#Hello beautiful i dunno what all your hand movements are for but you look great while doing it

[serenadeofsunshine]

OKAY

[fruitcoops]

hii would you write a coops fic that takes place before they’re out when they’re still sneaking around but have like a sweet date night at remus’s apartment

Of course! This is a continuation of Newcomers and Nargles, where Remus babysits Luna Lovegood. Hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Thank you for having me over,” Sirius said quietly as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth. The only light came from his kitchen, which was far enough away that they were left in soft shadows on his couch. “Really, Re, this is wonderful.”

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he laughed, though Sirius could see the pink flush spreading to his ears. “It’s just pasta and my apartment.”

“I love your apartment.”

The flush deepened. “Moody calls it my hamster cage. You had to duck to get in the door.”

“Details.” Sirius leaned forward for a proper kiss to his lips; they had set a timer for the pasta and had a while yet, if his memory was correct. Plenty of time to settle himself more comfortably in Remus’ lap and kiss him until he got the glazed look in his eyes that Sirius adored.

He wanted this all the time. To come home with Remus every night, without fear of the wrong person (or anyone, really) seeing them. He wanted to kiss him in public and keep his hand in Remus’ back pocket like a cliché movie couple and watch Remus light up when he held his hand. He wanted.

Remus made a soft noise and slid his arms around his waist, holding him light and cozy while he traced small swirls on the small of Sirius’ back. It sent goosebumps racing along his spine—Sirius cupped Remus’ jaw in his hands and hummed his approval. The room was so wonderfully warm, filled with the smell of cooking pasta and sauce on the stove. They had made it together; shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, trading kisses in the steam.

God, he wanted it so much it ached.

Remus trailed light kisses along his neck, taking pauses to nuzzle Sirius’ skin and nibble his collarbones. Sirius buried his face in honey curls and let himself believe this was his everyday life. Their everyday life.

A quick knock at the door shattered the illusion. Sirius felt the blood flee his face as they both froze. “Who is that?” he managed.

“I don’t know,” Remus whispered. His pupils were dilated with fear and, with a pained look, he guided Sirius off his lap so he could stand and turn the rest of the lights on. His slender hands smoothed his sweater and jeans in methodical movements, but Sirius saw their tremors.

He distracted himself from panic by looking around the apartment and all its knickknacks; the feeling of being surrounded by Remus in his most distilled form was unparalleled. A little granite wolf figurine sat with its wooden counterpart on the table by the door; dozens of pictures of family and friends scattered the walls with no rhyme or reason to their placement. It was cluttered in the best possible way, and Sirius wanted his whole life to look like it.

The door clicked open. “Hello?”

“Remus!” a woman’s voice exclaimed. “I’m so glad you answered.”

Sirius glanced over and saw Remus’ whole body relax as he opened the door further with a smile. “Hey, Pandora, how are you?”

“Doing fine, doing fine. It’s Phil and I’s anniversary and we’ve got dinner at 7:18, but Luna’s babysitter came down with a cold and can’t make it. We just got the text an hour ago and we were hoping you could watch her while we’re out.”

“Oh.” Remus’ eyebrows shot up. “I—well, I have a friend over for dinner, but we made plenty of pasta for one more, I s’pose. Sirius, is that okay with you?”

It took him a moment longer than was prudent to get over the fact that Remus—kind-hearted, friendly, beautiful, so beautiful—was asking his opinion on letting a kid join their date. Their top-secret, possibly-life-ruining-if-discovered date. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m so rude!” the woman gasped. She poked her head around the doorway and waved to Sirius—her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder in a messy plait, and her dress seemed to be made of a variety of beads. She was pretty, with a combination of angular features and a heart-shaped face that nudged a memory in the very back of his mind. “I’m Pandora Lovegood, from 7A. It’s so lovely to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” He padded over and held a hand out to shake, but to his surprise she took it turned it over, furrowing her brow at his palm.

“Well, that’s quite the love line!” She smiled and patted his cheek. Her eyes were glacial blue, but somehow still as warm as a crackling hearth. “Good for you. Your life line isn’t bad, either. I’ll be back with Luna in a moment!”

“Have a good night, Pandora!” Remus called as she fluttered away. “Say hi to Phil for me!”

Sirius was still standing in mild shock when the door closed. “Pandora, Luna, and…Phil?”

“Xenophilius,” Remus said. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Her husband, and Luna’s dad.”

“Hell of a name.”

“We can’t really judge, can we?” Some of his amusement dimmed and he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for ruining our date. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s alright,” Sirius said quickly, kissing his cheek until he smiled. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Remus looked a bit sad as he looked up despite his smile. “Yeah, but this is our only time together.”

“It’s not the last time I can ever come over to your apartment,” Sirius reminded him as he ran his hands up Remus’ arms. “I think it’s great that you’re doing this for your neighbors. It shows how caring, and sweet, and wonderful—”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he laughed, cutting Sirius off with a vivid blush.

“Besides, I agreed to this.” He nudged their noses together. “I’m pretty sure my impressive love line can handle another date sometime soon.”

Remus grinned as he leaned in. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Black.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

A tumbling sound came from outside, followed by a peal of giggling and a sharp pattern of knocking. “I did a cartwheel!” a tiny ball of blonde curls announced as it launched itself at Remus’ legs the second the door opened. “Hi, Remus!”

He caught her with a slight wince as Sirius tried to calm his pounding heart. “Hey, sunshine, are you ready for some dinner?”

“Oh, yes, please.” She wriggled down from his arms and gave her mother a bear hug, beaming when her face was covered in kisses.

“Be good,” Pandora said as she set Luna down and brushed her hair out of her face. “Listen to Remus and his friend. We’ll be back by ten at the latest. Thank you both again for doing this. I’ll bring over some cookies tomorrow, Remus.”

“That’s very sweet, Pandora.” Remus’ eyes tensed at the edges, as if he was in pain at the very thought. Pandora whisked herself toward the stairs again and Sirius shut the door behind her. “Luna, do you—”

“I remember you!” Sirius turned and found himself staring into the biggest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. The memory came rushing back in a flood—Remus, frazzled and fluffed at the edges, with a little girl balanced on his hip. Luna stood on her tippy-toes and he leaned down so she could take his face in her hands. After a moment, she nodded. “You’ve done an excellent job of keeping the nargles away, Mr. Sirius.”

“Thank you.”

“Mama said you and Remus were making pasta. May I have some, please?”

“Of course you can,” Remus assured her, ushering her into the kitchen with a sweep of his arm. “After you, my lady.”

Sirius waited until Luna had safely skipped out of earshot before bending toward Remus’ ear. “Why does she…?”

“Talk like a normal kid and then a Victorian orphan?”

“Yeah.”

“Dunno. I guess that’s what happens when your mom’s a chemist and part-time psychic and your dad owns The Quibbler.” There wasn’t a trace of judgement on Remus’ face as he raised his voice by a few degrees. “Be careful by the stove, honeybun.”

“I will!” Luna chirped back. Sirius couldn’t place why, but he held undeniable affection for the little girl, even after only two meetings. She was unapologetically odd; he was sure he could never get bored of talking with her.

Luna sat on the countertop while they served up dinner, happy as a clam as she recounted her and her father’s hunt for Fizzing Whizbees at the candy store. They were her mother’s favorite, apparently, but Luna had yet to see one in real life. Her conversational skills came to a sharp halt during dinner; it was so startling that Sirius grew concerned after two minutes without her high-pitched contributions.

“Luna? Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her plate with a curious glance between them and gave Sirius a bright smile. “I’m making an octocapus.”

“An octopus?” Remus leaned over to look. “Wow, you got all the legs with your noodles! Way to go!”

“You’re a great artist,” Sirius agreed as Luna continued working on her masterpiece.

“Yeah, I know.”

He bit his lip to keep in his laughter and met Remus’ eyes; at first, he had been a bit worried about babysitting during a date, but he couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the night. When their plates were clean and Sirius was warm and drowsy from carbohydrates, Remus collected the dishes and headed back into the kitchen despite Sirius’ offers for help.

Luna gave a wide yawn with her head propped on one hand and turned to Sirius the moment Remus turned the sink on. “Do you give Remus kisses?”

It took all of Sirius’ self-control not to accidentally spew water all over the literal child sitting across from him. Instead, he coughed and spluttered into his napkin while the alarms in his brain began to blare. Remus showed no sign of hearing their conversation while he rinsed out the large pasta pot. “What?”

“I’d like it if you did,” Luna continued with nothing but her usual dreamy expression. “Remus needs friends, and mama says he could use some kisses.”

“I think everyone could use some kisses,” Sirius said evasively. His heart galloped in his chest.

“Hmm. Yeah. How long have you been friends?”

“We’ve known each other a little longer than you’ve been alive, but we’ve only been friends for about two years.”

“That’s a good amount of time.”

“Oh?”

She put her chin in both palms, suddenly looking much older than she was. “I’ve been alive for four whole years. That’s a long time. If you’ve known someone for four whole years, you should give them kisses.”

Sirius stared at her. “That’s quite the philosophy.”

“What’s that?”

“An idea.”

“Why didn’t you just say ‘idea’?”

“I…don’t know.”

She hummed a little under her breath. “Will you color with me?”

“Yes,” he answered as relief coursed through him. He had no clue how she had gone from blunt questions that could turn his whole world upside down to coloring, but he didn’t care. “Yes, I would love to.”

Luna slid off her seat and hopped over to Remus’ desk, then dug around in the drawers and emerged with a few sheets of blank paper and some pens. “I’m bad at outlines. Will you draw them for me?”

“Absolutely.”

------------------------

Luna fell asleep halfway through coloring a Kneazle with Remus, which as far as Sirius could understand was just a cat that had its face squished. But it made her happy, and he would draw a million squishy cats to keep her questions about Remus to a minimum.

As soon as Remus finished tucking her in beneath a heavy blanket on the couch, he turned and crushed his lips against Sirius’ like a man dying for air. The kiss lasted long enough that Sirius was staring to get lightheaded before finding himself the (quite enthusiastic) recipient of a rib-crushing hug. They held each other for a few minutes, silent and swaying, before Remus let him go with a final kiss and they began to clean up the mess.

True to her word, Pandora returned just before ten pm with a blond man at her side and a big hug for her daughter. “Goodnight, Luna,” Remus whispered. They received a sleepy wave in response and then, finally, they were alone. “You are the best person ever.”

Sirius wound his arms around Remus’ waist and melted a little when strong hands combed through his hair. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I can doodle. It’s nothing fancy.”

“You drew imaginary monsters based on descriptions from a four-year-old.” Remus cupped his cheek and rested their foreheads together. “You’re amazing.”

“This was a pretty awesome date,” he mumbled, closing his eyes to bask in their little bubble.

“We should do it again sometime. Preferably without the child, though.”

Sirius’ smile came all the way from his heart as he buried his face in the slope of Remus’ neck. “As long as I get to be with you, I’m happy.”

It was the closest thing to ‘I love you’ he could bring himself to admit, but for now, it would have to do.

[demomonic-murmurs]

Hii!! Can i make a request? I really loved your shimizu & yachi threesome!! Can i ask for a tribbing/scissoring follow up for it?

Another Lesson [Kiyoko × Reader × Yachi]

Yes hello anon I love you please always ask me for more wlw content.

This is a continuation of this story I wrote for my Kinktober prompt list.

Pairing: Kiyoko × Reader, Yachi × Reader, Kiyoko × Yachi

Summary: Kiyoko and you teach Yachi a few more things about the beauty of gals being pals. She is an eager learner.

Tags: Threesome, F/F/F, Kiyoko and Reader are in a steady relationship and Yachi joins in, Heavy Make-Out Sessions, Fingering, Tribbing, Scissoring, Sex Toys, Spit, Squirting

Yachi was adorable really. When [Name] and Kiyoko had invited her for an arts and crafts night, she had been ecstatic. They almost felt bad for using it as an excuse to indulge her again.

Sex with Yachi had been pleasurable for the three of them and [Name] felt oddly excited whenever she thought about the petite blonde joining them again. There was something about the way she could show Kiyoko's flushed face off, eyes red from crying and sobbing, mouth agape, drove running down looking absolutely fucked. Their first time with Yachi had been fairly vanilla, easing her into the idea that yes, two women could be together as well, a concept Yachi had been aware of and fantasized alone in her dark dorm room, desperately humping against the pillow for friction.

But [Name] wanted more. She wanted to show Yachi more. As much as she wanted to know. As much as she wanted to indulge them. As much as they wanted to induldge her.

