#But it would be nice to unroll my paper and actually put all of it to use

[crimsonblackrose]

Forgot how much I miss book people and artists. Like this dude makes books out of recycled packaging for his sketchbooks and I just...loved it. Like yes, let me cut up a old coffee bag and turn it into something new or a tea box. Not to mention he showed us all these different stitching's people have come up with and I just...I wanna make them. Let me sew lotus patterns into the side of a doughnut box. One problem however...what to do with all these handmade books? I do not want to become a zucchini farmer.*

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can u write an au where carol’s cat (goose) keeps sneaking into fem!reader’s apartment and so carol and reader communicate with each other thru notes they put on goose’s collar and they eventually fall in love (((:::::::

Goose's Best Friend

Summary: After a stranger's cat injured in your apartment one night, you decide to attach a short note to its collar to give your apologies. They lead to something you could have never expected.

Pairing: Army Pilot!Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2,792

It was the middle of the night, 2:57a.m., to be exact, when a loud crash shook you from the clutches of sleep. You sat up with a groan, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision enough to look at the clock on your nightstand. You swung your legs off the bed, eyes catching the shattered lamp on the ground. Fighting off the temptation to leave it on the ground for tomorrow, for fear that you might forget about it and slam your bare feet into the shards scattered around the floor, you slid your legs into some sweats and stood up.

You weren’t expecting, when you turned on the light, for something to move. When something darted around the corner you actually let out a high-pitched yelp, flying backwards and hitting your elbow hard off the corner of the nightstand. You felt tingling rush into the tips of your fingers as you tried desperately to comprehend what had just happened. Your breathing had already increased, and your heart was racing inside your chest. You took a hesitant step forward.

Despite being alone in the apartment, you flushed beet red in embarrassment when you found the creature you’d been so terrified of. The orange tabby cat stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a quiet mew. Immediately your heart softened, its beat slowing down to a normal pace. When the cat made to step toward you, though, you immediately noticed the limp. Your eyebrows furrowed and you knelt down, letting it come to you. You reached out for its front leg, and it let you take it into your hand.

“Oh, sweet baby,” you muttered softly, wiping a bit of blood out of its fur with your thumb. “Come on. I think I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

It surely didn’t understand what you said, but it followed you when you stood up. It limped into the bathroom behind you, settling once it reached the tile floor. You reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the red case, propping it up on the countertop and opening it up. Quickly, you located the roll of bandages and the scissors that came with it. You pulled it out and got some wet paper towels. Once more you knelt down on the ground next to the tabby.

A black collar around its neck caught your attention. You reached out for the silver tag that hung from it and spoke aloud. “Goose. Well, Goose, there’s no phone number here for your owner. Guess I’ll have to fix you up and trust you can find your own way home, huh?”

He meowed in response.

You continued to wrap up his leg. When you finally finished, you tucked the first aid kit away again. You clicked your tongue a couple times in an attempt to get him to follow you again. The both of you headed toward the kitchen, where you rummaged through the fridge for the leftover chicken from dinner the night before last. You pulled some out and set it in a small dish on the floor, a sort of apology for your lamp having done such damage to the poor animal’s leg. He helped himself quickly. Meanwhile, you dug through one of your drawers.

You popped the cap off a pen and cut a small strip of paper, struggling to keep your writing small enough to fit.

There was no number on the collar, so I opted for this. Goose found his way into my apartment and had an unfortunate mishap. I patched him up and gave him a treat. I hope that’s okay. He should be alright.

Hope he feels better soon.

You rolled the note around the tabby’s collar and taped it in place. He’d finished his treat by now, so you led him back to the apartment door. When you opened it, he cast one glance back at you, eyes shining as if in gratitude, then scurried down the hall. Just as he turned out of sight, though, someone else moved into your peripheral vision. You could have scoffed when you saw who had wandered into the hallway. She spoke before you could close the door.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Fuck off, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she hummed, a wide smirk on her face as she twirled her keys around her finger.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed. “And next time you’re using your stripes to get random women in bed, be a little quieter, would you? Some of us around here have self-respect.”

You closed the door before she could respond to that.

You and Carol Danvers had hated each other for as long as you’d lived there. The two of you were like hot and cold, or night and day. She liked loud music and late nights whereas you liked a nice book and an early night. You were quiet and soft-spoken, and Carol was a bully. In fact, she was your bully. You’d never endured such teasing and taunting from anyone else before. It wasn’t her harsh words that got to you, though. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure what it was that got to you. Maybe it was her arrogance, or maybe it was her ignorance for anyone around her. It didn’t matter.

Carol Danvers brought out a side of yourself that you didn’t know existed. You’d only have to hear a single word fall from her lips or see a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, and instantly any semblance of a good mood would dissipate and fade into annoyance. The hatred you held for her made your blood boil in your veins at the mere sight of her stupid, cocky smirk. You sometimes wished you could just reach out and slap that stupid smirk off her stupid face.

You pushed the blonde from your mind, heading back to bed. Hopefully, the coming day would be one that didn’t involve the blonde captain.

*

It was three days later that a quiet meow caught your attention. It tore your gaze from the TV, and you glanced toward the source of the sound. The face that was watching you immediately brought a smile to your face. You pat the couch beside you and the tabby jumped up, settling onto the blanket. You ran your hand across his head, watching his eyes close in content. You were about to turn your gaze back to the TV when you noticed the paper around his collar. It wasn’t the same one you put there. You reached out for it and removed it, careful not to rip it, and unrolled it. You flicked on the lamp.

Sorry about him. He wanders around the building. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten into someone’s room. If you fed him, he’ll probably come back to you (which I don’t mind, so long as you don’t mind that he’ll keep coming back). That’s how I know you’ll get this. So, thank you for patching him up. The vet would’ve cost more. You were right. He was just fine.

Rolled up with it was a twenty-dollar bill. You chuckled, immediately standing up off the couch. You pulled a small treat out of the fridge as you passed it, Goose trotting into the kitchen at the sight. You handed it to him and he took it happily, chowing down as you stood up straight again and continuing on your journey toward the notepad on the counter. Once again you ripped a small piece of paper out of it, ripping the cap of the pen off with your teeth and holding it there as you brought the pen down to meet the paper.

It seems so. You were right. He came back. He’s a sweet boy. I truly enjoy his visits. I don’t get many of them, so he’s welcome here whenever he pleases. And I don’t need this. Keep it.

You knelt down on the ground to Goose once again. He sat still for you as you wrapped the bill around his collar, wrapped the note around it, and then taped them both in place. Once more, you led him back to the apartment door, opened it up for him, and let him into the hallway. He rubbed his head against your calf once more before dashing out of sight. You shut the door behind him.

*

You huffed as you stormed into the lobby of the apartment building. Work had not treated you well that day. All you wanted was to head upstairs, put on your coziest pyjamas, order takeout, cuddle into the couch, and watch a movie or two. It was all you needed to wash away the horrible day and ease the stress that was weighing so heavily on your chest. You only wanted to pick up your mail before you did, but apparently, the universe had other ideas.

“Looking for some mail from your mommy?”

Danvers was the last person you wanted to deal with today. You didn't even bother to grumble a response to your neighbour, who was still in uniform as she stepped up beside you and unlocked her own mailbox. You were going to step away without a single word, but once more, you didn’t get your wish. Carol snickered at something, making you slam your box shut with far more force than necessary.

“What, pray tell, is so fucking funny?” You snapped.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Nice keychain.”

The keychain was a souvenir one you’d gotten from your trip to Disney with your family a few years ago. It was a picture of you and your brothers all wearing Mickey Mouse ears and sticking your tongues out at the camera. If anyone else had said the words, you would have blushed and thanked them. When Carol said the words, you shoved the keys in your pocket and shot a glare so harsh that it would have killed if it could have.

“You’re a dick, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she corrected once more.

“Look, this whole army pilot thing might work on those girls you pick up from god knows where, but I’ve met you,” you sneered. “You use this uniform for detestable things, Danvers. It’s disgusting.”

You stormed away.

When you unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment, however, you found that you wouldn’t need pyjamas or takeout or movies to make you feel better. Your new best friend was sitting on your couch as if he had been waiting for you to arrive home. You dropped your bag at the door and moved to sit with him immediately. After stroking his head absentmindedly for a bit, you noticed the new note.

Take it. Please? Come on, you’re going to make Goose sad if you don’t. You’re going to make me sad if you don’t.

Attached with the note, again, was that same twenty-dollar bill. You rolled your eyes as you moved into the kitchen once more, handing Goose a few of the cat treats you’d bought for him. He accepted them happily as, for the third time, you prepared to write a note for Goose’s mystery owner. You didn’t even bother to sit down, hunching over the counter in a way that your back probably wouldn’t have thanked you for. You scribbled on the paper.

I’m sure Goose won’t mind at all. As for you? Well, I don’t really know you, do I? Just keep the damn money, will you? You know, Goose is going to gain a few pounds if you keep sending him back here.

Sincerely, Goose’s new best friend

After a few pats to the head, you sent Goose off with that. He was back later that day.

Goose’s best friend,

Goose does mind. He wants you to keep it. Please? Besides, if we keep attaching it with scotch tape to a wandering cat, it’s going to get lost. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you? I sure wouldn’t. As for the treats, I’ll make sure to walk him a bit more. Wouldn’t want to lose my new favourite pen pal over a couple extra pounds on the cat.

- Goose’s mom

This time, there were two twenties attached. You chuckled at that. Goose was gobbling down his treat as you wrote.

Goose’s mom,

I think that’d be quite a sight to see, you walking Goose down the street. Guess if I ever see Goose leashed and with some random woman on the street, I’ll know what you look like.

- Goose’s best friend

P.S. Just donate the money. Seriously.

As if it were habit by now, you reattached the bills, added your note, and sent the tabby out the door once again. You headed back to what you’d been doing.

It wasn’t long before the next reply.

Goose’s best friend,

Here, I’ll help you build the image. I’m 23, blonde, and about 5’6”. I’m in the army, so I’d probably still be in uniform after work. Oh, and Goose’s leash is blue, and he has a grey harness for walking.

- Goose’s mom

P.S. I split the $40 between the humane society and the local shelter

You once more had to laugh at the stranger. Of course, you immediately moved to respond. As much as you didn’t want to kick Goose out, you wanted her to get your answer as soon as possible. You grabbed your notepad.

Goose’s mom,

You sound cute.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend

It was a short note this time. You were having fun, though, and you wanted to tease your new friend a little. You attached the note to Goose and let him run off.

Once more, Goose returned with a new reply.

Best friend,

You didn’t give me anything in response. I’m offended.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend’s best friend

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way she’d signed her newest note. A pang of confidence hit your chest. You scribbled on the note.

Goose’s cute mom,

Let’s go for coffee then. 2B. I’m free when you are.

- Girl with a crush

*

You regretted sending that last note. You’d never gone more than 12 hours without communicating with the mystery note sender. You’d grown quite fond of the little pieces of communication you’d exchanged with her. It was actually the highlight of your day, on most days. Since sending that last one, though, you’d yet to hear back from her. It’d been four days now. You were quite upset about it, and decided the best way to fix that was some loud music. Maybe it’d piss Danvers off as much as she pissed you off.

When there was a loud knock on the door, you immediately assumed that you’d sure pissed someone off. Of course, they’d complain about you and not her. Everyone loved Carol fucking Danvers. You wished you could whirl the door open and shout at whoever was on the other side, but knew yourself better than that. You’d probably open it up and apologize, then turn the volume down and wallow in your misery to the sound of softer music.

That is, if it were anyone but Danvers.

“What? Just now realizing how damn annoying it is to hear loud music blaring from the apartment directly below yours?” You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Danvers.”

You went to slam the door, but she stuck her hand in. It must’ve been a little harsher than you meant to, because she shook her fingers out when she retracted them. You didn’t apologize, because you didn’t even feel bad. She deserved it after giving you two years of hell having to live in the apartment below her. You’d not have been surprised if one day she invited an elephant into her room just so she could make as much noise in your apartment as possible.

As you were about to make another snarky remark, though, you noticed something. That cocky glint that was usually shining in her brown eyes was missing. She wasn’t even meeting your eyes. Her gaze was cast to the door beside your head, locked to the bronze numbers that were screwed into it. You raised a single eyebrow, waving your hand in front of her face to get her attention. She blinked as if coming out of a trace, looking back to you.

“What do you want, Danvers?” You snapped when she wouldn’t speak.

She didn’t answer. She only held out a small piece of paper. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but took it from her. The handwriting was one you’d seen so many times.

Goose’s best friend,

Coffee it is. But I’m paying. I still owe you.

- A girl who also has a crush, Carol Danvers

[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[baroquebucky]

symphony

in which bucky realizes the light you’ve brought into his life

word count: 2.3k of pure fluff

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! hope u all enjoy this fluff as reparations for the amount of angst I’ve been writing <333 let me know what you guys think !! inspired by this song :] sorry for any typos !!

Life felt monotonous for bucky. Everyday he would wake up, go for a walk, sometimes go out for dinner with his neighbor other times he would just stay in. Then he would go to therapy, suffer there for a while before coming back and doing nothing. Throughout the week he would go to the compound or the gym and train to get his mind off things.

“I just feel like I’m stuck in a loop and i can’t get out of it, it’s like a boring song that everyone’s playing on repreat” bucky grumbled, sam nodded, listening to bucky as he vented.

“i think you need something new in your life, something to spice it up” Sam spoke gently, thinking for a bit before a smile appeared on his face, “i know just the thing!” He cheered.

“how is coffee gonna help me” bucky huffed, sam just rolled his eyes, dragging the super soldier along to his favorite coffee shop.

“no trust me, this coffee is amazing, they have all these other drinks too and the person who always takes my order is amazing” Sam cheered, a smile on his face as he rounded the corner and saw you through the glass.

“that’s them!” He smiled, turning to look at bucky, he stopped in his tracks.

“you aren’t trying to set me up on a date right now, right?” Bucky looked at Sam wide eyed and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head and grabbing Buckys wrist.

“if this was a date i would’ve made you dress better” Sam shot back, bucky frowned looking down at his clothes. What was so wrong with his clothes?

“this is my favorite jacket” bucky pouted and Sam rolled his eyes, as the door opened a small chime went off.

“good evening sam!” You called out, a bright smile on your face as you finished taking someone’s order. Sam and Bucky stood in line, waiting only a couple minutes before you helped them.

“your usual?” you beamed and Sam smiled, you wrote it down quickly, turning to bucky with a smile, “what can i get for you?” Bucky blushed a bit, avoiding eye contact with you and glancing at the menu.

“i- well uh i don’t know actually” bucky hesitated, sam cringed at his friend, elbowing him slightly.

“what do you recommend?” he asked quickly, and you turned to look down at the menu as if you didn’t have it memorized.

“hmm, well i really the special we have right now, if you’re not into sweet then i recommend that one” you pointed out with your pen a smile still on your face.

“whatever your favorite is” He spoke, heart beating in his chest as the words tumbled out. You felt your face heat up at his words, nodding quickly. Bucky paid and went to go sit next to Sam, ears red and face hot.

Sam simply chuckled at him, waiting patiently for you to call out their order numbers. Bucky kept glancing up, stealing glances at you and marveling at how pretty you were. The way you moved so easily and kept a smile on your face anytime someone looked your way.

Buckys heart sunk a bit. He wished he could be like that, all smiles and rainbows, like the way he used to be. He thought about how brooding he was and the way sam always commented on the way he stared too much. He tore his eyes away from you and focused on the decoration in the cafe.

“57 and 58!” You called out, setting the drinks on the counter looking out for Sam and bucky, smiling when you saw the two men getting up and walking towards you.

“thank you y/n!” Sam smiled and you nodded, eyes moving to bucky, he gave you a tight lipped smile before walking out. “that wasn’t so bad was it” Sam smirked and bucky rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink.

“oh wow this is really good” bucky mumbled, drinking some more and furrowing his brows, sam smiled at him, nodding in agreement.

The two men returned a couple times every week, you smiling at them and saying hello, giving bucky a new drink to try every time he came. The two of you stealing glances anytime you looked over while making the drink, heart rate spiking when your eyes met.

Bucky was giddy to see you, wondering what you would give him today. Sam frowned when your coworker greeted them instead of you.

“wheres y/n?” Sam asked, you coworker frowned at the mention of you before replying.

“oh they quit, our boss kept giving them shit” she sighed, “between you and i, they only stayed this long because you guys kept coming back” she smiled, her eyes moving to bucky, “specially you.”

As the two men were leaving your coworker called out for them, handing them a piece of paper. “she told me to give you guys this, have a good day!”

They looked at each other before unrolling the paper, you handwriting on it along with your phone number.

“text me when you want bird boy” Sam read, laughing a little, he turned to bucky, craning his neck to read his, “what’s your say” Bucky had a bashful smile on his face.

“oh just to text them whenever” bucky cleared his throat, shoving the piece of paper in his pocket.

i really hope we can hang out properly soon :) the paper read, scribbled under was a list of drinks you wanted him to try. Buckys heart fluttered at the action, the whole time he was with Sam you were the only thing he was thinking about.

When he finally got back to his apartment bucky texted you, heart racing as he sent the text.

hi it’s bucky, i got your note let me know when you’re free :-)

Your heart jumped at the message, the biggest smile on your face as you read the text over again, giggling as you replied.

hi buck!! I’m free this weekend actually :]

The two of you made plans quickly, excited for a proper date and not just stealing glances and making small talk when he ordered his drink or picked it up from the counter.

When Saturday evening came bucky was frantic, texting sam and asking what clothes he should wear, recalling the time he made fun of his clothes before he met you the first time.

You were nervous as you got ready, hands shaking slightly as you changed into some nice clothing. You checked yourself out in the mirror and smiled, fixing your hair a bit.

The doorbell rang and you jumped, heart racing as you walked to the door, opening it with a smile.

Bucky stood there with roses in his hands, a bright smile on his face. He chocked on his breath a little as he took you in, it was the first time he’d seen you out of uniform and god you were perfect.

“oh thank you!” You blushed, smiling as you took the flowers from him, “come in I’ll just put these in water” you smiled, letting him in and quickly moving to put the flowers in a vase.

Your apartment was so comforting, bucky felt like he was safe there, he felt so at peace despite his heart racing in his chest.

“ready?” You asked and bucky smiled, he could hear the way your heart raced after you not so secretly checked him out. He was wearing a dark blue t shirt and a leather jacket along with some black pants.

“so where are we going?” You questioned and bucky smiled, turning to look at you nervously before focusing on the road again.

“is the fair okay? I know there’s one in town and I’ve been wanting to go but-” he rambled and you cut him off excitedly.

“i love the fair! I’m really good at those shooting games y’know” you bragged and bucky smiled, excited to see how skilled you were. “however i will not compete against you” you added quickly, making bucky frown.

“too scared I’ll beat you doll?” Bucky smirked and your heart raced at the nickname, your comeback dying on your lips. Bucky smiled as you sat there with your mouth open, looking away quickly before changing the subject.

As the two of you arrived bucky immediately knew he made the right choice, the way you had the widest smile on your face as you pointed everything out to him, eyes wide as you saw the giant dinosaur plush.

“you have a metal arm dont you?” You whispered and bucky smiled, nodding his head. “would it be, i don’t know, immoral for you to use it to get that dinosaur plush?” You blushed, giggling as bucky gasped at you.

“i cant believe you!” He teased and you frowned, bucky smiled at you, taking your hand in his and walking towards the game. He handed the man the tickets to play and held the heavy ball in his hands.

“you just have to knock all three cups over” the man spoke and bucky nodded, placing the ball in his right hand before throwing it, easily knocking the cups down.

“yay!” You cheered, running next to bucky and hugging him, the man handed you the giant plush and you smiled, staring at bucky with starry eyes.

“didn’t even use your metal arms sergeant” you teased and Buckys heart lurched at the titles. His heart was in frenzy as you smirked up at him.

“I’m a super soldier doll” he smiled at your face turned into one of realization, nodding your head.

“right, i forgot about that” you mumbled, struggling to keep the dinosaur plush from touching the ground, bucky smiled at you before he took it from your hands, easily tucking it under his arm.

“thanks” you blushed and bucky nodded, a smile on his face as he replied.

“cant have my best girl struggling on our first date can we” you blushed at his words, looking at him with a bright smile.

“first? as in more to come?” You questioned, a smile on your face as you stopped in your tracks, the lights from some ride illuminating your face in reds and pinks. Bucky nodded, suddenly his confidence was sizzling away.

“I mean unless you don’t want to that’s fine too i just- i mean” bucky rambled and you watched him struggle for a bit, biting your bottom lip before stopping him.

