

Bambi’s hand zipped up Dean’s combat jacket again, before he handed Dean back his helmet, his fingers traced along Dean’s jaw, and Dean stalled. His gaze flickered to Bambi’s big eyes, the full lips and he was so fucking glad that Bambi wasn’t dead. Bambi’s fingers picked at the dirt around the wound of his temple and Dean yelped out something incoherent. “You’ll live, Sir.”

“Is that so?” A lopsided grin crept on Dean’s face. “You sure about that, doc?” And there it was again, the eyeroll that he provoked. It was actually so fucking sweet that Dean’s heart started to flutter.

Bambi was kneeling in between Dean’s legs and held up the helmet above his head. “You ok to put it on? Wouldn’t want the picture to get all dusty, Sir.”

Dean felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t want Bambi to think that it was a picture of a sweetheart he had at home. Even though he knows that it shouldn’t matter because it’s not Bambi’s place to know shit about him but still, he felt weird. For reasons unknown to him, he didn’t want Bambi to think there was a picture of a girl in his helmet. “You wanna see it?” He asked Bambi.

He paused, his lips pressed together as if in thought, but after a moment Bambi nodded.

“Go ahead, take it out.” Dean said, watching him.

The sound of tanks were still loud in the streets, but they weren’t shooting. They just rolled on, searching for a target.

Bambi put the helmet in between the two of them, tipped it over and took out the photograph. He unfolded it with shaking hands. Dean wanted to stop them from trembling. He watched as Bambi’s eyes trailed along the photograph. “That little shithead on the right? That’s Sam. My brother. The girl in the middle is our neighbor from back home. And that handsome fella on the left? That’s me.”

“He’s handsome.” Bambi said, grinning. And Dean felt a stinging in his heart and a strange feeling in his gut. “I meant, Sam.” Bambi added and Dean had to laugh.

“Ah, fuck off.” Dean said, wanting to get up, but there was a sharp pain in his ankle again.

Bambi neatly folded the photograph and tucked it back into Dean’s helmet. “And that girl? She’s your sweetheart?” Dean couldn’t help but notice that Bambi wasn’t able to look him in the eyes as he asked him the question.

“No. She probably wants to be because she sent me that photograph, but I haven’t replied to a single letter.” Bambi’s shoulders seemed to relax at that. Maybe Dean was imagining it, but it seemed that he let out a breath he was holding.

“You should, Sir. At least she’ll know what’s going on.”

“Yeah, yeah… Maybe if we get out of here alive, I will.” Dean said and then he put his hand on Bambi’s trembling fingers. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He could see the tears in Bambi’s eyes.

Bambi shook his head, trying to swallow the tears. “Nothing. It’s just… probably thankful that we’re alive. Even though we don’t know if we’ll live to see the night.”

“Hey! Shhh. We’re fine, alright.” Dean tugged Bambi towards him with his good arm, his hand curled around the back of Bambi’s neck as he made Bambi look him in the eye. “Look at me! We’re fine. Everything’s going to be ok.” Dean didn’t know why, but he wanted to believe it himself.

They were so close again, Bambi’s big eyes that were full of tears and his nose that turned redder by the minute from desperately trying to hold back his tears. There was just something about him in that moment that made Dean want to kiss him. A breath hitched in his throat. Maybe it was also the fear of the imminent. What if they should die right there in that moment? What then? Wouldn’t he want to know how it felt to kiss Bambi? Even though he wasn’t fucking queer. He wasn’t. Had never been. But there was something about Bambi that made him question the state of his sexuality. Made him question everything.

He craned his neck and there it was, the lips that were smooth and soft against his chipped ones. Dean closed his eyes, his hand snaking around the back of Bambi’s neck. Dean pulled the small private closer, and to Dean’s surprise, Bambi parted his lips a little, an open invitation for Dean to lick into his mouth and taste him. Dean gently explored Bambi’s mouth, his tongue licked along the roof, their tongues twisting together in a dance made just for the two of them. It was as close to perfect as Dean would have ever thought. Bambi moved closer, his knees in between Dean’s thighs and it rubbed against his growing bulge, the pressure of it made his head spin, and Dean moaned into the kiss.

Bambi shifted and there was a pain at his shoulder that pulled both of them back to reality.

“Fuck! Shit! Sorry… I’m… shit, Bambi, sorry.” Dean apologized and Bambi turned his face away, his lips swollen and his face flushed, and all Dean wanted was to kiss him again.

Bambi cleared his throat and got up, he didn’t say anything and continued with a flawless professionalism. “Come on sir, can you try to get up? Gonna try to get you out of here.” He said and reached out a hand for Dean to take.

“Yeah, sure.” He said, fetching his helmet. He put it on before he took Bambi’s hand and let the small private pull him up.

Sure enough as they made their way to the entrance of the alley, with Dean’s arm around Bambi’s shoulder, they heard roaring in the sky. Dean looked up to see four tank busters soaring above them, dropping bombs that made the ground shake underneath their feet. Dean glanced down at Bambi with a smile. “Guess we’ll live a little longer, Bambi, huh?”

***

August 8th, 1944

They captured Vire yesterday. That was a freaking win, Dean guessed, but it came with a price. Captain Mills was shot through the stomach and his lungs collapsed before they could get him to a medical tent. The two remaining medics from their company tried to keep the captain alive, but due to heavy bombardments, there was just nothing they could have done. So much for keeping Mills alive until he would present them with Hitler’s head on a stick. Dean had failed again.

Dean was supposed to be the next in command, but due to his wounds and his sprained ankle, the Major saw him more of a burden and unfit to lead a whole company. He could be glad the Major let him keep his platoon. The honor was passed on to Castiel Novak and Dean’d never been so fucking relieved before in his life. Cas was a good choice. He’d be able to lead them. Maybe even to victory. He had faith, especially in Cas.

The whole company was taken off the front line for a while and being assigned to V Corps. They would sure be signed back into VIII Corps soon, but Dean was taking advantage of the little free time he had. They had running water, hot meals, and a fucking roof over their head. There was really nothing more he could have asked for. Well… except of one thing. If Bambi could get out of his head, that’d be fucking great, thank you.

Dear Sam,

We’ve captured Vire, but yeah, you can thank me later. I almost died, though. Nah, only a joke…

Shit! It’s really just a joke, Sammy. Don’t worry alright? I’m fine. Still breathing and shit. Walking and talking, too, don’t worry. Well, I sprained my ankle, so walking is a bit straining, but I’ll get there. We’ve been pulled into reserve, and I think when the time comes I’ll be able to move out with my platoon. I got wounds though. Even had to have stitches on my shoulder. But I’ll live. So, I guess that’s good news. You wanna hear bad news? Mills is out. Shit, Sam. I failed again.

My sprained ankle means though, that I’m not taking over Baker. Cas will. He’s good. I trust him.

Other than that, everything’s fine. I’m fine. Well, I have maybe done something stupid. I need to get my shit together, I guess. But don’t worry, nothing serious. Just… no, forget it. It’s really not important.

I hope you’re good, Sam. I miss you. Almost thought I’d never fucking see you again.

Lieutenant Dean Winchester

August 9th, 1944

Jamie’s hands were shaking. Maybe she should have eaten something at breakfast, or at lunch. She just didn’t have any appetite. Guess seeing your friends being blown up does things to you. She was sitting around the campfire with her platoon and they talk about their sweethearts at home and about the letters they got but Bambi isn’t really listening. She couldn’t concentrate on anything else than keeping her hands steady.

“Bambi, you listening?” Tran asked as he saw that she was lost in her thoughts.

Jamie blinked herself back to reality and saw the cup of coffee Tran offered her. “No thanks.” She politely declined and Tran just shrugged and drank it himself. Jamie doesn’t think that she should be drinking more caffeine when she’s shaking. Clearly that wouldn’t calm her nerves. She longs for that whiskey Lieutenant Winchester once offered her.

Lieutenant Dean Winchester. Fuck. Only then die she think about what happened before they took Vire. What happened in that alley and it all came back to her. She fucked up. She literally did the only thing Jim asked of her. But in her defense. Winchester is quite handsome. She lost herself in his green eyes and then he was so close and the freckles that shimmered through the dust and dirt on his face were mesmerizing. She couldn’t do anything else than lean in and when she kissed him, she felt like she wasn’t here. There was no war. All was forgotten. It was as if his kissed made her feel alive again. Feel hope.

“Good afternoon.” A voice broke the murmur and Lieutenant was standing behind her and her body went rigid.

“How’s everyone doing?” He asked around and there were shouts of Fine. Great, sir. Couldn’t be better. and then when she thought that he was going to leave, he turned towards her. “And you?”

“Fine, sir.”

“I haven’t seen you eating anything all day. Make sure you eat at dinner, alright?” He didn’t wait for her answer and turned himself around to limp away.

“Shit, Bambi. You haven’t eaten?” Tran shouted and she shook her head as Tran closed the distance between them. “You better eat something at dinner, alright? Make sure he sees it too.”

CHAPTER 7

[clumsybookworm18]

and my burden to bear is a love (i can’t carry anymore) | pt. 4

Jossam + Ghost AU

Summary: Sam is hell bent on getting answers but when has Josh made anything easy?

Notes: So I finally got this chapter out! Enjoy :)

AO3, Moodboard, part 1 / 2 /  3 / 5

The blinding sunlight entering through the window was what awoke her. She wondered for a moment why her bed felt differently or why she wasn’t greeted by the faint smell of paints and art that would normally surround her room. Her confusion was short lived as last night memories came to surface, accompanied by a pounding headache. 

Sam let out a groan, pulling the pillow over her face. So it hadn’t been a dream. 

Damn.

Josh was dead. Of that she was absolutely sure. Mike saw him die and had given her the explicit details of what went down at the mines after she’d left them, making her regret even asking. Yet somehow… he was here. Had never actually left apparently. A ghost.

Sam wasn’t stupid. She may not be an avid fan of the supernatural- never had been- but she didn’t blatantly dismiss it either. Not after Blackwood. Not after what she had witnessed. Creatures made out of legends and scary stories that were very much real and very lethal. So the idea of him being here didn’t seem so far-fetched, all things considering.