The evening started off in a decent manner. [Name] knew about Yachi's love for scrapbooks and suggested it as an activity they could partake in over at her and Kiyoko's shared apartment. Such an innocent activity really. Yachi was nervous regardless, as if she was already anticipating something, hoping for something. She had been over at their place before. Kiyoko had been one of her best friends since high school and [Name] was someone she felt at ease with. The source for her anxiety was more so the fact that the last time she had been over they had done... it.

"Relax", Kiyoko murmured and rested a hand on Yachi's shoulder in a comforting manner before sliding down on the floor next to her, putting the plate of tea down on the table cluttered with various colorful pieces of paper, scissors and glue.

Yachi shuddered at the contact and thanked her upperclassman. [Name] returned as well, carrying a stack of pretty looking pieces of leftover fabric. The blonde knee that the taller girl liked to sew in her free time but was delighted all the same that she wanted to share something important to her with Yachi as well.

Yachi's instructions were easy to follow. It was easy for [Name] to understand why Yachi had been in a university preparation class. She carefully constructed ideas that seemed plausible to the two lovers. The way the usually meek and shy girl spoke with so much vigor in her voice was beyond endearing to see for the two of them.

Eventually, they began to finish their projects up and Kiyoko excused herself to the bathroom. [Name] understood her girlfriends signal and rested a hand on Yachi's thigh. She tensed up and flushed, hands gripping on the sheet of paper she was trying to put away. The blonde let out a squeak when [Name] began to draw circles, fingers dragging across her clothed thigh. Yachi could feel a weak spike of arousal shooting through her.

"I didn't mean to startle you Hitoka", [Name] murmured, her movements halting, "If you don't want to-"

"Please", Yachi yelled, shutting her eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. "Please what?"

"...no please continue... I... want to..."

[Name] smiled. "Can I kiss you Hitoka?"

Yachi nodded feverishly. [Name] cupped the petite woman's cheek and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, first softly before gripping at her thigh again, making Yachi gasp and granting [Name] access to her mouth. With her tongue moving against her own, Yachi could only squeeze her thighs together in an attempt to get some relief against the wetness forming between her legs. She leaned back, only to hit something soft.

"Oh. You have started without me."

Kiyoko's calm voice brought Yachi back to reality. She broke the kiss and turned her face to meet her upperclassman's gaze and Yachi could feel her words die on her still tingling tongue.

Kiyoko's colour was purple. A dark shade of purple. Alluring and mysterious. The thight lace hugging her skin looked divine, intended. The stark contrast of purple against her pale skin accompanied by her luscious black hair and storm grey eyes made her look even more like a goddess than she usually did.

"She is gorgeous isn't she?", [Name] whispered, hand resting on Yachi's shoulder just like it had earlier today. "I designed it myself. But if you ask me I would've gone for a see through fabric around her breasts. And something more thong like for her panties."

Kiyoko flushed before whacking her girlfriend on the head.

"You are definitely a reflection of Aphrodite my love. Absolutely and utterly horny", she uttered, rolling her eyes.

Somehow, they always managed to calm her nerves. Even now, with Yachi's arousal making her panties stick uncomfortably against her pussy and Kiyoko sitting behind her in the most gorgeous pair of lingerie she had ever seen, she felt calm.

"I could make you a set as well", [Name] stated casually, "I'd just have to take your size."

[Name]'s hand wandered alongside her waist before coming to a halt at her chest, gently cupping her breasts. Yachi let out a squeak and tried to spin around again, back to facing [Name] but was stopped in her endeavor by Kiyoko's plush lips.

Kissing Kiyoko was different from kissing [Name]. [Name] was wild. Her kisses left you breathless, yearning for more. Kiyoko's were slow and sensual, soft and gentle in their nature. Yachi felt as if she had ascended. Being trapped between the two hottest women she had ever layed her eyes upon fulfilled every fantasy she had developed after accidentally stumbling upon a yuri manga one of her teammates had left in high school. (She was still sure it was either Tanaka or Nishinoya, which made her wonder what they'd say seeing Kiyoko, seeing her like this.)

"I think you'd great in stockings. Something flowey and soft. A soft pastel pink would definitely be your colour", [Name] continued, thumbs brushing against Yachi's nipples. She moaned, muffled by Kiyoko's skilled tongue dragging across hers.

"I think so too", Kiyoko murmured against her neck after breaking the kiss, leaving Yachi gasping for breath, "maybe strawberries could fit her as a theme. Maybe a strapless bra with a heart cut out right here."

Kiyoko rested her hand right between Yachi's breasts, which were still pleasured by [Name]'s hands.

"I really don't- ah- know if that would look so- so good on me", Yachi whimpered self-consciously, tears forming in her eyes, a mix of pleasure and hesitation swirling in her hazed brown orbs.

"It would", Kiyoko said simply, grasping Yachi's shirt and pulling it above her head.

"I absolutely would", [Name] agreed and lifted her up slightly so her girlfriend could pull off Yachi's pants.

There was a dark wet spot on Yachi's white panties that she felt embarassed for possessing. Still dazed, Yachi barely even noticed [Name] opening her baby blue bra and letting it slide down her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare to the cool air of the apartment.

"Your boobs are so cute Hitoka", [Name] squealed excitedly, "I can't get enough of them. So adorable and perky. Plus you have pretty nipples."

Yachi yelped out in surprise and felt the heat rise back into her face. [Name] was forward and it left Yachi more than breathless.

"Don't mind her. She just has a preference for... breasts", Kiyoko sighed.

[Name] laughed and nodded before turning to Yachi. "She says that as if she doesn't like the attention. She does. I made her squirt once after I sucked on her nipple. Ms. prim and proper is more into it than she allows herself to be."

Yachi let out a short, breathless snort that she would have normally felt embarrassed about but they put her at ease. Any feeling of isolation or anxiety vanished as soon as she heard [Name]'s teasing voice or felt Kiyoko's comforting touch.

"So now that the lust has temporarily passed should we change the setting back into the bedroom? I dunno if uh- the prospect of getting cum over our cute scrapbooks is a thing to look forward to", [Name] stated, her hands still resting casually on Yachi's breasts.

It was cold without them shielding her boobs from the cool temperatur, Yachi thought as they shuffled from the living room into Kiyoko and [Name]'s bedroom that felt all too familiar in that setting. It was messier than last time, which meant that they had probably been a bit anxious having her over as well. The thought comforted her.

"Come here Hitoka", [Name] said, pulling her out of her thoughts. After undressing, she had seated herself on the bed, Kiyoko behind her, her head resting on her girlfriends shoulder and [Name] was patting on the space on her lap.

Yachi gulped, her hands wandering to her underwear, before remembering how wild [Name] had gotten the last time when Kiyoko was still wearing her panties and decided against it. Trying it out couldn't hurt. She knew it was fine if she told them to stop at any moment.

"Good. One leg on each side of my thigh. Lower yourself into a comfortable position okay?"

Yachi nodded, though could barely contain a whimper as she felt her clit brush against [Name]'s leg. Her hands had found their way around her neck where Kiyoko had intertwined their fingers in a comforting act while [Name]'s had wrapped around Yachi's waist. From her position she could only look into Kiyoko's eyes, lust buried under a thick layer of reassurance for the sake of her comfort and feeling of security.

"Rub yourself against me Yachi. Your tempo okay?", [Name] said, her fingers running comforting circles on Yachi's thin waist.

Yachi nodded and bit her lip as she pushed herself against the older woman's leg. She let out a moan, her legs shaking, unable to stop her from falling forward, her head resting against [Name]'s shoulder.

"Is too much", Yachi whimpered, "Wanna move but its too difficult."

Her pitiful gaze locked with Kiyoko's who held her hands a little tighter, offering her words of encouragement.

"That's fine baby", [Name] said, her voice vibrant next to her ear, "Do you want me to move you?"

Yachi nodded furiously and the grip on her waist loosened as [Name]'s hand wandered lower.

"If it's too much, tell us", Kiyoko said as she scooted to them so she was now sitting flush against her lover's back, her face just a few centimeters away from Yachi's.

[Name] rested her foot at one of the wooden planks of their bed so Yachi was now sitting a little elevated and let her lower body slide down her leg.

Yachi let out a loud moan, the fabric of her panties rubbing deliciously against her clit. The noises were eagerly swallowed by Kiyoko who had let go of one of Yachi's hands to cradle her face instead as she moved her tongue against the blonde's.

Her mind was hazy as [Name] moved her up her leg again, this time pushing her down more firmly. Her pussy was aching, enjoying the friction but not satisfied, throbbing for something, anything inside, filling her up.

"Fuck you're so wet Yachi", [Name] groaned as she flexed her thigh sending a jolt through Yachi's core. Her pace grew rougher, increasing in speed. Yachi broke the kiss with Kiyoko and moaned, resting her forehead on [Name]'s shoulder. Kiyoko didn't rest however, sneaking her arms under her girlfriends to gain access to Yachi's nipples, pinching and groping them eagerly.

Yachi let out a shrill squeak when she felt herself growing close to her release, the familiar heat building up in the pit of her stomach. [Name] wrapped one arm around her waist, making her arch her back and her chest closer to Kiyoko's greedy hands, and let her now free hand wander down to Yachi's clit. Each grind allowed [Name]'s fingers to brush over Yachi's clit and ever so slightly push in the velvety warmth of her walls.

Trying to chase that feeling of satisfaction, Yachi steadied herself on her shaky knees and lifted herself up before beginning to shakily fuck herself on [Name]'s fingers, pressing her chest against [Name]'s, trapping Kiyoko's hands accidentally between them.

[Name]'s pushing and pulling stilled as she felt in amazement the way Yachi was rolling her hips against her, trying to rub her clit against [Name]'s wrist. Her thin cotton white panties were ruined by this point as Yachi desperately tried to push more of [Name]'s fingers inside of ger only to be obstructed by the devilish material in their path.

[Name] cooed and obliged Yachi's wish and pulled her panties to the side so her fingers could reach her properly.

Yachi screamed when [Name]'s fingers sheated themselves fully inside of her, the stretch of her two digits being too much for the petite blonde. Regardless, Yachi's grip on [Name]'s shoulders tightened as she continued her brutal pace, Kiyoko's fingers pinching and rubbing her and [Name]'s nipples together nearly enough to send her over the edge.

"Kiyoko", Yachi sobbed, tears welling in her eyes. The dark haired beauty stopped trailing kissing on her girlfriends naked shoulder and locked eyes with the wrecked blonde, who dove in to kiss her desperately. The kiss was clumsy and startled Kiyoko but she returned Yachi's eagerness.

[Name]'s fingers brushing against Yachi's sweet spot was enough to drive her over the edge. Yachi let out a loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, her cum splattering against [Name]'s hand and thigh.

Her chest was heaving rapidly as [Name] lowered her on the bed and Kiyoko cleaned the wetness on [Name] and Yachi with a towel. As her hand softly brushed against Yachi's abused cunt by accident while cleaning her thigh it twitched weakly and Yachi let out a small whimper.

"You're a horrible influence on her my dearest. Look at her already craving more again... she must have used you as an example."

"I think you're the worse influence."

"Says the woman who got off on watching her friend cum. You're close aren't you? I can't blame you, I'm feeling quite turned on myself. Do you want to-?"

"Yes."

"You're so cute when you're eager."

The conversation barely made sense in Yachi's hazy mind. Only slowly was she regaining her ability to think. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, the ache between her legs not having quite left her body just yet.

Kiyoko's loud moan distracted her from continuing the thought, if you could really call it that, and she haphazardly pulled herself and to choke at the sight before her.

Kiyoko's legs were spread and she was laying halfway on her stomach, her bra and panties discarded to the side, her heavy breasts gravitating towards the soft mattress underneath them. [Name] was kneeling between her legs, trapping one of her legs while resting the other one on your shoulder.

[Name] was rutting against her and Yachi could see something pink entering and leaving their pussies. She was mesmerized by the fast and brutal pace [Name] was setting, much more feral than she was with her. Her gaze fell on Kiyoko and she felt a jolt of arousal shooting through her core.

Her face was erotic, something straight out of a hentai or porno, or at least what Yachi thought it would look like. Her hair was dishevled, her tongue was sticking out drool dripping on the soft matress underneath them, her eyes were rolling back in her head, her breast pouncing against the sheets nipples gracing them ever so slightly and her moans were titillating.

"She is so hot like that isn't she?", [Name] grunted out and doubled her efforts after Kiyoko let out a particularly loud moan after the dildo had brushed against her sweet spot.