“I’d love to go on more dates” you spoke up, bucky smiled at you, letting out a small breath, “now let’s go to the Ferris wheel!” You easily slipping your hand in his.

Everything felt so easy with bucky, it never felt forced. The two of you constantly texting and calling when you weren’t together and grabbing dinner and going on dates more and more often. It was only a matter of time before bucky asked you out, everything falling into place for the two of you.

The two of you were in bed, you were cuddled up into his side as you watched a documentary on some lions. Bucky ran his fingers through your hair and you sighed, relaxing into his touch. It had been almost two years since the two of you went on your first date, but to bucky it felt like yesterday.

“you know i love you, right doll” he spoke suddenly and you looked at him, confused before nodding.

“i love you too loverboy” you replied, sitting up and kissing his cheek.

“don’t know where I’d be without you” he spoke softly, his blue eyes meeting yours, he smiled softly. “I used to think i was broken and no one would want me” he mumbled and you frowned, letting him continue.

“the only reason sam took me to that cafe was because i was stuck in this loop and i was going crazy” he laughed softly, “i thought i was never gonna get out of this funk but then” he stopped.

You looked at him, confused as he smiled at you, peppering kissing all over your face before caressing your cheek and kissing your forehead.

“then what?” You whispered, a smile on your face when you realized what he was going to say.

“then you came along” he replied, smiling at the way you wiggled to face him.

“you took me and you made me into a better person, you made my life so much better and now it’s like there’s a symphony playing anytime in with you” he spoke, a smile on his face when you reached your hand out and ran your fingers through his hair. You stopped your hand at the nape of his neck, pushing him towards you and crashing your lips onto his.

It was sloppy and passionate, but it was sweet. The two of you smiling into the kiss before giving him one last peck and pulling away.

“oh lovebug, that songs always been inside you, just needed a little tuning to get it right” you replied, taking him into your arms as he laid down on your chest.

For once, bucky was grateful sam had forced him to go out, he was grateful that you were working that day and you recommend him a drink. He was grateful that you went to the fair with him and you liked him enough to go on another date.

Bucky no longer wished to be like you, he didn’t long for the person he was in the 40s. He didn’t wish he could change into someone else anymore.

He didn’t because he was more himself than he had ever been. He was happy and he was at peace, he was who he had always wanted to become. He didn’t feel like he was stuck in the shadows in a constant loop.

Bucky smiled as you placed a gentle kiss on top of his head, mumbling a soft ‘i love you.’

Bucky felt happy, he felt at home and he felt in love. He was finally at peace with his life now that you were in it. You helped him become who he was, pushed him to be better and to change into who he wanted to be.

[literate-lamb]

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics​ and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises. 

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store. 

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night. 

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him. 

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.” 

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops. 

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches. 

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair. 

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date. 

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say. 

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it. 

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days. 

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?” 

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things. 

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour. 

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby. 

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer��” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane. 

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka. 

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling. 

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled. 

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago. 

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster. 

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you. 

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.” 

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?” 

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers. 

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors. 

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand. 

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. 

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms. 

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third. 

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?” 

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar. 

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt. 

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world. 

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two. 

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

 “Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry. 

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know. 

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in. 

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.” 

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire. 

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.” 

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers. 

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’ 

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.” 

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence. 

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back. 

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed. 

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.” 

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running. 

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear 

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍 

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’ 

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately. 

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?” 

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.” 

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt. 

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand… 

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this. 

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end. 

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive. 

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.” 

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—” 

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room. 

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his. 

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his. 

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red. 

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds. 

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala. 

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it. 

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you. 

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it. 

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived. 

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself. 

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America. 

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar. 

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said. 

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access. 

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter. 

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes. 

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment. 

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication. 

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

[fenheart87]

The Dress

For @bloody-no-kissu, you're art is always amazing and inspirational! I love you bloody!

It was a rare day that Marinette was fully rested, had no events to attend and the bakery wasn't busy enough for her parents to ask for her help. Feeling inspired but not able to pick up a recent project without being hypercritical of her work, the young designer decided picking up something different might help. Grabbing a blue folder with various doodles and stickers, she spread the sketches one by one on her desk.

"Oh, these look great!" Tikki chimed, flying closer to examine the handwritten notes.

"I know but I can't choose! I want to do them all, eventually but where do I start?" Marinette huffed, eyeing the designs with a playful pout.

"Hm, why not choose randomly? You could number the designs and put matching numbers on slips of paper to pick the one to start with!"

"Tikki, that's a great idea!" Marinette cupped the floating ladybug gently in her hands and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before scribbling on a scratch paper. Tearing the numbers apart, she put them in a hat and let Tikki do the honors.

"Here we go!" Tikki dropped in the hat and shook the pieces around before flying back out with one piece between her paws. Twirling in excitement, she opened the paper and held it up like a sign. "Lucky number four!"

"Okay so four is," the designer stacked the extra papers and pulled out the fourth design page, "this one. Huh, I don't have one color scheme for this, I made two. Oh wait, this started out as a design for Rose but I made something else for her. I can finish this dress for me though, time to go fabric shopping!"

"Oh can you get some crushed velvet? It makes a wonderful bed." Tikki asked, hovering by the trapdoor as her holder ran around the room to gather her things.

"Sure! Any color requests?" Marinette paused to let the kwami zip into her purse, handing Tikki the list.

"Blue or green, maybe aquamarine!" They shared a giggle before the designer made her way downstairs to let her parents know about her trip into town.

"Maman, Papa, I'm going to the fabric shop. I've got so much creativity I feel like I'm going to explode!"

"Well we don't want that, then we couldn't possibly have family bear hugs!" Tom shouted, scooping up his wife and daughter who giggled and snuggled in for the hug. "Please be safe and call if you need help or eat somewhere else for lunch."

"Of course Papa!" Marinette withdrew from the hug and grabbed her personalized tote bag that she used for trips like these. With one last wave goodbye, she set off to her favorite shop. A ten minute bus ride and quick shortcut through the plaza, she arrived in front of The Special Thread. The bell rang merrily as the younger design held the door open for an elderly lady before beelining towards the crushed velvets. It was the backrest left corner and after a glance around, Marinette popped open her purse to let Tikki out to be able to help pick out the right color.

"Okay here are all the cool colors of the crushed velvet and then here’s the penne velvet too. What did I need and who did I need it for? Oh wait, the list!” Marinette knew the shop owner and many of the regular customers were used to the young designer talking to herself as they tended to indulge in the habit as well. Actually checking the list after fighting the urge to ruffle through the soft velvets, “I need a burgundy color to accent Marc’s and a peachy tone for Nathaniel, more princess tulle for Rose and some black lace for Juleka… Oh that’s perfect!”

“Marinette, I like both of these colors but can't choose…” Tikki chimed, respectfully waiting until Marinette’s attention was back from her creative mindset.

“It’s on sale, why not get both and I can make a matching pillow or something? I have a coupon too and those colors are gorgeous, the blue reminds me of Luka.” She may have not noticed the dopey grin on her face as she grabbed the selected velvets and moved to another fabric wall  but Tikki could see it clearly and cheered internally. “Let’s get a couple yards of each and then I saw the perfect shades for Marc and Nathaniel but Ms. Cribler might have more in the back so I can get a little extra, just to be on the safe side.”

“Hello, Marinette, you looked especially inspired.” The shop owner smiled as she spotted Marinette, sorting through some bolts of fabrics to be put away from previous customers. Today she was sporting her favorite cardigan, the plum on bottom faded into lilac near the collar and the different embroidered designs and patches were still like new and matched her skirt that had vines and flowers blooming all over in a field of wildflowers. The addition of several animals made Marinette smile, it was the elder woman’s way of supporting the superheroes that protect their fair city.

“Hello Ms. Cribler, I am feeling very inspired and had to even get creative in choosing what to make next! How has the shop been today, need me to return anything? I’m passing through the solids and plundering the lace next.” The young designer placed her chosen bolts of fabric on the counter, eyeing the rather large pile that was being sorted.

“Oh things have been busy, it seems the creativity is floating in the air! I can hold these until you’re ready of course, if you can run this pile,” Ms. Cribler patted a pile with about ten bolts of various creams and browns, “they need to be put away. I have gotten everything I need from those. Is there anything in particular I can check the back for?”

“Ah yes, I need some more of this burgundy shade and if you have more peach colors, something more pale orange and less pink peach color that would be perfect. I’ll take these with me and see what I can find in the lace bolts.” Marinette picked up the pile with ease and marched carefully to the proper section and began putting them away. Tikki joined her, zipping back and forth to help quickly find the right spots she needed. Once those were completely put away, the duo weaved through the aisles and found the lace bolts. With a soft hum, the young designer pulled several options down. Marinette set them down on the return cart that was nearby, carefully unrolling them just enough to see a clear picture of the lace.

“What part of the dress is going to be lace?” The kwami inquired, floating at the top of the pink bag.

“Mid back up to my shoulders, just along the back side.”

“Oh, then this one would be so pretty!” Tikki flew up and showed off her choice, wrapping it around her tiny body like a toga.

“Super stylish Tikki!” Marinette giggled and returned the other options back to their proper places. Picking up the one she wanted to purchase and making sure Tikki was in her bag once more, she weaved her way back to the solids for another look and didn’t have anything that spoke to her. Continuing on, Marinette returned to the front cutting table where Ms. Cribel was helping out a familiar face but not a familiar face to see in the shop. Tikki giggled and ducked completely out of sight, closing the clasp of the purse.

“Found the lace alright Marinette?”

“Yes ma’am, take you time Luka, I still have to check out these other colors.” The girl smiled brighter as the other customer turned around, his typical and slightly goofy Luka smile in place.

“Hey Marinette, look like you have quite the haul.” Luka teased, shifting to talk to her.

“Yeah, I just had this moment of inspiration but now that I think about it the dress I’m making would be ideal first date material… I could tweak it for Rose and embellish it a bit for an anniversary vibe…”

“Is the dress for you?”

“Yeah it was originally, I just don’t think I’m going to have a date to wear it for soon.” Marinette scrunched her nose slightly, it felt weird to talk about dating in front of Ms. Cribel. Finding a salmon color that would be fantastic, she moved the bolt to her purchase pile and scooted it closer to the register where Luka had a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Well why don’t you change that? Isn’t the dance coming up?”

“Yeah, in a couple months.” The designer giggled as a light pink dusted his cheeks, sometimes she wished she liked Luka first. That thought struck her like lightning and decided right then and there she was going to be true to herself and no longer be pressured by the Girl Squad for her change of heart. “Hey Luka, are you, uh well, are you busy later? The weather is really nice and Maman made the best dumplings and the park doesn’t have a big photoshoot or news report or meeting going on today…”

“Yea- no, I mean no but I mean yes.” Luka clenched his jaw while taking a deep breath to calm down, eyes wide with hope before continuing, “I have no plans unless you wanna have plans later?”

“Yeah, it’s a date… I just have to finish my dress first and I can text you?”

“Yeah, anytime. Ever. Yes.” The musician clench his jaw again, making Marinette laugh in sheer joy. He was just as nervous as her but they would work it out on their date.

“Okay, well I think you’re good to go and I still need my materials cut. Uh did you- nevermind.”

“Can I walk you home? I can carry some of your stuff, these are good for other things than playing guitar.” Luka playfully flexed his arm, seeming to forget he had his jacket on and she couldn't see his muscles.

“Oh you will and you had better let him or you’re banned from my shop.”

“What? Ms. Cribel-”

“Marinette, you have a boyfriend now. Call me Ana as a thank you for giving you a discount to celebrate. Now, how many of what do you need today dear? You need to hurry and get home!” The shop owner punctuated her words with a few snips of her scissors, reaching for the lace first.

“Ah, the lace I need four yards, six of the salmon and burgundy and since the velvet is half off..” Marinette dropped into thought and with a glance at the boy beside her made a decision, “let’s do ten of each. And my special order too, if you have it in.”

“I sure do! Let me finish this right up and I’ll grab it for you.” Ana swiftly unfolded the bolts and made precise, clean and quick cuts, working through the small stack in under a minute. The musician seemed a bit shocked but Marinette knew she could move faster and still have the same pinpoint accuracy. Folding all the cut lengths and wrapping the bolts once more to set them aside, the shop keeper tucked the purchases into a bag and threw in some extra thread. Leaning down to reach under the counter, she put another bag that had a receipt attached onto the counter as well.

“Did you have everything?” The young designer asked, rolling and tucking that big into the bigger one.

“Of course! You are my favorite customer, anytime you call I make sure I have everything or get it delivered before you show up. It brings me joy that you create so many beautiful things when these hands are not quite steady enough anymore, it makes me happy to see you thrive.” The younger was touched and the awe showed in her face, causing the older woman to smile.

“She is pretty amazing.” Luka’s soft voice drew their attention, Marinette blushing while Ana had a knowing smile.

“Total today is one week of fresh croissants and details of today’s date.”

“What? No, i couldn’t possibly take all this for free-”

“Marinette. I am trading you, your parents food and you story for my measly fabrics. I will simply kick you out of my shop if you refuse.”

“Okay but two weeks at least and I can come help you put things away.”

“Deal, now go finish your dress and knock his socks off!” Ana winked playfully, both teens were blushing as they left.

“She isn’t usually like that but thank you for helping me.” Marinette grinned shyly, Luka had taken the bag of fabrics before she could and left no room for protest.

“Seems like she knows you well. And of course Marinette,” the soft way he spoke her name was going to give her heart problems if it kept skipping every time he said it, “anything to spend more time with a beautiful girl.”

The girl in question just blushed and ignored him, not that Luka seemed to mind as he escorted her home in silence. It was a comfortable and breathable bubble they were in and not even when he had to catch her when she tripped boarding the bus that would take them to her house. In a smooth and thoughtful move, Luka managed to hold her hand without her noticing until the end of the bus ride, only smiling in his sweet way at her blush.

“Well thank you for walking me home, now I can finish the last piece and then we can go on our date.”

"Yeah, no problem. Now I know where to pick you up too." He grinned crookedly, her blushing was too cute.

"Yeah now you know… Um, I haven’t done this before and I know you’ve been there for you through a lot and i appreciate it so much but like I don"t want you to think I'm going on this date as like a rebound or something stupid to deal with Adrien when its not.”

“Marinette.” Luka met her eyes dead on, a growing smile on his lips. “You have never and would never lead anyone on like that. I have always respected your feelings, even when you decided to gift them to someone other than me. My feelings for you haven't changed at all, you’re still the song in my head.” This boy was too much for Marinette, she suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Luka calmly looped around her and gently guided her into movement again with a gentle press of a hand.

“You are something else.”

“A good something else?”

“Depends how nice our date is later!” With that teasing remark, Marinette used the last of her courage to press a kiss on Luka’s cheek before dashing inside and up to her room. Carefully the designer set down her purchases on her desk before jumping up and down and squealing in happiness.

“Great job Marinette!” Tikki giggled and flew in a few loops to show her excitement as well.

“Oh my gosh, Maman! I need your help, if you’re not busy!” Marinette stumbled a bit on her way down but caught herself before she fell. She knew this would be one of her best creations yet.

[leggything]

Package Notification Pt.1

Package Notification

The subject line caught my attention as is flashed in the corner of my monitor. I clicked on the notification and read that a delivery had arrived at my apartment and would be held at the front desk until I was able to retrieve it. I wasn’t expecting anything but quickly put it out of my mind, it was probably a free trial I forgot to cancel or something. I deleted the email and went back to the report I had been drafting, hitting the back button on my phone a couple of times to replay the last few seconds of the podcast I had been listening to.

I left work a bit early. It was Friday and I wanted to beat the crowds on the train home. Unfortunately I wasn’t quite early enough to find a seat so by the time I walked through the door of my building I was only thinking about my bed.

The desk attendant perked up as I stepped in, “Hey Andy,” he said “I was just sorting the mail and a package came for you. Let me quick grab it.”

“Oh thanks so much Sean,” I said, pulling my headphones out of ear, “I would have totally forgotten.”

“No problem dude,” Sean replied as he rummaged behind the desk. He was a sweet kid, just out of college. His family was close the folks that owned our building so he usually came back to help run things over summers.

“And— here you are!” He said, as he popped back into view, blowing away a stray curl that had fallen in front of his eyes, “see you around!”

“Thanks again Sean, happy Friday!” I said, waving as I opened the door to the stairwell.

I turned the package over in my hands as I climbed the three flights to the apartment. It wasn’t a meal delivery kit or a pack of razors as I had suspected, just an unassuming grey plastic package with a normal UPS label. No return address for some reason. After fumbling for my key I unlocked the door, set my bag down and slipped off my shoes. Friday at last. It felt good to kick my shoes off after standing for so long.

Package still in hand I went to the couch and tore open its grey plastic as I sat down. Inside the bag my hands felt smooth woven fabric and something else that was stiffly textured. Out of the bag came an embroidered tunic and, as they unrolled in my hand, a pair of soft grey footed tights. My face flushed as I realised what I had received. A ballet costume.

I felt a mix of confusion and excitement. I certainly would have remembered if I had ordered something like this. I loved ballet, the beautiful precision of movement, the romance of the storylines, but really I was in it for the dancers. I loved watching them move, muscular yet flexible, lithe and powerful. The way their costume tights hugged every curve of their calves and thighs, squeezing each cheek of their powerful asses and the curve of their pronounced bulges, it was heaven. I definitely didn’t place the order for this costume, but it certainly didn’t come to me by mistake.

Reluctantly setting the tights and tunic down on the table, I glanced into the package again, looking to see if there was anything else. No shoes or dance belt, but there was a small piece of paper. I reached back in and pulled out the rough piece of card-stock. A note was printed on in flowing script:

Hope this turns your dream into reality.

x

Now I was nervous. I wasn’t exactly open about my, ahem, love of ballet. My closest friends and previous partners didn’t even know, and yet someone had anonymously sent gear to my home which meant my big secret wasn’t as secret as I thought. I pulled out my phone, there was one person who I had connected with online about ballet stuff, but they definitely didn’t know my address and I hadn’t heard for them in a week or so. Nonetheless I sent out a text:

Hey, I just got some ballet gear in the mail. You didn’t send me anything did you?

I was a little nervous and needed to chill out so I went into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Taking the first sip, I glanced back out to where the ballet outfit sat on the table. The anonymous package thing was weird, but it was also definitely hot. And though I loved looking at ballet dancers and often had fantasies about what it would be like to be one, I had never actually gotten up the courage to actually take a class or buy a pair of tights.

Taking another sip of my beer, I walked back out to the couch. I set down my beer and picked up the tunic. It looked and felt well made, different shades of gold and yellow thread in a brocade foliage design against white backing. It was short and tailored in at the waist, probably a bit snug on me, but on a slim dancer it would sit perfectly above the waist - emphasising their toned abdomen and, when facing away from the audience, their powerful glutes. I was getting a little turned on thinking about it. Whether I fit or not, I had to try it on.

I unbuttoned my shirt and slipped off my slacks, tossing them on the couch along with my socks. I hesitated a bit before taking off my underwear, the outfit hadn’t come with a dance belt, but I figured it’s be better to have a vpl than underwear lines. I was half hard already, even if I had a dance belt it probably would have still looked awkward. The soft fabric of the tights brushed against my bare legs as I picked them up off the table and held them up by the suspenders. At least they’d feel sexy to wear, even if I wasn’t quite fit enough to fill them out very well.

Sitting down on the couch I slid my leg into the grey tights, wiggling my toes into the seam at the bottom of the foot. They tingled a bit as I pulled them up over my calves and thighs, the soft tight fabric rubbing against the hair on my legs. As I pulled them up over my crotch they held my balls tight against me and pinned my now full erection against my belly. So much for a dance belt! Pulling the suspenders over my shoulders, I was greeted by the surprising sensation of the back seam of the tights snuggling up in between my ass cheeks. I didn’t have much of a butt to speak of, but somehow the tights still held tight to what little I had.

The tights ended just below my chest, and though I definitely didn’t have the ballet dancer build I still enjoyed seeing and feeling the uniform texture of grey fabric from my abdomen to my feet. I ran my hands along my legs, feeling the weave of the tights thrum with every touch, and my cock straining against the fabric.

I pulled my mind away from the hypnotic sexy feel of the tights, a little upset at myself that I hadn’t tried dressing up like this earlier. But I still had the tunic to put on. I wasn’t sure if I should have put something under it, but the lining was surprisingly soft and breathable against my skin. I stood up, slid my arms into the sleeves, and began hooking the fasteners that went up the front. The waist wasn’t as snug as I had feared and the structure of the garment helped straighten my posture, encouraging me to stand a bit taller than the hunch my desk job had trained me into.