And she’d knew it- had known it for a while now as much as she hated to admit it. Had refused to believe what was right in front of her. Dismissed what had been obvious because it was so much easier when she should’ve known better than that. 

Beginning to see that the relentless headache wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep anytime soon, she pulled herself up, blinking at the unrelenting morning light. The empty space next to beside her indicated that her mother had already left for work and a quick glance at the clock told her she had slept in but it was still too early for her shift at the yoga studio. After dropping out, Sam had started picking up some shifts as a yoga instructor to avoid being a complete dead weight around the house. As depressed as she might be, she couldn’t allow herself to just sit in her room to mope and weep and sleep… well, not all of the time anyways. 

She takes her time getting out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. No signs of jabbering or impish laughter or anything that might indicate Josh’s ghostly presence. 

Yet. 

She wastes no time stripping her clothes off and hopping into the shower. She was tempted to linger under the scalding heat of the water spray- and she would’ve had- if it hadn’t been for the impromptu temperature drop that turned her hot shower into a cold one. 

It was good while it lasted.

With a muttered curse, Sam turns off the water and puts on her bathrobe. As good as it had been, the hot shower hadn’t helped with the throbbing headache. She starts impatiently rifling through the medicine cabinet like a junkie when a lick of cold prickles the back of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps across her skin. 

Sam breathes out a sharp sigh, calmly closing the medicine cabinet. This time anticipating it, she doesn’t jump when she spots a familiar silhouette in the mirror gazing back at her. 

Leaning against the threshold was Josh, insufferable smirk perfectly placed on his face.

Her heart skittered. The sight of Josh was freaking her out a little bit now that she was convinced that he was in fact here, a ghost. There was still a chance he could still be a hallucination, a sign that her mind had finally broken. But thinking that didn’t seemed... right. It scared her.

What scared her even more was that she didn’t want to look away. 

Ugh. It was too early for this bullshit. 

“Freezing my ass off in the shower wasn’t how I envisioned my morning,” she said by way of greeting.

“Someone’s in a lovely mood today.” His smirk grew, and Sam didn’t let anything show on her face as those vibrant green eyes looked her up and down. “You look like shit.”

Sam answered him with a vulgar gesture, walking past him without so much of a glance his way. 

Josh laughed, sauntering behind her. “Nothing to throw at me this time?” 

“Funny. I don’t remember you being so chipper in the morning.”

“I don’t remember you being such a sourpuss. And yet.” 

“Still a prick though. Not surprising,” she snipped, settling into their banter, searching for some familiar ground. It wasn’t that things were any different when he was just a voice, but now, knowing that Josh was here… it changed everything. 

Just as she reached her bedroom, Josh materializes in front of her. He clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Sammy.” He lowered his face close to hers, his warmth a whisper against her skin. “It’s not nice.”

“If it bothers you so much, go haunt someone else then,” she crooned, not backing away.

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam countered. 

His answering smile told her enough. Arrogant bastard. 

“That’s what I thought.” She brushed past him, somehow managing to keep her steps steady, trying to appear like she wasn’t running away from him. 

Sam ignores him as she searches her wardrobe but could feel his gaze burning on her back.  She paused, looking over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway.

“Excuse you,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “A little bit of privacy here?”

Josh shrugged, not moving. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Heat spread along her cheeks and neck, from both anger and embarrassment. Sam doesn’t deign to reply. Instead, she slams the door to his face. 

“You know I can just walk right through, right?” he taunts from behind the door.

She was very well aware of that.

After hastily throwing on some clothes, Sam sat at the vanity. She passes a quick brush through her damp hair and dabs concealer under her eyes before inspecting herself in the mirror. There. Now she resembles a normal person. Or at least gives off the impression that she still has her wits together, even if they’re still hanging by a thread. A very thin one. 

Sam was tired of everybody asking how she was doing. 

She was fine. Really. 

A bang at her door. “You done?”

Although she could do without the poltergeist.

***

 “Don’t ghosts have better things to do?” Sam said, setting her cup of tea down on the kitchen table.

They were huddled on the kitchen table, Sam trying grill him for the past twenty minutes. She’d been set on getting an explanation- answers for the many questions swarming inside her head. 

Getting a serious answer from him was another story. 

“Probably.” Josh leaned back into his chair across from her like it was the most normal thing in the world. “But I wouldn’t want to deprive you of my company.”

Sam scoffed, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Pester me, you mean.” 

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Hey if it were up to me I would be having a joyride in the eternal siesta,” he said, shaking his head. Then muttered, “Just to buy me some damned peace.” 

She didn’t have anything to say to that.

Josh arched a dark brow. “You seem to be taking this pretty well, considering your reaction last night.” A sly smile. “Among other things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, your inherent fear of ghosts.” 

“I think we can agree that after everything that happened on your mountain, my fear of ghosts would be the least of my issues.”

Josh shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Sam takes another sip of tea. It was rattling to see him like this, the insufferable familiarity in which he acted, like this was all run of the mill for him. Like he wasn’t dead. She almost believed too, her hands itching to reach out and touch him. 

Sam gripped the mug harder. She tried to focus on eating the fruit on her plate to avoid looking at him. 

She could feel his gaze fixed on her, following her every movement. “You’ve lost weight.” 

“I don’t see why you’re so surprised about it,” Sam said, her tone coming out a bit more sharply than she intended. “Since apparently you’ve been snooping on me all this time.” 

He put a dramatic hand to his chest. “Me? Snooping? Never.”

“Says the biggest busybody I've ever met.”

“Can you blame me? Being a ghost isn’t as fun as the movies make it out to be.”

It is so not a ghost thing. Her eyes narrowed. “How is it that you’re here and not… the Great Beyond or wherever it is that dead people go?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said simply, giving her a one shoulder shrug. He didn’t elaborate.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say? My head got crushed. I woke up. Found you guys looking like you just came out of a horror movie. No one would see me or hear me or talk to me. Next thing I know, I’m dead, and everybody else survived except for me because I never made it out of those damn mines.” Josh’s smile was cold. “Good enough answer for you?”

No. Not at all.

Sam’s mouth was dry as she asked, “Can you see them?” 

Josh knew who she meant. “No.” 

Abrupt. Sharp. Final. 

“Are there any other ghosts with you?”

“Just me.” His voice was rough. Bitter.

Sam studied him warily. “What is it that you’re not telling me?” 

He leaned back in his chair, his closed up expression instantly replaced by a lazy grin that didn’t meet his eyes. One of his favorite masks. “So many questions for someone who supposedly doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Fine- it was fine. It wasn’t as if she could count on him telling her the truth anyways. She’d learned that the hard way. “Like you said last night, I’m stuck with you. So excuse me for trying to understand what I’ll have to deal with.” 

“Can you let me know once you do? Cause I’ve been trying to figure it out myself for the past, oh I don’t know, eight months.” 

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

A roguish grin. 

Prick. Prick. Prick. Prick. Prick. “Can you stop being so difficult and help me out here?” Sam hissed.

“I could be worse.”

Oh, she was sure. “Why me? Why not Chris or Ash?” Sam lifted a brow. “I’ve never even touched a spirit board.”

Josh rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back. “For the hundredth time, I don’t know. Don’t ask me how or why or even what. I. Don’t. Know.” He had the nerve to sound like he was irritated with her.

“Do you actually know anything at all?”

“Cut me some slack. I didn’t exactly get a ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’.”

Sam studied him for a long moment in silence. “I’m wasting my time,” she muttered to herself. She shook her head. “How can I trust you’re telling me the truth- after everything? All the secrets, the lies, your spiteful prank-”

“You’re still going on about that?” Josh interjected, exasperated. “I thought we were past what happened on Blackwood.” 

“Oh don’t get me started on what you did to me in Blackwood,” Sam snapped.

Josh froze, the smug smile slipping from his face.

Sam furiously gets up and throws her dishes in the sink. “I’ve had enough of you for one day. I have to go but please feel free to not be here when I come back.” 

“We’ll have to talk about this sooner or later.”

“No, we won’t,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

“No probs. Let’s ignore it and sweep it under the rug, like everything else,” he called after her.

The sound of the door slam echoed through the house.

***

He was there when she got home. 

And the next day. 

And the next. 

Before she knew it, a week had already passed, almost in blur. Sam had found herself slowly- and reluctantly- acclimating to this new occurrence in her life.

In a way, it was hard not to, since everything about him reminded her of before- of a part of her she’d lost in the mines, that had never returned with her from Blackwood. She was still deciding if it was comforting or painful. Perhaps both. It was frustrating for sure, his uncanny ability to unsettle her, how he could bring out feelings she’d managed to keep locked down.

Today she found herself perched on top her rickety stool staring at the blank canvas, her lips pursed in contemplation. 

Bright sunlight pours in the room bringing in some warmth, and the perfect natural light for painting. Her phone was hooked to the small stereo in the corner, her classical music playlist playing softly from the speakers. 

Still staring. 

“If you’re having a hard time looking for inspiration, ” Josh drawled from whereever he was on the couch, and Sam braced herself for the stupid remark he was surely going to make. “You could always paint me. I’d make an excellent nude model.” 

Sam folded her lips, thankful that her back was to him so he couldn’t see the expression on her face. 

Putting the paintbrush between her teeth, she pushed the blonde strands back with a headband, not wanting to get paint in her hair. If it could just grow already so she could tie it up into a bun and keep walking.

She takes out the black and white tubes of paint, not in the mood to use colors- she hadn't been in a long time. A few heartbeats pass before she starts adding a considerable amount of black to the palette and brushing a first few hesitant strokes onto the canvas. She grabs the white tube, adding white paint on the palette and mixes it with some black to form gray. She doesn’t know what she’s going to paint yet, merely allows her feelings to take over and guide every stroke. Every movement of her brush turning bolder, until something finally starts to emerge, to take form. 

Sometime after she starts Josh manages to fall uncharacteristically silent, but she feels his gaze burn through her as she paints. As she pours the darkness that lurks inside her heart onto the canvas. Sam didn’t know how many minutes, if not hours, passed when she finally lowered the brush, letting it dangle between her legs as she surveyed her creation. She frowned. 