"What... what is that?", Yachi asked, breaking her gaze with [Name], her eyes flickering to the pink monstrosity. [Name] smirked.

"Its a double headed dildo", [Name] explained,"We enjoy them a lot because we can do this."

[Name] pushed her hips down, forcing more of the dildo to be swallowed by Kiyoko's puffy pussy. She angled her hips and let their clits brush against each other, inducing a loud moan between the both them.

"Kiss her Yachi. Show us what you've learned", [Name] breathed out, rocking her hip against Kiyoko's, enjoying the friction this position was giving them for their clits.

Yachi nodded and crawled forward. She was wet again, the juices running down her thighs.

"Kiyoko", Yachi murmured, hands cradling her upperclassman's soft cheeks. Her eyes were hazy, almost unable to focus on Yachi, an almost dumb smile gracing her lips.

"Open your mouth", Yachi commanded, shocking herself with the authority in her voice. The black haired beauty did as she asked, opening her mouth eagerly for whatever the blonde woman had in store for her.

Yachi steeled her nerves and pressed her lips to Kiyoko's, her tongue twisting around hers just like [Name] had kissed her earlier. Kiyoko did not attempt to fight back whatsoever, enjoying Yachi's assault on her mouth. Yachi bit down on Kiyoko's lip until she could taste the blood on her tongue.

"Just like that Yachi", [Name] praised, the fingers of her free hand finding her aroused cunt and pushing two fingers inside of her.

Yachi broke the kiss and let out a moan, surprised by the sudden intrusion, the grip on Kiyoko's face tightening as their share spit ran down Yachi's lips, dripping into Kiyoko's mouth who eagerly swallowed it.

"Cumming", [Name] grunted, followed by a incohesive moan from Kiyoko and a yelp by Yachi as she buried her fingers deeper into her pussy.

"Holy shit Yachi", [Name] panted out, Yachi's head snapping back, "She is squirting."

Holy shit indeed, Yachi thought as she watched Kiyoko's juices squirt out of her, drenching not only herself but [Name]'s stomach as well. Then she went slack, panting heavily, trying to regain her breath.

[Name] pulled the toy out of her pussy but left in Kiyoko's side of it.

"She doesn't like to be empty immediatly after", [Name] explained, grabbing a paper towel from her night stand to wipe away Kiyoko's cum from her stomach.

"What exactly was that?", Yachi asked, her eyes still glued at Kiyoko's cunt which was red from all the abuse it had experienced today, now matching her swollen lips.

"Squirting", [Name] said, "One of the hottest things a woman is capable of doing. Kiyoko's a squirter. She's just too sensitive after all."

Yachi wasn't exactly sure what that meant but just settled on googling it later. She didn't want to ruin the mood.

"You didn't get to finish yet did you?"

"Ah, no it's fine-"

"Do you want to try it too? We have a smaller one we could practice with first and then", [Name] mused, glancing at her close to being passed out girlfriend, "you could take my position and I will guide you along. Poor Kiyoko didn't have her fill yet but she needs a moment."

Yachi shuddered, remembering the last time. They had been awake almost the entire night trying to satsify Kiyoko.

"I'd love to try out", Yachi said, trying to hide her excitement as her pussy twitched, awaiting the attention.

Girls love was the best in the end.

[cherryblossomstars]

II. Navy (W. Ushijima)

Taken from my AO3 series of one-shots & reposted here

Pairing: Ushijima x F!Reader

Word count: 1,446

Genre: Fluff, birthday fic

Summary: Aoba Johsai's volleyball team has never been able to defeat the Great Ushiwaka of Shiratorizawa. Their manager, however? She can bring him to his knees in mere seconds.

Or, Ushijima Wakatoshi is helplessly in love with Seijoh's Ace's twin sister, and the Aoba Johsai VBC is not appreciative of it.

Previous | Next

It's no secret that Ushijima Wakatoshi is a baby when it comes to matters of love or any emotion that comes with showing affection. His movements on the court are lithe, careful, and precise. Mistakes rarely happen when he's playing his beloved sport, and errors will almost certainly never happen if he's at his peak concentration- then he's at a completely different and untouchable level. He has a degree of grace and beauty on the court that a professional figure skater would be jealous of (not to mention his incredible stamina).

And yet, when it comes to you, he may as well be an infant struggling to walk. It's messy, he's not sure what he's doing, and sometimes he gets hurt trying to figure it out. He knows you, that much he's sure about. You've both known each other for years now. So why, why is it so hard to figure out something to do for you on your birthday?

Around the holidays and on his birthday, he would always tell you not to get him something. He's not a big fan of presents. If he needed something, he'd simply ask his family and then in 1-2 business days, bam. The item in question would be at his front door. And yet, every time, you've still found a way to give him something meaningful.

In the three years he's known you, you've given him a scrapbook, a jar of reasons you love him, and, his most favorite gift of all, a volleyball with everyone's signatures on it. Not just his team's, but other teams as well. People from the Fukurodani, Johzenji, Nekoma, Itachiyama, hell, even Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. You'd somehow managed to coerce Oikawa into signing it. When he'd asked about Oikawa, you'd simply shrug and say "he owed me one". He decided not to press any further. While some people opted to simply write their name on the ball, others wrote little messages too. Iwaizumi Hajime had written a simple happy birthday, while Tendou had to be stopped by you from practically taking up the entire damn ball, a story told to him by his teammates later on. He even cracked a small chuckle imagining your small figure trying to restrain Tendou Satori of all people. He also learned that Oikawa likes to sign his name with a star next to his signature. Ushijima thought it was tacky, but it fit his personality well. Every year you didn't have a physical present for him, you'd take him out on a date or give him one of your homemade bentos.

He was not a fan of presents, but he's certainly grown to look forward to receiving yours.

Yet, every year, he struggles to figure out what to get you. In the past years, he'd given you something simple, but nice or something you just happened to need at the time. One year it was a phone, since Oikawa had accidentally broken yours that year. Ushijima had to visit Oikawa himself and convince him not to buy you a new phone, since Ushijima would be the one handling it. After some debate, Oikawa finally gave in. Another year he'd gotten you a simple silver band, one that you keep on your index finger. He rarely sees you go out without it on, something he's found very pleasing. It brings a sense of satisfaction to his mind when he sees it on you.

Perhaps it was the weather, he rationalized, that was getting in the way of his ideas. Or maybe it was the fact that he had another practice match coming up soon, so he was also coming up with game plans in the back of his mind. He needed to focus. Ushijima was normally ahead of things when it came to plans with you, but he's been so busy with volleyball these past few weeks that he hasn't been able to buy you your gift yet. And now it was six in the evening on a Friday, and he still wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday tomorrow.

He grumbled under his breath, he'd just have to swallow his pride and ask for help. He took out his phone and called the first person he could think of- Tendou. You two were good friends, after all.

"Helloooo? What's up Wakatoshi?" Tendou sang.

"[Name]." He said.

"You're gonna have to give me more context than that." His friend pointed out.

"We're celebrating her birthday tomorrow and I'm unsure of what to get her."

"Something sweet. She's got a pretty awful sweet tooth after all."

"I want something she can keep. Something that will last."

"Oh wow. What a doting boyfriend. Hmm... Well I don't think she needs anything right now... Oh! Why don't you just give that ace from Seijoh a call?"

"...I do not have his number."

"I'll text it to you. Later." And with that, the line went dead.

Damn. He had to ignore his pride just to call Tendou, but Iwaizumi? That was a different level. He'd do it, though, because it's for you.

Ding!

Tendou: It's +81-XXX-XXXX-XXX

Tendou: good luck~ (*´ I `)ﾉﾟ(ﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Ushijima: Thank you.

Should he call or text? Maybe texting would be the better option. You never answered any unknown numbers, who's to say your twin wasn't the same way? He gave your brother a contact before sending a text.

Ushijima: Hello, Iwaizumi. It's Ushijima. Do you have any good gift ideas for [Name]?

Iwaizumi: dude how'd you get my number?

Ushijima: Tendou had it.

Iwaizumi: cool. follow up question: why does he have it?

Iwaizumi: nevermind. not sure I wanna know.

Ushijima couldn't help but think about how you and your brother text the same way.

Iwaizumi: dunno. she likes meaningful gifts i guess. maybe an album? or a scr:"//ad39E

He furrowed his brows in confusion. A what?

Iwaizumi: sorry. oikawa made a grab for my phone. i was gonna say maybe a scrapbook.

Ushijima: I don't know how to make those.

Iwaizumi: painting?

Ushijima: I am bad at art. What are other people getting her?

Iwaizumi: im getting her a new video game for her switch. oikawa's getting her concert tickets to that band she likes so much. yahaba and kyoutani pooled their money together and got her a bunch of new clothes. kunimi's giving her $20. the rest of team pooled their money together and got her a new tablet. i know the players from fukurodani, karasuno, johzenji, nekoma, itachiyama, and inarizaki got her stuff but i dont know what.

Iwaizumi: wait actually those twins from inarizaki got her a stuffed animal and a box of cookies from a bakery she likes

Yahaba and Kyoutani got her clothes... A lightbulb lights up in his mind.

Ushijima: Thank you. I know what to give her.

Iwaizumi: yea no problem

Ushijima went to the shopping district for no reason, then. He went back to his dorm, stepping inside and immediately opening his closet.

"Figured something out?" Tendou greeted from his bunk.

"Yes." He responded, taking one of his sweaters off from a hanger and holding it out in front of him.

Tendou raises his eyebrows in shock, "she's gonna be swimming in that."

"Yes, but she likes to take my volleyball jacket all the time. She says it smells like me, so I may as well give her this one since she can't keep the volleyball jacket." Ushijima holds in front of him a large maroon sweater with the word Shiratorizawa printed in white on it. It was bought to fit him and all his 189 centimeter glory.

"She'll love it."

"Why are you giving this back to me? I gave it to you." Ushijima tilts his head slightly.

You stood in front of him holding out the sweater he had given you for your birthday a few weeks ago, neatly folded in your hands. You felt your face grow hot in embarrassment. "It... Doesn't smell like you anymore. There's no point if it doesn't feel like I'm close to you."

He's quiet for a moment before taking the sweater from your hands. "So you are returning it?"

You can't look at him in the eye, "for now. I want it back, of course. Just... wash it or something with whatever laundry soap you use and give it back so it smells like you."

He smiles softly at you and presses a light kiss to your forehead. He doesn't look like someone who could be soft. His sheer strength on the court and his powerful spikes on the court can attest to that, but he can't help it when it came to you.

"I love you."

Fin.

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Maybe Loving Someone at Kaer Morhen

 @nim-nim-1994​ and @g-l-o-w-y-l-i-g-h-t-s asked for it soooooo

Expanding my Countess Break-Up chat into a mini-fic

It’s your faults 

.....

“I don’t understand women sometimes. I mean, the Countess and I were having a great time. Why did she have to ruin it?”

Though Jaskier was comfortably laying in the grass, Yennefer preferred a couch under a tree. Initially Vesemir wasn’t too keen on a sofa being in the training area, but per usual, Yennefer won the argument. 

He’d never been a huge fan of hers, but they had a sort of bond now, watching over Ciri and the Witchers at Kaer Morhen. They wouldn’t admit it, but it was the closest either of them got to a happy home life. 

Perched on her proverbial queen’s throne, Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I think perhaps you sleeping with her husband ruined it, love.”

“I thought bringing equality and honesty to their marriage would’ve been good for them.” Flicking an insect off his pants, Jaskier wondered why he never got himself a sofa.

Granted, it would be harder to see the sun in the shade. 

When Yennefer didn’t add anything, he continued his complaining. He wasn’t quite done yet, and her silence was not going to stop him now. “What will I even do with myself, without a lover to entertain myself with? Should I find a local noble? A wandering hero? A beautiful tavern flower? The options sound tantalizing, but they are so few and far between up here where no one but jaded Witchers hang their damn hats.”

“You’re joking, right?” 

Of all things, Jaskier did not like her tone. He propped himself up on his elbows and knitted his brows. “I know you don’t care about romance right now, too busy being a mother hen, but it is an absolute staple of my personality, thank you.”

“No, you absolute-” Yennefer sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, like he said something profoundly stupid. He knew the look because she often looked at him this way, but this one seemed especially sour. “You know Geralt’s in love with you, right?”

The laughter that bubbled out of Jaskier wasn’t cute, to say the least. “Geralt? Give a rat’s ass about me? Hardly.”

“You idiot men are so clueless.” 

“I take offense to that.”