Hooking the last fastener under my chin I looked down and realising I had come to stand with my heels together and my toes turned out, in what I knew to be “1st position.” And as I dropped my arms they fell nicely open and rounded at my sides, allowing my chest to open up and my shoulders to rotate backwards in perfect ballet posture. I chuckled a bit to myself, maybe I picked up more from watching so much ballet than I thought.

I tried to imitate the movements I had seen ballet dancers do, not crazy leaps or turns or anything, just pointing the toe out, to the side, to the back. I knew from somewhere they were called “tendus.” I let my arms move out to the side and above my head in time with my feet. I bent into a deep plie, letting my gaze follow my outstretched hand as it traveled out, to the side, overhead, and then started to repeat the same combination on the other side. I probably looked ridiculous trying to imitate the precise movements I had only watched, but it felt wonderful to move in the outfit.

As I continued to try new things, ronde de jambe, fouetté, attitude; I couldn’t remember where I picked up all these names, the costume felt like it fit me better and better. With each breath in my chest filled out the tunic a little better and my arms and shoulders felt stronger and more sure in their positions. Letting a breath out, my abdomen felt more compact and stronger in the long waist of the tights, my core offering steadier and steadier support and balance to my movement.

I moved from attitudes to a combination centred around arabesques, standing strong on one leg while reaching up and out with my upper body and back with the other leg. I took a couple of steps forward and went into the first arabesque, feeling strength and stability pouring into my standing leg, the grey tights stretched against my thighs, hips, and butt as I raised my other leg further up and behind me. My legs felt stronger and stronger as I continued around the room, my tights more snug and supportive as they nestled into the contours of my legs and sunk further between my ass cheeks. To finished the combination I moved to fifth position and took a small plie to lift up onto the balls of my feet, sous sous. Lifting my arms strong and graceful above my head I felt every muscle, from my calves to my core to my triceps working together to keep me balanced and poised. Satisfied, I descended into a plie and rose back up to finish the combination.

I stood there for a moment, relaxing back in first position and then blinked, blinked again. I looked back over at the table where my beer stood abandoned. Outside the window the sky was almost dark, how long had I been dancing, and how had I known how to do all that stuff? Feeling a little out of control I started to undo the top clasp of my tunic when I caught a look at myself in the hall mirror.

I did a double take, it couldn’t be me. I looked down at myself and then back at my reflection firm pecs, toned abs, powerful thighs clad in grey. It was me and fuck I was built. I turned around to see my now glorious ass, each cheek hugged beautifully by my tights, and noticed the cleft that had appeared on my toned calves - visible even though I stood flat footed.

I couldn’t help but touch, partially to make sure it was all real and partially because I was my own wet dream. I ran my hands along my firm legs and my slender waist and started to undo the tunic to check out my upper body. My laser focus while dancing had killed my boner but as I undid the tunic’s clasps I felt myself start to get hard again. It felt different though, still pleasurable but a different kind of pleasure. Breathing heavy with arousal I looked back to the mirror. I could see myself growing, but it wasn’t just my cock’s outline straining against the spandex, it looked and felt like my balls were growing too, my whole crotch swelling up against its spandex prison. The more they grew, the more intense the pleasure became, but it didn’t exactly feel like an erection.

I it felt almost like a balloon blowing up - a balloon in my crotch filling with anticipation and pleasure. Looking down, I noticed that as my genitals kept growing they began to lose definition, probably due to how stretched out the fabric was getting. As my bulge strained against my tights, my breathing quickened and my crotch continued to get smoother and rounder. My pelvic pleasure balloon steadily expanded until I felt my whole body was surely going to explode with ecstasy and then suddenly— it stopped. Still breathing heavily and still quite aroused I saw, between my newly muscled legs, the perfect smooth round ballet bulge, maybe a little on the big side, but otherwise the most beautiful tights-clad bulge - exactly like I was wearing a dance belt under my tights.

But I wasn’t wearing a dance belt. Was I? Trepidatiously I reached down to stroke the fabric and was greeted by the most pleasurable sensation. It didn’t feel at all like I was touching a padded dance belt, it felt like I was touching my own skin. I continued to run my hand over my bulge, a little moan escaping my lips as I stroked it’s contours. It felt like touching the sensitive head of my cock, my whole crotch felt as sensitive as the most nerve-laden part of my dick.

Equally aroused and terrified I slipped off the tunic and the straps of my tights. As I began to undress I noticed the wiry patch of hair on my chest had disappeared, and as I slid the tights further down to my waist, saw for the first time my beautiful hairless toned core. I ran my hand along my abdomen, wanting to feel every new inch of my body and also afraid to slide my grey tights any further down. But I couldn’t put it off forever. I slid my tights off the toned globes of my ass, over the deep v of my hips and then, my breath hitching as the tights fabric slid away from my sensitive crotch, revealing my perfectly smooth and hairless crotch.

My crotch looked exactly the same as before the tights came off - a round bulge just like you would see on mannequin. I couldn’t help but touch myself again, the intense pleasure felt slightly different without the silky tights over my sensitive skin. I closed my eyes as I touched myself, it was a completely different sensation than stroking my cock. Instead of moving in fits and spurts of arousal towards the edge of orgasm, this felt like a continually building sensation, like that balloon expanding again - a pleasure that continued to grow and grow with no sign of impending release.

After thoroughly exploring this new sensation I decided to move to the bathroom to get a better look at myself. I pulled my tights back up to my waist, the feeling of their fabric moving over my crotch almost pulling me into another session of dickless masturbation, and padded to the bathroom.

I flicked the light on and, before I could pull my tights back down for inspection, was distracted by my own face. Maybe it was the glow of arousal but I could swear I looked invigorated, more lively. My eyes looked twinklier and my teeth looked brighter, whiter even. As I looked at my reflection, I noticed the stress induced strands of silver in my hair and the dark circles under my eyes start to fade. Before my very eyes my short cropped hair grew out into a perfectly coiffed hairstyle and my jawline softened slightly - the stubble on my chin fading away. I couldn’t help but smile at myself, a smile that would be perfect for stage lights. Stepping back from the mirror and looking at myself, inexplicably standing in first position again, I realised I had been given the perfect body for ballet, a body I could have only dreamed of.

Finally seeing my whole self, I decided the mystery of how it all came to be mine could wait until tomorrow. Tonight I would just enjoy it. I flicked off the bathroom light and retired to my bedroom. The mostly full beer bottle and the work clothes from my earlier self lay abandoned by the couch as I lay in bed, touching and discovering the pleasures of this new body until I fell asleep.

[ragingbookdragon]

A Gift Beyond Words

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2,420 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: DAY 12 OF THE CHRISTMAS FICS. BUCKLE UP PEOPLE IT’S A WILD RIDE TONIGHT. ENJOY! -Thorne

           It was all Ellen’s idea to start with, gathering the residents of the Homestead, even Achilles and Robert, to the inn one Friday evening to announce a gift exchange. She laughed at Connor’s bewildered expression, remembering how she had to explain what it was to him, and then Ellen made everyone write their names on slips of paper and toss it in Warren’s hat.

           Everyone picked a name, and by pure luck, she’d received Connor’s. It was downright impossible to force away the smile that came across her lips as she stowed the paper in her pocket. She knew by the look on his face that he didn’t receive hers—not that she was upset…only a wee bit. But, it gave him a chance to show appreciation for a friend. She was excited to plan a secret gift for Connor.

           Except for the minor detail that she had no idea what he could possibly want considering the fact that he never told her what he wanted. He was too kind that way, considering his wants a burden on her—he’d rather handle it himself than make her worry.

           She groaned, laying her head on the bar. “It’s hopeless,” she muttered. “I have no idea what to get him.”

           A laugh sounded behind her. “Is your gift exchange receiver the cause of such enormous distress, (Y/N)?”

           Sitting up, she glanced over her shoulder, offering a smile to the reverend. “Father Timothy, fancy seeing you in the tavern this late.”

           He took a seat beside her, hat sitting on the counter. “I felt like having a warm meal.”

           “That’s always a good reason,” She grinned.

           Father Timothy regarded her a moment, then said, “You are in distress. Is there anything I can help you with?”

           (Y/N) fought a scowl, simply shaking her head. “I’m afraid it’s not a religious problem, Father. No offense.”

           He chuckled. “I am a man of God, but I am a friend of man as well.” A smile came across his lips. “I’d be happy to help you any way I can.”

           “I—” she started, then let out a heavy sigh. “I got Connor’s name, but I don’t know what to get him.”

           His features showed shock. “Really? Even as close as you two are?”

           She laid her head back on the bar. “That’s the problem. We’re so close that I know what he has but he’s never told me what he wants.”

           Turning her head, she met his eyes. “He’s not exactly the type of man I can buy a new outfit for or even weapons.” Her face pinched and she wagged a finger at him. “He’d never tell, but he’s incredibly picky about his weapons.”

           Father Timothy watched her with amusement, then he tapped his chin and suggested, “I think you’re thinking about this too harshly.”

           She cocked an eyebrow. “And I solve that how?”

           He smiled. “In all the time you’ve known Connor, how happy has he been to receive a gift you bought?”

           (Y/N) shrugged. “I dunno…pretty happy?”

           “And if you’ve given him a gift that was handmade? That came from the heart?” he countered.

           Silence fell over her, then she stood up and grinned at him. “I know what to get him!” She pulled the man in for a quick hug. “Thank you, Father Timothy!”

           Spinning on her heel, she hauled off for the door, him waving at her.

***

           A heavy breath left her as she hopped over the ledge and she put her hands on her knees, breathing deeply.

           “I don’t know how he goes back and forth this way,” (Y/N) sighed. “He’s absolutely insane to climb up and down these walls.”

           She shook herself from her complaining and headed down the final wall, descending into the forest. The village could be seen from where she’d been, and she was happy to know that she was in the right place—except that they weren’t as happy to see an unfamiliar in their village.

           The second (Y/N) stepped foot inside, there were muskets and bows pointed in her direction and she raised her hands.

           “Skén:nen! (Y/N) iónkiáts! Ratonhnhaké:ton, ontiatén:ro' né:'e.” They faltered at the mention of Connor’s name and she smiled, lowering her hands. “I’m looking for Kanen'tó:kon.”

           A young man stepped forward and smiled at her. “You speak our language well.”

           (Y/N) huffed a laugh. “Well, Ratonhnhaké:ton teaches me when he can.” She held out her hand. “You’re Kanen'tó:kon, then?”

           He nodded, shaking her hand. “I remember seeing you when I came to warn him about Johnson.”

           She tipped her head and clasped her hands in front of her. “I wished the situation hadn’t been dire or else I’d’ve introduced myself.”

           His eyes scanned her face. “And yet you have come now. Is Ratonhnhaké:ton alright?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “Yes, he is. I…needed a favor, but I’m afraid it’ll take a moment to explain.” She offered him a sympathetic look. “Do you have time?”

           “I do,” he replied, waving her to follow.

           Kanen'tó:kon led her to one of the longhouses near the middle of the camp and gestured for her to enter. When she did, she saw an older woman, wise appearing, and she bowed politely.

           The woman smiled at her. “You are the one Ratonhnhaké:ton speaks of when he returns.”

           She felt her cheeks warm and directed her gaze to the ground. “I’m…glad my reputation precedes me.” (Y/N) glanced back at her. “May I sit, Oiá:ner?”

           The woman nodded. “Of course.” When (Y/N) had, she asked, “What brings you to Kanatahséton? Is Ratonhnhaké:ton well?”

           Grinning, she nodded. “He is. I’m actually here for a personal matter…that I don’t need him knowing about.”

           Oiá:ner frowned. “You ask a great deal of us by that. We are not ones to deceive our own.”

           (Y/N) sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s nothing major. He wouldn’t be upset or betrayed if he found out.”

           “Then what would he be?” Kanen’tó:kon asked, and she could tell the question was a thinly veiled threat.

           “Well, I hope he would be happy.” She pulled out a small cylinder from her pack and uncapped it, unrolling the blank parchment inside.

           “What…is that?” he inquired.

           (Y/N) glanced at him. “It’s a gift I’m hoping to give him.”

           A dark brow arched on Kanen’tó:kon’s forehead. “A blank piece of paper?”

           She snorted. “I was hoping that you and your tribe would write something down for him.” His eyes went wide and (Y/N) looked to Oiá:ner. “Ratonhnhaké:ton is currently living at the Davenport Homestead not terribly far from here.”

           The woman nodded. “We are aware. He is building up a settlement, is he not?”

           She beamed with pride. “Ratonhnhaké:ton has done a fantastic job of rebuilding the Homestead. He’s found so many people new homes and new beginnings.” (Y/N) didn’t realize that they were watching her with smiles. “He’s even helped me become who I am today. I wouldn’t be the person I am—” she went quiet as Kanen’tó:kon chuckled.

           Oiá:ner simply smiled. “I am glad he is so important to you.”

           (Y/N) coughed to hide her embarrassment. “Oh, you know.”

           “So, what exactly are we doing?” he asked.

           “Well at the Homestead, the residents are having a gift exchange this Christmas.” She explained. “Christmas is a colonial winter celebration. The gift exchange is meant to be anonymous. Whoever gives you the gift isn’t supposed to tell you. It’s, well, it’s a secret,” (Y/N) finalized.

           A heavy sigh left her. “He hasn’t asked for anything recently and I’ve been running in circles to think of something and I realized that maybe a gift like a nice shirt or knife isn’t the best one.”

           She met their gazes and murmured, “But I think reassuring words from his family and friends would mean more to him than anything I could ever buy him.”

           They seemed shocked at her suggestion and she eyed her hands. “I know it seems a bit big, having everyone write something down, but I know it would make him happy.” (Y/N) got on her knees and bowed. “Please do this for me, and ultimately for Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

           When no response was given, she felt tears grow in her eyes, but she held strong to her position and request.

           “When Ratonhnhaké:ton mentioned that he loved a colonial woman, I was worried about him. But…it seems I was wrong to question his judgment.”

           She looked up at Kanen’tó:kon to see him smiling warmly at her. He gestured to her. “Do you have a writing tool? I would be honored to give him words of encouragement and friendship.”

           (Y/N) felt like crying she was so overjoyed, simply nodding and pulling out the ink and quill. She glanced at Oiá:ner who was smiling kindly at her.

***

           Connor hurried back to the manor as fast as he could, more than concerned that she was hurt or sick. She hadn’t been at the gift exchange, leaving him to awkwardly wade through the residents by himself. Eventually, he’d learned that she had to have been the one to pull his name because no one had given him a gift.

           He stepped into the manor and sped up the stairs to her bedroom, but it was empty. His brows furrowed from confusion when he heard a noise from his own room and he turned, walking down the hall.

           Peeking inside, he caught sight of (Y/N) setting a small box on his bed. Overcome with such relief at her safety, he forgot to announce himself and walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

***

           Her face pinched as she set up the box in another fashion, positioning the card beside it this time. But when it fell, she sighed and picked it up, finally deciding to tuck it underneath. Satisfied with her work, she was planning on sneaking out of his room when someone’s arms wound around her.

           She jerked in terror, letting out a bloodcurdling scream as she began to thrash against their grasp.

           “Let go of me!” she screeched, kicking her legs out. “Get off!”

           Their arms rose, folding hers to her chest so that she couldn’t hit them, and they yelled, “(Y/N)! It’s me! Ratonhnhaké:ton!”

           Stilling in his arms, she leaned forward and craned her neck, catching sight of her lover, his eyes wide, but humor on his face. (Y/N) let out a groan, her body suddenly turning to jelly as he lowered her to the ground.

           “Christ in a handbasket, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She heaved and whacked his arm. “You scared me half to death.”

           Connor chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple in attempt to appease her. “Apologies, Otsi’tsa. I did not mean to scare you.”

           “Uh huh,” she deadpanned, not buying a single word.

           “It is true. I was relieved to see you unharmed.” He said, and her brows pulled together.

           (Y/N) shook her head. “What? What are you talking about?”

           Connor shifted so he could face her, explaining, “When you did not show at the gift exchange, I worried that you had hurt yourself or been hurt.”

           She felt her cheeks warm. “Oh…no…I just…” she sighed and reached up on the bed, grabbing his present. She handed it to him. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone.”

           He took it from her, fingers gliding along the wrapped box.

           “It’s a bit too personal for a group get together.” She said.

           Connor met her gaze. “May I open it?”

           “Of course. It’s yours.”

           His face lit up as he started opening it, and (Y/N) felt warmth grow in her chest at how careful he was with the wrapping paper—as if it were an extension of the gift itself.

           He set the untorn paper aside and opened the rectangular box, glancing at the scroll of parchment inside. She could see the confusion on his face, and she snorted. “Just unroll it and you’ll see.”

           Connor did as she said, and the moment he recognized his people’s language, (Y/N) saw tears well in his eyes. Not knowing if they were tears of sadness, she reached over and placed her hand on his knee.

           “Are you…unhappy with it?” she hesitated, and he gaped at her, mouth moving, but no words coming from him. The tears started falling down his cheeks and he quickly shoved the paper forward, so they wouldn’t drop on the ink.

           She reached forward, frantically wiping them away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) felt tears growing in her own eyes. “Oh, this was a bad idea, I’m so sorry,” she lamented. “Please forgive me for—”

           “Thank you,” he croaked. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

           Her hands stopped moving, resting on his face and she doubted, “You like it?”

           A watery laugh left him, and he nodded, placing the scroll back in the box and reached up to hold her hands.

           “I love it.” he confessed. “This gift is—” Connor seemed a loss for words, and he said that, “This gift is beyond words.” He shifted her hands, pressing his lips to her palms. “There are no words to describe what this means to me.”

           Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “I’m glad…so glad that you love it.”

           Connor shifted his hands and cupped her cheeks. “Niá:wen ki’ wáhi, (Y/N).”

           She beamed at him. “You’re welcome, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” Leaning forward, she pressed herself to his chest, feeling him wrap his arms around her.

           They sat in silence for a while, then he whispered, “You got the entire village to write?”

           (Y/N) hummed. “I did. Also got the shit scared out of me when I was greeted by guns.” She snorted. “Should’ve expected that one though. Being a stranger and all.”

           He chuckled and she felt it through her side. “We are welcoming, and wary of strangers, but—” Connor tilted her chin up. “You are not a stranger to my village, or me.”

           She hummed. “I’m not?” He nodded and she slipped her hand in the opening at the top of his shirt, palm pressed flat to his chest; his heart skipped a beat under her hand, and she murmured, “Then show me.”

           “Show you?” Connor quietly repeated.

           (Y/N) lightly dug her nails into his skin, purring, “Show me I’m not a stranger to you, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

           His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “You walk thin ice, (Y/N).”

           She winked. “For you? Always.”

           Connor couldn’t help but chuckle, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Konnorónhkwa.”

           “I love you, too,” she breathed.

[quiteanabyss]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Can you share your most memorable holidays with Kylo, Charlie and Sackler? Thank you

How would Kylo or Charlie handle Christmas in isolation with just you. - Anon

Merry Christmas!  I hope you’re having as lovely a day as is possible in the current circumstances!

Thank you for this Ask.  After some thought, I combined it with another, which I hope is okay for the both of you.

This features HC’s of a socially distanced Christmas with Kylo, some sweet Charlie and Henry, and ... the “Touch” series holiday special.

TW: The second story has a reference to an age gap, and the third contains some smut (because Sackler).

Kylo - A very social(ly distanced) Christmas

This is your third Christmas with Kylo.

Your first was spent with your family.  It had still been early days in your relationship, but in spite of some worries, they had easily welcomed him into the fold.  (Your parents were probably just glad you were finally dating someone.)

Your second was spent with his family, after many months spent encouraging him to reach out and reconcile with them like you knew he wanted to, but would never admit.  You had begged, bargained and blackmailed your boss for the time off over the holidays, and travelled all the way to the States with him to witness a family reunion that was twenty years in the making.  It was worth it.

Your third Christmas is different.  Thanks to the pandemic, travel to the States is out of the question.  Even driving a couple of hours up the road to see your parents is forbidden, thanks to the government’s last-minute decision the weekend before Christmas.  So the two of you are spending Christmas alone together.

But between phone calls and Zoom calls with family and friends, you don’t actually manage to have a minute to yourselves until the evening, once “dinner with the family” (a very strange setup using both of your laptops) is done, and the pans and dishes have been washed or abandoned in the sink to soak until either of you can be bothered to deal with them.

Even though it’s just been the two of you in the apartment all day, the space has been filled with voices and laughter of friends and loved ones almost the entire time.  Only now that the calls are done do you actually have space to appreciate the silence that falls between you as you flop down on the couch next to him, and he throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.

“Thank fuck that’s over,” he grumbles eventually, his deep voice breaking the stillness of the room.  “And to think you were worried today was going to be too quiet.  Jesus, I’m exhausted.”