While it oozed sharpness and fear, the same type of eeriness that was present in all of her paintings, there was just something... different about it- felt wrong somehow. 

“Beautiful,” Josh said, peering over her shoulder. Usually, she never lets anyone see her painting but seeing how Josh was Josh, she didn’t have a choice on the matter. “Depressing as hell but beautiful.”

“Thank you” she said flatly, not looking away from what she’d painted. 

Josh barked a laugh. “Thank you? Whatever happened to ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion, Joshua,’ or my timeless favorite ‘Shut up, Josh.’?” He clicked his tongue. “What a let down.”

Her hands curled shut. He could hear himself talk all day for all Sam cared, but she’s not going to take the bait. She isn’t.

“Tell me, Sammy,” he said. “Why is it that you haven’t told anyone about me?”

Why would she? She was enough of a wreck as it was, and she didn’t need the others prying anymore than they already did. 

“You’re not gonna talk? Fine, I’ll answer for you. You’re in denial.”

Sam stood up so fast, the stool almost fell behind her. “I’m not in denial.”

“No? Then why are you wearing this?” Just as he said the words, her necklace levitated from where she keeps it hidden underneath her shirt. “After all, it’s just a stupid key. A useless knickknack. Isn’t this a reminder of everything that happened that night?”

“It’s none of your business,” she hissed, stuffing her necklace back under the collar of her shirt.

“Sorry, I forgot is better to bury your feelings and pretend that everything’s fine. Because that’s what things are. Right Sammy? They’re fine.”

“Yes. And they would be even better if you weren’t here.”

“Liar.” He stalked closer, a faint smile on his lips that was anything but amused. “Did you even tell the others what I did to you in the lodge?”

Why was he bringing that up? “I don’t want to talk about it. Not with them. Much less with you.” 

“Right because it’s so much easier to act like nothing happened and that you’re holding yourself together-” 

“I’m fine.” The words come out so fast they only gave weight to his argument.

“Doesn’t look like that to me,” Josh retorted.

“What the hell does it even matter to you?”

He said quietly, “More than you think.”

And then he leaves. The jerk just vanishes.

Sam stares at the spot he was just standing, then at the painting. It no longer feels wrong. 

Tags: @xmxisxforxmaybe​

Anybody who wishes to be tagged can let me know!

[henrietta-ocs]

Character: Sage Foster Species: Witch Age: 28 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/her Occupation: Owner of Odds and Dead Ends By: Caroline

Biography

7 years old.

She knew it wasn’t allowed but she didn’t care. Whatever silly seasons her parents gave her for avoiding Trixie Wilkinson at all costs meant nothing. Trixie was 9 years old and quite possible the coolest person Sage Foster had ever met in her entire life. Sometimes her annoying little brother tagged along and ruined their fun but she often put up with it just because Trixie was still there. The trio spent hours out behind the abandoned mill down on the outskirts of town, jumping from platform to platform, spooking each other from behind doors, and causing typical childish mischief. With one difference: this was inter-species play. The Wilkinson children were werewolves and she was a witch. This friendship was forbidden by her coven and yet, here she was. Sage didn’t know, though, during their final moments of play, that it would be the last time she saw the Wilkinson children outside of school for a very long time. 

When she arrived home, her father was waiting on the porch for her. She smiled her most convincing smile and walked up. “Hi, dad!”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Why were you with the Wilkinson kids again? You know you’re not supposed to play with them.”

Sage just blinked, trying to come up with a lie but she wasn’t fast enough. “Don’t tell me you weren’t. I did a locator spell.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and groaned. “Dad! They’re nice!”

“I don’t care if they’re nice, Sage. They’re wolves! Witches and wolves do not spend time together. End of story. You tell Bea and Trevor you’re —”

Muttering, she looked at the ground, “their names are Trixie and Mason.”

“Excuse me? I don’t care what their names are!”

“But—”

“NO. BUTS. Inside. Tomorrow, you tell The Wilkinsons you are DONE playing together. Understood?”

Defeated, “understood,” she walked up the front porch stairs and into the house.

10 years old.

Sage Foster was on her bed, sobbing. And not just 10-year-old sobbing, but truly, really, with reason sobbing. Her mother, the only witch in her life that treated her with a modicum of respect, was gone. And not gone, took a drive and moved to another state gone, but gone in the never coming back because of a spell gone wrong sort of way. Even at 8 years old, she was expected to have some basic magic skills under her belt — levitation spells for small objects, elemental control — but she didn’t. Her mother always nurtured her, telling her that it would come with time, practice, and focus. Despite her best efforts, the most she could do with a feather was make it wiggle around on her pillow. Her coven-mates were levitating cats at this point. 

Her father had always been the harshest on her lack of skills. He was a senior advisor within the coven and she was an embarrassment. Not only had he said those words to her face but he’d said them behind her back, well, screamed them really. Loud enough for her to hear from 2 floors away. Just because her bedroom was shoved into the attic did not mean she was deaf, especially when he was yelling as loud as he did.

In the middle of a crying lull, her bedroom door creaked open and a large fluffy black cat poked his head in, mewing softly. Sage reached out and grabbed at the air but the cat knew. He bolted forward, jumped onto the bed with ease and allowed Sage to pull him in tightly. “Monster, mommy’s died…” The cat, Monster, nuzzled Sage gently and mewed again, louder this time. And Sage broke down, yet again.

16 years old.

While it had been years since she’d spent time with the Wilkinson’s, she still saw them everyday at school. At first, staying away from them had been a game; she’d dip into empty classrooms or the bathroom to avoid Trixie in the hallways. All she had to do was look at Mason the wrong way and he’d bug eyed turn around immediately. 

Today, though, it was one of those days that nostalgia hit hard. Trixie was at her locker, laughing with another wolf from her pack and Sage couldn’t stop staring at her. Eventually, it was too much and Trixie marched over, slamming her foot into the ground. “What do you want, Foster?”

“What makes you think I want anything from you?”

“You’re staring at me like you have something to say.”

“I have nothing to say to a flea ridden mongrel.”

That drew a snarl from Trixie as she stepped at Sage. Suddenly, a hand was on Trixie’s shoulder, pulling her back. “Hey…Trix…” Sage looked up and Mason was there, refusing to make eye contract with her.

“Let. Go.” Trixie was clearly upset that Mason had stepped in.

“We need to go. People are starting to stare. That was an impressive show but easy…” Trixie jerked her shoulder away from Mason, snarled again and bared her teeth, fangs glinting in the unforgiving hallway lights. Trixie turned sharply on her heels and b-lined for the exit to the parking lot.

Mason eventually relented, soft eyes landing on Sage. Smiling, Sage just shrugged. Mason shook his head and took off after his sister.

17 years old.

In just one calendar year, Mason Wilkinson had changed, significantly. While he had once been scrawny and kind of pathetic, he’d come into his own this past year. And Sage had certainly noticed. He was more confident, too, unabashedly making a point to intervene in her daily life whenever possible, if only to be an obnoxious pest. 

Today was no different. 

Leaning against her locker after first period, eating an apple in the most absurd way possible, Mason was there. Sage immediately frowned. “Awe, why the long face, Princess? I thought you’d be excited to see me. ”

“Move, mutt.”

“Ouch.” He kept a straight face, even if it stung a little. She hoped it did.

“Move.” She was smiling now, unable to stop the corners of her lips from turn upward.

“Ask nicely.”

“Move or I’ll spell you to the floor.” She wasn’t kidding, except, she’d never successfully cast that before. Or any spell, really.

“I’d like to see you try.” And there it was. The new smile. The one that made her stomach tumble. And God did she hate it. 

18 years old.

Three weeks. Three weeks was a long time to be late. She’d been two weeks late before; hell, she’d been 16 days late before. But 21 days? A full 3 weeks late on her period. And a few times during the last 6 weeks with Mason she’d been stupid, reckless, and fuck, so damn stupid. She buried her face in her knees, curled into herself on her bed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She slammed her head against her knees. 

She needed to know for sure though, right? She needed a pregnancy test from the store. But she didn’t have a car and she couldn’t ask her dad to drive her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Fumbling with her phone she dialed Mason and slowly explained the situation to what she thought might have been a dead line. After getting him to say that he would come pick her up, she stayed curled up in her bed. Mason knew the drill; he parked a block away, facing her house, called her when he got there and she’d start walking. All to avoid her father seeing them together. While he could still do a locator spell on her, the last time she had told her father she was seeing either of the Wilkinson children was when she was 7 years old. Mason wasn’t even on his radar anymore, at least, not right now. 

While she knew it took him over 15 minutes to get to her house from the trailer park, she had gone downstairs after only 5 minutes and good thing, too. Mason came flying down her driveway, gravel flying. She was so nervous though, that she didn’t even have the energy to yell at him for breaking their damn rules. 

Utter silence the entire way, but that was how she wanted it. Tears slid down her face and Mason reached for her hand. She immediately recoiled and pushed herself as close to the door as she could without opening it. Everything made her tremble: the thought of being pregnant at 18 years old, the thought of having to tell her father that she was pregnant at 18 years old, the thought of the look on Mason’s face when she told him she was pregnant at 18 years old. Spiraling wasn’t even an adequate word for what she was doing right now.

The car jamming into a motionless state was enough to shake her from her compulsive thought process; she threw the door open and nearly ran inside the store. She knew where the tests were: right next to the tampons she should have already finished using this month. But there were so many. Her heart was pumping 10,000 miles an hour as she looked at 2 shelves worth of pregnancy tests. She was going to vomit. 

Without thinking, she grabbed a pink box from the shelves of tests and went to the front, a hand absentmindedly on her stomach. After paying with cash she’d taken from her babysitting money, she asked for the bathroom. The older woman behind the counter offered an empathetic smile as she pointed to the back of the store. Sage simply nodded, flushed with embarrassment, before she turned and rushed off.

The directions weren’t complicated but there were diagrams and other warnings and percentages all over the document in her hands. She squatted over the toilet and tried her best to aim onto the little white stick. After successfully covering the test strip, and her entire hand, in urine, she waited. 180 seconds wasn’t a long time but right now, it felt like the clock was frozen. Did the second hand on her watch just…stop? No, she was losing it. Her watch was fine.