“Well then get smarter.” Yennefer leaned into the arm of her sofa and rested her face on her hands. “He’s been mooning after you for years. But he’s a sad, tragic prick who will never say anything. I thought you chose not to notice.”

Jaskier sat up all the way and pressed a hand to his beating heart. “You have to be fucking with me. Of course I’d notice if my Witcher had any feelings for me.” And if he did, how dare you not tell me sooner. 

“You can’t be serious-” After getting this laser-focus look in her eye, Yennefer gasped. “Oh my god, you are. I never bothered to look into your mind because I assumed it was full of drivel, but you sincerely think that blatant fool of a man doesn’t pine after you.” Then she frowned. “Wait, what was that song about my tits in there-”

Jolting up, Jaskier started to walk away as quickly as he could. He didn’t need to die by magical hands just as he got possibly the most important information of his life. 

If Geralt really did feel that way-

Well, be still his damned beating heart, this changed everything. 

So, it was time to test Yennefer’s assertion. 

Jaskier mustered up all his courage and extravagant acting skills for this one, as he walked up the steps to Geralt’s room. He hadn’t gotten to say hello to him yet, since coming back from the Countess. The bard assumed that his stupid Witcher didn’t care. 

Maybe he was wrong this whole time. 

But if he was going to pull this little gambit off, he really had to sell it. Giving himself a few seconds to get the right proper tragic, dramatic face, he didn’t knock on Geralt’s wooden door. No, he just waltzed himself in, slamming it and making as much noise as possible. 

And there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, his cotton shirt half on, cleaning the blades of his swords. Those yellow eyes looked up at him and, now that the bard was paying attention, there was a flicker of something bright before a deep scowl took over his face. 

“Jaskier-”

The bard wasn’t going to let his expressions push him away, with some growl or bark to try to bite away at the bard’s desire to be by his side. No, this time he had supposed insider information and Jaskier was going to run with it. 

Flopping on Geralt’s bed, pouting up at the Witcher, Jaskier said, “That’s it. I’m never dating another woman again.”

He looked for any movement on Geralt’s face from the corner of his eye; he almost missed the twitch of a smile. “Countess dumped you?”

“Yes, but not the usual one. It seems my type is unavailable women who will never compromise or accept me as I am, not to my face, at least.” Well, that wasn’t quite what happened, but this fit his little game a bit better. 

Ever the bizarre friend, Geralt patted his shoulder like he was a damned horse. “You’re a good bard.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jaskier was looking for, and it made him a little huffy. Maybe Yennefer was talking out of her ass, just trying to make a fool out of him.

“My ego needs no stroking, Geralt, I know I’m wonderful. I just think it’s high time I focus solely on men for awhile.”

As if by magic, those stressless shoulders stiffened. Now, if it was because he had interest or merely was uncomfortable with Jaskier talking about boning men while on his bed, that was the next step. After a beleaguered silence of creepily watching the Witcher’s every face-twitch, the man coughed and said, “Like who?”

Jaskier had to choke on a few breaths to resuscitate his damn heart. Holy hell, Yennefer might’ve been on to something. 

Now was not the time to panic. Sure, he’d been somewhat interested in hearing Geralt say his name among strained groans for years at this point. But he couldn’t get too excited and scare the clam of a man. Otherwise he’d shut the fuck up, and fast. 

He swallowed and tried to act casual, doing his normal egregious hand gestures. “Same type, honestly, just different sexy bits.”

If the bard didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn those stiff shoulders were now melting into the slightest blush peeking from the back of the Witcher’s neck. 

He had to keep going. 

Sitting up slowly, knowing he was positioning himself a little closer to Geralt than he normally would, Jaskier said, “Now just to find myself a good option.”

Geralt mumbled something. 

Jaskier had to keep pushing. “What was that?”

Under his breath, the Witcher said, “Maybe one is closer than you think.”

Oh, so the man was going to play vague with him. That was... something. But he also knew Geralt a little too well, and vague never went anywhere. He had to keep sending him towards the brink of bubbling thoughts before the man would tip over and talk about his damn feelings. 

So, he pulled the meanest card he could.

Smirking, Jaskier countered, “Do you mean Lambert? Because whilst he’s a delinquent, I have to admit, he’s got a decent face--”

“Absolutely not.” The response practically rumbled out of Geralt’s chest like fucking thunder. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure if he should be a little scared or turned on. 

Probably both, if he was going to be honest. 

Before he could say anything about it, Geralt put his sword on the bed and bolted upright. “Never mind, you’re not dating anyone here, ever.” 

And then he walked out of the damn room. 

Funny, considering it was his room in the first place. 

The second Geralt’s door slammed behind him, Jaskier let out an embarrassing snort of laughter. He’d hate telling Yennefer she was right, but this one might actually be worth it. 

Running his hand across the hilt of Geralt’s blade, wondering how long the Witcher had been keeping romantic secrets from him, Jaskier said to himself, “Don’t act so sure about that, Geralt of Rivia.” And then he sputtered out some more unladylike laughter that’d he really have to deal with another day that wasn’t today. “Now the real fun begins.”

Just as he stopped talking, though, the door slammed back open and Geralt had this perturbed frown on his face. “This is my room.”

“Yes, and you just stomped out of it. It was quite adorable.”

The frown on the Witcher’s face deepened. “I was tending my blades. Out.”

“Alright, alright.” Even though he was exiting Geralt’s room for now, he was still going to leave the man with some torment. Jaskier smiled over his shoulder and asked, “But what if tonight, since we haven’t seen each other in awhile, we shared a bed like those poor early days of travel? How nostalgic that’d be, tucked up against you and-”

“Out.” 

Face forward, Jaskier had to hide his overblown smiles to keep the ruse going. “See you later, Geralt.” 

As the door shut behind him, he really couldn’t wait for the next time those yellow eyes met his. After all, he was going to make the stubborn man tell him what he felt, if it was the last thing he did. 

...

(Maybe could do a part 2, dunno, depends on if y’all want it, tell me if you’re interested <3) 

Edit: Part 2 and Part 3

[shiny-procrastinates]

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 5

part 4 here

Hello everyone and welcome back to this... thing. Last time, we met Tsuruno, who I forgot to mention is voiced by the TrySail member we hadn't seen yet, Natsukawa Shiina. After meeting Tsuruno, our girls join Yachiyo in investigating the rumor of the Seance Shrine, that they in fact find, and left off with them meeting the people they were looking for. Are those the real deal? Guess we'll have to watch to find out.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 5

Rather than going back to where we left off right away, we are first treated to a flashback to the person Yachiyo asked to meet. 

and of course, that inverted "sayonara" there in the background doesn't mean anything, nope.

Just by this little scene, we can guess that the person Yachiyo's searching for was also interested in the rumors about salvation. Yachiyo, however, doesn't wish to be saved like this person does. So what exactly happened to Yachiyo's friend?

Back to where we left off, Yachiyo and Iroha meet the people they had written the names of. Iroha runs after and hugs Ui, but the situation is quite strange. When Iroha takes a step back, this Ui starts repeating the ad about Kamihama like a broken record (haha, record). It's really unsettling. Iroha realizes this is a fake, looks around, sees the people that had disappeared and when she looks back Ui's fake is gone.

Iroha, that's a pretty concerning color your Soul Gem has right now...

While she's off doing that, Yachiyo confronts the Mifuyu that appeared to her. Hey, this one's actually behaving like a person, at least.

Yachiyo says she can't just believe she's real, so Mifuyu tells her some things that probably only the two of them should know, making Yachiyo have to concede that at least when it comes to memories she's the real deal.

That's kinda mean to say when you're the one who went ahead and disappeared.

Yachiyo questions Mifuyu about why she disappeared and asks her to come back but Mifuyu says she can't leave the shrine because her body has become too used to it. What is this, the underworld?

Mifuyu invites Yachiyo to stay instead, and Yachiyo is... hypnotized by the little pinwheel? I guess, but Iroha snaps her out of it.

Obviously, this Mifuyu was also a fake. Really raises the question on why this one is so life-like when Ui's was a walking ad.

For some reason, Yachiyo can't see the creepiness of the fake. She insists that they have to leave, but the fake Mifuyu refuses to. Seeing that, Yachiyo starts doubting she's the real Mifuyu again.

...really, what is up with that pinwheel? Yachiyo stares into it again and is, uh... cursed? I guess.

Seeing that, Iroha threatens the fake Mifuyu, who decides Iroha's the reason why Yachiyo won't stay so she has to erase her.

Mifuyu jumps around with her chakram hula hoop, boasting about her relation with Yachiyo, before attacking.

Can't really screenshot this but Mifuyu's movements while dodging Iroha's bolts are really nice, she’s like a ballerina.

...also, Iroha, your aim sucks. Though nice job noticing the hoop was also a boomerang.

...well, guess you're the one who has a void to fill in now. (this shot’s so nice)

being meguca is suffering.

Yachiyo defeats the fake Mifuyu with a fair deal of colateral damage to her sanity points. She cleans her Soul Gem with great difficulty, but the amount the Grief Seed she had in hand could clean was not enough. So Iroha comes in and uses her own spare one (which I think is the one she received from Yachiyo in ep1) to finish cleaning it. Yachiyo protests this but Iroha says she can't just abandon her.

When that's done, Tsuruno comes in to join them. Shes says the familiars outside suddenly disappeared, so she got worried and came here.

It seems like since they defeated the fakes, the master of this barrier decided to deal with them itself.

The girls try to put in some damage, but not even op Yachiyo's attacks manage to make a lasting effect. When Tsuruno loses her flames, Yachiyo creates a bullet hell and tells them to find a way out while she distracts the thing, but apparently Iroha's still on the "need to get stronger" mentality and refuses to back out, only to get wrecked.

Uhhhh... That's not very good. Are we losing our protagonist only five episodes in?

...this face is kinda heart-breaking. It's actually honestly impressive that she didn't witch out right then and there considering how unsettling fake Ui was and how her Soul Gem was already impure by then.

Iroha passes out, so Yachiyo carries her and Tsuruno and her make a run for it.

While they do that, Iroha's having some weird near-death experience (...I never died so I can't affirm it's weird). She sinks further and further, getting caught up in bandages and then, when she comes face to face with her own reflection, bandages cover her eyes and that reflection gains a creepy white mask(?).

Suddenly, the bandage materializes irl and we get a Elseve commercial-- I mean, no, Iroha witches-out...? Kinda...? Her hair has spawned a witch.

The animation on Iroha's hair here is really nice.

Hey, nice haircut!

The witch(?) of the Seance Shrine doesn't seem very happy to have a companion though, so it tackles Iroha's witch, which in turn binds it with its bandages and starts pecking.

Who'd win, an elephant lizard or a weird birb doll?

Just... absolutely brutal.

Iroha's witch tears apart the master of this barrier, and the Seance Shrine fades, delivering everyone back to Mizuna Shrine, including the people who had disappeared... and Iroha's witch. Wait, weren't witches supposed to only exist inside Labyrinths...?

Not satisfied with snacking on the rumor's monster, Iroha's witch decides Tsuruno is next on the menu but, before the restaurant girl can become food, a certain veteran comes in with a bang. Literally.

Iroha's witch gets a second hole in her body and spews Iroha out before fading. Then-

wait...

SPEWS IROHA OUT?

That's not how witches work!

Mami thinks that Iroha is a witch pretending to be a human, so she's determined to eliminate her (to be fair, she only saw Iroha with the witch, so...). Yachiyo, however, tells her to step down, and you could almost see the sparks flying between them.

Yachiyo and Tsuruno manage to make Mami give up on shooting Iroha, so Mami changes the subject to what she had heard from Kyuubei.

Yachiyo, I don't think this is the best time to be picking a fight...

Mami confirms that she's aware of what's going on and Yachiyo says it's none of their problem, and she should keep her territory's problems on her own territory. Geez, Yachiyo, calm down. It's not like she tried to shoot one of your friends or- oh.

Yachiyo: “You must be at least this tall to enter Kamihama.“

Mami did say she didn't want to pick a fight with Kamihama's magical girls, so she decides to retreat quietly for the day, but not before leaving some veteran advice for Tsuruno:

Which girl, Mami? Yachiyo or Iroha?

Leaving this cryptic piece of advice, Mami takes off, as well as the chibi Kyuubei, that she conveniently didn't see.

Inside Iroha's mind, she's freed from being a temporary mummy and instead starts having a weird dream.

In the near future, you'll get targeted ads in your dreams.

"I didn't sign up for this."

Iroha can't catch a break.

When she wakes up, Iroha's in an unknown room. She notices that her Soul Gem is completely clean now. Very suspicious.