He enjoyed it, really.  You know this.  He knows you know this.  But he’ll never admit it.  And that’s okay.  You love your grumpy man just as he is.

“Poor baby,” you murmur, causing him to glare at you.  “You’re probably much too tired for one more present.”

"What present?” he asks, in a would-be casual voice.  Trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

Smiling, you toy with the top button on your blouse.  That gets his attention.  “You’ll have to unwrap it to find out,” you say.  “But that’s probably too much for you seeing as you’ve had such a hard day.”

But it turns out he isn’t at all as exhausted as he’d claimed.

And he loves his final present.

Charlie - A family Christmas

Charlie was upfront about it right from the start.  He and Henry were a package deal.  Love me, love my son.

That’s why it took so long for things to really get going between the two of you.  He didn’t want to introduce you to Henry, only to have you fade out of his life a few months later when you inevitably got fed up of the tedious responsibility of, effectively, parenting another woman’s kid.

The age gap didn’t help, either.  You were at a stage in your life where you should be figuring out what you want to do with your life, partying with friends, without a care in the world.  Not settling down with someone who has already quite thoroughly fucked his life up, and has the baggage to prove it.

It took you a good six months to convince him that you understood all his worries and concerns, and you simply didn’t care.  There were heated discussions, tears from both of you, and a breakup that lasted all of a week ... until Charlie finally came to his senses and realized that he could trust you.

So it means a lot that you’re finally here.  Your first Christmas together with Charlie and Henry.

You and Charlie are exhausted.  Henry woke you up at the ungodly hour of half past four to open his presents, and is showing no sign of flagging.  Meanwhile, the two of you are on your third cup of coffee each, and it isn’t even time to have lunch yet.  But Henry is having a great time with his new toys, and Charlie’s arm is warm and reassuring around you as you both stand in the doorway to the living room, looking at the mess of wrapping paper with a mixture of despair and amusement.

Charlie leans in, nuzzles his nose against the side of your face, before kissing your cheek.  “You still sure about this?” he asks, gesturing at the chaos before you both.  “This is what it’s like.”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” you tell him.  There’s more you want to say, but at that moment Henry calls for both of you, demanding you come and help him begin assembling one of his new Lego sets.  

You’ll tell Charlie later, you decide, as you settle down on the floor and pull the instructions out of the box.  You’ll tell him how happy you are.  How lucky you feel to have been invited into their lives.  

He and Henry are a package deal, and you love them both.

Sackler - July in Christmas

“Why the fuck is the apartment so warm?” you demand, when you arrive home after your shift on Christmas Eve.  Some jackass in a ten grand coat told you that you ruined Christmas for his entire family because the product his wife wanted was out of stock, so you might be feeling a little bit Grinchy this evening.

Adam doesn’t have a straight answer for you.  He also insists that you stay out of the living room, so after your shower he makes you eat dinner in the bedroom.  It’s all very suspicious.

“I feel like I’m a prisoner,” you comment, after he accompanies you to the bathroom in case you look in the living room.  “I didn’t do it, officer, I swear!” you call through the door, while you pee.  Then you brush your teeth, remove your contacts, and run through your skincare routine.  If you take much longer than usual, it’s just because you’re being thorough.  Not because you’re trying to annoy him.

You emerge from the bathroom a good fifteen minutes later, to find him still standing there, looking pissed off.  You give him a shit-eating grin.  He grabs you, turns you around, and pushes you against the wall.  “You’re under arrest for taking too long in the bathroom,” he says, his breath hot in your ear as he grinds against you.  “Spread ‘em.”

You sleep very well that night.

Christmas morning dawns.  Outside it’s snowing, but inside your apartment it feels hotter than the summer your family went to Vegas.  You wake up from a very pleasant dream to find that it was not, in fact, a dream.  Adam’s face is buried between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit as his tongue works its way inside you.  You curl your fingers in his hair, and he hums in response, sending a pleasant shockwave of shivers through you, but he only looks up once you’ve cum for the third time.  “I need you to stay in here for, like, one more hour,” he says, by way of a greeting.

“Is that why you woke me up like this?” you ask, covering your face with your hands.  “To ensure my compliance?”

“It’ll be worth it, I promise,” he says, rolling off the bed, and stretching.  “You’re going to love it.”

“Ugh,” you say.  And then you roll over, and go back to sleep.

When you wake up again, it’s because Adam is basically sitting on top of you.  “It’s ready,” he says.  “You just need to put this on first.”  And he hands you -

“A bikini?” you say, bewildered, when you unroll the bundle he handed you.  “What the - why?”  Then, you notice that he’s wearing what are possibly the ugliest pair of floral swimming shorts you’ve ever seen in your life.  “Seriously Adam, what the fuck is going on?  It’s Christmas Day, it’s blizzarding outside, and you’re handing me swimwear?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s a no-brainer.  “Put it on.”

Grumbling, you crawl out of bed, and get dressed as requested.  It fits, but coverage is minimal, and you guess that’ s probably the point.  He stares at you with a huge grin on his face the entire time, like the massive perv he is.  And as soon as you’re ready, he drags you out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Outside of the living room, he pauses and turns to you.  “I know we’re not doing gifts this year because we’re trying to save money,” he says.  Which is true.  This apartment is too small for the two of you.  You’ve both mentioned that it would be nice to move somewhere with a second bedroom, although neither of you have yet mentioned why you feel that way.  “And I know we’re both kind of like fuck Christmas.  But you’ve been working so hard these past few months.  And I thought ... you deserve a holiday.  So, I did a thing.”

Without further ado, he opens the door into your living room, and pushes you inside.

Your mouth falls open.  The room has been transformed.  The sofa has been pushed back against the wall and the armchairs and coffee table have completely disappeared.  In their place are a couple of sunloungers with beach towels on them, a little table between them covered in your favourite drinks and snacks, and even a couple of mini palm trees in pots.

But most incredible of all ... there’s a freaking paddling pool, which looks big enough for the both of you to fit in it.

You know he’s looking at you, waiting for your reaction.  But you don’t know what to think, or do, or say.  So you just stand there like a moron, staring at the scene, and opening and closing your mouth like a fish.

“Is it ok?” he asks, eventually.  “You aren’t mad that I fucked up our living room, are you?”

All you can do is shake your head.

“Do you like it?”

You nod.  And because you can’t say anything, you throw your arms around his middle.  Hopefully that’s enough of an answer, because it’s all you can manage right now.

How the fuck did you manage to get so lucky?  Adam gets it.  He just gets you.  He’s the first person who’s ever bothered to take the time to try to figure you out, so he’s the first person you’ve ever begun to open up to.  And this right here?  Is the most thoughtful, ridiculous, best gift you’ve ever been given.

Adam wraps his arms around you too, and squeezes you so tightly you can feel your ribs creaking.  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says, and he begins to rock you gently as you start to cry big, fat, happy tears.  “You’re perfect, you know that?  And I really fucking love you.”

You’re not perfect.  Just like he’s not perfect, and this setup isn’t perfect.  (How the hell are you going to get all that water out of the pool when you’re done?)

But this moment is perfect.  

And god.  God.  You really fucking love him, too.

[shadowsfascination]

Dreams

Hot. Moist. Sweat. It gushed off him while he twisted and turned under the sheets, barely awake and still under the spell of a teasing dream. A soft sound, in between a growl and a moan, managed to escape Shadow’s lips, even with his mouth as dry as a desert.

His eyes were half-lidded, continuously blinking at a rapid speed. He gasped, clasping his hands into the ball of fumbled sheets atop him as if longing to hold on to something. His sub-conscious mind started registering the stimulus of the cold on one of his legs that peeked out under the blanket. He tugged it back under the warm, somewhat clammy sheets and a inhaled with a series of grated breaths.

“Shit… This again?”

Shadow laid his head to rest on the pillow below him and stared at the ceiling in the dark. His spiky quills pressed into the cushion, the cool cotton fabric nicely fluffing against his skin. It wasn’t until recently that he noticed how everything seemed to be the same saturated colour in the dark.

Not until these dreams decided to wake me up at the same darn point every night.

He grunted. Not only did he want to fall asleep again, he yearned to dream on that one particular dream. Shadow wriggled once more, huddling in attempt to find a comfortable position to drift off again- fast. He shut his eyes and snuggled up to the pillow beside him in the bed. A muffled groan carried away from underneath it. He was already too awake, too aroused to glide back in his dream again.

Fuck!

The black hedgehog sat up straight in a bed that wasn’t his. Ever since Amy left town two days ago for her internship, he decided he’d sleep in hers, which he convinced himself was fine… She asked me to check in on her house sometimes and I know where her spare key is hidden. It’s not like I’m doing something wrong…

In the pockets of his black jacket was an unfinished joint and a lighter- almost empty, judging by its’ weight. He opened the window in her bedroom, lit the joint and inhaled the smoke. Shadow rested his elbows on the windowsill, picturing Amy’s reaction to him smoking this stuff inside her home. Undoubtedly she’d show that cute, irresistible, agitated blush spread across her cheeks.

It had been that particular look on her face that lit a romantic spark in him. He remembered scoffing himself for the very first time after tracing the slightest affection for her. She was his friend and it should’ve stayed like that. But it didn’t and he had a love-hate relationship with his feelings for her.

Part of him despised the lack of self-discipline that eventually allowed him to fall for her, but then again: who could not fall for Amy Rose?

The young woman was simply amazing; kind, brave, strong, gorgeous, honest and pure. Hanging out with her was never an obligation to him. Even if he acted indifferent in the past, it was a mere cover. He enjoyed being with her so much that the innocent one-sided crush he made himself believe it’d become, faded over time to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of… lovesickness? Lust?

Shadow had yet to come to terms with whatever stirred inside him- if he’d ever decide to stop lying to himself. He craved being with her, even if it was just as her friend. But friends didn’t look the way he looked at her, the way he saw her, the way his mind was toyed with by her.

And lately it had gotten much worse. A feeling of possessiveness grew inside him when she told him her plans for a yearlong internship overseas. Surely she’d meet new people, make new friends, go out and meet guys. Guys who’d eventually find an interest in her. Shadow feared he might lose his chance with her forever. And yet… he’d just let her go like it was no big deal, casually waving her off like Sonic had. Along with his sigh marihuana scented smoke escaped his lips.

He looked at his phone. Nothing. His inbox was unusually quiet after Amy briefly informed him she’d arrived at her destination. It made him restless and impatient.

“I can’t believe I’m just as stupid as that faker…”

That last part was what made it so ugly. Sonic had taken Amy for granted for over a decade. Shadow had gladly been her shoulder to cry on and often told her he couldn’t understand how poorly the blue blur treated her. And now he had sunk as low as his rival when what he really longed for was to make Amy his girl and walk beside her, showing her off, proud as a peacock.

He imagined pulling her into a passionate kiss, one that would weaken her knees, send shivers down her spine. One that made it loud and clear to everyone that she was his woman. Now that was a decent goodbye! He sighed once again. She should be his!

Shadow’s mind drifted off to the night before she left. Amy went home early from the farewell-party her friends had thrown her. She had excused herself by stating she wanted a good night of sleep before her journey the next day, but asked Shadow to hang out with her in the end. Just the two of them. He knew far too well she’d do that.

Something in the way she acted that night puzzled his mind. It had lit sparks of hope that she felt the same way about him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there’d been this tense atmosphere between them.

____________________________________

 “My turn! Shadow, can you hand me that?”

…

“Shadow?!”

Amy frantically gestured with her hands to make contact with a Shadow whose mind seemed to have drifted off. The introverted hedgehog got sucked into his own mind, quietly moping and pouting to himself in his thoughts about her departure.

Blinking when he finally noticed her, she was already so close to him that it startled him a little. Sucking off the tip of the joint he held between his fingers, he instantly stiffened up. Shaking a little as he watched her, he became helpless to the arousal from the image and the prickling heat that flushed through his body.

The girl looked up to him, colouring his cheeks in a deep red, her lips still enclosing the tip. He was quickly to shift his gaze away from her, feeling she’d see right through him if he stared at her any longer.

“Sorry. I was out of it for a bit.”

She didn’t take it from him. Instead Amy let out a muffled ‘U-huh’ and guided his hand to her lips again to have another pull of the joint. Without warning she tucked her arms behind him, pulling him into a hug and chuckled a delightful laughter.

“Cheer up! I’m gonna miss you too, you know?”

“Tsk, darn right, you will!”

Amy snorted at his silly reply and gave him a playful push.

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

Shadow raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, faking an arrogance that actually fit his personality quite well at times. Amy however saw straight through his act, aware that he found it difficult that she left. Despite everything they ended up being the best of friends and she was sure he’d feel lonely and bored without her.

“We can still catch up on the phone and stuff. It’s only for a year. It’ll be over before we know it. Besides, you’re gonna be busy too in the meantime. I’m so excited for you about the project you were tasked with. You always wanted to do this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, it’s something I’m looking forward to. I’ve always wanted to work with plants. I’ll get to investigate, plant and look after all these rare species the Central City’s botanical garden’s been given after the archaeologist department found this hidden, preserving millions of seeds.”

“A nice change of pace for you, after your last missions. Promise to show me around sometime when I’m back, okay?”

“Gladly.”

“Yay! Now… I need something sweet!” Amy said when a munchie kicked in. “But already I emptied my cabinets… Argh!”

“Wait here.”

Shadow jumped off the roof they sat on and walked up to his motorcycle. Amy watched him lift up the seat and grab something out the space hidden underneath it. He jumped up and pulled himself up on the gutter with two brown paper bags clenched between his teeth. A gleeful smile instantly spread across Amy’s face when she recognized the logo on them. He handed her one.

“I put another in your backpack for your trip tomorrow as well.”

“Aaah, you’re the best!”

Amy opened the bag and couldn’t fight the giddy, happy squeak that escaped her lips. All of her favourite candy from her #1 candy store in Spring Yard was in it, which wasn’t close to their hometown. Shadow must’ve gone out of his way to get this for her and he clearly put in some thought into picking out the confectionary in the paper bag. She happily stuffed her mouth with it and heard Shadow snicker beside her.

“You’re precious.” He chuckled at her.

“What? Oh! I probably look ridiculous.”

“I think it’s endearing.”

She quickly gulped it down and fake-shyly fidgeted, trying to compensate for what she thought was unladylike behaviour. In sudden confusion Amy scratched her quills. Since when did she care about that when she was with Shadow?

She then spotted Shadow unroll a liquorish-fruity roll, her absolute favourite. Tearing the paper bag as she searched for it in hers, her face soured, eye-lids dropping halfway down. She regretted she impulsively ate all the candy in three big bites.

“That’s what you get for eating them all at once.” Shadow said.

He shrugged and put the end of the now unrolled, spaghetti-like candy in his mouth with an amused expression. Amy turned around, bent over him and took a bite from the candy string, her grin turning as smug as his was before. Surprised by the pleasurable tension she experienced from being so close to him, she giggled her unease away.

There wasn’t much left of the candy string. To bite off that last piece, she practically had to kiss him. The thought spread a burning sensation through her chest. With Shadow’s heart jolting rapidly and the blood whizzing in his ears, he slowly sucked up the candy string into his mouth to see how she would react.

Don’t think too much of it. She’s just teasing me! Isn’t she? Shadow thought to himself.

Locking her jade eyes with his ruby ones, Amy leaned in a little closer. Shadow didn’t protest. Amy bit her lip for a second, but then enclosed her rosy lips around the other end of what was left of the short candy string.

He took in her flowery scent and felt her breath gently brush against his lips, their noses almost touching. His palms turned sweaty inside his gloves. Amy’s face was blazing, its’ heat radiating against his own.

He cupped his hands around her back ever so carefully, putting the smallest amount of pressure on them. Aghast and undecided Amy sat down on his lap, one hand on his chest, the other tracing the outlines of his lips.

Shadow decided to take the leap and leaned in a little closer to bite off the string when his phone loudly buzzed in his jacket, startling the hedgehogs. Amy squeaked and quickly slid off his lap, her face and ears coloured in a deep pink blush. Shadow awkwardly hid his face from her, grabbing his phone while he inaudibly cursed whoever ruined this moment for him.

Rouge: ‘Do you really think this is a good idea?’

What the-? How’d she even-? If she’s been spying on us, she will not hear the end of it!

 _______________________________

 After Rouge interrupted them, things became weird. They said their awkward goodbyes like they’d see each other again the next day. But they didn’t because she left for her internship and he went to pick a fight with Rouge. The bat was genuinely concerned about him and what it’d do to him if he and Amy kissed and she’d leave the next day for a whole year.

Even when Rouge meant well, Shadow had yet to comprehend how she’d caught onto his secret feelings for Amy and felt violated in his privacy. On top of that she should have minded her own business.

He put his joint and lighter on the windowsill and snuggled up in Amy’s bed again. With his crimson eyes slowly closing, he concentrated in good hopes the fantasy would sprang from his mind and reignite his dream.

Come on, come on… I’m at the station, where are you? You should be here!

He whispered aloud while Dream-Shadow skated towards the pedestrian-bridge that crossed over the train tracks at high speed. He jumped up the stairs, his heart wildly pounding in his chest, hurrying him forward, pushing everyone aside who blocked his way. The strangers always delayed him in so many, annoying, different ways and every time he was left no choice but to jump off the bridge as a shortcut to get to the platform in time. Although a part of him feared, a part of him knew, he’d be too late -again. A sea of unknown, irrelevant others were standing in his way. Why is it always this crowded?

‘Move! Out of my way!’

The pod had done its’ job and Shadow drifted off into a deep sleep. His gaze locked on to something in the distance, the familiar shape of the one he was after.

‘Wait!’

He clenched his teeth and sped up, screaming to the strangers to make room for him, but his cries fell on deaf ears once more. The empty voices of everyone out here muted his screams before they could reach her.

‘No! Not again! Please! I must…!’

Shadow never seemed to get closer to the train he tried to reach before it’d fare away, even when he was skating towards it at full speed. It drained him, sending stinging pains to his sides, but he never got to it. Like his feet were glued to the ground. Soundless, hoarse, growling cries leaving his throat as the train departed and the crowd suddenly vanished, like it had never been there to begin with.

‘WAAAAIT! YOU HAVE TO WAAAAIT!’

He never mastered control over the rotten feeling, even when he knew it always ended the same way. The fact that he didn’t make it, didn’t reach her, never was fast enough… It was mortifying for him. He was the fucking ultimate lifeform and he didn’t deliver.

He pounded his fists into a brick wall and growled like a beast. His muscles trembled from the impact as he watched the train disappear into the distance. The thought of chasing it tempted him for a second. He let the thought pass on and slid down against the wall, scouring his back to the raw structure and sharp chunks of stone in it. He bled, but didn’t bother. Shadow’s chaos energy always healed him so fast that hardly anything was an actual threat to the ebony hedgehog.

He let his dream counterpart stroll over the platform of the train empty station. It somehow was always empty at this point in the dream. The sun stood low, casting soft beams of light in magnificent deep oranges, reds and yellows, painting long, dark shadows behind objects blocking its’ reach. Shadow sank down on a black, metal bench on platform 3-b, its’ many thin metal lines pressing into his skin. He rested his head on his hand, curling up to a ball.

‘I’m so stupid! So DARN stupid! I should never have let you leave like that!’ He cried. ‘And now you’re gone! ARGH!’

The powerlessness and anger inside the black male came crashing out of him when a chaos sphere ignited from his hands. It destroyed the tracks with a shrieking bang, curling up its’ irons.

‘I thought you were different, Shadow.’ crawled up a voice from behind him.

Dream-Amy’s voice scared him wide awake. His muscles soured, adrenaline rushing through his veins, his breathing irregular and his phone buzzing under the pillow. The disappointed tone in her voice hurt him badly. He seized the phone with trembling hands.

Amy!

Suddenly only seeing her name on the screen made him scared as never before, but also strangely excited at the same time. Nausea sprung in his middle.

Amy: ‘U awake?’

Shadow: ‘Yes.’

An incoming call from Amy popped up on his screen. He swiped it to the right to pick up.

“Why are you still up? Tomorrow���s your first day, right?”

“I went out with some people from the dorm.”

“O-kay... Did you- did you have a good time?”

“Sure did. In fact a really cute guy asked me out. We’re going out Friday night.”

All right. He knew what this was really about. She was trying to make him jealous, trying to make him feel bad about the way they parted. And it was a totally justified thing to do, but her act revealed to him that she wanted him to care. Shadow’s muscles relaxed again and a confident smile curved his lips.

“Is that so? Did you tell him you secretly have feelings for someone else?”

“I’m not in love with Sonic anymore!”

“Who said I was talking about Sonic?”