Before she’d even hit the 60 second mark, a large pink plus sign was evident across the readout window. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she immediately turned and puked into the toilet. Granted, not much came up; she hadn’t eaten in almost 3 days. She dragged her hand across her mouth and tried to breathe.

Now she had to put on a show. She couldn’t tell Mason. She couldn’t tell her father. This baby could not happen. This baby was a product of everything her father had warned her against for years — babies with the blood of more than one supernatural creature were destined to be a problem as far as her coven was concerned. Especially when half of this baby was Wilkinson; her father had been against their friendship from day one so a baby? That was absolutely out of the question. No, this ended now. 

She put herself back together in the foggy bathroom mirror, wiping the mascara from her cheeks and pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. She exhaled and nodded, “you’ve got this.” 

She walked outside, saw the concern plastered across Mason’s face, and that solidified her choice. She wasn’t some brittle girl who needed to be taken care of or saved. She was strong, independent, and plenty capable of handling this herself. She forced a smile and laughed, “looks like we’re lucky; someone’s smilin’ down…pass me my coat?” She gritted her teeth as she reached out.

“So…you’re not…?”

Sage laughed and shook her head. “All clear.”

Mason exhaled heavily and a smile cracked across his face; that fucking smile. That smile did this to her, to them. “Damn, Sage, that scared the shit outta me.”

He was scared? HE was scared? Her face dropped and she nodded. “Jacket?” Mason passed her the jacket through the window. “See ya around…” Sage turned on her heels and started walking. 

“Y-yeah…alright. I’ll hit you up later?” She didn’t nod; she didn’t turn back around; she didn’t acknowledge him. The tears fell freely, but silently. Tomorrow. Or next week. She’d handle this later. For right now, she just wanted to get out of the bubble that Mason Wilkinson slowly pulled her into over and over again with that smile, his willingness to do whatever she asked him to…fuck… It was a bubble she willingly wandered into time and time again but she was through with it — she had to be. 

Personality

(+) Strong-willed (+) Confident (+) Articulate (-) Self-sabotaging (-) Apathetic

[mellz117]

Hi! I’m Mellz and I’m starting up Kingdom Hearts 2 on the PlayStation 2! 

Just below are links to the first parts of my previous Kingdom Hearts plays.

[ KH1 ] _ [ Re:CoM Sora ] _ [ KH Re:CoM Riku ]

It’s been a hot minute, like 3,155,763 smoldering hot minutes, which would be 6 years including leap years. Yeah it was 01/27/2014 last I touched this game, exactly 6 years ago to this day (01/27/2020) as of me starting up again. This was an accident.

Guide thingy: Things like long gaps between commentary and days will be separated by a line of dots like that ->  ……

Text relating to an image posted will have a blockquote either above and/or below the image

Dialogue exchanges will also be separated by a blockquote

Ok I'm playing on standard difficulty, if I'm having a hard time, then I just suck. If you’re reading this and haven’t experienced KH2 for yourself, why are you here? Go away, there’s spoilers for things that aren’t revealed until later.

SO LET’S JUST JUMP INTO IT

……………………………………………………………………………………………

I always liked this fancy CGI opening. There’s a lot of things I missed last I saw it.

IT’S HIM. Look how cute he is! 

So we start off with a recap of Kingdom Hearts via a dream it seems and our protagonist, my precious boy Roxas, wakes up his own home all alone because apparently DiZ didn't create a digital family for him. But KH is notorious for forgetting parents, so maybe they did. I’m not Cinema Sins so I wont ping this game for not giving Roxas fake parents lmao

In the next scene Roxas is more interested in his own hands than he is in his friends' conversation. 

blurry ring textures, blurry checker pattern. Not everything holds up well on a flat screen TV

He hasn't been paying attention so he's just as confused as the player is at this point when he finally takes his attention off his hands.

This dialogue is so early 2000's. KH1 and CoM avoided this but with the urban setting of Twilight Town it's DEFINITELY noticeable and outdated. So rumors have spread about Roxas, Hayner, Pence, and Olette that photographs are being stolen, and THEY'RE the theives. Who is the operator of the rumor mill? Seifer and his posse. Also the actual WORD is gone too, they try to say “photo” but it just DOESN’T EXIST. This is where the game gets a bit odd.

TUTORIALS GALORE. I JUST WANT TO PAUSE AND CHANGE THE CAMERA CONTROLS STOP TELLING ME ABOUT MY NEXT OBJECTIVE but no no it’s telling me how to lock on, control my camera, context sensitive buttons, etc 

This girl’s dress looks like shes wearing a bra over it 

I like how the animal AI hasn't changed at all in this entire series. And by like I mean hate, KH3 doesn't change that. Sven is as boring as this cat we have to look at.

The gang heads to the sandlot where Seifer, Fuujn, Raijin, and Vivi like to hang out I guess? Vivi is a little, solid black, wizard dwarf amongst all these regular humans and no one bats an eye. This shit is normal. Seifer with his stupid Seto Kaiba jacket, shows up to further accuse Roxas and his friends of stealing photos, one specifically of Roxas flat on his face and Seifer standing triumphantly over him (which we’re actually shown later). "That was undeniable proof that we totally owned you lamers" he says in regards to it and challenges Roxas to a rematch.

A+ dialogue

Seifer. My dude, ya dumb-dumb. If you think for one second that I'm gonna let my boy lose to you, you are sorely mistaken. 

“If you get on your knees and beg, maybe I’ll let it slide.” Seifer says and Roxas plays it slick, taking a knee and looking through a convenient selection of foam weapons. Battle ensues.

So of course I win because Seifer is a pleb, and Pence takes a commemorative ______ of Roxas's sound victory, but oh no! Something stole the camera right out of Pence's hands! Roxas gives chase, because apparently he's the only one who cares enough to do so, and confronts the actual thief, a Dusk type Nobody. Roxas is taking this creature encounter rather calmly. Like mild confusion at most.

I hate these things, they're creepy. When you do a reversal on them they like, plant their hands on the ground behind them and their legs wrap around their arms while they spaz out. Ughghdhahh

Of course Roxas's foam bat doesnt cause any damage to the Dusk, and suddenly a familiar giant key digitally manifests in his hands. DiZ is installing mods I see. I have a Keyblade mod in Skyrim, so we have something in common.

After we defeat the thief the next scene shows the gang at the usual spot with the recovered photos. Ok ok so was "photo" the only word deleted from the vocabulary or were any other alternative words taken away too? Like, if they could have said "picture" this whole time, they would have had much less stupid sounding dialogue exchanges. Whatever lmao.

“Tell us about the picture thief.”

“Not much to say. The pictures were just lying there.”

You liar. Tell them about how you fought a wormy, white boy.

Pence notices all the pics are of Roxas and speculates the picture thief wanted to take the REAL Roxas and Hayner is like

The best friendships are ones where you can take jabs at each other and know there’s no malice intended.

 In the scene thereafter, the kids go their separate ways, the evening(?) sun assaults Roxas's eyes, and whenever he closes them he gets another vision? Idk what time of day it is it always looks the same.

God ok as someone who hadn’t played CoM before playing KH2 for the first time, I must have been SUPER lost regarding who DiZ and Namine were and why Sora is in the pod. More recaps of KH1: I don’t know why they found it necessary to redub over the old voices with the new actors in these flashbacks.

Moving on. Roxas learns what the Keyblade is through his dreams. On his way to meet up with his friends, he tries summoning the Keyblade with a stick, when that doesn’t work he carelessly throws it aside and it hits this cloak clad man behind him. This dude is either completely unfazed by that is or so offended he can’t even say anything and walks away before he goes all Karen on Roxas’s ass.

We’re back at the usual spot and summer vacation is nearing it’s end. Hayner wants to go to the beach before school is back in session! You poor fuckers...

Same, dude. I’m waiting on my tax returns, looking forward to that.

SKATEBOARD

“TO DEFEAT THE HUNSSSSSSS!”

Pretzels at the beach? Salty and not refreshing. I got you fam, I’ll make enough money for a watermelon. Roxas is so poor omg... How much is 150 Munny in American currency?

Just BEAT the cargo with a foam bat. What’s IN the bag? Is it trash? Clothes? Is it potentially breakable? Next. Time to beat some bees!

So Poster Duty was my go-to job in this game in the past because you could get 100 Munny if you did well. But now that I’m older I realized how annoying it is. I had an efficient route planned out, hit as many of the 3 poster placements in that route, and be over and done with that in about 1:10....

But then Roxas goes aND DOES THIS!

FUCKING SKIPS THE ONE DIRECTLY NEXT TO HIM, DEFYING GRAVITY IN FAVOR OF THE POSTS BELOW

HE DOES THIS CONSISTENTLY!! I do have a live reaction to this but it’s too big for tumblr. I’ll have it up on youtube one of these days

Eventually I stopped sticking posters to walls and became a mailman until the game made me stop.

Black-clad man is back with his own stick! Oof, Roxas eats the pavement and is manhandled by cloaky boy. WAS THIS ROUGH TREATMENT REALLY THAT NECESSARY? You might wanna treat Sora's Nobody with a little more respect. AND YOU STOLE HIS HARD-EARNED MONEY! YOU BASTARD!

The gang is on the clock tower, very dangerously high up. Wtf what if someone falls?! Roxas feels so guilty about what happened and Hayner gets over this little fiasco pretty quickly and the next day he already has another fun plan.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

On his way to the station, Roxas crosses paths with Pence and Olette, the latter two freeze and Roxas meets Namine. Is her interest in Roxas linked to her desire to be Sora’s friend? A strange girl tells Roxas she wanted to meet him “at least once” and he doesn’t know what to do lol. Namine doesn’t stay long, leaving Roxas with his confusion. What is going through his head? A girl he doesn’t know seems to know him well enough to want to see him. Pence and Olette unfreeze after Namine is out of the shot. Pence and Olette have such a cute relationship, I’d love for them to be siblings. Pence goes shopping with her even if he might not want to. I can relate, I hate clothes shopping.