I may or may not have an absurd amount of screenshots of this place to use as reference for drawing.

Iroha does some exploring and finds Yachiyo, because this is Yachiyo's place. Yachiyo says she carried her there since she was unconscious, and asks if she wants to call her parents, to which Iroha just shakes her head quietly. Of course, Iroha's parents aren't around so there's no real point in her calling them. Convenient in this situation, but kinda sad all around. Yachiyo doesn't pry.

Iroha realizes she must've been there a while and makes to leave immediately but Yachiyo points out it's past the hour public transport works (even in the near future, huh). While Iroha's visibly troubled, Yachiyo suggests she just stay over for the night.

...now Yachiyo I get telling a middle schooler to not walk about this late at night, but isn't that the time most magical girls act? lol

Dunno what this is but it looks good.

While Yachiyo prepares dinner, Iroha asks if there's anything she can help with, but Yachiyo just tells her to go rest some more, which she does.

"I have school tomorrow!" "...oh, it's Saturday." This is so relatable. Even when you're not at school anymore.

I shouldn't be that long since Iroha's parents left, but as expected it must be really lonely being all alone like this, with no friends and only an empty room reminding her of what she lost. Poor Iroha (man, how many more times will I have to write this...).

Sometime later, Yachiyo comes to call Iroha for dinner, but...

Yachiyo repeats her phrase from the begging of this episode, but with more parts now.

Yachiyo had told Iroha just the episode before that Iroha was held down by her past but, as it turns out, Yachiyo is even more so. These two's suffering is actually very alike: Both lost someone that meant the world to them, and now are searching for their lost parts while bearing their loneliness.

It's a short scene, but it's quietly one of the best ones until now in my opinion. It's beautiful, and does a great job in starting to touch upon Yachiyo's true nature. Even the kinda on-the-nose shot of her being "trapped" by the window is good. 10/10 on this one.

Oh, also, if I had to give one difference between Yachiyo and Iroha in this context, it'd be that while Iroha is adamant that her sister existed and that she'll find her somehow, Yachiyo's way of talking about Mifuyu don't sound like she thinks they'll meet again sometime, despite her searching for her. From my point of view, there are two reasons for this: one is that Iroha might just break if she ever stops believing. Could you imagine? Realizing the sister you've traded your soul for, your only friend and most important thing, never actually existed. That's a one-way ticket to despair if I ever saw one. The other one is that Yachiyo, like fake Mifuyu touched briefly on, has been a magical girl for years now. Whether she knows the truth or not, it's easy to imagine that the longer you live as one the more aware you are of how easy it's to die in this path. If Yachiyo has seen a lot of other magical girls fall around her in all those years, it's quite possible a part of her believes Mifuyu is missing because she's dead. Which is... very tragic.

Well, anyways...

"There's no place for you here."

It's particularly ironic to have this title card show up just after a scene where Iroha's sleeping on Mifuyu's room.

Also, DON'T LEAVE YET.

I did it again, I forgot there were after-credit scenes, again!

Somewhere else, Momoko's team was getting their butt handed to them by a witch and Kaede, the only one left standing, despairs and does the same thing Iroha did.

Kaede, however, doesn't get the benefit of being knocked out like Iroha, so she very understandably freaks out.

"Could I be a witch?" I mean, technically...

One thing Kaede has got right, though: This is definitely not normal.

When magical girls witch out, their Soul Gems are supposed to turn into Grief Seeds, but here not only Iroha and Kaede's Soul Gems were perfectly fine, they were even purified for them. I vaguely remember Sayaka summoning Octavia in Rebellion, but I don't think this is it either. Well, it's a good thing for the girls so not that I'm complaining but what the heck is going on here?

...of course, I already know the answer to this, but making you curious is my job :v

With all of that said (and put all in that this was looong), I hope to see you guys tomorrow as we watch episode 6 and try to put together the pieces of the many puzzles Magia Record has given us. See you next time!

[nooneofimportance20]

Chapter 3

"Dream?" I hear a faint whisper and feel arms wrap around me.

"Dream, are you awake?" I hear George ask me in a raspy voice.

"Now I am. What's wrong?"

"Just a nightmare, I guess," The brunette replies, pulling his arms away from me. The places he held me still feel warm, and I almost grab his hands to stop him from pulling away.

What is wrong with me?

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"I don't want to keep you from sleeping," He replies, his voice cracking a little.

"It's fine, George. I'm not very tired anyway, and I want to make sure your okay."

I turned to my other side to face George and prompted him to tell me about his nightmare.

"Okay, um, so, I get this nightmare a lot, and it's always the same. It starts with my close family and my friends walking out of some building. The building is always different, but the time stays the same. It's around 10:00 pm, and it's extremely dark out. Everyone is laughing and having a good time talking to one another, except for me. I can't hear anything they say, just their mocking laughter as we walk to the car. I can't walk with them anymore. No matter how much I tell myself to walk with them and blend in, I can't," I give him a look of sympathy as his voice begins to shake and he begins to hyperventilate.

I reach out and grab his hand, willing him to continue. He looks back at me with a weak smile.

"I stand there, and everyone turns to look at me, urging me to continue walking with the rest of them. I can't. The harder I try, the more everything hurts. So, I stand there, away from everyone I love, staring. Eventually, everyone turns away from me and continues walking. Walking away from me without a second glance, without even stopping to think, is George going to be okay? They all get into their cars and drive away without me. So, I stand there alone and slowly crumbling to the ground as shadows make their way to me. They engulf me. Distant whispering in my mind telling me what to be and how to act, defining me. Saying I'll never be good enough. Murmurs of how they will never love me as I am, and they will never come back to pick me up from the dark lonely pit of despair I have fallen into. I stumble around in the darkness looking for a light to help me. Eventually, it all becomes too much, and I let the darkness consume the world around me. Whispers cut through me like knives, mocking me. I sit in a ball with my eyes closed, and then I wake up."

By the time George has finished telling me the story, his eyes are filled with tears, and he is shaking.

He looks away from me, embarrassed, and all I want to do is wrap him in my arms.

So I do.

I reach towards George and hold him tightly while he cries.

"Thank you for being vulnerable with me, George. I'm happy that you can tell me this, and I promise I'm never going to leave you."

"Thanks, Dream. Please don't tell anyone about it, though."

A mixture of pride and confidence washes over me at these words. George trusts me enough to keep this a secret.

I placed a small kiss on the top of his forehead. He didn't even bother trying to get out of my grasp or say anything. George melted into my embrace and began to relax, taking deep breaths.

George mumbles something I can't hear and seems to fall asleep.

___________________________________________________________

I wake up early in the morning to a strange movement next to me.

It's probably just Patches.

I lean forward to get up, and I'm immediately tugged back down to the bed.

That is NOT Patches!

Slowly turning my head to look in the direction of my captor, I see George.

My heart stops.

It's as if time freezes and only I can move. The boy looks so peaceful lying there, not a care in the world, as his mind recounts endless memories or things you would never do and see in reality.

I stay staring at him like that for a long time, admiring the beauty of his calmness.

My eyes sweep over every detail on his face. The way his nose turns upward, but not aggressively. How his skin is so soft and how his freckles are dark compared to the pale tone of his face. His lips are thin but thick enough that when he smiles, they don't disappear. The color of his brown hair isn't anything different but still seems to mesmerize me. The most beautiful part is those chocolate brown eyes. It's not noticeable from a farther distance, but I can see flecks of gold in them.

Wait. Eyes? Well, sh!t.

George is staring at me, and a look of shock crosses onto my face.

"Admiring my beauty, I see?" He asks, with a smug grin on his face.

"Well, if you had let go of me, then I wouldn't be," I replied, my face sporting a slight blush.

"So you were?"

"No!"

Lies.

George simply rolled his eyes at me and got out of bed, reaching into his suitcase. He pulls out a white T-shirt and faded jeans.

I get out of bed and go to grab my clothes, taking my shirt off as I walk. I decide to wear an oversized black hoodie and black, ripped, skinny jeans.

When I turn around, I see George staring right at me.

"Admiring my beauty, I see?" I ask, laughing and not expecting an answer.

"Yes, actually." He smiled at me, and the tables were turned.

"Oh really, Georgie? What about me is so beautiful?"

"Your laugh," He replies, smiling, "It's cute."

"I dunno, George. That's kind of gay," I say jokingly.

"Yeah, I know," Still smiling.

I stop laughing.

"What?" My face goes red.

George freezes, staring at me.

"I said I'm going to go and change." He replies, pointing towards the bathroom door and looking very flustered.

"Okay." I manage to say.

George walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

What just happened. Why is my heart beating so fast? He just said he liked my laugh.

Maybe he just realized how it sounded and was making a joke.

I take this time to put on the hoodie and jeans, then I walk downstairs to see if Sapnap is awake. I don't really want to think about what just happened.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I look into the living room and find Sapnap sitting on the couch on his phone.

"Good morning," I greet. Sapnap looks up from his phone and mumbles a 'morning' back to me.

"I was thinking we could go out today for breakfast. What do you think?" Sapnap asks, a smile on his face.

"Sounds good to me. I know of a nice place, and the food is great!"

"When should we leave?"

"I think George is getting ready, and the place is about a half-hour from here. Let's wait for George, then go."

"What for?" I turn towards the stairs and see George walking down them and into the living room.

"Breakfast," I replied awkwardly.

"Oh, okay. Let's go then."

Sapnap puts his phone away and gets off the couch while George and I walk over to the front door.

Patches give me a rub on the leg to tell me goodbye, and I shut the door behind us, walking out to the car.

"So, where are we going?"

"An old diner I used to go to as a kid. They have good food and pastries," I tell the brunette.

I start the car, and Sapnap begins playing music while we drive.

Time Skip~

When I pull into the parking lot, George looks up from his phone and gives me a curious look.

"Is this it?" He asks.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like much, but it's a very nice place."

All three of us hop out of the car and walk inside the diner. A waitress walks up to us after we sit down.

"Hi, I'm Hannah, and I'll be your server for today." She says, staring directly at me.

"Hello, Hannah."

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I'll take a water, please," Sapnap replies. Hannah looks at him and scribbles it down without saying anything.

"What would you like?" She says, turning to look back towards me.

"Lemonade would be fine."

"Lemonade it is!" the girl comments, a big smile on her face.

I give her a small smile back.

"I'll have a lemonade too, please!" George gives her a smile, and she mutters an okay. She turns around walking away.

"What are you going to order, Sapnap?" I ask after everyone has looked over the menu.

"Eggs, bacon, and toast. Everything on here looks good, though."

"Well, I'm getting French toast!" George says, looking excited.

"What about you, Dream?" Sapnap questions.

"Chocolate chip pancakes," I reply. The waitress steps back up to us with beverages in hand.

She sets down the drinks and flashes me a smile before taking our orders. When she walks away, Sapnap gives me a funny look.

"She is definitely interested in you," He exclaims.

"Well, I'm not," I reply, rolling my eyes.

"I forgot you were in love with George!" My face heats up in embarrassment at his words. After what happened that morning, I was already feeling a little awkward.

"I am not in love with George. You should have heard what he told me this morning!"

"Don't you dare, Dream!" George whisper shouts, elbowing me in the gut.

"He said my laugh was cute," I snort, laughing while George slaps me in the arm looking mad.

"It was a joke," George mutters, his arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together.

"Sorry, George," I say, looking at him.

Sapnap sits there in awe at what he heard, building a ship in his mind, no doubt.

"Well, this morning, I caught you staring at me while I was asleep!"

"I told you already, I wasn't staring at you!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah. You guys are like an old married couple arguing." Sapnap laughs, looking between the two of us.

I was about to say something when our waitress, Hannah, brought us our breakfast. Instead, I stuffed my mouth with pancake out of embarrassment, hoping Sapnap wouldn't ask any questions.

I looked over and saw George smiling widely at the plate of food in front of him.

Small Time Skip because I don't want to write about people eating.

"Are you all ready to go then?" Hannah asks me.

"I think so."

"Okay, here you go," She says, handing me the check.

"Thanks."

"Yeah," She pauses, "You know, we should go out sometime."

I look at my friend's not wanting to be rude. My discomfort is obvious, at least not to her.

"Sorry, he has a boyfriend," I hear George say.

"Well, I don't see him, and you can let your friend answer himself."

"His boyfriend is right there," Sapnap says, pointing to George.

"Really?" She says sarcastically.

"Yes, really," George replies, giving me a side hug and a kiss on the cheek, not letting go of me.