…

Shadow was unable to fight the amusing feeling inside him from how baffled she was all of the sudden.

“Well- I-! I can’t believe you just let me go like that!”

“I’m sorry.”

Amy shrieked with a high pitched voice when she heard the acoustics of his apology twice. She turned around, the phone still held against her ear to see him standing in her dorm room. In one hand he held a chaos emerald and his phone in the other.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Confessing how much of an idiot I am.” He pouted.

“Go on.”

“It was highly indecent of me to let you go like that and I’m sorry.”

Part of him wanted to confess everything to her, take the leap and come clean, but he didn’t. The repeating dream that haunted him since she left had awakened a new fear in him: that she was only fooling around with him that night. It was yet to be proven irrational. He felt it was her turn to say something for this wasn’t a one way street.

“Thank you. It’s just… That night- I thought you cared about me.”

He sat down next to her.

“I do.” Way too much actually.

Shadow leaned in on her, resting his arms on her legs, his lips close to her ear. He closed her in between the wall behind her and himself in front of her only to whisper: “In fact, I don’t like that you’re going out with someone if that someone isn’t me.”

Amy let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She tilted her head and unintentionally tightened her grip on Shadow’s chest fur. Her lashes softly tickled on his muzzle when she blinked. His musky scent and flirting intoxicated her senses. He levelled with her to catch her gaze, internally screaming from how hot she looked in what he realized was in fact one of his sweaters.

“Heh, here I only thought I had the hots for you, but it seems I was wrong.”

He pulled her closer by the cords of the sweater. Slowly he closed the remaining distance between them, softly pressing his lips against hers.

“So wrong!”

Amy smiled against his lips and straddled him, clamping his legs between her own, before passionately pouring into the kiss.

Chaos! I wanted this for so long!

_______________

AN: This one’s long! I decided to care less and just write and draw whatever I want, trying out new styles. Here goes...

Shadow and Amy are both adults here. Where I live smoking marihuana is tolerated.

Like always: send me a note for annoying typos, grammar mishaps etc. 

[allsassnoclass]

Hazel! Can I submit ““i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years” for lashton??

as you wish my dear

Ficmas Day 2

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Ashton knew he was screwed the moment he picked Luke’s name out of the hat for Secret Santa, but it doesn’t fully hit him until the night before the last day of school before break.  They’re going to exchange gifts once all of the students leave at the end of the day, and Ashton has to admit that he went a little overboard.

He’s supposed to wrap and bring one gift.  He has six.

“Hey, Calum,” he says once the other person picks up the phone.  “So.  I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

“Why?” Calum asks, voice tinny and almost overpowered by Michael’s very loud singing in the background.  He gasps.  “Ash, tell me you didn’t leave Luke’s present until right now.  There’s no way I can help you with less than 24 hours to go.”

“How do you know I have Luke?” Ashton frowns.  “Have you been snooping?”

“No, but I saw your face when you drew the name.”

Ashton sighs.  “Fuck, do you think he knows?”

“Well, he’d have to know that you’ve been in love with him since he started at the school, and we both know Luke is not self-aware enough for that.  You can’t drop hints with him, because he won’t pick them up.  Remember when we all went to eat and the waitress was tripping over herself to flirt with him?  He didn’t even notice.”

Ashton remembers that night well.  It hadn’t been the first time a stranger tried to chat up Luke, and just like every instance before Ashton had to tamp down his jealousy.  Luke is an attractive and appealing guy.  He can’t fault other people for noticing that too and shooting their shot.

“That doesn’t help my crisis.”

“Which is…?”

Ashton glances at the presents sitting on his floor with wrapping paper next to them.

“Can you come over?” he asks.

“You didn’t get him another dog, did you?” Calum asks dubiously.

“Of course not,” Ashton says.  “I’m not an idiot Calum.  Dogs aren’t surprise presents.  I just… still may have gone a bit overboard on this one.”

“Overboard how?”

“I have six presents and I need you to help me choose.”

Calum sighs.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, and I’m bringing Michael.”  He hangs up before Ashton can protest.  

Great.  Now instead of being subject to Calum’s quiet judgement, he’s going to have to deal with Michael laughing at him, too.

They find him sitting on the floor of his living room, wrapping paper tube in hand but no closer to figuring out what he’s doing.

“Hey,” Calum says, sitting down next to him.  Ashton grunts.  “Walk me through the presents.  Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

Michael flops down on the couch behind them.

“Well, I got him a cookbook, because I saw it at the store and know he wants to start cooking for himself more, plus it says they’re easy.  But cookbooks are so bleh, so I made a donation to the shelter he got Petunia from in his name, but I don’t want to show up and have him be the only person who doesn’t get to take something home with him at the end of the night, so then I started thinking about how he’s always late so I got him this personalized watch with his name and an engraving on the back, but I don’t want him to take it as something passive aggressive so I got him a framed artistic map of his hometown since I know he misses it, but then I thought that’s lame because he can get a map anywhere, so I called up his mom and there are these rings that you can get thumbprints engraved on so I worked with her and got one of those with her fingerprint because I know he misses her like crazy, but that’s way too much and I wasn’t sure if it would arrive on time so I got one of those books of affirmations and personalized a few for days when he feels bad.”

Calum gapes at him.  Michael pats him once on the head.

“I think you should just fuck him for Christmas.”

Ashton groans and buries his head in his hands.

“Shut up, Michael.  No one asked you.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Ashton,” Calum says slowly.  “We are teachers at a public school.  There was a $20 cap on the presents.  How much did you spend?”

“Um,” he says.  “If the cookbook was paperback it might have been less than $20.”

“Well,” Calum sighs, “at least you aren’t the economics teacher.”

“If you fuck him, it would be free.”

“Shut up, Michael!”

“Babe, stop antagonizing him.”

“But I’m right!”

Calum gives Michael a look that makes him sulk off to the kitchen, probably to eat all of Ashton’s ice cream.

“Okay,” Calum says.  “You can’t give him all of that in front of everyone.  He’ll definitely know you’re in love with him, and it’s not fair to everyone else getting smaller $20 gifts.  Wrap the cookbook and give him the rest later.”

Ashton grimaces.

“Luke deserves better than just a cookbook, though.  He’s…”

“He’s what?”

Ashton has known Luke for three years and is still no closer to figuring out how to describe him.  He’s an English teacher, yet all words fail when he thinks about the math teacher who’s classroom sits down the hall.  It makes him want to read more Shakespeare or Browning or EE Cummings to see if someone else can say it better than him.

Luke is a breath of fresh air when he’s been underground too long.  He’s flowers in bloom, meteors visible from Earth, and rain when the sun is still shining.  He’s incredibly grumpy in the mornings when he comes in to work, but always gives Ashton a smile.  He gives his students pop quizzes but doesn’t count them towards their grades, only uses them to see what concepts need clarifying.  He has his students complete logic puzzles for extra credit and brings snacks on Fridays.  He has stupid rhymes and songs to help people remember formulas and they actually work.  Ashton had never seen a group of students truly excited about math until Luke joined their staff.

“He deserves better than a stupid cookbook for his present.”

“Meet him later to give him the rest,” Calum says.  “Unless you want everyone else on staff to know you’re hopelessly in love with him, too?”

“You don’t,” Michael calls from the kitchen.  “If you think I’m bad, you have no idea what Sierra is capable of.  When she found out I like Calum, it was brutal.  Hey, do you have any chocolate sauce?”

“You were no help tonight.  You don’t deserve chocolate sauce,” he calls back.  Michael appears in the doorway with a bowl and spoon, distressed.

“I said you should fuck him.  If you need different advice, then do what Calum says.  He’s smart most of the time.”

“Aw, thanks,” Calum says.

“Most of the time,” Michael emphasizes, brandishing his spoon.  “You’re still stupid for liking the lesser science.”

“Please don’t start that again,” Ashton says.  “If you two start arguing about chemistry and physics I’m kicking you out.  I know it’s foreplay for you, and that makes it weird.”

“Well, Michael and I do have a lot of chemistry together.”

“Nice,” Michael says.  “We should use my lever to shift your center of mass.”

“I hate you both so much,” Ashton groans.

“You’d hate us less if you had a boyfriend of your own,” Michael says over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen.

“That’s not the point,” Ashton says.  “I’m not trying to get a boyfriend right now.  I just… I don’t know.  I want him to have nice things.”

Calum clasps his shoulder, giving him a small shake.

“You’re a nice thing, too.”

Ashton buries his head in his hands again.

“Hey.  He’ll love his cookbook, and if you give him the rest he’ll absolutely love that, too.”

Something crashes in the kitchen.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Calum says.  “Give Luke the cookbook.  Ask him to meet you later so you can give him the other presents.  I’ll be right back to help wrap them.”

Ashton nods miserably and unrolls the wrapping paper.

-/-

Ashton wakes up the next day with a headache already pressing against his skull.  Calum and Michael had stayed late the night before, helping wrap the presents and then poking at him until he agreed to play a few rounds of MarioKart with them.  Halfway through the first race he remembered that he still had papers to grade that he promised the students would be done before break, so he moved his grading to the living room and listened to Michael and Calum trash talk each other and the cheesy music of each course.  Nothing managed to fully distract him from the presents sitting in the corner, though, and even when he eventually went to bed he spent most of the night tossing and turning.

The kids are always squirly the day before a break, but the lack of sleep only makes his patience shorter.  The end of each class period brings a sigh of relief for everyone, and he relishes in the few minutes he gets where he can relax instead of teach as long as he doesn’t dwell on the impending gift exchange.

Not even seeing Luke this morning and having lunch with him had managed to ease some of the tension pressing against the base of his skull.  He can’t fully enjoy his company when he’s the source of his problem.

When the final bell rings, Ashton wishes he could rush out of the building with the students, but instead he puts his classroom back to rights, monitors the hall for a few minutes, then grabs his present and heads to the staff lounge.

“Hey,” Michael says, sliding up to him after he deposits his present on the middle table.  “How’s it going?”

“I’m shitting bricks,” Ashton says.  “And I slept like shit because you and Calum didn’t get out of my house until midnight.”

“Relax, dude.  It’s Luke.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

Ashton doesn’t say he could hate my present and then hate me or he might figure out that I’m hopelessly in love with him.  He shrugs.  Michael snorts, then promptly forgets about Ashton as soon as Calum walks in the door.  Luke walks in right behind him, so Ashton pretty much forgets about Michael, too, because Luke is wearing a red button up and black slacks and his hair is a big curly mess.  His math classes seem to be perpetually bursting with activity, and Ashton loves seeing the transition from grumpy and put-together to beaming and unkempt throughout the day.  Luke is the only person he knows who gains limitless energy from his students, always bouncing after the last class instead of exhausted by a full day of work.

Ashton doesn't have a chance to greet him before Principal Feldman walks in, promptly starting the gift exchange since "so many of us will be happy to go on break and there are a lot of us to get through."  He takes it upon himself to start passing out the presents.  Ashton joins along with everyone else "oooo-ing" and "ahhhh-ing" at each gift, but he's too distracted to try to help people guess who their particular Santa may be.

Michael gets a stapler and a gift card to an office supply store because he keeps misplacing his desk materials.  Calum gets a shirt with a chemistry pun from Anne in the office. Ashton ends up getting a small care package from Calum with some bath bombs, chapstick, and a scented candle because Calum says he needs to learn how to relax more.  Ashton is just happy it wasn't another mug with a book pun on it, because Calum likes sending him pictures of those whenever he runs across one but Ashton already has too many to fit in his cupboard.

Luke is one of the last people to open his gift.  He comments on the cute snowflake pattern on the wrapping paper then tears through it, flipping the book around to fully read the cover.

"It's a cookbook!" he enthuses.  "I need this.  Who knew I needed this?"  He looks around the room, lighting up once he locks eyes with Ashton.  "Ashton!  Is it you?"

"Yeah, that's from me," Ashton says.

"Thank you!" Luke beams.  Feldman quickly moves on to the next present and Luke opens the cookbook, pursuing the pages instead of paying attention.  By the time everyone has their present and starts to filter out of the lounge, Ashton has been doing breathing exercises to ensure he doesn't psych himself out.  Michael pats him on the back when he drags Calum out, which does less to encourage Ashton and more to ignite his nerves, but he's not about to let the other five presents he has go to waste.

"Hey, Luke," he calls.  Luke pauses in his tracks, stepping to the side to get out of the doorway and let the rest of their coworkers pass.  "Can you stop by my classroom?  There's another part of your present I need to give you."

"There's more?" Luke asks.  "Ash, the cookbook is already amazing, I don't need anything else."

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Ashton asks.

Curiosity wins out over any lingering politeness.  Luke eagerly follows Ashton out the door and through the halls to his classroom. It's tucked into a corner, which Ashton likes because it means he has a lot of windows, and he's been there for long enough that the walls are covered in posters, quotes, pictures, and some particularly striking student works.  Four boxes and an envelope sit wrapped on the desk in the same snowflake wrapping paper.

"Are all of those..."

"Yeah," Ashton says.  "I got a little carried away."

"Wow."

"Here."  Ashton hands him the envelope.  "Start here."

Luke tears open the flap as messily as he tore open the wrapping paper earlier, pulling out the donation receipt inside.

“This is the place I got Petunia,” he says.

“I know.”

“Thanks,” he says.  “I try to donate to them every year but… thank you.  They’ll be able to do some good with this.”

Ashton clears his throat.  “You’re welcome.  Here’s the next one.”

He unwraps the map next.

“I know you miss it,” Ashton says.  “There’s some star stickers in there, too, if you want to mark important places.”

Luke’s eyes glitter with memories as he looks over it.  He gasps and turns the frame towards Ashton.  “Here’s my house!  Right there.  And then over here was my school, and the movie theater…. Sorry.  You don’t want to listen to me go on about this.  What’s next?”

Ashton could listen to Luke tell him stories about his hometown all night, but he’s looking expectantly at him and there’s still three presents sitting on his desk.

He tosses him the watch next.  Luke fumbles when he catches it.  Ashton is extremely thankful that it’s packed in the box well and won’t break, especially when Luke shakes it.

He laughs when he sees what’s inside.

“I get it.  I won’t miss our lunch dates anymore.”

“Sure you won’t,” Ashton teases.  “There’s an inscription on it, too.”

Luke takes the watch out of the box and flips it over.

“‘Education is our passport to the future.’”

“‘Education is our passport to the future,” Ashton recites, “for tomorrow belongs to the people who prepare for it today.’ Malcolm X.”

“Appropriate,” Luke says.  “Thanks.”

He puts the watch on, struggling a little with the clasp.  Ashton reaches out and helps, careful not to make it too tight or too loose.  Luke’s wrist is soft beneath his fingers, a patch of smooth pale skin covering his pulse.  When he finishes, neither of them move away.

“It’s wonderful, Ashton.  Thank you,” Luke says.  “I’m going to wear it every day.”

“It suits you.”

Luke gives him a smile that sends Ashton reaching for another present before he does something uncalled for like lean forward and try to kiss him.

“This one’s for bad days.  It’s not much, but I wanted you to have reminders of how amazing you are.”

Luke rips off the paper and softens like butter once he starts flipping through the book of affirmations.

“A lot of them are generic, but there are a few personalized ones in there, and all of them are true anyway.”

“Ashton, this is too much,” Luke says.  “This is insane.  You went above and beyond Secret Santa.”

“Well.”  Ashton scratches the back of his neck, the feeling of a blush prickling under his skin.  “I can’t exactly return them since they’re personalized.  I kept seeing things that made me think of you.”

“Thank you.  I don’t--” he laughs-- “I don’t know what to say.”

“Save it until you get your last gift.  Then you can judge them all.”

The last box is the smallest, but it’s heavy with a phantom weight.  Ashton went above and beyond for this one, going so far as to contact Liz when he’s only talked to her a few times before, and Luke is either going to think it’s sweet or creepy.

“It’s small,” Luke says, testing the feel of the box in his hands.  He glances up at Ashton before taking off the paper, then again when he sees that the box is a ring box.  Ashton holds his breath while he opens it, wanting to spare himself from seeing Luke’s reaction but not able to look away.

The silver ring glints in the light, a thick band pinched between Luke’s fingers so he can look at it closer.

“What…” he trails off.

“I talked to your mum,” Ashton says.  “The engraving on the outside is her fingerprint.  I know you miss her, and this way you can have a piece of her with you all the time.

“I can’t accept this,” Luke says.  “It’s too much.”

He tries to hand it to Ashton, but he closes Luke’s hand around the ring and pushes it back towards his chest.

“It’s personalized,” he says.  “It doesn’t mean anything to me, so you need to keep it.”

Luke briefly looks down at the ring again.  When he meets Ashton’s gaze, his eyes are glistening.

“You’re going to make me cry,” he laughs.  “Sorry.  Thank you.  So Much.”

He reaches for him, and Ashton’s thankful that Luke seems to fit perfectly in his arms.

“I can’t believe you got all this for a stupid Secret Santa,” he sniffs when he pulls away.

“You deserve it,” Ashton says earnestly.  “I kept seeing things I knew you would appreciate.  Guess I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit,” Luke teases.  Ashton smiles.  Luke’s teasing is a different kind, always giving the impression that it’s somehow an inside joke between them instead of Luke laughing at him.

“I have something for you, too,” Luke says.  “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but if you got me so much I feel better giving you this one thing.”

“Oh?”

Luke reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a book.  Ashton can tell what it is even before Luke hands it to him.

“Leaves of Grass,” he says, running his hand over the vines and leaves adorning the hard cover behind the gold leaf of the title.

“You said you wanted another copy since your old one is full of annotations.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, tracing the swirling script of Walt Whitman’s name.

“Okay, Mr. I-got-a-billion-presents-for-my-Secret-Santa.  I wanted to give you something nice.”

It’s a thought Ashton has had thousands of times during his own gift-buying process, and that’s what compels him to finally ask “Do you want to go on a date with me?  We could go to dinner or a movie, maybe ice skating or something more festive?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

Ashton grins, smile threatening to split his face in two.

“Maybe not ice skating, though,” Luke says.  “I’m all legs and no coordination.”

“Dinner, then,” Ashton says.  “Do you like Italian?  I could pick you up next week.”

“I love Italian, and getting picked up.”

“Good,” Ashton says.  “Great!”

“Great!”

Ashton knows his smile is verging on dopey, but it’s okay because Luke has the same stupid-happy look on his face.  Luke’s phone rings and shatters the moment, but Ashton can’t even be that upset when Luke takes a few steps away to answer, glancing back with immense fondness and answering the person on the other line with vague and distracted noises.

“I’m so sorry,” Luke says when he hangs up.  “I have to go.  I promised Sierra I’d help her with some last-minute classroom things.”

“That’s okay,” Ashton says.  “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Luke smiles.  “Please do.  I mean--yeah.  I’d like that.’

“I will,” Ashton says.  Then, because someone has to be responsible and get Luke out the door instead of locked in a staring contest, he stacks Luke’s gifts and passes them off to him.

“Okay.  I’ll see you later!  On our date!”

“See you, Luke!”

Luke stumbles on his way out the door, too distracted trying to look back at Ashton.  He’s right: he really is all legs and no coordination.

Watching him leave with his new book in hand, Ashton thinks that he got the best gift of all this year.

[novannna]

Same Sea, Same Soul, Same Heart

Chapter 8 Danna and Nova pine for eachother, while Nova’s plan falls into motion.  

link to masterlist

link to chapter 7

Wc: 1723

Nova cracked her knuckles, and sat down.  

“So, here’s the plan we have already,” she said to her crew.  They were gathered around the deck, a table with a map pinned on it in front of them.  

“I managed to pull a few strings within the castle, and the idea of a sea wedding was introduced to the prince.  Apparently the mysterious bride was excited by the idea.  So, the wedding should be here.”  Nova moved a small red painted ship to a cove outside Gatlon City.  “If we attack from here,” Nova said pushing a black ship in from the opposite direction of the city.  “Then they will see us, and know that the wedding is being attacked.  While rushing to their ships, we will attack the wedding.  If possible, we take hostages to use as an exit ticket, but we can’t save everyone.”  Nova smirked.  “And while the armada rushes to save their prince and kings-”  Nova shoved a fleet of ships across the maps.  “Ace will slip into the palace, and conquer the city.  Any questions?”

Her crew shook their heads.  

Nova grinned.  “Excellent.  Details will be ironed out as new information comes in, but that’s the general gist of it.”  Nova swept the ships into a small cloth bag, and rolled up the mat.  “Now, don’t you all have work to do?”  She shooed them off.  

Moxie hurried up to her.  “What if Danna’s there?”  She asked.  

“What about it?”  Nova shrugged.  

“...Well would you kill her?”

“If it comes to it, yes.  I’d never put my ambitions on the line, just for a girl I don’t even like.” 