These Dusks don’t seem like too much of a threat tbh, they just kinda swagger slowly towards Roxas and grab his hand. Roxas hardly struggles to escape to the sandlot.

Chicken wuss

WE FINALLY GET SOMEWEHERE, we end up on the stained glass pillars in the Station of Serenity (?). Time to grind for like 5 minutes because this giant noodle boy already killed me once.

This thing really unsettles me. All the creature Nobodies do! They’re all twitchy and stretchy. DISGUSTING

DAMN THAT IS A HIGH FALL HOW DO YOU SURVIVE THAT?!

Upon defeat, this big noodle boy falls on top of Roxas and Namine saves him from being enveloped by darkness.

Namine really seems to like to silence him. First she shoves her hand in his face but that was too forward. This time she daintily places a finger over her lips and says her part. Black-cloak guy shows up, rough handles Namine a little bit but not as roughly as he did Roxas. AND SHOVES ROXAS INTO A PORTAL

SEIFER IS AN OPPORTUNISTIC SHITLET POSING IN FRONT OF HIS UNCONSIOUS BODY. Bitch you didn’t earn that. Hayner, Pence, and Olette see Roxas with Seifer’s gang, Hayner feels betrayed thinking Roxas ghosted him in favor of Seifer. He stays pretty salty about it for a good while

IM NOT WORKING ON THIS LIKE I SHOULD. ITS ALMOST A MONTH SINCE STARTING. In my next post we'll be "Struggling" to progress. Eh? Eh? Get it? Like the tournament?

I'm not funny.

Here’s the next part: [ _2_ ]

Below is a compilation of my live reactions and comments throughout this point of the game.

[ariadnelives]

Chapter 28 -- The Line in the Sand

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“This is weird,” Ariadne said, holding up a finger to gauge the direction of the wind in the vast, red Martian desert.

“You’re telling me,” Sweettalk said, “The atmosphere on Mars shouldn’t be thick enough for there to be a gentle breeze like this.”

“Okay, nerd, I meant that we’re standing on the surface without spacesuits.” Ariadne rolled her eyes, a fact that was only apparent due to the small purple light she’d recently installed in her goggles to indicate the direction her eyes were pointing. She had made this modification partially because her sarcasm was often lost on those she was speaking to, but mostly because it looks cool.

“You thinking you’re in a position to call anyone a nerd is hilarious,” Sweettalk replied. “Does everyone know their part?”

Ariadne and the girl dressed in all black standing next to her, formerly known as ViLaz, nodded affirmatively.

“Good, because he could be here any minute.”

“He could be here right now,” Ariadne muttered, “last time he took the form of a disembodied voice, he has complete authority here.”

“Well,” Sweettalk scratched the back of her head, “not complete authority.”

Ariadne smiled, but nudged her in the ribs to indicate that she should shut up and not blow the con.

They waited a few moments in silence before Ariadne finally called to the sky “GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, CABRÓN!”

“I’ll thank you not to speak to me that way,” Dr. Simon materialized behind them, causing all three of them to jump as though they were housecats and a person, who they did not realize was in the room, moved their foot slightly.

“Glad you could make it,” Ariadne said.

“Don’t lie to the man,” Sweettalk replied. “Mr. Simon—”

“—Doctor Simon,” he corrected.

“Whatever Simon,” Sweettalk continued, “I have come to represent my client in this transaction. You should be advised that she is no longer using the name ViLaz. I am informing you of this in the interest of full disclosure and fairness, as our negotiations here, once agreed to, will be coded into the system and will be binding to both of us.”

“This is ridiculous, I will do no such—”

“Mr. Simon, I would advise you that it is in your own interest to make this concession. I have been advised that code written in this way can be very specific, and if you refer to my client as ViLaz, you could be forced to give us what we want without getting what you want. Is that clear?”

Dr. Simon grunted. “Fine. What should I call her?”

“We did some deliberating about that, it was a little complex since you decided to make three of her, but for nerdy reasons, this iteration has agreed to be called Kay. Now, before we go any further,” Sweettalk said, dragging the point of her toe across the sand in front of them, creating a clear line, “this is a threshold that you will not cross for the duration of the negotiations. We know how to strip you of your authority without killing anyone. If you violate this boundary before we approve the transaction, you give my associate Ariadne permission to take you out. Is that clear?”

Dr. Simon chuckled, clearly not believing that they had any such power. “Whatever.”

He didn’t notice Ariadne smirk.

“We want a guarantee of my client’s safety after the transaction,” Sweettalk explained calmly. “A guarantee that no one will have the authority to delete or alter her consciousness and memories after the change is made. We would like the same guarantee to be made of the other people stored on this drive.”

Dr. Simon chuckled again, somewhat derisively. “Those people are already dead, child.”

“Their bodies are, but we have a skilled cyberneticist on our staff, not to mention one hell of a doctor. Given time and resources, with the data we’ve collected in our treatment of one of your ‘daughters,’ we can construct them new bodies.”

“If you were really capable of that, you could do it for me,” Dr. Simon suggested, “and then you wouldn’t have to put young V— I’m sorry, Kay— in my place.”

“We considered that,” Sweettalk responded with as much confidence as she could muster given that she absolutely had not considered that, “we felt you would be unable to trust us in a body that our captain could simply hack and remotely shut down. We are negotiating this transaction instead as an act of good faith.”

“You’re right,” Dr. Simon said, “had you offered, I would not have accepted.”

“So, now that we’re on the same page,” Sweettalk said, “I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen.”

There were several seconds of silence, that Sweettalk milked until she was sure he was about to speak, at which point she gestured to a small marble pedestal behind her, which definitely was not there a moment before, on top of which was a metal lock box with two locks on the front.

“My client will turn her key, and you will turn yours.”

Kay turned the key in the box, and Dr. Simon nodded and stepped towards the box.

Ariadne grinned.

***

“Breaking the antenna isn’t the problem,” Pilar explained, “I mean, it is and it isn’t.”

“First explain how it isn’t,” Sasha replied hurriedly, “then explain how it is.”

“It isn’t because the real problem is that as soon as we do, every armed guard in this place is going to storm the room guns-blazing and I’m not sure even I’m up to that challenge,” Pilar said, prying a panel off the antenna and tossing it onto the bodies of the technicians who had, up until recently, manned this transmitter, “and it is because of, well, this—”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sasha said, sighing exasperatedly, “How many cartoons did this guy watch as a kid?”

A red, old-fashioned countdown clock connected to several tubes and wires blinked 5:00 every few seconds.

“I’m willing to bet he set this place up to clean itself out of evidence if he ever had to beam away,” Pilar explained, “if he left the antenna behind, someone could use it to locate where he’d been beamed to, so these vents around the ceiling? They probably spew out antimatter or hot plasma when the timer’s up.”

“Five minutes?” Sasha asked.

“I’m guessing that’s how long it takes to be sure he’s beamed away,” Pilar replied.

“Yeah, he probably wouldn’t want to risk a partial transfer of, well, basically his soul.”

“Now, look at all those wires— they’re attached to each part of the transmitter that’s absolutely necessary to its operation. Smart money says it starts counting if any of those things isn’t working, the countdown starts. Whoever built this thing probably figured it would be manned around the clock and the technicians would fix any run-of-the-mill errors within five minutes, and that anyone trying to sabotage it wouldn’t bother to check for a big countdown clock and would get killed by the failsafe. We got lucky because right now, all the guards in this place are trying to fend off an invasion by pirates.”

“Good thing we watched a lot of cartoons too,” Sasha noted.

“It’s gonna take a few minutes to break this thing beyond repair anyway,” Pilar noted, unslinging a rifle from her shoulder, “Maybe you get to smashing and I’ll watch your six, pick off any goons who try to kill us.”

“I mean… there’s an easier way.” Sasha offered. “You just said that this room is set up with a failsafe that’ll destroy this whole thing. Gimme one of your knives and I’ll slash all the wires, then we both run like hell and let this monument to bad design take care of itself.”

Pilar was silent for a moment. “¡Eres brillante!”

She unsheathed a knife from her hip and handed it to Sasha, who replied “¡Lo sé!”

***

“So,” Sweettalk said after Dr. Simon had taken several steps towards the pedestal, “here’s what’s really going to happen. You get nothing. You lose.”

“What are you talking about?” Simon replied.

“Kay! You know what to do!”

It was at this point that the girl standing by Ariadne spoke up, in a voice that seemed to echo itself. “Your administrator permissions have been revoked, father.”

Dr. Simon chuckled. “You don’t have the authority to do that.”

“How do you figure?” Sweettalk asked.

“That’s why I made three vessels. The system registers anyone with sufficiently identical memories as a single person, so I made sure they had nearly identical memories.”

“So,” Sweettalk speculated, “You suppose that each clone is only one-third as powerful as yourself in this place.”

Dr. Simon nodded and continued walking towards the box.

“Enough that if any one of them agreed with you, it would provide you with the necessary majority share to break the stalemate and make changes to the system, like letting the two of you change places …”

“Precisely.”

“Or authorize another administrator,” Ariadne smirked.

Dr. Simon stopped walking. “ …what?”

“Your administrator permissions have been revoked, Mr. Simon,” Ariadne said.

“Says who?” Simon scoffed.

“I said your permissions have been revoked,” Kay insisted.

“Your permissions are revoked!” Ariadne repeated flippantly, “what are you, stupid or something?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Simon asked, “You would need all three clones to vote in order to make that change, and even then I would be able to override it.”

“That assumes you’re only speaking to one of the clones,” Sweettalk said. “See, out in the real world we’ve been calling them Cyan, Magenta, and Yellow to tell them apart, but when they’re all here together, they register as one person… When they’re all together, we call them Kay.”

“CMYK,” Ariadne laughed, “Our ship’s doctor came up with that one, it’s the nerdiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“My god, I love her,” Sweettalk whispered.

“So, this girl here has as much authority as you.”

Dr. Simon let out what sounded like a cross between a cough and a growl. “Even so, you need a majority to strip me of my authority. In the presence of a stalemate, no change is made.”

“We have a majority,” Kay announced. “Ariadne is an administrator.”