George stares the girl down until she walks away, scoffing.

I can feel myself blushing hard, and I sit there stiff in surprise. George still has not let go of me

"Thanks?" I say as more of a question.

"Jeez, no need to sound so grateful," George replies, letting go of me. I roll my eyes.

"Thank you, George!"

I pull him into a tight hug and rub him on the head aggressively while he attempts to shake me off.

"Get off," he says, shoving me away from him.

"Where are my thanks. I kind of helped," Sapnap asked, a fake pout on his face.

"You don't get thanks. All you did was point at George and agree with him."

"Fine. I didn't want a 'thanks' from you."

I start to laugh a bit and give him a short thank you. I pay for our food, and we get up to leave.

As we get up to leave, I see George glaring at the girl who was our server, and I smile a little despite what had happened.

We get into the car, and I realize how early in the day it still is.

"So, do you guys want to go home or find something else to do out here?"

"I don't want to waste the day," Sapnap replies.

"I agree with Snapmap," George says, a grin forming on his face.

"Don't call me that!"

"It's s-so c-cute, though," He manages to say between laughs.

"Shut up, George! You too, Dream," I had begun to laugh while he was speaking.

"Okay, Sapitus Napitus." I snicker.

For the next 15 minutes of driving, trying to find something to do, we keep poking fun at Sapnap's name.

"Pull over," he says, a serious look on his face.

"What? Why?"

I pull into the parking lot of a strip mall.

"I'm going to Uber back home," Sapnap replies pulling out his phone.

"Sapnap, we were joking."

"I'm glad you have fun at my expense. Please, continue while I'm gone," Sapnap rolls his eyes, and his voice is filled with sarcasm.

"Were sorry, Nick," George says Sapnap's real name with a sincere look on his face.

"You might be."

"I am too. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Good to know. That would have really warmed my heart if I wasn't joking," Sapnap answered with a smirk on his face. George and I stare at him in confusion. "The real reason I told you to stop is that I saw a river, and there are some shops around here so we can find something to swim in."

"First of all, what the hell Sapnap, you scared me. Secondly, that's not a bad idea. Don't do that again, though," I say.

"Don't call me names!"

"He has a point, Dream," George adds.

"Fine, let's go swimming, I guess," I mumble.

___________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading. This chapter was kind of all over the place, but the beginning was kind of important to me. The nightmare that George had is actually a recurring nightmare of mine. I tried to show how it made me feel. Writing it out made me understand more about my nightmare. The part where I stop walking and everyone stares at me is me being different than most in my family. I was afraid of people thinking differently of me because of my sexuality. That's where the "No matter how much I tell myself to walk with them and blend in, I cant" part comes into play. The only person in my family that is part of the LGBTQ+ community is my father. He usually isn't in the nightmare. Eventually, trying to keep my being bi a secret and blending in becomes too much. I was becoming depressed, keeping it to myself. One might say I was in a pit of despair. The whispering was the thoughts in my head telling me to be like everyone else and forget. I had this nightmare the night before I finally came out of the closet to my immediate family, and it doesn't come as much anymore. I still get them once in a while when my mom says something that makes me feel like she still doesn't accept me. I just want to thank you for reading this chapter because it will always be special to me.

I hope you guys have a great day or night and stay safe! I love you for who you are!

-Mak

Word Count: 2550 (I am so proud of myself)

[brokenmimir]

Within the Mirror

White Rose Week 2020, Day 1: Mirror

Weiss is having the worst day of her life, when she hears a friendly voice coming from her bathroom mirror.

I can't believe it's already time for another White Rose Week! For this prompt I selected Mirror, and I hope that you enjoyed it.

The quarantine has really messed with my usual writing flow, so I barely wrote anything coming into this. Instead I wrote my first four prompts yesterday, which should (hopefully) give me enough breathing room to finish this week's prompts.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646000

“Weiss!” Jacques Schnee shouted. “Weiss! Where are you!”

Weiss Schnee hid in her large bathtub, one hand pressing hard against her eye. Her father had always been angry, but after her older sister turned eighteen and joined the military, he had become far worse than angry. She had swiftly transitioned from 'spoiled younger daughter' to 'new heir', and everything she did was a failure, now.

Today, her failure had been punished with backhanded blow to her face, her father's ring tearing a jagged, bleeding wound from cheek to forehead, right over her thankfully closed eyelid. It was all she could do to keep silent as the blood stained her white dress, her hand clutching the throbbing wound while she begged anyone listening for her father not to find her.

“Please, please, I just want to hide,” she whimpered under her breath. “Please, please don't let him find me.”

“Hello?” a small, high voice called.

Weiss froze, unmoving, terrified that the voice would bring her father. Who was it? They sounded even younger than her own barely a teen self, but other than her brother there shouldn't have been anyone like that in the manor. Was it the child of a servant? Her father didn't allow her to interact with commoners, which had prevented her from ever making friends.

“Hello?” the voice called again, a little louder this time. “I thought I heard someone?”

Slowly Weiss sat up, peering over the edge of the tub. The door was still closed, the lights still out, the room empty save for herself. The voice had sounded so close, but there wasn't anyone in the room with her.

“Hey!” the voice said. “There you are! Oh no, what happened to you?”

Weiss scrunched down lower for a moment, before finally daring to peek above the rim of the tub again. This time she saw the source of the voice, even though it was simply impossible.

The back of her bathroom door had a large, antique mirror, which had been in her family for generations. Normally she should've been able to dimly make out the reflection of the darkened bathroom, with her own bleeding, bedraggled form peering just over the rim of the tub. Instead, she saw a dark, misty forest, with a girl a little younger than herself looking at her with concern.

The girl was wearing a short black dress with black tights, and tall, black boots. Over this was a large red, hooded cloak, which made her cut an almost intimidating figure despite being so young and small. Her face was still chubby with youth, and her silver eyes were bright and cheerful, although they still held a look of concern.

“What happened to you?” she repeated.

“Wh-who are you?” Weiss countered. “How did you get in my mirror?"

“I'm Ruby, Ruby Rose!” the girl said brightly. “What's your name?”

Weiss sat up primly, despite one hand still desperately clamped over her injured eye. “I am Weiss Schnee.”

“Nice to meet you, Weiss!” Ruby said, grinning and bouncing in place.

Weiss frowned. “You didn't tell me how you're in my mirror.”

“Oh… right,” Ruby chuckled sheepishly, pushing her hood back to scratch the back of her head, revealing short, raggedly cut black and red hair. “Um… I dunno. I found the Mirror World years ago, and I guess you just found a way here, too.”

“Mirror World?”

“Yeah, it's a really cool place! There's all kinds of fun adventures, and neat people, and monsters to beat up and everything! And I can eat as many cookies as I want, and nobody can tell me what to do. It's the bestest place ever!”

“R-really?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah,” Ruby said, nodding. “Hey, why don't you come with me? I know where we can get a plant that'll heal you right up!”

Weiss bit her lip. Ruby seemed nice, but she was kind of a lot. Fighting monsters? Adventures? That all sounded scary, and she knew she wasn't supposed to run off with strangers. Plus, how could she go into a mirror? It sounded more likely that she'd gotten brain damage from being hit than that there really was a portal to some kind of magical world inside of her bathroom mirror.

“Weiss!” her father shouted, making her flinch in terror. He was close. “If you don't come out right now… I assure you you will not like the consequences, young lady!”

That settled it. As much as she was afraid of going with Ruby, she was more afraid of staying with her father. Gathering up what courage she could find, she stumbled out of the bathtub and rushed over to the mirror. Ruby stepped back with a grin, and after taking one more deep, steadying breath, Weiss stepped from her world.

It was like stepping through water, a cool, giving membrane that she passed through quickly, but on the other side it was comfortable, a little cool and foggy, but no colder than her father kept the manor. The air was fresh and crisp, full of the smell of growing things and new opportunities.

“Come on, let's get you something for your eye!” Ruby said brightly, grabbing Weiss's free hand.

She flinched for a moment, the sudden movement after what had happened spooking her, but Ruby's hand was warm and gentle in her own, firm but soft as she was pulled away from her bathroom. She only had time to look back briefly, enough to see a mirror identical to the one hanging in her bathroom suspended in the boughs of a great pine tree and rapidly fogging over like a too hot shower had been taken, before she was pulled away.

“Don't jerk my arm so hard,” Weiss grumbled.

“Sorry,” Ruby said insincerely. “I just want to get your eye fixed! It looks like it really hurts.”

“It doesn't hurt that much,” Weiss said stoically, puffing her chest out.

“Oh good!” Ruby said brightly. “I was scared you'd lose an eye or something. I mean, an eyepatch would be cool an' all, but I don't think you'd look as good as a pirate. I mean, you look like a princess! And princesses don't usually lose an eye, right?”

Ruby continued chattering away as she lead Weiss through the forest, following a seemingly random path through the trees. After a while Weiss began to hear a distant rushing sound, and soon enough the forest opened up into a beautiful meadow with a swiftly flowing river cutting through the center of it.

“Be careful!” Ruby warned. “Its spring, so the snow's melting up in the mountains, so the water's real cold and fast! Real, real cold! My sister Yang fell in once, and she got so cold I thought she'd never get warm again. We had to find the Good Witch to heal her up, and that was a whole big thing.”

“You have a sister?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah, Yang, she's the best,” Ruby said. “Now, why don't you clean your face off, and I'll get the herbs to heal you! And remember, be careful. The water's really cold, and sometimes you just get dragged in if you aren't careful!”

Weiss bit her lip, but when Ruby skipped off to gather some plants growing further down the river, she delicately sat down and washed her hands in the water. It was just as cold as Ruby had promised, her fingers swiftly turning red and burning with the chill, but she ignored it with all the grace of someone Atleasian born and bred, getting as much of the dried blood off of her hands as possible before wiping at her face.

She had just begun making headway when Ruby shouted, “look out!”

Weiss pulled back, before gaping in shock at what she saw in front of her. Just beneath the water was a hideous woman, with a long, warty nose, wrinkled, leathery green skin, solid black eyes, and long, seaweed-like hair. Her figure appeared distorted, with short, bandy legs, and long, sinewy arms ending in cruel, grasping fingers. Upon being noticed the figure gave up on stealth and simply lunged, long green fingers seeking to grab onto Weiss, and in that moment she knew that the creature wanted to pull her into the river.

And then Ruby was there. Before Weiss could do more than awkwardly sprawl onto her back the other girl had pulled a huge red scythe from nowhere and brought it down between them, embedding the large blade right between Weiss's ankles, inches from the foot long, spindly fingers about to grab onto them. There was a long, long moment where everything save the rushing water was still, and then the creature returned under the water.

“I'm so sorry,” Ruby shouted, the scythe breaking down into a smoky vapor before floating away. “I didn't think Nelly Longarms would be this far into the forest! She usually waits way downstream from here.”

“Wh-what was that!?!”

Ruby smiled sheepishly, before helping Weiss move back from the water's edge, sitting her on a smooth stone. She then began to crush the leaves she'd gathered against the rock with the flat of a knife, creating a sticky green paste that smelled like peppermints. “That was Nelly Longarms. She's a water hag.”

“Water hag?”

“Mmhmm,” Ruby hummed, gathering some of the sticky goo and carefully smearing it on Weiss's injury. She flinched from the pain, but soon relaxed as that faded, leaving a comforting warmth behind. “Hags like to grab stuff that gets too close to the water. One time Peg Powler almost got Yang under, but then she grabbed her by the hair and Yang got so mad! Peg swam away so fast, and she hasn't tried anything since.”

“There's more stuff like that here?!” Weiss shouted, looking around the clearing. What had once seemed pretty if mysterious now gained a sinister air.

“Yeah, there's all kinds of monsters and adventures and stuff here!” Ruby said brightly. “Don't worry, it's not all bad! There's also all kinds of cool stuff living here, and I've made a bunch of friends with 'em. I'll sure they'll love you!”

“There are other people here?” Weiss asked.

“A few,” Ruby said with a nod. “There's Yang, and Jaune, and Pyrrha, and Nora, and Ren, and-”

“Who are they?” Weiss asked. “Are they from here?”

“Nuh, uh,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “The only humans come from the other side. There're not humans here who're nice, too, though. Pitys is a dryad that lives pretty close; I was on my way to see her when I saw your mirror gate! And there's Ovinnik, and Blake, and-”

“What do you mean by mirror gate?” Weiss demanded, cutting off Ruby before she could ramble more.