“But what are your ambitions? You talk about them, but I don’t actually know what they are.”

Nova inhaled deeply.  “I want to avenge my family.  If the Renegades had given them the help they had needed, they would still be alive.”

“Nova, is that really what you want?”

“Yes.  It is.  Now, I’m busy, and so are you.”

Moxie caught her hand, jerking her to a stop.  “Nova…”

In seconds, Nova had whirled around, and pressed a dagger to Moxie’s throat.  “Don’t even start,” she growled.  “And don’t touch me.”  

Moxie sighed and looked down.  “Yes Captain.”  

Nova spun around, and stalked away.  She hurried into her office, and swung the doors to her balcony open.  The sea swayed below her, wild waves reaching up to slap the hull.  

“Oh, why did I ever even think I had a chance with Danna Bell.  Me, of all people. To her perfection, I am nobody.  Why was I foolish to ever even begin to think that she might stoop low enough to love me.  The scum of the earth.  A thief.  A liar.  A traitor.  A murderer.”  Nova hugged her arms tight around her body.  “Why did I fool myself?”  

The clouds hung heavy, as if sensing Nova’s foul mood.  She walked back inside, footsteps plodding heavily across the wood floor.  

Nova closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply.  She let all her thoughts collect, and when she exhaled, she let them all flow away.  SHe cracked her eyes open, refusing to even think about Danna.  She picked up a piece of paper, and a quill.  Sitting down in her chair, Nova began to write a letter.  Before she could overthink it, Nova stuffed it into a bottle, and tossed it overboard.  

The odds of the person she actually wanted it to get finding it were next to nothing, but still Nova hoped.  Hoped a foolish, stupid, pointless hope.  

And she knew that.  But still, Nova hoped.

---

Danna scurried down the vines outside her window, disguised under a heavy cloak.  The guards didn’t even notice as she darted past them, using shadows as cover.  It wasn’t surprising Nova’s crew had been able to steal her so easily.  The men were incompetent.  Completely, utterly incompetent.  

Danna smiled to herself.  

She hurried through the streets, gaining more and more speed as she neared her destination.  

Finally, she was racing in a flat out sprint, coming to an abrupt halt inches away from the cold waves. 

Her shoes sank into the sand, and Danna threw them off.  

A laugh burbled out of her throat as her toes wiggled in the sand.  

Danna screwed her eyes shut, and placed a single foot in the water.  

It was cold, and gently lapped against her ankle.  Danna laughed again.  

She had never been in the sea like this before.  

She stuck another foot in.  Slowly she waded farther and farther, until her hips were under water.  

It was silly, but Danna felt like she and Nova were connected through the waves.  

They were in the same sea.  Despite the distance between them, it was still the same water.  It felt like it was watching over her.  Keeping her safe.  

Danna breathed in deeply, and bracing herself, dove under the waves.  

The water covered her head, tugging her hair in different directions.  

She moved her fingers through the water, just like she remembered frogs doing.  

Danna moved forwards.  She tried to smile, but water flooded her mouth.  She accidentally swallowed a mouthful, and frantically tried to stand, only to realize she had floated away from the shore.  

Danna frantically paddled her arms, somehow flailing her body back to the shore.  She lay on the sand, coughing salt water up.

Danna collapsed down, lying on the ground,  The stars twinkled far above her, and she wondered if Nova was looking at the same ones.  

Danna smiled, and brushed a piece of hair from her face.  

“I miss you, my love,” she whispered into the nothingness.  “I hope that I can see you again someday.  Even if it is when we are in the stars.”

---

Nova sighed, and collapsed onto her balcony.  She looked up at the stars shining bright above her.  The clouds had cleared, and now the thin moon hung high in the sky.  She gazed at the shore, where she knew Danna was, probably safe in her bed, forgetting Nova had ever existed.  Maybe she was getting ready for the wedding.  Nova wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted Danna there.  At least she could see Danna again.  

But Danna would see her dark side.  Her bad side. The brutal, violent, killing side.  The side Nova wished didn’t exist.  

Thinking about it, Nova definitely did not want Danna there.  She didn’t want Danna to view her as even more bad.  

Nova sighed heavily, and looked back to the stars.  

She wondered if Danna was looking at the same ones.  Probably not.  But it was nice to think that she was.  

“I miss you, my love,” Nova whispered to the sky, wishing Danna could hear her words.  “I hope that I can see you again someday.  Even if it is when we are in the stars.”

---

Danna slowly got up, her wet body caked with sand.  

She looked back at the ocean one last time, and saw something glinting in the waves. 

Danna walked over, and laughed when she saw a bottle floating by her feet.  She bent down, and picked it up.  A letter was tightly rolled up inside, safe and dry.  Danna pried the bottle open, using her teeth to pry the cork out.  It had swollen after spending hours in the sea.  

Finally it popped free, and Danna slid the letter out.  Carefully, she unrolled the parchment.  Danna gasped, and fell to her knees as she read.  

Dearest Danna,

I know this letter will most likely never reach you.  It probably will never reach you.  But I hope that the sea will care for me, as it has always done, and see that this bottle makes it into your hands.  Danna, there is no amount of words I can write that could accurately phrase what I want to say to you.  You could never understand how much you mean to me.  I know that I’ve done bad things.  I know I hurt you.  And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.  I wouldn’t forgive me either.  I want you to know that ever since we’ve parted, I have thought of you almost constantly.  I love you, Danna Bell.  And I have to live with the fact that I sent you away.  Because I was scared.  That was the only reason.  I was a coward.  I left you.  I couldn’t even bear to see your face so I drugged you.  I’ve done terrible things, but that was the first thing that truly made me feel guilty.  I’m sorry I was such a coward. 

If you are reading this, then maybe the universe has decided I can be saved.  Maybe it did give me a scrap of luck for once in my life.  I’ll think of you for the rest of time, because you are my heart. 

I love you. 

Nova

Danna let out a sob, and pressed the letter right to her chest. She hadn’t been an idiot.  She hadn’t been a foolish, naive noble.  There was a chance for them to be together. 

And Nova has thrown it all away. 

For a second, Danna was angrier than she ever had been.  But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made.  Nova had an entire life.  She was scared, and confused, and she wasn’t about to throw it all away for someone she was supposed to hate.  Unlike Danna, Nova actually had something left to lose.  Of course she sent Danna away. 

And Danna could never be mad at someone she loved that fully.  Danna could never be mad at Nova.  No matter how many terrible crimes she did, Danna would always forgive her.  That was the way love worked.  You always return to the arms you know best. 

“I got your letter,” Danna whispered.  “I promise, if I see you in this life, or the next, I won’t let anything tear us apart.  Never again.”  

---

The two girls sat near the sea, looking at the same sky, wondering if the other knew the depths of their love.  The lengths they would go for the other.  

And neither of them knew that the other wondered the same thing back. 

They just sat, looking at the sky, wishing on every star they saw, that there was a way for them to be together again.

Tag list: @novissa @thepurpledragon4444  @phobidawg   @rvbell @redassassin @ifyouhadntbutyoudid (let me know if you want to be added/taken off!!!)  

[lovebug5151]

Family Bonding (With a hint of Angst) Robodad Grian Au

(Yes, unless y'all have better ideas for the name of this Au, this is what i’m going with lmao. If you do have any, go ahead and say em! If i like it and it fits, ill rename it and say it was your idea in the next chapter.)

So this is about 2040 words, and i’m quite happy with it. I don’t think I made this one as sad as the first one, but im not sure. I actually have a story line for up to ch 5 of this story, and I hope that this is one of the last true sad chapters (Though I might spice some things up, dont want things too happy, do ya :D

This is also about a week or so after the events of the first chapter.

Grian sat on top of his mansion, just watching and listening to the wind, breathing in, and out. He needed to clear his head. Earlier Mumbo had made a offhand comment about how Grumbots heart was missing, and ‘maybe it fell into the ocean’ before laughing. 

While Grian knew Mumbo didn’t have the same background as he did with considering Aware AI’s ‘just robots’, he had called Grumbot son, even if it was awkwardly. It hurt Grian, to know that Mumbo might hurt Grumbot, even unintentionally, if he did see him. And Jrumbot… he was just a child, his dad saying hurtful things would hurt him so much more.

Grian had to quickly finish up what he was doing, and rush back to his base to breath. He couldn’t work beside Mumbo at the moment, couldn’t explain how Mumbo had hurt him, and so had run off. 

Grian leaned forward slightly to look down. It was a far drop. Grian had never truly been afraid of heights, he loved climbing high in the air. 

It was joked that it was because he was short, that he liked to be tall, but he just liked feeling the wind rush around him, and the feeling of falling and pulling up right before hitting the ground. It was elating, and whenever he was feeling bad he just took a leap off a roof and fell, before swooping up using his elytra. 

He wondered if Grumbot would like flying, he could fix up some Jet boots for him, maybe mechanical wings? Yeah, he’ll make some wings for Grumbot and if he liked them, maybe some for himself. He liked the idea of being able to mostly hover in one place. 

He let out a breath and looked at the sun. It was nearing lunch, and if he didn’t come inside Grumbot would come looking for him. 

Grian swooped down, landing in front of the door, before heading inside. 

--------

Grumbot hummed as he finished cooking some steak. He and Jrumbot were able to eat regular food, and no one knew how, but neither Grumbot or Grian really wanted to question it so they let it be.

He put the steak on plates and turned around just as his Dad walked in. He smiled and said hi to him while bringing the plates to the table. Jrumbot was already there and they sat on chairs to eat.

It was quiet for a moment before Grian yawned. “Have you two ever wanted to fly?” 

Grumbot looked at him weirdly for a second before nodding. “Yeah, kinda, but I'm way too heavy for an elytra.”

Jrumbot paused with his steak halfway in his mouth

“If fould fe fun fu fly” He said, still chewing his food. 

Grian sighed slightly and smiled at Jrumbot 

“Jrumbot, dont talk with your mouth full.”

Jrumbot finished his mouthful and squirmed slightly. “Sorry.”

“|Its alright. Its just something to that we dont make a mess okay?” Grian told him.

“Okay.” Jrumbot muttered, before continuing “But yeah! It would be so fun to fly!”

Grian smiled “I have an idea then, but let's finish eating, yeah?” Both of them nodded at him before starting to eat their steak again.

After dinner, Jrumbot went to go mess with some of the blocks Grian had given him, and Grian and Grumbot went down to the Lab. They called it a Lab, but it was just a basement with too many tech pieces in it.

Grumbot sat down in a chair before waiting for Grian to talk, while Grian went over to look at something on a table.

“Dad,” Grumbot started, when it was obvious Grian wasn't gonna start talking “What was with the questions about flying?”

Grian glanced back at him. “Not much, I was just thinking about something. You both know how you're too heavy for elytras, but I was thinking, if we remade some of your body into lighter but still strong metals, and used,” His talking stopped as he walked towards a wall. Grumbot was confused until suddenly a Shulker Box opened.

Grumbot stared for a second before laughing. “How did i not know that was there?” He got out between giggles.

Grian smiled at him. “I havent opened it around you, and you haven't snooped. I'm not surprised you haven't found it. I keep my old ideas in there, old blueprints, old mechanical pieces I just couldn't throw away, those sort of things.” Grian started unrolling a big piece of paper “And I remembered I had a blueprint of these old things.”

Grumbot stood up to look at the paper, and after taking a moment to understand it, froze with excitement. He glances up at Grian with a giant smile, and Grian smiled back.

---------

Grian let out a oof as Grumbot collided with him. Grumbot was giggling uncontrollably, and Grian was happy that Grumbot was happy. Grumbot let go to look at the blueprint again and looked up with eyes so full of excitement that Grian felt excited too.

“Can we actually make these?” Grumbot asked, almost bouncing up and down.

Grian laughed and nodded. “Yeah, we'll have to test them out, but there's no reason we can't. It will take a while.” He warned Grumbot “And I will test out the wings first when we think they're ready.”

He saw Grumbot take a breath, to say something when Grian continued. “I haven't tested these designs yet. I would rather, if something goes wrong, to have me gone for a couple days respawning, and you safe, instead of you-” Grian couldn't even finish the sentence before he had to take a deep breath before the tears started coming. “Instead of you getting hurt.” He ended quietly, putting his hand on Grumbots shoulder. Grumbot looked down for a moment, before looking up at Grian with sadness. 

“I understand Dad, but please don't get hurt, Don’t d-die and have to respawn, I don't know what I'd tell Jrumbot.”

Grian looked at him and smiled sadly. “I wasn't planning on dying anytime soon kid. Let's start figuring out what we need to get for the wings, yeah?” Grumbot nodded excitedly, and bolted for the metals cabinet. Grian laughed as he followed along.

--------

Grian Yawned and stretched out his arms. They were all sitting in front of a fireplace, enjoying tea and Jrumbot was cuddling with Maui.

The good feeling couldn't last forever though, because eventually Jrumbot looked up and over at Grian. “Dad,” He started “Why haven't we seen Papa?”

Grian froze for a second before closing his eyes. He didnt wanna talk about this to them, he didn't want to hurt them.

“Dad?” Grumbot questioned, seeing his Dad freeze up and look on the verge of tears.

Grian sighed and rubbed his face. “Both of you come here.” He murmured finally, patting the couch he was sitting on either side of him.

Grumbot and Jrumbot quickly came over to sit beside him, and Grian put both his arms on their shoulders.

Grian took a deep breath. “You have not seen mumbo, and have not been able to explore outside of my mansion area, for a couple reasons. One of these is that I'm not too sure how mobs will react to you, and How you'd react with being hurt by a mob. The other,...” Grian took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, letting his chin drop to his chest. “The other,” Grian continued, “Is because I'm not too sure of how the other Hermits would react to you.” He finally looked up and saw both of them staring at him in confusion. Grian tried to explain. “I'm one of the only ones who have experience with actually aware AI’s, I believe, and when some people are scared of something, they decide that they should hurt it before it hurts them.” He took another deep breath and looked into Grumbot and Jrumbots eyes, one after the other. “I do not believe that many of the Hermits would react this way, but I don't know exactly how they would react, and I don't want them to hurt you, either unknowingly or not.”

He saw Grumbots eyes widen and Jrumbots eyes narrow slightly. “I understand that reasoning dad,” Jrumbot started “But why haven't we seen papa?”

Grian sighed again. “Do you two remember yesterday morning, when I came back early and stayed on the roof for a bit?” they both nodded and Grian continued. “I did that, because Mum- Papa, upset me with his words.” He said, before taking a pause. He didn't look at either of his boys, but rather the ceiling as he said “He made some not nice jokes about Grumbot. Both of you must know however,” Grian started saying immediately when they both froze “That Mumbo doesn't know much about Aware AI’s. He believed Grumbot was an unaware aware AI, and that he was killed when he broke down. He did not know you had actual feelings, instead of manufactured ones. Mumbo often has issues figuring out other people's emotions, and most of the time redstone doesn't have emotions. Mumbo doesn't know about you two, and you haven't seen him,” Grian was starting to slow as he tried to find the words he needed. “Because, Because I am afraid. He murmured quietly. I am afraid he will unwittingly hurt you with his words, and I didnt want that to happen before you were aware it could happen. I'm sorry I kept this from you, but I wasn't aware of how to say it, or if you were ready for it, and decided to let one of you bring the topic up.”

There was silence for a moment before both of his boys hugged him. “I understand Dad,” Grumbot murmured into his shirt. “You didn't want us to get hurt, but thank you for telling us now.” Jrumbot nodded in agreement and Grian let out a wet laugh. Sounding on the edge of tears he said “What did I ever do without you boys?”

Grumbot pulled away and giggled as he said “Forgot about eating dinner.”

Grian paused before letting out a loud laugh which made Grumbot and Jrumbot start giggling.

“I can't say you're wrong.” Grian laughed, running a hand through his hair.

Grian then yawned, and stood up to stretch. “However nice this bonding session has been.” Grian started, turning toward his boys. “I believe it is bedtime. No buts!” he smiled at them as he said that, both of them having opened their mouths to deny it. It is nighttime, and very dark, and both of you need sleep.”

“Will you read to me dad,” Jrumbot murmured, fidgeting on the couch.

Grian smiled at him. “Of course, you only need ask.” He smirked at Jrumbot before saying “However, the first one to get to your room gets to pick the book, and oh look, Grumbots already at the hallway-” Jrumbot shrieked out a laugh as a sudden race took place in the hallway, and Grian smiled as he tidied the place up, talking the mugs to the kitchen to wash tomorrow.

He then walked to the boys bedroom, to find Jrumbot pouting as Grumbot sat on his bed.

“What will the story be?” Grian asked them, and Grumbot smiled before saying, “what about the one about the Dragons saving the world?”

Jrumbot glanced up with wide eyes and Grian grinned. Even though Grumbot had obviously won, he had also chosen his brother's favorite book to read.

Grian walked over to the bookshelf and found the book, “A Warrior's Tail” before walking to Jrumbots bed. He started reading to them, and within the third chapter, they were both asleep. 

Grian smiled and leaned over both of them to kiss their foreheads, before whispering ‘night’ and leaving the room. He walked toward his own bedroom and climbed into bed. Grian looked at the ceiling and felt Maui joined him, purring as he curled up around Grians head. He reached up to scratch Maui under the chin, before yawning and turning off his lamp.

That talk was one he had been dreading, and it went over quite well. Grians last thought before sleeping was ‘Maybe I should introduce them to another Hermit.’

-----------

For whatever reason, Autocorrect really hates all names. Anyways, I know who the Hermit is, But do any of you? I want to see who you think the hermit is!

Also, if you liked this story, please comment! I loved reading all of your comments on the last one! They helped me make this chapter as quick as possible! (I may also be procrastinating on other stories with a Grumbot Fix-it Fic but, oh well)

[marveloussupernerd]

Halloween Charity Stream - Jumin Han

Alright I know this may not be everyone’s cup of tea (people were not horribly fond of my interview Jumin fic) but just trust me on this one. Let me take the wheel. Happy Halloween week! If you haven’t heard, I’ve randomly generating all the prompts for each character’s Halloween story this week

Prompts: Charity fundraiser, blindfolded “feely” challenge (idk what it’s called, I’ve seen it called “Mystery Box” before tho), TP Jumin’s house

Summary: Korea’s favorite married couple, the Hans are hosting a charity livestream this Halloween. You have a few tricks and treats and activities planned along the way to make up for Jumin’s lack of celebrating in the past.

Tonight was the night. A crew had been setting up lights and cameras and props in your living room all day for your charity livestream. You and Jumin had gotten a pretty good slot for the stream: 7 pm on Halloween on three national stations. You were also streaming on YouTube, of course. Today’s goal was to raise as much money for a Children’s Hospital as possible. The hospital had been looking for someone to host their event, and why not choose not only members of the RFA, one of the most sought-after party planning groups in the country, but also the country’s favorite couple.

This was actually you and Jumin’s second Halloween together, but first as a married couple. You were super excited! Jumin was not super into Halloween last year; you had to force him to dress up and even then he wouldn’t even carve a pumpkin! You had gone out of you way to prepare “tricks” and “treats” for him to get during the stream, hoping to push the spooky spirit into him.

You had on a burnt orange dress and Jumin had his usually suit on, but a tie with cartoony pumpkins on it. The outfits wouldn’t last for long; after the first milestone the two of you would change into Halloween costumes.

You were kind of nervous as you glanced at the clock, the seconds ticking down before the show started. Jumin, sitting next to you on the sofa, sensed your nerves and grabbed your hand. You had done interviews before and speeches at different events, but you had never run a show for a four-hour block. You were nervous. When they told you you were rolling, you didn’t even process it at first.

Luckily, Jumin spoke up, snapping you out of your gaze. “Hi everyone. And welcome to Halloween with the Hans. It’s me, Jumin Han, and my lovely wife with me tonight. We’re going to be accepting donations for the Korean Children’s Hospital.” He was such a natural. Such a show-off.

It was probably your turn to speak. “Now, for each milestone we hit in the next four hours, I’ve got a little surprise.” Jumin raised an eyebrow. “I’ve planned a trick or treat game on the side. You get to pull it out of the hat and see if you’ll get a trick or a treat.”

“To clarify,” Jumin told the camera. “I didn’t know about this.”

“Well it would be boring if there weren’t any surprises,” you teased him. “But the first milestone of the day will be a treat for the audience: Jumin and I will get dressed up in Halloween costumes, and those who donate get to vote for what we wear!”

“There are pretty out-there options. But if that’s what you all want we’ll do it for you,” Jumin chuckled. His eyes told a different story, pleading the audience to not pick what he was sure they would pick.

They picked it once the first milestone was hit. You cut to commercial and very quickly pulled your costume on, settling the headpiece so it sat in your hair just right. You grabbed Elizabeth the 3rd. She was sort of the star in this costume.