“That’s the worst bluff I’ve ever heard,” Simon spat, “obviously I won’t approve that, and in a stalemate—”

“It isn’t a stalemate,” Ariadne laughed, “Your ‘daughters’ proposed the change and you voted in its favor.”

“I did no such—”

“‘If you violate this boundary before we approve the transaction, you give my associate Ariadne permission to take you out.’ That’s what I said,” Sweettalk explained, gesturing at the line in the sand just behind Dr. Simon, “and I don’t recall approving the transaction. When you crossed the line, you authorized her to take you out— something only an administrator could do.”

Simon sputtered a bit. “You said that she would turn her key and I would turn mine and—”

Sweettalk interrupted, “—and your ridiculously overfed ego filled in the blanks yourself. I never said the box would finalize the transaction.”

“Sometimes a box is just a box,” Ariadne pointed out, “we never said it was anything else, it’s not our fault you misinterpreted.”

“I voted for Ariadne to be a new admin before you got here,” Kay smiled triumphantly, “and when you crossed that line, you approved her. Then we didn’t need you to get a majority anymore, and we voted you out of power.”

Sweettalk offered Kay a fist-bump, and it took her a moment to figure out what to do with it. “Man, I’m glad Prescott is cat litter now, but for once I’m glad he taught me how to hustle a grade-A chump.”

“So, here’s what’s really going to happen,” Ariadne said, now practically looming over Dr. Simon, looking more and more like a massive spider by the moment, “this is my world now, and you do not have my permission to run or hide.”

“You insolent—”

“I don’t need the monologue from you,” Ariadne snapped, “your turn to talk is over. You know, I haven’t been a person of faith for most of my life, and then I actually met a couple of gods. One of them was cruel, the other uncaring. If there is a proper, capital-G ‘God,’ I’d bet they fuck up a lot based on how much the world sucks, but at least they probably care about what we want. You? You don’t hold a candle to any of them.”

Dr Simon opened his mouth to respond, but Ariadne struck him across the face with the back of her hand to prevent this.

“You’re not even a god. You’re a washed-up nobody who wants to take away people’s free will and have them build shrines to you. If you were a cruel god, you'd die like Weaver, if you were an uncaring god, you’d run away like Upendo, and if you were an incompetent god you'd at least have the decency to care about other people, like whatever incompetent god managed to create someone as wonderful as my wife but then put her through hell for over a decade. But you? You’re not a god at all. You’re a wannabe king, and do you know what happens to kings?”

Dr. Simon attempted to run, but he was quickly subdued by a massive silver monster with what appeared to be a middle-aged human female corpse suspended in its machinery.

“I said you don’t have my permission to run, and while you’re in my world, you answer to my demons.” Ariadne sneered. “Oh, and I wouldn’t bother trying to run for that transmitter, Mr. Simon—”

“Doctor—”

“—Like it matters! In 3-2-1—” Ariadne gestured upwards and the sun above the desert flashed a vibrant red and loud klaxons began to sound, “—I can’t believe I timed that out so well! Anyway, that’ll be my wife smashing your exit strategy to bits. You have no way out.”

Dr. Simon started laughing a mirthless cackle.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Ariadne said, “you’re stuck here.”

“Was it worth it?” Dr. Simon asked.

Ariadne rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My men will tear her to pieces,” Dr. Simon laughed, “and if they don’t get her my failsafe will. You’ve murdered her, my child.”

“Nobody here is your child,” Ariadne replied, “and if anyone could get out of there alive, it’s my girl.”

“We should go,” Sweettalk said, “we don’t want to be here when, uh… Did you explain what happens to kings when the peasants get restless?”

Ariadne laughed, “You know, I don’t think I did! Do you remember all those people whose bodies you stole, Mr. Simon? Well, your majesty, I think your subjects want an audience with you! Toodles!”

The three girls vanished from the desert and Simon fell to his knees in the sand. He heard distant footsteps and suddenly realized, for the first time in his life, he was completely powerless.

***

“Plus, you do a great job with number four…” Sasha’s mildly distorted voice came through the haze.

As the virtual world swirled away and the real world came back into focus, Ariadne watched Sasha burst in through the door with Pilar slung over her shoulder.

“I need your help,” Sasha shouted, “she’s been shot!”

“You always have to prove me wrong!” Ariadne rushed over and immediately took Pilar onto her own shoulder, “you are not allowed to die.”

“You two have been spending too much time together” Pilar sputtered.

[timelordthirteen]

Some Other Time - Part 5

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Explicit

Summary: College student Lacey dumps her boyfriend and needs a new apartment, it just so happens her professor, Dr. Gold, has a room to rent.

Chapter Summary: Lacey gets a package, and Gold gets a peek.

Notes: I'm so behind on these fics. :( I hate everything. For the 31 Days of Fandomas prompt #20 - Stockings.

[AO3]

Lacey’s leg bounced as she glanced up at the clock.

Fifteen minutes left and she still had no idea how to answer three of the questions. She huffed and frowned at the exam sheet, tapping her pen against the edge of the desk. Professor Mills's test were always challenging, but Lacey usually did well on them. This time though, it was like she studied all the things that weren’t on the test. She wanted to be done with this stupid final and done with the semester.

It didn’t help that there was a package waiting for her at home. Well, Gold’s home. The home she sort of shared with Gold.

The package was the kind that she wanted to get to before anyone else saw it, just in case. There was no way for anyone to leave a package at her door, specifically. It would be left on the front porch, probably on the little bench. If Gold saw it, he’d bring it for her, which might mean he would figure out where it was from, and thus what was inside.

Things were less awkward now that she’d apologized for her antics and exploded Christmas decorations all over the house. Gold seemed happier the last few days, and as a result he’d been inviting her to have dinner. Afterwards, they would talk late into the evening, sometimes with a movie playing, sometimes with nothing but the crack of the fire. It felt like a real friendship now, which only made her romantic and sexual attraction to him stronger.

Hence the package.

She decided to treat herself to a little something from her favorite lingerie catalog, something she thought he might like, with all the accessories, like a garter belt and stockings, to go with it. Even if she never wore it for him, she could still pretend, still think of him when she wore it for herself. Maybe, if she was brave enough, she’d follow through on her fantasy and let him find her under the tree on Christmas morning. He wouldn’t be able to mistake her intentions then.

Because her order was over a certain amount, the company threw in one of their toys for free, a shiny gold vibrator that she thought was hilariously appropriate. It could be her little “Gold” when she got all dressed up and let her fantasies run wild. Her legs pressed together just imagining how it might feel, and she looked up at the clock again to see only five minutes remaining. She blew out a breath and started writing furiously, hoping she could bullshit her way to at least a B, and make it home before Gold.

Gold sighed as he stepped up onto the porch.

There was a box by the door, sitting on the old bench. It used to be a park bench in Boston, but he found it at flea market and decided it would be a good project someday. It lived in the garage for a few months, along with the numerous other items he had plans for if he ever retired from teaching and opened an antique shop. Last summer he finally pulled the bench out, and restored the old iron work and stained the wood, thinking it would be nice to put out front and have a place to sit. Not that he ever sat out there, but it did look nice, especially now that Lacey had dressed it up with some lights and a little wreath.

He picked up the box, expecting it to be heavier than it was based on its size, and hauled it inside. In the kitchen, he set the it on the counter, and started the kettle for some tea. The package seemed familiar somehow, but he didn’t remember ordering anything. He stared at the logo for a long moment, wondering what it could be, and then turned the box around and around, trying to find the shipping label.

The contents seemed very lightweight, and he frowned, unable to find anything beyond the barcode label the shipping company had used. Then it hit him. He had ordered some sample paper and leather for an old book he wanted to repair. They would be small squares and probably no more than a couple of pounds all together. He had thought some of them were backordered until after the new year, but perhaps they had arrived early.

A little giddy at the prospect of being able to finish the book over the winter break, he took out a paring knife and used the sharp tip to slit the tape on the edges of the box and up the middle. Inside was a layer of pink tissue, which he thought was an odd choice for packing material. He folded it back and gasped.

Laid out in the box, nestled in even more pink tissue paper, was the single skimpiest lingerie set he’d ever seen, with a strappy garter belt and seamed stockings. The top portion was comprised of mostly black lace and ribbons with a shimmery gold mesh material. The panties that presumably went under it, were no more than a few strings and a triangle of the same shimmery fabric. The garter belt was also black and trimmed in gold, and laying in the middle of the box was a shiny, metallic gold colored...thing. It looked phallic shaped, but small, and one part seemed separated from the rest, as if it might twist or click like a pen. It had been a few years since he’d seen one, but he was pretty sure that was some sort of vibrating sex toy.

Gold swallowed hard as he reached inside the picked up a small postcard.

Merry Christmas, Lacey! From all your friends at Exotic Wonders! Enjoy 10% off your next order with the code on the back of this card.

The logo on the outside was familiar because it was the same logo as Lacey’s lingerie catalog. The one she’d dropped in the hallway that had nearly given him a heart attack to pick up later. That meant this was Lacey’s. That Lacey had order this with at least some intention of wearing it. And using...it.

His mind flooded with images. Lacey in the lingerie, the sheer fabric hiding nothing and shining in the firelight. Lacey on the bed, stretched out with the shiny gold toy between her thighs, buzzing away as she cried out in ecstasy. He wanted to use it on her, tease her with it until she sobbed for release. He wanted to peel off that barely there lingerie and replace it with his mouth, working his way down to where she was warm and wet. His eyes closed and he leaned forward on the counter for a moment, until the shrill whistle of the kettle snapped him back to reality.

He moved the kettle off the burner and looked at the clock on the stove, panic rising in his gut. Lacey would be home from her exam any minute. She couldn’t know that he opened her package, that he saw her -

Moving faster than one might have thought possible for a fifty year old man with a bad leg and a cane, he went to his study and retrieved a roll of packing tape from his desk drawer. He laid the tissue paper over everything before closing the flaps. He taped the box shut, smoothing it out to make it look as untouched as possible, and then hurried to the front door to put the box back outside.

When door closed, he exhaled, feeling the thump of his heart in his chest. It was done, and she would never know. He shook his head and decided something far stronger than tea was needed.

Lacey bounded up the front steps, the heels of her boots thudding loudly against the old wood.