“Oh, well… sometimes when people really, really want to be somewhere else their mirror turns into a gate to here!” Ruby said. “I don't know what was happening to you, but…”

Weiss flinched, looking away when Ruby trailed off to gesture at the cut on her face. Clearing her throat, Ruby continued in a softer tone. “Anyway, sometimes people come through, and that's where most of our friends came from! I was so lucky that my sister came with me. Jaune has like, seven sisters, but he's here by himself. Anyway, this place is great! I mean, it's kinda dangerous, and there's scary stuff too, but… that just makes it better! It's like being in the best story book ever, but its all real! And we can stay here instead of having to go back home.”

“So you just… stay here? You don't go back?”

Ruby looked solemn. “Some people go back. I know Jaune used to go back and forth a ton, but… this is our home, you know? Our real home. Anyway, when he started hanging out with Pyrrha and Ren he started staying more, and I don't think he's gone back in years. Are you… are you gonna stay?”

Weiss bit her lip, looking at the friendly, if kind of scary girl, and then over at the icy cold river, where she now saw the hag peeking just out of the water, looking at the two of them hungrily. This mirror world was obviously a dangerous place, but…

Back home she was never allowed to make any friends, and after her sister left she was all alone, and now she wasn't allowed to have any fun anymore. And her father… but here, they could do anything they wanted, and… and there may have been monsters, but her father wasn't here.

With a shy smile Weiss reached over and grabbed Ruby's hand. It wasn't nearly as hard of a choice as it should've been.

[poptod]

The Dead Heed No Lies (Ch. 2)

Description: If you won't join the life of the party upstairs, the life of the party comes to you.

Notes: Building up. Word Count: 1.9k

Chapter Two: Holed Up

It had been approximately a week since you’d fainted in the break room, found by Ahkmenrah, who was apparently worried about you after you hadn’t returned, even as dawn approached. When you came fully back to consciousness, he sat with you, explaining what the tablet did, how it needed moonlight, which was the real reason for the transfer. He further explained that it only worked during the night, which was why everything seemed so still during the day. He’d been gracious about the whole fainting thing, telling you that it wasn’t entirely unexpected, simply wishing you a better day ahead of you before he left to his exhibit.

You decided not to accompany him. Watching a man crawl into his own grave to die seemed like something that wouldn’t be good for you.

“How long are you staying here?” You asked Tilly, watching from the balcony as chaos ensued in the form of an almost hysterical party.

“Dunno, this is a pretty prestigious museum. But should be for another few months.”

“That’s quite a while,” you noted, nodding in a mildly impressed manner.

“Should give you enough time to get to know Ahk more,” she said, leaning over to you, attempting horridly at a wink.

“I - what?”

“You know, you and the King,” she said, saying his title with a theatrical form of reverence.

“… Right. Me and the King. What is this, Disney?” You shook your head, chuckling to yourself.

“What? You’d make a great couple,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

“Til, I barely know him. You’re seeing things.”

“Whatever you say,” she said skeptically, turning and leaving down the stairs.

The whole notion she was proposing was ridiculous. You’d spoken to him a grand total of three times, the first being when you met him, the second was him waking you from a black out, and the third was you accidentally running into his parents, and he quickly introduced you to them.

On the whole, the conversation wasn’t bad, but it could’ve gone better. It felt rather like a young teen who had modern ideals with two racist parents, but this time it was an actual King and Queen who had Jewish slaves and their son, who had apparently never agreed with that.

You didn’t agree with it either, being Jewish yourself. After his parents had left, Ahkmenrah explained that it wasn’t the first time it’d happened, that it was equally embarrassing as it was funny. You agreed, and quickly excused yourself.

As fun as it was to be upstairs during the night of life, you had a job, and it couldn’t be avoided. Especially since McPhee was now breathing down your back, which was a change, because usually he was at home, asleep, during your work hours. Now, fully awake, he was free to observe your every movement. Not that he did, he was busy making sure nothing in the museum was destroyed. You stayed far away, in the basement, locked up and sorting through the archives.

Every now and then Tilly would come down, asking you to take a break, which you nearly always declined.

Then the King visited you.

You could tell it was him without even looking up, from the way his cloak dragged across the ground, and his sandals hitting the asphalt.

“Hi Ahk,” you said, not looking up from the papers you were sorting.

Man killed 150 bears in American wilderness, original article…

“Hello. How’d you know it was me?” He asked, chuckling as he sat down beside you. That was something you hadn’t expected of him when you first met him - for him to be normal, to stoop down to your level. Sit with you on the ground, cross legged, looking like a perfectly normal man in an impeccable costume. Warm and human.

“I can hear your cloak. No one else wears a cloak,” you said, smiling as you looked at him, before looking right back down again.

“Ah. Suppose it does sort of… give it away,” he said, fumbling with his cape in his fingers.

“It’s fantastic material, though. I assume it’s the same clothing you were embalmed with?” You said, and without thought you fingered the material, always wondering what fine cloth would feel like. As much as you studied history, you never actually experienced any of the findings it brought.

“Oh, uh, yes. It is. Gold sewn in and all. I think we were a little dramatic back then,” he laughed quietly, his eyes fixed on your hands.

You knew it was inappropriate, but dear God it was soft.

“Well you had a lot of gold. Symbol of status, a way of letting people know how much you were worth. It’s like people owning mansions nowadays, buying fancy cars. Just a show of wealth and status.”

“Unsightly,” he joked.

“Unseemly,” you said with a chuckle, playing along. After a moment of quiet giggles you turned back to your papers, continuing to sort through them though it was the last thing you wanted to be doing. Here you were, studying historical records when a literal goldmine of information was in front of you, and he acted quite like he liked you, and a lot, always open to talk, always trying to learn more about you. Overall, very friendly.

“Ahkmenrah, I was wondering,” you started, setting your papers down. The more you looked at them, the duller they got. He looked expectantly at you, so you continued.

“There’s hardly any mention of you at all in any history books. No statues, we only found out you existed when we found your, um. Your sarcophagus. Do you have any idea as to why that is?”

It was, maybe, a sensitive topic. Maybe it was a question he didn’t know the answer to. Either way it evoked some emotional reaction out of him as he shifted uncomfortably, tucking his feet and hands further into himself in a psychological sign of defensiveness.

“I didn’t know, for a while. I found out later when my parents told me. I don’t remember this for whatever reason but my brother killed me, and uh… took the throne? It was his birthright, to be fair,” he said, defending him though he deserved none of it.

“He was older than you, but your parents gave you the throne?”

“Yes. I know it’s odd,” he sighed, relaxing as he leaned back on his arms. “But they thought it would be a better decision if I ruled instead of him, and generally speaking, I think they were right. My brother’s a bit, ah, bloodthirsty, you could call it?”

The two of you laughed, but you wondered what in the hell his brother could’ve done in Egyptian times to be considered bloodthirsty enough to pass the throne to the younger child.

“Anyway, he poisoned me, and my parents were still alive when this happened, but they couldn’t do much while he desecrated everything that ever mentioned me.”

“That’s depressing,” you sighed, stretching your arms as you relaxed, looking ahead to the rows of boxes.

“What’s depressing,” he said, his tone suddenly changing, “is you sitting down here all night when all the fun is upstairs.”

“Oh not you too,” you groaned, not wanting to have to convince another person that you had an actual job to do.

“What? It’s not healthy, you know,” he said, laughing, knowing he was a terrible influence.

“I’m fully aware of that but it’s my job. Wouldn’t expect you to understand that, all you do is have fun,” you chuckled, digressing into a tired sigh. He hummed, quiet and low, relaxing in his position once more.

“In that case, if you really can’t be swayed, I’ll stay with you.”

You stammered, fully disagreeing. If he stayed you’d never get anything done, he was a huge distraction, him and his beautiful flowing robes and his stupid gorgeous face - no, you couldn’t do it, you would absolutely not stand for it.

However, before you could go off on a rant of why that was a terrible idea (while completely avoiding your actual lovey-dovey reason as to why it was a terrible idea), he saw the look in your eye, and his smile faded into a sad, open mouthed, glittering eyed expression that made him instantly look like he’d been crying.

Like a goddamn puppy.

“Fine,” you sighed, giving in without a word exchanged. “But don’t distract me!”

“Me? Never!” He laughed, standing up and wandering through the aisles, letting you have your silence as you worked. You didn’t say anything, but you appreciated the thought deeply.

Every now and then, over the next few hours that passed, you’d see him through the spaces between the boxes. His head would poke out, and sometimes he’d kneel down to where you were, giving you a funny face for you to soften and laugh at.

This boy is too kind for his own good, you thought to yourself, wondering if he was like this during his life in Egypt. As you sorted mindlessly through sheets of paper, your mind wandered, going through the two different scenarios.

If he was exactly the same then as he was now, you wondered how he survived. As a prince, he was supposed to be mature, a role model for his kingdom. He should’ve been manly and strong, neither of which were traits he’d shown thus far.

If he was not the same, you wondered when the change happened. What he was like back then. Was he cruel, antisemitic, and a succinct ruler? Or was he just as kind as he was now, just more mature, with the weight of his responsibilities drowning out his personality?

“You look lost,” he noticed, boxes pushed to the side as he poked his head through the other side of the open shelf. You laughed, pushing the boxes back together to force his head out. He whined, jogging his way around the long hall to make it to you.

“No need to be ashamed. I, too, get lost in sheets of paper,” he chuckled, sitting down behind you and looking over your shoulder. He was slightly taller than you, allowing him a vantage point.

“You know, you speak remarkably good English for a 4,000 year old Egyptian Pharaoh,” you said, using the end of your pencil to tap his nose.

“What can I say, it’s what everyone else speaks. I hardly ever speak Egyptian now except with my parents.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, growing slowly quieter. “Your version of the language is dead now.”

A clangor of Rex’s roar resounded from upstairs, a sound you now knew signified that everyone needed to return to their place.

“Just as I am soon about to be,” he said, grunting slightly as he stood. Without thought you stood with him, letting your pencil and paper fall to the ground clattering quietly. With a chuckle he looked you up and down, almost sarcastically wondering if you’d do anything else embarrassing. You just glared, the blushing heat in your cheeks obvious.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you mumbled, leading him out the door and up the stairs. He followed, and the two of you walked to his old room in the museum.

As you reached the threshold he stopped, turning to you.

“I must leave you now,” he said, his words dramatic but his tone sincere. His hands came up to hold yours, another sign of his truthfulness.

“Try and do what I said?” He asked of you.

“What was that again?”

“Have some fun. Don’t hole up in that basement.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Sure.”

He left you with a smile, never wanting people to see him as he wrapped himself back up in his tomb. You understood his wish, obeying his need for privacy.

Until tomorrow night, you thought to yourself.

[ikesenhell]

Reunion

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 3. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Thanks to @missjudge-me for commissioning this! As always, I’m calling @a-shout-to-the-void IEYASU out in my work. 

---

Neither of them wanted to stop for the night, so they didn't. “It’s only, what, one day of straight driving?” He’d reasoned. She took over the Camaro and he snoozed in the passenger seat, lulled to sleep by ‘Journey of the Sorcerer’ by the Eagles humming under the droning road. Light streamed golden-orange through the windshield when he woke. 

“Hey there, sleepy,” she murmured. “Want some coffee?”

Masamune grunted assent, stretching out. “Fuck, it used to be a lot easier to sleep in the car.”

“We all used to be a lot younger.”

That was true. Still road-tired, he lolled his head to the side and rested it on her arm. She was warm and solid, scented like spices, the warm fabric of her flannel cushioning his forehead. Unbidden, he wondered what it would be like to wake up to her every day. 

Maryland was bright and sunny. They reached Ieyasu’s house around five a.m., a quaint, brick rancher in the outskirts of Baltimore. One very awake Mitsunari let them in (“I still haven’t recovered from jet lag and Tanzania’s time zone—hello!”) and they crashed in a heap on the plush grey couch. By noon, he woke to banging in the nearby kitchen. 

“Mitsunari, I said put that away, not dump it on the tiles—”

“—I’m so sorry, let me clean it up—”

“No! I don’t trust you with the damn broom, go sit down or find a turnip field and bury yourself in it again, clearly you’re underripe—”

Just like old times. Masamune grunted and rolled off the couch. She still napped on the other end, buried in decorative pillows and a blanket. “‘Yasu?”

Sure enough, the blonde peered grumpily from the nearby kitchen, dustpan in hand. Against the canary yellow walls, his green eyes were piercing. “Great, now you’re up. Now I have to deal with two idiots staggering around my kitchen.”

“Great to see you again, too. What’s going on?”