You and Jumin agreed to walk into the room at the same time to let the camera grab your reactions. When you saw him in a mullet, a baseball cap, and a tiger print shirt, you lost it, nearly dropping Elizabeth as you doubled over in laughter.

“Well you actually look okay! This isn’t fair. Did you put stripes on Elizabeth the 3rd?” He asked, extremely surprised to see the black (easily washable) marks on her white fur.

“She’s a tiger! And if you hadn’t guessed it yet, we are indeed dressed as Joe Exotic and Carole Baskin from the Tiger King show,” you explained to the camera, setting Elizabeth down before she got fussy.

“I hope you all enjoyed the wig but I cannot possibly keep it on. I will keep the hat though in good faith,” he apologized to the audience. You helped him fix his hair after he took the wig off, only for him to cover it up with the hat once again.

You squeezed Jumin in a sickeningly sweet hug. “Get your screen caps now people. He’ll never dress like this again.”

Eventually it was time for the first challenge. You held out a Jack-o-lantern trick or treating basket and made him pull out a piece of paper. “Trick.” He said, keeping his face expressionless.

“Oo! Fun. We’ll have to dive into the trick bucket then.” The trick bucket was a spoopy ghost bucket, much like the Jack o lantern.

“My Love, what in heaven’s name is a ‘feely game’?” He asked, trying to hold back his laughter but eventually failing.

“Oh!” You laughed too. “I didn’t really know what to call it. But no worries.” You grabbed three boxes that had been hidden under your coffee table. “I put some scary stuff in these boxes, and it’s your job to guess what they actually are.”

“Without looking, right?”

“Right. It’d be way too easy if you looked. I played this once at an elementary school Halloween party. Keep in mind, this is real food.” You pulled the first box closer to you. “First up: EYEBALLS!” You announced in the spookiest voice possible.

He simply shook his head, turning it so he couldn’t see into the box then feeling inside. It was just grapes. You had peeled grapes and hoped they felt like eyeballs. This was probably way harder for kids in retrospect. “Ew. I don’t like the way it feels.” He complained. He took his hand out of the box and wiped it on his jeans.

“Well? What are the eyeballs actually?”

“I don’t know. Olives?” He guessed.

“Close! Peeled grapes.” You opened the box to show him.

“What happens if I get it wrong?”

“Oh...” you hadn’t thought about that. “Nothing I guess. But everyone watching will make fun of you.”

“Oh boy. That’s the worst fate of all,” he confessed, a small smile on his face. He grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. He just couldn’t help himself. You were so cute.

“Next item!” You declared, pulling out of his grasp to grab the next box and keep the game going. “Guts!”

He seemed to get this one pretty quickly, only having to feel inside for a moment. “Those are noodles, right?”

“One point for Mr. Jumin Han! I knew you could do it. You might just redeem yourself yet. Last round,” you winked at him, grabbing the final box. “Hair.”

“Just... hair?” He questioned.

“Yes. Hair. Go ahead and feel it.”

He put his hand in and retracted it immediately, jumping in his seat closer to you, wiping his hand against your shirt. “That’s actually just hair. Did you just put your hair in there?”

“I didn’t realize you disliked hair so much, Honey,” you giggled, wrapping an arm around his waist to ‘protect him’. “You never seem to be bothered with Elizabeth the 3rds hair.”

“That is nothing like this. That is literally hair.”

“It’s not hair.”

“It is too hair.” He was pouting now.

You opened the box to show him and the camera. It was the ‘hair’ you took off he husk of the corn. “That is genuinely hair.”

“No! It’s part of corn!”

“They call it the hair of the corn. I think I’m right. Maybe we should ask the audience,” he glanced at the camera, “Please, let me be right over my wife just this one time.”

They, believe it or not, sympathized and sided with him.

Next prize was also a trick. He pulled out the next piece of paper. “T... P? As in toilet paper?”

“So, when you TP it’s basically you throwing toilet paper all over the exterior of the house. It’s like a Halloween prank,” you explained.

“How silly. Whose house are we TP-ing?” You saw the glint in his eyes. He just wanted to TP Zen’s house.

“We actually made a wheel to decide! Spin the wheel! Your options are our house, renowned photographer V’s house, Chief Assistant Jaehee Kang’s house, or famous actor Zen’s house,” you explained to the camera. You were pretty proud of the little wheel you made; it held up even with the strong spin Jumin made.

It landed on the little emoji of Jumin. “Guess we’re TP-ing our own house,” you chuckled. You went to go get a few rolls of toilet paper, and the camera crew helped you move outside.

“Have you done this before?” Jumin asked as the two of you walked outside. You shrugged. You’d never tell. “You little Minx, you.”

“So, if I remember correctly from the good old days when this was a thing,” you handed Jumin a roll so he could follow along, “you unroll a little, and then just yeet it at the house.” Your throw went sailing over the house, leaving a nice trail behind. Jumin’s roll hit the side of the house without unraveling, then bounced back.

“I think I did it wrong.” He commented blankly.

“Alright, let me help.” You stood behind him, covering his hand with your own to help him perfect his form. “For everyone watching, this is why you need a partner. So that they can teach you how to TP your own house,” you joked to the camera. Jumin was blushing bright red from the close contact on live television, but you were far too focused on the perfect throw to care. It was flawless. It sailed over the house.

“Wait, that was kind of fun. Let me try on my own now.” Jumin offered. You handed him another roll. Next you’d have to go to the side of the house to keep going with the previous rolls. His next throw was perfect we well.

He went over-the-top with his throwing. It was more like he was decorating your house in the end, aiming perfectly so that each roll could fall where he wanted it to. The house actually looked pretty cool. You’d clean it up tomorrow (A/N: y’all this is a Covid free story don’t be TPing houses in this economy)

The viewers really seemed to enjoy that segment. A few more tricks and treats (which were mainly just candy or a kiss) later and you were onto the last gift of the night. “Alright, before we close things up, we’re going to do the last trick or treat,” you announced. You grabbed the basket, with one piece of paper in it, and held it out to Jumin.

He didn’t bother looking away to grab it, opening it up. “Treat. What a good way to end the night.” He was glowing. It had been a good stream overall, you had raised three times the money you had expected to.

“And for your final treat of the night...” you opened the last slip of paper for him, showing it to him and the cameras. It just read “surprise” in big bold letters.

“Surprise? What’s that mean?” He asked, taking the paper from your hands to inspect it for any other potential markings. There were none.

“I’ve been saving this one. Kind of appropriate it was the last thing actually,” you grinned, pulling an envelope out from behind the pillow you were sitting by. You handed it to Jumin. “Open it up.” You couldn’t contain your smile.

He opened it very meticulously, ensuring not to rip the envelope. He pulled out the piece of paper on top. “A kitten is on the way?” He read, extremely confused. Your grin was unmistakable now.

“Wait! Is Elizabeth the 3rd pregnant!?” He seemed appalled. “This is not a treat.”

“No. I’m pretty sure she can’t get pregnant Jumin,” you giggled.

“Then what could that mean? A kitten...” he was hopelessly lost. His thinking face was so cute yoi almost didn’t want to help him out, but you were so excited.

“The audience chose well. Look at our costumes, Honey.” You explained, grabbing his hand in yours.

He looked down at your outfits. “Tiger King. Carole Baskin. Cool cats and kitt- you’re pregnant!?” He exclaimed, dropping the envelope.

“Our own little kitten is on the way,” you confirmed excitedly. He pulled you into a hug instantaneously. You could feel his chest shaking with laughter. You couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off your face. This was just perfect.

He may have been hugging you for a little too long. “Jumin, Love. We still are on the air,” you reminded him.

He pulled back, still with his arms around you too though. “You all heard it here first, with me huh? Thank you for coming out tonight and donating. You’re helping so many children in need. And hey, guess you never know when a child may come into your life.” He glanced at you, smiling. He also couldn’t get the stupid grin off his face.

“Good night all. Happy Halloween,” you bid the audience goodnight.

The first thing Jumin did after the program ended was pull you into a loving kiss.

[raquel-and-sergio]

Ink and toilet paper

requested by anon, a some fluff and Serquel being cute

Wiping away a few droplets of sweat from her forehead, Raquel pushed open the door to their bedroom. It was a beautiful room, on one of the highest floors in the monastery. Here, the noises and quarrels of the band would seldom come and bother them. Breathing in the familiar smell of sleep and comfort, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. This run was indeed a blessing after that strange morning. She hadn't really noticed it, but she had almost forgotten how to interact with new people, how to make friends. In Spain, she was always switching between family and work, no time for fresh faces. In Palawan, she and Sergio were always together, they met strangers and made a few friends, but they did so as a couple. A faint feel of awkwardness, yet satisfaction still lingered in her.

It was like meeting his family. They all knew him, they knew each other, and she was just the new addition, the odd one out that needs to make a good first impression and be judged. She would be lying to herself if she said she hadn't missed this feeling. Socialising, teasing, taunting, joking, a discreet battle of will. It reminded her of her first days at the academy.

After breakfast, Sergio had taken them upstairs to the classroom and gave them a quick overview of the plan. No personal relationships, he had said by force of habit, before realising the mocking gaze the entire class was giving him.

He had given them a time out around two o'clock, and Raquel had taken it upon herself to go for a little run to clear her mind.

While she couldn't get out of the monastery, the gardens were large enough to allow her to indulge in the illusion of freedom as she sprinted through the fresh mountain air. The adrenaline still pumping in her veins took the shape of a faint smile on her lips.

She looked around the room, not being able to shake the unusual feeling of distance that had overcome her. Her life has taken so many different turns in the last couple of years, and she still had a bit of a hard time adapting. She glanced at the papers scattered around the room and remembered how less than three years ago she would've done anything to have the Professor's plan spread right before her eyes. Their time in Palawan had been the best time Raquel had had in a while. Maybe in her entire life. From the death of her father to the abuse of her husband, the illness of her mother and the toxicity of her workplace Raquel had felt like every single day was a battle against the world. And then this perfect stranger entered her life and betrayed her in the most intimate way possible. But instead of breaking, she grew. She let herself fall in love, lowered her barriers and took a risk, and she hadn't regretted it for a single second.

But now, they were actively planning to risk all of that. All of the life they've built, the joy of finally settling down. There had to be another way, a better way to save Rio because attempting to rob the bank of Spain certainly didn't feel like a viable solution. But no matter how much they tried to cover it, Sergio and the band were yearning to feel the excitement of a robbery again. And despite their victory, most of them still wanted revenge on the system. And so did she. She didn't want to risk it all, she had too much to lose, but she wasn't going to say no when the perfect occasion came along. This whole ordeal might have started for Rio, but each member of the band had their own reasons for risking it all one last time.

Her eyes fell upon Sergio's head, and all her thoughts dissipated at once. He had fallen asleep on the table, his face lodged on what looked like a detailed sketch of a box. His fingers were still holding a pen from which the ink escaped and covered his fingernails. Letting out a little huff, Raquel approached his sleeping form.

"Cariño," she whispered, her gentle fingers caressing his shoulders. His body shook as he startled and rose right up.

"Wha-what, what I'm awake, I'm awake" he stammered, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. She let out a little laugh.

"Did you stay up all night studying the plan again?" She said as she pushed his hand away from his eyes. "Don't do that you'll get ink all over your face."

He looked down at his hands and noticed the stains.

" I've made quite the mess" he laughed.

"Indeed you have, let me help you clean it up." She began clearing away some of the paper from the table. "What is it that you were working on anyway?" He put on his glasses again and straightened them, and ran a hand through his hair, attempting to give it a presentable form.

"It's just some sketches of the safe. So I can show them to the band and explain how we're going to break in." She was almost leaning against him as she reached the edge of the table to gather some last papers, and he attempted to steal a kiss from her.

"Don't!" She laughed and pushed him away "I'm all sweaty from running, you don't want me smelling like that."

"I don't care." He said and tried to kiss her again.

"You're an idiot" she huffed but allowed the contact. She felt his smile against her lips and leaned in the kiss. His hand rose and held the back of her neck as he closed his eyes and breathed in her scent.

"You're getting ink everywhere" she laughed and broke the kiss.

"I don't care."

"What happened to the attentive cleaning freak the Professor used to be?

"You taught him how to live" Raquel looked him in the eyes, and a smile tugged the corners of her lips. Yes, her life was a thousand times better now, and she would follow him to the edge of the world, no matter what. His intense gaze made her realise that he was thinking the exact same thing. Placing a playful kiss on his lips, she proceeded to finish cleaning up the papers on the table and made a move to go get some toilet paper from the bathroom to wipe away the ink.

"Let me get that." He interrupted and got up. He wasn't wearing his suit, which was neatly hung on the closet door. Nor was he wearing his librarian pyjamas, as she liked to call them. Instead, he had opted for sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Sergio in sweatpants was quite the rare sight, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Raquel heard a little clatter from the bathroom, and a few seconds later, Sergio appeared holding a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of disinfectant.

"Nice pants" she commented.

"Come on, don't make fun of me. I wanted to wear my pyjamas, but I had to shower first, and I didn't want to do that, but I didn't want to stay in a suit either, so I had to settle for these, these things." He grimaced in disdain as if he felt ashamed of wearing something other than pants outside a workout. A twinkle shone in her eyes.

"I'm not making fun of you! I quite like them actually." He rolled his eyes. "No, really! I feel like they highlight… Your form." She teased. He exhaled and shook his head, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

She watched him as he rubbed the table clean, then proceeded to straighten the little stacks of paper she had made. He attempted to throw the ball of toilet paper in the garbage across the room, but it fell next to the small bin.

"You have terrible aim" she laughed.

"Like you could have done it!"

"Is that a challenge Professor?"

"Maybe."

"In that case, challenge accepted." She unrolled a few squares of paper and crushed them into three little balls, which she then proceeded to wet with some water from the sink. He was watching her as she came to stand next to him, a determined look on her face.

"Why do you get three shots?" He asked. "I only got one."

"Fine, take this one." She said as she gave him one "Like that we both get two shots."

"Alright Inspectora, show me what you got." She stuck her tongue out at him and focused on her target. In a swift movement, she threw the ball. It landed on the edge of the open lid and bounced back on the floor. An incredibly smug smile appeared on his lips.

"Stop it's not funny! I was so close! Closer than you got at least!"

"You have terrible aim" he retorted. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she admitted. "It's a tie on the first round. We still got a second chance."

"You're terribly stubborn, you know that?"

"Indeed," she said, "it's one of my prime qualities." He shook his head and aimed at the bin. The ball curved through the air and hit the wall above the bin, then fell right next to it.

"We really should get a bigger bin."

"Don't be such a sore loser" she teased.

"You still haven't won yet."

"Just a matter of time."

"We'll see that."

She ignored his taunt and focused on the bin. Tightening her grasp on the ball to make it smaller, she aimed and gave it her best shot. They both watched intensely as the ball flew across the room, then right towards the target. But as it looked about ready to fall inside, it got stopped by the edge of the bin and bounced back on the floor.

"Fuck!"

"Well then Inspectora, I guess I won…" teased Sergio as she kicked the toilet paper roll across the room.

"You didn't win it's a tie!" she replied.

"Maybe, but you always see ties as losses. I see them as wins. So I won."

"This doesn't make sense."

"It does to me."

"Fine!" She huffed and walked towards to bin to throw the scattered papers inside. She turned around and felt his gaze on her.

"Did we really just argue about that?" He laughed. She looked up at him and smiled.

"You really make me feel like a teenager." She answered and walked back towards the bed on which he was now seated. Before she could join him, he got up next to her, loving the slight height difference which made her throw her head back to look him in the eyes.

"Well, you aren't much taller than the average teenager, aren't you?" He teased.

"Oh, you are going to regret that comment!" she jumped on him and pushed him right back on the bed. Her body keeping his firmly grounded, she slammed her lips against his. Taking her by surprise, he rolled over and pinned her hands above her head. His weight was pushing against her limbs.

"Am I now?" he whispered against her ear. A shiver of excitement ran through her body, but she forced herself to push him back.

"Yes, yes, you are. I" she declared as she pushed herself upright, "am going to shower. And you're not invited."

"You're probably the most stubborn person I've ever met. And that's saying a lot knowing the company I keep."

"And you," she chuckled, straightening a lock of his hair that was sticking out "Are going to have to be a very, very patient man." Kicking away the covers in which her feet had begun to get tangled in, she rolled out of bed, smiling at his pleading face.

He watched her as she headed towards the bathroom, taking off her clothes one by one before reaching the door. Pulling her shirt above her head and kicking down her pants, he saw her turning around and blowing him a kiss as she closed the door behind her.

It was going to be a very long afternoon indeed.

I hope you enjoyed reading this! Don’t hesitate to like and comment if you did❤️❤️

[writingithink]

Tangled Timelines Chapter 3 Rated: T Chapter Word Count: 5,010 Chapter Summary: The Doctor and Rose try to track down some ghosts. Notes: Hey look! It's an update!! Hopefully they'll be happening more regularly now. I'm semi doing NaNoWriMo, and by that I mean that I'm attempting to write 50,000 words this month spread across any project (including this one). I'm starting to find my groove with this fic, so *fingers crossed*

As always, many hugs and thanks for @hey-there-juliet , my lovely beta. && all mistakes are mine.

READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686090/chapters/67268401

<-- Ch2

Ch 4 -->

As soon as he entered his ship, the Doctor collapsed onto the jumpseat and stared blankly at the time rotor for a few moments. And then he glared at it.

“I somehow manage to happen upon the exact coordinates for the beginning of an invasion, and for some reason you’ve put me smack dab in the middle of it?!”

The answering hum was … frustrated.

He furrowed his brows, frowning. It would be exceedingly bad, incredibly bad, astonishingly bad bad bad if something else was influencing the TARDIS. The Doctor sprang to his feet and immediately sonicked open the grating, taking a moment to place a temporary barrier around his panic before he could worry Rose.

Back at the flat, she was having tea with her mother. She’d only just managed to get Jackie to stop complaining about his apparent need to ‘make everything about aliens’, and they were now talking about the wedding. Apparently she’d found a baker who said they’d make up cake samples that all somehow incorporated bananas. Best news he’d heard (well, technically) all day, and he couldn’t properly appreciate the sentiment when he desperately needed to check his ship and parse out exactly what he was going to do about these ‘ghosts’.

First things first, he needed to make sure that the TARDIS was physically fine. That she was healthy. And actually, it wasn’t so bad. There were some minor repairs he should take care of before they next left Earth, but nothing he couldn’t leave until after they’d saved the planet. The Doctor pulled himself out from under the console and bounced over to the navigational matrix, pulling a screen with him as he went.

His mouth dropped as he looked at the recording of their last flight path. A time track seemed to just- just pop into existence, pushing them months away. His ship had immediately landed due to the unexpected error. It literally looked like a glitch in the Vortex - but there were no such thing as glitches in the Time Vortex. A whole dimension doesn’t glitch - not without some outside force acting on it.

And any outside force meddling with time was even more dangerous than whatever these ‘ghosts’ were.

One bloody thing at a time, though.

The Doctor pushed himself away from the console and began pacing.

Ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts.

Not really ghosts. Getting stronger from the psychic energy of the entire human race. Incredibly unpleasant when one walks through you - really do feel dead. Worse than dead. Likely nothing good, and all over the world.

But they appear in shifts. There’s shifts.

So someone had to be in charge of that. Probably multiple someones. But still, there would be a central location connected to them, giving them whatever help they need to press themselves onto the Earth from wherever they really are. To do that, all around the world, they would have to have an incredibly strong signal.

An incredibly strong, traceable signal.

“Alright then!”

Headfirst into danger was just what it was going to have to be.

The Doctor sonicked open a different panel and began rummaging around for the equipment he’d need. It wasn’t long before he heard the TARDIS' door open.

“According to the paper,” his wife announced, “they’ve elected a ghost as MP for Leeds. Now tell me about this plan you’re tryin’ so hard to keep secret.”

He popped out of the grating with a backpack full of equipment.

“Who you gonna call?” he joked.

“Ghostbusters!” Rose laughed, more amused by the voice he was using than his shockingly similar looking technology.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” the Doctor finished with a little jig before dashing out of the TARDIS.

“My mum’s on her way down,” she informed him as he looked around the playground for the best area to set up the cones. Actually, should do nicely right where they were.

“Oh?” He turned on his heel and went back into their ship, pleased that she’d seen fit to set out the rest of the equipment they would need. “Let’s get these outside.”

“Doctor,” his bondmate huffed, even as she took a cone. I don’t think we should tell her yet. About the lifespan thing. Not until after we’ve gotten rid of the ghosts. Like, way after. Next trip back.