Her package had arrived and it was still outside. Gold was home, so it must have been dropped off after he arrived home. She assumed he hadn’t heard the delivery truck and grinned at her fortune. She picked up the box and hurried inside, calling out a quick 'I’m home' before heading upstairs. She’d go back down in a few minutes and whine to Gold about how awful Professor Mills’ exam was, but right now she wanted to see what she ordered. She hoped it looked as good in person as it did in the catalog and online.

The tape sliced easily with her letter opener, almost too easily on the sides, and she frowned. She tipped the box up and saw the ends, which were covered in tape, were not held shut anymore. It looked like something had already cut through tape, the box wasn’t damaged in anyway. When she opened it, everything was there. Putting it out of her mind, she drew back the pink tissue paper.

It looked just as she’d hoped, hot, sexy, and totally slutty, and she grinned. Her fingers slid over the toy as she picked it up, and her eyes went wide as she saw it wasn’t just the cheap model, but the one with three different speeds. Oh, she was definitely treating herself tonight. A long, hot bath, some wine, and some alone time was in order after that completely shit final exam.

But first she needed to bitch about it to Gold, and find out what was for supper. Not that she expected him to make food every night, but he promised her something to soothe her sorrows if the test didn’t go well. She planned on asking for that ridiculous baked mac and cheese he’d made last week. It might make her gain twenty pounds just looking at it, but it would be so worth it.

Smiling, she headed downstairs and into the kitchen. “Hey, Gold, I totally -”

Lacey stopped just inside the door and stared at the marble covered island. The kitchen was empty, but right in the middle of the creamy white surface was a pink and black postcard. Her lips pressed together and she started to smirk. Her package had been opened, and the culprit was totally busted.

Licking her lips slowly, she turned and sauntered out of the room, and headed back upstairs.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Taking Back Neverland--Chapter 6 of 10

Pairing:  Captain Swan

Rating:  G or a soft T

Summary: AU. After actress Emma Swan’s lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story.  It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.  Only problem?  She’ll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can’t stand.  (Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection.)

Previous chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Notes:  So this is an old story, originally written about 3 years ago as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but @kmomof4 made the amazing above pic-set for it as a birthday gift, (Thanks Krystal!  It’s perfect!), and I decided it was time for a reissue.   Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma woke up feeling warm and fuzzy and altogether wonderful.

The feeling lasted only until she was fully awake and remembered the events of the night before. She sat up quickly, dropped her head in her hands and groaned.  Had she really had dinner with Killian Jones and told him all about Neal and Walsh?

Her stomach dropped as she remembered the emotions as she revealed her deepest secrets—secrets she hadn’t even told her best friends until several years into their relationship.  Emma didn’t open up, didn’t reveal herself, didn’t give people the opportunity to hurt her.

What was it about Killian that made her suddenly turn away from all her finely-honed self-preservation tactics and turned her into a blithering idiot?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

Gradually, Emma became aware that the scent of freshly brewed coffee had wafted its way into her bedroom. Interesting.  She got to her feet, put on a pair of fuzzy slippers, and walked down the hall to investigate.

“Morning, Emma!” came the perky voice of Ruby Lucas as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. Her best friend and agent held out a large, steaming mug of very strong black coffee, and that alone, in Emma’s estimation, would have covered a multitude of sins.

Emma mumbled something that may have vaguely sounded like “Good morning” before falling heavily into her favorite chair at the kitchen table.

Not a bit deterred by Emma’s less-than-warm welcome, Ruby plopped into a chair next to her, her smile so wide and sunny, Emma half expected rainbows to shoot from her ears.

“Not to be, you know, rude,” Emma said, after taking a couple of fortifying sips of the hot brew, “but what are you doing here so early, Ruby?”

The woman in question rolled her eyes. “So early?  Emma it’s already 10:00!  You’ve just about slept the day away!”

Emma glanced to the swan-shaped clock on her kitchen wall, and noted that her agent had indeed spoken the truth. She was normally a much earlier riser, but, knowing she wasn’t due on set until 4:00 that afternoon, she’d turned off her alarm and indulged in a day of sleeping in.

“Guess you’re right about that,” she conceded. “But the question remains.  What’s up?”

To Emma’s surprise, Ruby blushed, dropped her eyes, and started absently toying with one of Emma’s placemats.

“It’s just,” Ruby said hesitantly, “well, Graham and I went out again last night.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. Well that was interesting.  Ruby was more or less the poster-girl for the casual hook up.

“That’s, what? The fourth date you’ve been on with him in the last two weeks?” Emma asked, bringing the mug back to her lips.

“The fifth,” Ruby said, sending Emma a shy smile, “but who’s counting.”

“Wow, for you, that’s really getting serious.”

“I know!” Ruby said. “I’m not, you know, the long-term relationship type.  I like to just have fun, but with Graham…I don’t know, Emma; I just like him.  Like, really truly like him!”

Emma smiled and then reached over to cover her friend’s hand with her own. “Ruby, I think that’s great!  I really do.  Graham’s a great guy, and I think the two of you could be really good together.”

“You think so?” Ruby asked, the delight evident in her sparkling eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Ruby said, “because…well we’re supposed to go out again this Friday, and I think he wants to ask me to put a name to this…thing…going on between us. You know, like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Go for it,” Emma said.

“I think I will,” Ruby said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I was gonna go talk all of this over with Mary Margaret, because she’s like the true love expert (no offense to you, of course), but she’s sick this morning.  Apparently a stomach bug or something.”

“So she was telling the truth last night,” Emma said, feeling more than a little surprise. “I’d more than half expected her ‘sudden nausea’ was an elaborate matchmaking ploy.”

Suddenly Ruby perked up, like a wolf picking up a scent. “Matchmaking?  Last night?” she asked, leaning forward.  “Emma, what’s going on that neither of my best friends decided to fill me in about?”

Emma called herself about three kinds of fool. She’d walked herself right into that one.  She did not want to have this conversation with Ruby—at least matchmaking, innuendo laden Ruby.  The compassionate, good-listener Ruby might be a different story.

“It’s nothing,” Emma said shortly. “It’s just…I went to dinner with David and Mary Margaret, and they invited Killian along.”

“Let me guess,” Ruby said, “when Mary Margaret got sick, she and David left you alone with tall, dark and sexy?”

“Yeah,” Emma said dryly, “something like that.”

Ruby was silent for several moments, and Emma saw something that looked like compassion in her eyes. “Emma,” her friend said, “something’s bothering you.  What is it?”

“I…talked to him,” Emma admitted, suddenly desperate to unburden herself, desperate for someone to tell her that what happened last night wasn’t as momentous as it felt.

“Okay,” Ruby said, drawing out the two syllables. “What…about?”

“I…I might have told him all about Neal and Walsh.”

Ruby abruptly sat tall in her chair, her brows nearly reaching to her hair line. “Really?  Emma, it wasn’t even until we’d been roommates for three years that you told me about Neal.”

“I know!” Emma said in exasperation. “I don’t know what came over me!  We were just having a conversation, and he suddenly seemed so sympathetic, and, I don’t know!  It just came tumbling out.”

Ruby smiled—not her self-satisfied, “I knew it!” smile, but her compassionate “best friend” smile. “Emma, you like him, don’t you?”

“What?!” Emma shot to her feet and started pacing.  “No!  I mean, we are getting along better now than at first, but no!  I don’t, I can’t like him the way you’re implying!”

Ruby calmly took a sip of her coffee. “Why not?  And don’t give me that ‘his reputation as a playboy’ bull.  I think the last few weeks of working with him have shown you the tabloids at least greatly exaggerated.”

“He is…different from what I expected,” Emma admitted, “and last night he told me he wanted to be friends, but I think he might want more, deep down, and I…I just can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about him!”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Ruby asked.

Emma blew out a long breath and dropped her eyes. “Sometimes…sometimes I wonder,” she admitted.  “I mean, I know what Neal and Walsh did to me…well, they were world-class jerks, but I can’t help but wonder…”

“Wonder what?”

“If…if it’s not really them at all,” Emma admitted, “if maybe it’s me that’s the issue.  If I’m, I don’t know, cursed or something.  If a happy ending just isn’t in the cards for me.”

Ruby came over to her and wrapped her in a hug. “Emma, I can guarantee that’s not the case.  There’s someone out there for you.  Maybe Killian, maybe not, but I know someone’s out there.  At the risk of sounding like Mary Margaret, you just have to hold on to hope.  And anyway, like you said, Killian told you he wants to be friends.  You obviously enjoy each other’s company; just focus on the friend part.  There’s plenty of time for the falling in love part if it’s meant to be.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

By the time Emma got to set that afternoon she was an absolute ball of nerves. Focusing on the friendship part would be a whole hell of a lot easier if her job didn’t require her to, you know, make out with her “friend”.

Because, yeah. Today was the day they shot that scene.

And Emma instinctively knew there was no way out of the “making out”. Regina had been playing up their chemistry and the rapidly developing relationship between Anna and Hook like crazy lately.  She’d been explicit when discussing the scene.  She expected fireworks.

The butterflies started doing the tango in her stomach at the thought, visions of Killian’s handsome face lowering toward hers…of his warm, firm lips, soft, minty breath, tongues, heat, passion…she groaned. How was she going to do this?

And why was it such a big deal?  It wasn’t like it was real.  It was just a stage kiss.  She’d go through the motions as “Anna”, while a whole team of techs swarmed around her and Killian with sound equipment and cameras and lighting and everything else.  Not exactly romantic.

So if her heart could, you know, stop pounding as fast as if she’d just run a marathon, that’d be great.

“Afternoon, Swan.”

Emma closed her eyes, trying desperately to get a hold of herself before she came face to face with him. She took a couple of deep breaths and then turned, convinced she’d gotten over her stupidity.

And then she was confronted with him and his artfully tousled hair and heavy guyliner and leather…everything…and chest hair on full display, and heaven help her, there should be a law against a man looking like that.

“Hey,” she squeaked, cleared her throat and then tried again. “Kinda nice to get the morning off, right?”

“Aye,” he said with a slight inclination of the head. He was silent for a moment, just looking at her.  “Look Swan, I thought perhaps we’d best discuss our plans for our scene today before we shoot.”