That’s fine, he agreed as he sat down his roll of wire and cone and began plugging everything in.

“We’ll still have to stay for awhile, though. Because we said we would.”

The Doctor paused what he was doing, dramatically raising his eyes skyward. It was quite a nice day, really. You’d think, with London having nice weather for once, that he’d be able to enjoy it. He opened his mouth, planning to vocalize his many complaints, but as soon as he turned back towards Rose, he saw Jackie walking up.

After the ghosts, yes. Sometime during this trip, though, please . 

He wasn’t ashamed to beg. Well … a little ashamed.

“Why’d you park all the way over here?” Jackie asked as he began plugging the wires into the cone Rose had placed.

“Got tired of the alley. Bit dingy,” he quipped. It was a lie, but better than telling his mother-in-law that not only had the flight gone wrong time-wise, but also slightly by location.

His wife shot him a worried look as she caught the thought.

Later, he promised, rushing back into the TARDIS for the final cone. He would worry about all of that later - they had important things to do.

“When’s the next shift?” he asked as he sat the cone down.

“Quarter to,” Jackie answered, “but don’t go causing trouble. What’s that lot do?”

“Triangulates their point of origin.”

“I don’t suppose it’s the Gelth?” Rose asked, visions of their spectral forms playing across their bond for a moment.

“Nah,” the Doctor responded, and she quickly shrugged off the idea. “They were just coming through one little rift. This lot are transposing themselves over the whole planet. Like tracing paper.”

With the final cone plugged in, he ran over to make sure they were all in the proper position.

“You’re always doing this,” Jackie complained. “Reducing it to science. Why can’t it be real? Just think of it, though. All the people we’ve lost. Our families coming back home. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

He paused to give his mother-in-law an honest answer. 

“I think it’s horrific.” 

And then the Doctor bounced back into motion, unrolling the cable that would connect the triangulation devices to the TARDIS console. They were on a time crunch, after all. “Rose, give us a hand, love.”

His bondmate sighed before following him into the ship.

She’s so upset.

The Doctor remained silent, aware that the thought wasn’t really meant for him and even more aware that there wasn’t anything he could say that would help. He plugged in the cable and turned to Rose, aware that her mother had followed them inside. This is how they could help.

“As soon as the cones activate,” he explained quickly, pointing to the monitor, “if that line goes red, press that button there. If it doesn’t stop,” he continued, reaching into his jacket to pull out the sonic screwdriver, “setting 15-B. Hold it against the port, eight seconds and stop.”

“15-B, eight seconds,” she confirmed.

“If it goes into the blue, activate the deep scan on the left.”

“Uhm … oh!” His wife leaned over the console, which he found much more provocative than the situation really called for. “This button there?”

“Hmm close.”

And he’d really, sincerely intended to send her a mental image of the correct button, but some wires must have gotten crossed there. Instead what he sent was a memory of their return to the TARDIS right after the Rhibelini festival. Eh. Oops?

“That one?” Rose smirked, pointing to another button that was definitely not close, while sending some very, uhm, creative suggestions that, unfortunately, weren’t actually feasible.

“Eehh, now you’ve just killed us,” the Doctor told her with a theatrical grimace.

With the button, or- ?

They both laughed, but only for a moment.

“Er, that one.” She confidently pointed to the correct button, telepathically informing him that she knew the whole time.

“Yeah!” he smiled before turning to Jackie. “Now, what’ve we got? Two minutes to go?”

Jackie looked down at her watch, and the Doctor was glad that she didn’t realize that he was just trying to make her feel needed. That he was a Time Lord and didn’t need her help to check the time. Because his wife had to be right - there’s no way her mum actually enjoys the act of doing laundry. She enjoys being a mum.

You like her, Rose teased over the bond.

Shush.

He gave her a peck on the cheek before exiting the ship to do the final prep work on the triangulation cones. It was go time. The Doctor raced around, calibrating each one.

“What’s the line doing?” he shouted through the door.

“It’s alright,” came his wife’s answering shout, though she really didn’t need to with his superior hearing. She could whisper and he’d be able to hear her from this short of a distance. “It’s holding!”

“You even look like him,” Jackie said to Rose, and he could hear her just fine. Not that he understood what that was supposed to mean.

“How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah,” his wife responded, sounding pleased, though he still didn’t know what it meant. Rose didn’t look at all like him. What a strange thing to say. He tried to refocus on the triangulation equipment.

“You’ve changed so much,” Jackie sighed. “All grown up and married to an alien, living in a spaceship.”

The Doctor almost said something to Rose about her mother acknowledging that they were, in fact, already married, but then caught himself. If she didn’t already know that he was eavesdropping, no need to make it obvious. Not that it would matter either way. He wasn’t going to stuff cotton in his ears just because the humans in his life couldn’t be bothered to remember all of his biological differences.

“For the better,” his wife replied with confidence. “We have an amazing life, and we’re in love.”

“I suppose. It’s just barmy. Seeing you two like this in this box of his. Makes it hard to pretend everything’s even a little normal.”

He wondered what exactly Jackie imagined their life was like when they weren’t around. Things had actually gotten shockingly domestic lately, though it would still probably be too alien for his mother-in-law.

“Mum, I used to work in a shop.”

“I’ve worked in shops. What’s wrong with that?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Rose sighed.

Once again the Doctor made himself refocus on the task at hand, all the while hoping that they weren’t about to have a row.

“I know what you meant. What happens when I’m gone?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Rose ordered, distress flooding their connection, making it nearly impossible for him to pay attention to the cones.

How exactly was he supposed to save the Earth with these working conditions?

There was a smug voice in his head, with a distinct Northern accent, very pleased to point out how they were right about avoiding domestics.

“No, but really. When I’m dead and buried, you won’t have any reason to come back home. What happens then?” Jackie asked her.

“I don’t know,” Rose mumbled, as she tried and failed to imagine their future life without her mother in it.

The Doctor frowned, realizing that he couldn’t quite picture it either.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle down?” her mother continued.

Their connection was now awash with all sorts of negative emotions, and he could tell that his bondmate was near tears, which was completely unacceptable. He turned away from the cones, ready to march back on board before stopping himself.

“The Doctor never will, so I can’t,” Rose told her. “Wouldn’t want to. We’ll just keep traveling.”

“And you’ll keep on changing. And in forty years time, fifty, there’ll be this woman, this strange woman, walking through the marketplace on some planet a billion miles from Earth. But she’s not Rose Tyler. Not anymore. She’s not even human.”

Their bond somehow managed to pulse mauve.

It’s going to be okay, love, he tried to comfort her, fighting to send soothing, positive thoughts over their connection just as he finished up the calibrations. A distraction, that’s what she needed! It was certainly what he needed.

“Here we go!” he shouted.

“The scanner’s working!” Rose called out. “It says Delta-One-Six!”

“Come on then, you beauty!” the Doctor laughed, firmly resolved on drowning out all of the pain present in their shared mental space with adrenaline fueled glee. After all, he had always wanted to use these cones - they were state of the art!

He watched with wide eyes as the cones connected, immediately trapping one of the so-called ‘ghosts’ within their quasi-electric field. And then he reached into his pocket, carefully blocking their bond as he pulled out and put on a pair of 3D glasses - this was the part of his speculations that he really would rather not worry his bondmate with. At least, not yet. Not until he absolutely had to.

The ghost … thing he’d just trapped was absolutely riddled with Void particles. Completely covered, blurry head to blurry toe. Blimey.

The Doctor knelt down, adjusting the controls in order to get a more accurate read. If he was lucky, he would be able to figure out which parallel world these creatures were trying to come from. Likely a parallel Earth, but which one?

It began writhing, though nothing about the triangulation device should cause a living thing pain.

“Don’t like that much, do you?” he couldn’t help commenting. “Who are you? Where are you coming from? Woah!” He jumped back as the ‘ghost’ attempted to break out of the containment field. “That’s more like it! Not so friendly now, are you?”

He looked on as the creature faded away and the cones deactivated. While some more time would have been helpful, the Doctor had enough information to get started. After quickly picking up all of the cones, he ran back inside. Once he’d dumped them all out of the way, he raced up to the console, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the railing.

“I said so!” he exclaimed. “Those ghosts have been forced into existence from one specific point, and I can track down the source. Allons-y!”

With that, he slammed the dematerialization lever, the coordinates having been inputted by the triangulation device. So handy! Finally got to use it.

The TARDIS shook violently.

Well, maybe he could make some improvements ... if he ever got the chance to use it again. The Doctor sprung to his feet and stabilized the flight.

Things seemed abnormally silent in the console room and over their bond. He was uncertain as to why, but still gave over to his natural inclination to fill the silence.

“I like that,” he told his wife as he moved around the console. “Allons-y. I should say allons-y more often. Allons-y. Watch out, Rose Tyler. Allons-y. And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonso, because then I could say, ‘Allons-y Alonso’ every time.” He finally reached Rose and wrapped his arms around her before pausing. “You’re staring at me.”

“My mum’s still on board,” she whispered, squeezing his arms.

The Doctor looked up to see Jackie Tyler sitting on one of the platforms.

It was terrifying.

“If we end up on Mars, I’m going to kill you.”

Absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying.

Stop being a drama queen, his bondmate chastised.

Oh, the domestics of it all! Worse than living in a house! Traveling with his mother-in-law?!

You’ll be fine, it’s hardly traveling . We’re in the same city, in the same time, Rose reassured him, rolling her eyes before giving him a proper hug.

What was he supposed to do now, though?! Bring Jackie with them? Leave her in the TARDIS? It would likely be dangerous wherever they ended up, invasion and all. The alternative was having her stay in their home to snoop around and get up to who knows what. There was no winning!

“Welcome aboard, Jackie!” he said with a wave, his smile showing a bit too much teeth.

“Where exactly are we going, anyway?” her mother asked.

“Come down, mum. You can watch the landing on the view screen with us,” Rose encouraged, releasing him so that she could meet her halfway. “We’re gonna land at wherever they’re controlling the ghosts. Are you fine to stay on board? There’s a pool, you could have a nice swim. Or watch telly in the media room. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m just supposed to hang out in this weird ship of his while you’re off trying to get yourselves killed?”

“We do stuff like this all the time,” the Doctor piped in, trying to reassure her. “Only this time you’re on the TARDIS instead of at home in your flat. Which, really, is much better, when you think about it. Best ship in the Universe.”

Jackie still didn’t look thrilled as they all gathered around the view screen. She looked even less thrilled as they watched the TARDIS land in a hanger before immediately being surrounded by armed gunmen.

“Oh, well, there goes the advantage of surprise,” he sighed. “Still, cuts to the chase.”

Now he was going to have to deal with soldiers. Really, every time he thought that the day couldn’t possibly get worse. The Doctor turned to his mother-in-law as he made his way around the console.

“Jackie, stay inside. Doors shut. They can’t get in.”

“I’m not staying here! Take me home!”

“It’s too late for that,” he told her. “Shouldn’t have come aboard if you didn’t fancy a trip.”

“I was kidnapped!”

He rolled his eyes, deciding not to dignify that with a response as he took Rose’s hand. She pulled him to a stop before they reached the door.

“Doctor, they’ve got guns.”

The Doctor mentally reminded his wife that they’d been surrounded by much, much worse. Daleks couldn’t help but come to mind. 21 st century Earth guns were really the least of his concerns at the moment. Jackie Tyler accidentally breaking his precious timeship was more of a worry than guns. Whatever these creatures had planned, definitely more of a worry than guns.

“And we haven’t,” he delightfully informed her. “Which makes us the better people, don’t you think? They can shoot us dead, but the moral high ground is ours.”

With that, he tugged her out of the TARDIS behind him and closed the door as casually as he could manage.

Honestly, with all of the emergency programs he had installed, why couldn’t he have made one to deal with this scenario? A program that would immediately take Jackie home and then bring the TARDIS right back - now that would be nifty.

 They barely had a chance to look around before the soldiers surrounding them cocked their guns. He and Rose quickly raised their hands to prove they were unarmed.

Y’know what this reminds me of?, his wife casually asked across their connection.

What?

Utah, 2012.

The Doctor’s eyes swept the area as much as he could without moving his head. He could see her point.

Do you think they’d fire if I knocked on wood right now?, he asked her, just as a blonde woman in a suit rushed into the hanger.

“Oh! Oh, how marvelous!” she exclaimed, clapping.

I think she may’ve gone ‘round the bend, Rose laughed in his head as she fought back a confused smile.

The soldiers slowly began to lower their weapons as they joined in on the … clapping? Really, why were they clapping?

“Oh, very good. Superb. Happy day!”

Really, the Doctor felt inclined to agree with his bondmate on this one. Still, now that guns weren’t being pointed at them he was inclined to just go with it.

“Uhm, thanks. Nice to meet you,” he greeted. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my-”

Probably not the time to introduce me as your wife.

“- this is Rose.”

“Hello,” his wife waved with a wide grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, I should say! Hurray!”

And there they went again with the clapping. Honestly, what the bloody hell was going on?

Think you’ve got more fans, Rose teased.

“You- you’ve heard of me, then?”

Really, where had his ship landed them?

“Well of course we have,” the overly enthusiastic woman replied. “And I have to say, if it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here! The Doctor and the TARDIS.” 

Everyone started clapping yet again. He was starting to get used to it, actually. It was kind of nice.

“And his companion, of course,” the woman continued.

Okay, not as nice. Then again, Rose was the one who didn’t want him to say she was his wife. Which was probably the smart thing to do, mid-invasion, but still. Just … didn’t feel right. As it was, she had had to cover her mouth with her hands in order to keep herself from laughing - out loud. Their bond was awash with her amusement. The Doctor found himself fighting the urge himself as he tried to politely make them stop.

“And- and- and you are?” he asked as the noise died down.

“Oh, plenty of time for that,” she evaded. Huh.

I think she thinks she’s the boss of you, his bondmate informed him.

She also thinks that I’m the boss ofyou, the Doctor couldn’t help but point out.

Bless.

“Aaaaaaanyway lead on, allons-y. Will there be nibbles?”

He fought the urge to take Rose’s hand as they followed the woman away from the TARDIS, surrounded by armed guards, stuffing his fists into his pockets. A moment later she tugged on his sleeve. The Doctor glanced over, taking out his hand when she rolled her eyes. Their fingers slotted together, perfect fit, as always.

We’ve been holding hands since the moment we met, she mentally chastised. Memories played across their bond.

She certainly wasn’t wrong.

Sorry, he told her, squeezing her hand. Not sure how to pretend to not be married, I guess.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rose smirk.

Well, I took off my ring. Think all we’ve got to do now is not say it outright.

Before he could properly respond, something on the tip of his tongue (or whatever the telepathic equivalent of that idiom might be) about how he could do a much better job than that, the mystery woman started talking.

“It was only a matter of time until you found us, and at last you’ve made it,” she said. “I’d like to welcome you, Doctor. Welcome to Torchwood.”

With that, she flung open the doors and they entered a massive warehouse. A massive warehouse that was full of alien technology. And since this definitely wasn’t UNIT, this was very, very not good.

Blimey , he told his wife, you’re right. This really is frighteningly similar to that bunker in Utah.

Gonna nip over to that crate and knock on wood?, Rose asked, only partially teasing.

He really was considering it, actually, but … (he peeked behind him at the armed soldiers following uncomfortably close) better not. Instead he focused on the spacecraft in front of them.

“That’s a Jathar Sunglider,” he realized.

“Came down to Earth off the Shetland Islands ten years ago,” the woman explained.

“What, did it crash?”

“No, we shot it down,” she stated. “It violated our airspace. Then we stripped it bare.” 

Oh, this was really not good. The Doctor tried to sense the timelines, but they were all still so jumbled and wrong that he couldn’t make out the consequences of it, this technology that Earth really shouldn’t have right now. Not yet.

“The weapon that destroyed the Sycorax on Christmas day?” the woman continued with pride, “That was us. Now, if you’d like to come with me.”

That’s what Harriet said, Rose realized, replaying the memory over the bond, Torchwood. I didn’t even think about it, though.

No, me either, he agreed as they were led further into the warehouse. Why hadn’t he noticed anything off before? He should have felt it. On Christmas, maybe not - he’d just regenerated. But apparently this organization has been active for at least a decade, if not longer.

“The Torchwood Institute has a motto - ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours’,” their ‘captor’ slash ‘tour guide’ explained. “Anything that comes from the sky, we strip it down and we use it for the good of the British Empire.”

“Excuse me, the what?” Rose interrupted.

“The British Empire,” the woman repeated, turning around and looking his bondmate up and down, sizing her up.

“There hasn’t been a British Empire in ages,” Rose informed her, and she wasn’t wrong.

“We’ll see,” their hostess replied, a little too condescending for his liking. “Ah, excuse me,” she continued as a soldier handed her a particle gun?! “Now if you wouldn’t mind. Do you recognize this, Doctor?”

“That’s a particle gun.”

Now that he was here, now that this had his full attention, the Doctor could feel the strain on the timelines. This whole building was a threat to the entire causal nexus. His wife held his hand tighter when he showed her just a smidge of it over their connection.

“Good, isn’t it?” the woman smiled, unaware of the impending disaster that he wasn’t yet sure how to fix. “Took us eight years to get it to work.”

“It’s the 21st century,” he calmly tried to explain. “You can’t have particle guns.”

“We must defend our border against the alien,” she replied, as if that somehow gave them a free pass.

The Doctor didn’t know what to say to that, which apparently was fine, as their guide wasn’t really paying attention anyway as she handed back the gun.

“Thank you, Sebastian, isn’t it?”

I think it’s best if we just, you know, let her talk, he told Rose, studiously not looking directly at her - and really, there was a lot to take in, the warehouse was packed with advanced tech. Much too advanced.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Think she’ll give us an evil monologue?

Well, I don’t think she’s evil, he admitted. I think she’s … some sort of, I don’t know, business woman? I think she truly believes that what they’re doing here is good . Which makes them even more dangerous.

It would also make stopping them even more difficult.

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

He refocused as she turned back to them.

“I think it’s very important to know everyone by name,” she said. “Torchwood is a very modern organization. People skills. That’s what it’s all about these days. I’m a people person.”

Well that’s … nice?, Rose commented across the bond as she gave the woman a very forced grin.

“Have you got anyone called Alonso?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“No, I don’t think so. Is that important?”

Eh, oh well. It was kind of nice, though, having her asking a question for once.

“No, I suppose not,” the Doctor replied, just as he noticed a crate of Magnaclamps. He’d always wanted some, hadn’t gotten around to it, though. “What was your name?”

“Yvonne,” she told them (finally). “Yvonne Hartman.”

He let go of his wife’s hand, giving into the urge to inspect a clamp.

“Ah, yes,” Yvonne said with a smile. “Now, we’re very fond of these. The Magnaclamp. Found in a spaceship buried at the base of Mount Snowdon. Attach this to an object and it cancels the mass,” she explained, as if he didn’t already know. “I could use it to lift two tonnes of weight with a single hand. That’s an imperial ton, by the way. Torchwood refuses to go metric.”

Of course they do, Rose scoffed over the bond. British Empire, I mean really.

“Well, that’s handy,” is what she said aloud as he tossed the clamp back into the crate, wandering away to try to get a better idea of all of the other alien technology they’d managed to scavenge, commandeer or steal. His wife wandered in the opposite direction, giving him a second set of eyes even if she didn’t know what everything was. It really was a devastating amount, and the Doctor had to assume that this wasn’t all of it.

Really, it was about time they got back on track.

“So, what about the ghosts?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, the ghosts. They’re, er, what you might call a side effect,” Yvonne admitted.

“Of what?”

“All in good time, Doctor. There is an itinerary, trust me.”

Ugh, of all the things to add to this no-good-very-bad-day, he was stuck on a tour. With an itinerary.

It was his personal hell, really.

And to make it even worse, there went the TARDIS on the back of a lorry.

“An itinerary?” Rose scoffed. “And what are you lot doing with the TARDIS?!” My mum’s in there!

Oh, seriously?! He’d just managed to forget that they’d left Jackie Tyler unsupervised on the ship. Really, truly, worst day ever.

Seriously? Could you just grow up and get some perspective?, his wife snarled over their connection.

“If it’s alien, it’s ours,” Yvonne replied confidently.

“You’ll never get inside it,” he told her with just as much confidence, if not more.

“Hmm, et cetera.”

Once she turned away, they both glanced back at their ship to see Rose’s mum peek out through the doors - which he distinctly remembered telling her to keep shut.

Really, why did no one ever listen? He didn’t understand it.

With a sigh, and all of his unflattering thoughts about his mother-in-law safely behind a barrier, the Doctor turned away to continue their ‘tour’. At least the ghosts were on the itinerary. So this day had to turn ‘round at some point … right?