And somehow, Emma didn’t even know how it was physically possible, her heart started beating even faster. “Um…yeah, I guess.”

Killian scratched at the spot behind his ear, blushing slightly and turning his eyes away from her. Finally he looked back.  “I’ve had my fair share of scenes of this nature, being, after all, the leading man on many a chick flick, and I can assure you they’re always a bit awkward…particularly the characters’ first kiss.”

“So,” she said, “what do you do to make things…less awkward?”

“It’s best when there’s trust and understanding between the actors involved,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I assure you, Emma, I want you to be as comfortable as possible as we film today.  To that end, I’d like to propose that it be you that takes the lead in Anna and Hook’s kiss.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Aye,” he said firmly. “It would seem to work well with Anna’s character, and it will ensure this is as pleasant an experience as possible for you.  You, love, decide the direction this kiss will take, and I’ll merely follow you.”

“But…I mean, you’re involved too. Don’t you want to …I don’t know…do something to make yourself more comfortable?”

His eyes widened melodramatically. “Why Swan, do you have intentions to take advantage of me?”

She rolled her eyes, barking out a laugh. “You are such an idiot.”

He grinned. “Aye, but tell the truth love, you quite enjoy my nonsense.”

She shot him a look. “Maybe.  From time to time.”

“Alright! Places everyone!” Regina shouted.  “We’ve got a lot to cover today, and I for one don’t want to be here until 4:00 in the morning.”

Emma took a deep breath as the nerves took over once more. This was…this was a lot to deal with, stage kiss or not.  She offered up a quick prayer that she didn’t make a total fool of herself.

Emma took her place in the “jungle”, having just passed the flask back to Killian. She closed her eyes, took a couple deep breaths and got into character.

“Did you really save him?” Anna asked, surprised in spite of herself.

“Does that surprise you?” Hook asked, looking aside.

She smirked. “Well you aren’t exactly, how do you say it, ‘mates’.”

“Doesn’t mean I’d leave your brother here to die,” he insisted.

Anna looked carefully at him, looking for the lie, looking for the caveat. It wasn’t there.  Unless her ‘superpower’ was wildly off, Captain Hook was telling the absolute truth. She felt a sudden, intense wave of gratitude, of grudging affection.

“Thank you,” she said firmly.

He was uncomfortable with praise; she could see that well enough in the way he ducked his head, scratched behind his ear, blushed to the roots of his hair. After an uncomfortable moment, he straightened, a look of pure mischief on his face as he swaggered toward her.

“Aye, perhaps gratitude is in order,” he said, tapping his lips, and looking at her through heavily lidded eyes.

Emma’s breath caught. Had it suddenly gotten about twenty degrees warmer in this stupid studio?

“Yeah,” Anna said, tiny smile on her lips. “That’s what the ‘thank you’ was for.”

His smirk became even more pronounced as he invaded her personal space. “That all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

He was ridiculous! His flirting was absolutely ridiculous, but…it was fun and it was exciting, and it wasn’t like anything was going to come of this anyway.  So why not flirt back?

She swayed toward him and rolled her eyes with a little smirk. “Please!  You couldn’t handle it.”

He didn’t miss a beat, leaning in so close Anna could feel his breath hot against her face. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The way he popped that ‘t’ shouldn’t be allowed; it really shouldn’t.

Anna stood irresolute for a moment, looking closely at him. This was a mistake; a huge mistake! But…she was feeling good, and they’d just had a victory of sorts, and well, there was this weird tension between them. Maybe if they just…got it out of their systems…

And this was the moment of truth. The moment “Anna Swan” was supposed to haul off and kiss the stuffing out of Captain Hook.  Emma looked up at Killian, his eyes reflecting the mischief of Captain Hook…but also the reassurance of Killian Jones.

She choked. It was too much, too intense.  She couldn’t do this.  She pulled at his lapels, letting her lips brush against his and then quickly pulling back, making it barely a peck.

(But God help her! Even that casual contact was enough to send an electric current shooting through her body.)

“Cut!” came Regina’s distinctly displeased voice. “What was that, Miss Swan?  I’ve seen more passionate kisses between siblings!”

Well, that was a whole different kind of disturbing, but Emma got Regina’s point.

“It just..” Emma tried. “It didn’t feel right.  I mean, Anna’s closed off, right?  Is her first kiss with Captain Hook really going to be all passionate and hot and all of that?”

Regina rolled her eyes so hard Emma was afraid she’d hurt herself. “Yes, Miss Swan, it is.  We talked about this!  Anna’s had these simmering feelings for Hook ever since they met—feelings she’s kept strictly under wraps.  But suddenly caught up in the moment, she just wants to let it all go, just reassure herself that kissing him wouldn’t be that big of a thing.  And then there’s the matter of his challenge to her.”

Emma knew that; had known her ploy for the demure peck was doomed before it began, still, her heart sank when she heard Regina call for take two of the scene.

Stop it Emma! She chastised herself. You aren’t some brand new actress about to have your first on-screen kiss!  This is no big deal! Pull yourself together!

After a long, cleansing breath, she placed herself once more on her mark. She’d follow the script this time; she’d get this stupid scene over with.  The sooner the better.

The first part of the scene went well, Emma and Killian both delivering their lines with ease, everything about their body language screaming chemistry.

And then it was time for the kiss. Emma tensed up, grabbed his lapels, and pulled him almost violently to herself.  The kiss was longer this time; Emma let herself relax into it for the barest fraction of a moment.  But when it occurred to her that it felt good, more than good to have Killian’s lips moving beneath hers, she panicked, pulling away quickly.

“Well, that was a little better, I guess,” Regina groused, “but the two of you are flesh and blood people who have chemistry, who are supposed to be falling in love with each other, not two blocks of wood slamming up against each other!  Again!”

After two more failed attempts, it was clear Regina’s patience was completely at an end. “Let’s take five.  Emma; I’d suggest you take the time to get your head screwed on straight.  And Killian…just…talk some sense into her!”

Emma stalked off toward the bottle of water she’d left just off-stage. She took a long swig and then hung her head, wishing this day was just over.  She had to get this kiss right, she just had to!  With every take they did the feelings crashed into her more and more.  How the hell was she supposed to stay immune to Killian Jones and his ridiculously hot everything, when she was forced to spend all afternoon kissing him?

“Alright there, Swan?”

The unexpected question made her jump, and he hastily apologized, a hand to her side to steady her. Emma refused to pull away.  There was no way she was going to let him see that even that casual touch nearly set her aflame.

“I’m…I’m just having a rough time of it today, Killian,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I just can’t get this scene the way Regina wants it.”

“Hey,” he said, turning her toward himself, looking at her with clear concern. “Relax love.  I meant what I said before.  I want you to be comfortable.  If this scene is too much for you today, I’ll speak to Regina.  I’m sure I can smooth things over, sweet talk her into using one of the takes we’ve already shot.”

Emma felt a warm glow spread through her at his concern. He spoke the truth.  He’d really, truly do whatever he needed to to make her comfortable.  Strangely enough, it was exactly what she needed to hear.

Emma smiled gently. “That’s really sweet, but Regina’s right.  That scene needs a passionate kiss.  It’s perfect the way it’s written.  I’ve just got to find some way to…make it look natural.”

Killian reached up and hitched a stray lock of hair around her ear. “Just relax, Swan,” he said in a low voice.  “You’re over-thinking it.  Just let Anna’s feelings shine through and go with those feelings.”

They were called back to set far sooner than Emma would have liked. It had been a short break, the five minutes feeling more like a few seconds, but Emma felt more refreshed than she had all day.  It was going to be okay.  She could do this.

As she took her place, she closed her eyes, consciously became Anna.

“Please,” Anna said softly, eyes rolling, head gently shaking. “You couldn’t handle it.”

Hook leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath, could smell the rum, the leather, the salt from the ocean. She felt herself slowly slipping under his spell.  “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She waited a heartbeat. Two.  She shouldn’t do this; she knew she shouldn’t. This had big fat mistake written all over it.

But God help her, she was tired of the pain and the struggle. She just wanted to feel good for a tiny moment in time.

She grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her. Her lips met his, and she groaned, the feelings overwhelming her.  Her hand found its way into his hair as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss.

She knew she’d surprised Hook. It was written all over the slight stiffening of his body as her lips made contact with his.

But it took him less than a heartbeat to catch up with her, his mouth slanting over hers, his lips parting for her, his ringed fingers tangling in her hair.

It went on and on, and Emma lost all sense of time, of space, of reality. Waves of pleasure, of heat, of want crashed over her as she dived in, letting her tongue duel with his.  This was…there were no words in English or any other language to describe it, but Emma knew with every fiber of her being that she’d never be the same again.

“Cut! Cut! CUT!  You two keep this up and we’re gonna have to up this film’s rating.”

It was only when Regina was nearly in their faces that Emma came back to herself, realizing the director had been calling for the scene to cut for the past few minutes. She pulled her mouth free with a pop, heard Killian softly whisper her name—her name; not Anna’s name—and suddenly the mortification hit her.

What had she just done!?

She mumbled something to Regina about how she was done for the day before nearly sprinting from the stage. Chances were…not good…Regina would agree to her terms, but she didn’t care.  She had to get out of here, had to get some space, some air, some freaking perspective.

She was in her coat, starting to wrap her scarf around her neck when Killian showed up backstage, looking concerned.

“I’ve smoothed it over with Regina, love,” he said. “She agrees we have enough footage to splice together a good scene.”

“Good,” Emma said, looking anywhere but at him.

He stopped her frantic movements with a hand to her arm. “Emma, love can we talk about this?”

She shot him a nonchalant look that was so fake a blind person could have seen it. “Nothing to talk about, Killian.  It was just a kiss.  Just a stage kiss.  Our job, you know.”

He was quiet for a moment. “It was more than that, and you’re well aware of it.” 

Emma felt the fear claw at her, and she used that fear to fuel her anger. “Fine!  Whatever it was…it was a one-time thing!  Just…go, gather some firewood for your scene with Pan or something!”

He sighed deeply, but took a step back. “As you wish.”