Mitsunari sheepishly set a tin on the counter. “I spilled green tea everywhere.”

“That was my fault,” Ieyasu groused. “I’m the idiot who forgot about Mitsunari’s inability to hold things. I can’t believe I forgot. Two years, and I went forgetting. What a wonderful two years it was, too.”

Either the other man didn't get the hint, or he looked straight past Ieyasu’s barbed tongue to the affection deep below the surface. “It was fun, getting to write you and send you pictures. You kept me very up to date.”

Masamune crowed with laughter, making his way to the refrigerator to poke around. “Did he now?”

Ears flaming, Ieyasu ducked behind the counter and scraped the scattered leaves from the tile. “He’s the only one who knows where the hell to find half of the reference books I needed for medical school and where to pirate them—”

“I swear Mitsuhide knows how to do that.”

Ieyasu didn't respond. Instead he dumped the leaves into the garbage. “Well, are you gonna stand out there and run your mouth, or should we get a move on and go to the grocery store while she’s still asleep? I figured we’d need some stuff before the others get here.”

Peering over the doorway with a bottle of orange juice, Masamune frowned. “Others?”

“Well, yeah, dumbass. You really didn't think we weren’t gonna get the other guys down here for a visit, did you?”

“On such short notice?”

Ieyasu froze, eyes wide and searching, desperately avoiding Masamune’s gaze. “I mean—can’t—are you the only person allowed to make spur of the moment choices?”

But Masamune turned his eyes slowly over to Mitsunari, finally understanding. “I’m pretty sure the Kitten and I weren’t the catalyst for inviting the others over…”

“I—no.” 

“Hey, Mitsun.” Masamune overrode the stuttering Ieyasu. “Was it your idea to come here?”

Mitsunari glanced up from his mug of tea. “No, Ieyasu kindly offered his house when he learned I was coming back.”

“Listen,” Ieyasu managed. “Listen, that disaster is our responsibility now. We can’t just pawn him off on the unsuspecting public.” 

“Right.” Grinning, Masamune swigged from the bottle of orange juice (ignoring Ieyasu’s annoyance) and shunted it back into the refrigerator. “Well, if the old crew is getting back together tonight, you’re damn right. Let’s get to the store.”

---

She was awake when they all came back, laden down with (“Entirely too fucking many,” Ieyasu complained) groceries. Her hair was slick from the shower, cheeks shiny with moisture and flushed from recent sleep. Masamune switched all his bags to one arm and pulled her in by the waist. 

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.” He punctuated it with a kiss on her forehead. 

“Let me live.” Swatting him away, she grinned. “And you’ll never guess who I just let in—”

“Masamune!”

“God,” Ieyasu deadpanned, hoisting his bags onto the countertop. “Just letting strangers into my house.”

Mitsuhide chuckled, stirring some thick, soupy concoction in a glass. Masamune dreaded what it might be. “I’m strange?”

“Yes. Is this a trick question?”

“Good to see you again, brother.” Masamune fist bumped the other man. He hadn’t changed; if anything, age only accented the weirdest parts of him. It seemed like every year, Mitsuhide got lankier and more ethereal, white eyelashes too long to be human. 

“Ieyasu.” Nobunaga rounded the corner, holding aloft an opened container of protein powder. That explained the mysterious substance in Mitsuhide’s glass. “This stuff tastes like ass.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes. “So you’ve tasted ass?”

Both Mitsuhide and Nobunaga cocked a mild brow. “Yes?”

“God damn, I didn't want to know—”

“It’s a popular request,” Mitsunari chimed in, shutting the garage door behind him. “It’s grown in popularity over the last—”

“What are we talking about?!” Hideyoshi emerged from the hall bathroom, wringing his wet hands and looking utterly alarmed. 

“No!” Ieyasu cupped his hands over his ears and fled to the other side of the kitchen. “I don’t want to hear any more from anyone about eating ass!”

Time was kind to them. Nobunaga had grown into the imperious smile he’d always worn, eyes flashing sharp over a long nose. Hideyoshi still possessed all of his world-weary charm, the faintest crease between his eyebrows. “New York is treating you guys alright, huh?” Masamune asked, planting himself on a barstool. 

“Of course,” Nobunaga laughed. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Dunno. Figured that Hideyoshi might have an aneurysm about the subway system by now.”

Apparently he’d hit a nerve. Hideyoshi strangled the air. “Why is the L train always down—?”

“Alright!” She swept in, clasping Hideyoshi’s hands in hers, grinning like the summer in full bloom. The effect was immediate; all the other men relaxed, lounging around the kitchen. How did she do that? Masamune knew she was talking (her mouth was moving), but the words floated away. Hideyoshi looked so soft in her grip. God, he hoped Hideyoshi didn't try anything with her. 

Where the hell did that thought come from?

“Earth to Masa.” Ieyasu waved a hand. “Did you hear anything?”

“Nah. Wasn’t listening. What’s up?”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “I literally asked if you wanted to make burgers for the bonfire tonight.”

“Bonfire?” Mitsuhide smiled. “That sounds excellent.”

“No lighting anything on fire like last time,” Hideyoshi warned, his shoulders tensing again. “You almost burned down the house with Nobunaga inside!”

“I assure you, that wasn’t my fault. Would that you believed me.”

“Well who the fuck else was watching the fire—”

“If you two are gonna fight, I’m just gonna…” Masamune rolled up his sleeves and plucked her from the floor, flinging her over his shoulders. “Borrow the kitten as my personal assistant tonight. How about that?”

“We’ll get the firewood together then.” Nobunaga waved him off. “And let you two to it.”

Hideyoshi hovered still. “Do you need any help? I’m not a master chef or anything, but I can be a pair of hands.”

Masamune almost took him up on it. But then she pulled back her hair—a long, languid movement that showed the curve of her back—and he shook his head. “Nah. We’ll manage. You go do things about, like, fire safety.”

That was the magic sentence. Those hazel eyes went large, and Hideyoshi nodded, purpose renewed. “You’re right. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Just like that, the two of them were alone again. She tittered and slid the bag of golden potatoes to him. “Need these peeled, chef?”

“Nah. Just washed. Throw on some tunes, would you?”

Her grin should have warned him, but he still wasn’t prepared for Neon Trees to echo in the kitchen. Masamune grinned and slapped the ground beef onto the cutting board. “What a fucking throwback. Is that Habits?”

“Yeah!” She dumped all of the potatoes in the sink. “Do you remember dancing to this in the car?”

Did he ever. They used to take Hideyoshi’s hand-me-down mom van (the only car that would fit all of them) out to the Oda Family property on the river, parking it in the field and lounging on blow up mattresses they’d pooled for at Target. Everything played on those busted car speakers: Neon Trees, old Panic! At the Disco, Chevelle, Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, Radiohead, Foo Fighters. Mitsuhide tricked Mitsunari and her into jumping in the water one night, and she was so mad and wet that Masamune stripped off all his clothes and put them on her, riding home in his boxers. 

“Yeah,” Masamune laughed. “I don’t think I ever got my pants back from you.”

“You got the pants back. I never gave you your hoodie back, though.”

“Shit, you’re right. Whatever happened to it?”

She hesitated over the sink, a funny, strangled smile on her mouth. “I turned it into a pillow.”

He froze. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Put it over a throw and tied the edges. I had it on my bed all the way through college.”

“Where is it now?”

She shrugged. After a long moment, she chuckled. “Would you judge me if I said I still had it?”

“No.” It wasn’t like him to stop, but he’d stopped, knife poised, a head of garlic ready for mincing and hands still. What did that mean? Savage pleasure surged in his stomach and he couldn’t place why. He’d always been protective of her. Right? Was that it? Just some misplaced neurons firing? “Not really, Kitten, no. I’m alright with that.” A beat. “It probably doesn’t fit me anymore anyway, you know? Might as well stay a pillow.”

Still she didn't look his way. Instead, she grabbed her phone and flipped on Caramelldansen, and he roared with laughter. “Hell!” 

As a unit, they flung down their utensils and danced. Adult bodies were different, but the chemistry was the same. He abandoned his station and flung her into his arms, the water still rushing down the drain over the potatoes. She squealed. 

“Could you guys not run up my water bill?” Ieyasu reemerged over the counter, knocking the faucet down. “If you’re gonna be distracted—”

“Sorry!” Her smile was infectious. “Let me just get back to those.”

His body cooled so quickly when she parted. Ieyasu hovered a moment longer, his green eyes boring into Masamune’s good one. 

“What?” He asked, cracking half the cloves open with a practiced hand. Ieyasu shook his head. 

“Nothing.”

[hispeculiartreasure]

All We’ve Got is Time - Chapter Nine | B.B.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

AU: If They’d Survived/Post-War/Window Washer!Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen

Word count: 5,500

Chapter 9/24

Warnings: A bad word, a barely-violent bar skirmish

AN: Thank you for patiently awaiting this chapter! This posting schedule is much, much more suitable. You are all so lovely and supportive. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter! And send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged.

Fun fact, the Commando Cocktail was actually on the Stork Club’s drink menu in the late 1940s! It definitely had a more sensuous namesake but I just took an opportunity and ran with it 😉

Chapter Eight

‘All We’ve Got is Time’ Masterlist

First thing in the morning the bullpen is already abuzz with squeals and giggles. The typists of the office huddle around their sweet friend as she holds out her hand, the square cut diamond sparkling in the morning light.

“It’s beautiful, Dorothy. Congratulations,” you purr, squeezing her fingers after perusing the jewelry close-up. 

“I’m assuming he asked you in an insanely romantic way?” Millie sighs, chin perched in her hands.

“Yeah, tell us the story!” Frances giggles. 

Dorothy settles into her chair, eyes shining. As she begins her tale Suzy leans in to you and whispers, “We’re dropping like flies around here. Alice last week, Dorothy today. And they’re some of the youngest. If you come in next week with a ring I’ll toss you out a window.”

You hide a smile behind your hand. “Relax, Suze. It’s sweet.”

“So sweet my teeth are gonna rot,” she grumbles. 

“Cynicism is not a good look on you.”

Suzy huffs and turns a dazzling smile to Dorothy as the remaining girls continue to ask questions. The two of you take steps toward your desk and Suzy sighs deeply. “All of a sudden people are marrying like there’s no tomorrow. Five years ago if people were getting hitched after courting for six months your parents locked you in your room until the vapors wore off.”

“Are you jealous?”

The redhead scoffs. “No, but. . . the change has got me. . .” she twists to you, the cynic having been replaced by someone much more forlorn. “It’s got me feeling like I’m behind, ya know?”

“Aw, Suze.” You take her hand in yours. “I get it. The war changed a lot of things, a lot of people.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” A moment passes before she clears her throat and takes her hand back, smoothing her skirt before she motions to your desk. “You’ve been busting your tail this morning. Why’d you get here early?”

“I’ve got lunch plans. Wanted Flannery to know I wasn’t shirking my job by staying out long. Would you believe she was here when I came in at 7?”

“Lord, does that woman sleep?”

“Unclear.” You both turn to watch the back of Flannery’s head bent over her desk, firmly ignoring the fuss over the engagement ring.

“Well. Hope you have a good lunch.” With a wink and a bounce of curls Suzy is gone.

Your fingers fly over your typewriter as you eye the clock, praying your boss doesn’t approach your desk with a new task before lunchtime. With a record number of letters typed, addressed, and sealed up you leave your swivel-chair spinning when your break begins.

Wicker basket in hand you savor the sunshine on your skin as you walk a few blocks to the building Bucky’s team is currently working on. You round the structure, lifting a hand to shield your eyes against the high sun as you look for your boyfriend among the people hanging off of the skyscraper. It’s almost laughable how much he stands out from the other men in his crew.

Where most of the boys are thin and gangly, Bucky is lean and formidable. His work was neat and efficient, an obvious routine to his movements. While you did enjoy your view from several stories down. . . 

Bringing your fingers to your mouth you whistle shrilly, causing every head to swivel down to you. You can’t decipher many of Bucky’s features but you can tell he’s smiling the same dopey smile he’d had after you’d shared that first kiss a few weeks ago.

Around the grin he yells, “What’re you doing here, Sixth Floor?”

“Bringing you lunch, Sergeant! Unless you’d rather me go,” you shout back, tossing a thumb over your shoulder.

“I’ll be right down.” You watch as he slowly descends, breathing a sigh when his feet safely meet the ground.

“Hello, beautiful,” a kiss lands on your cheek while he dries his hands on a towel.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

You toss him one end of a thin blanket you’d packed. “I’m assuming you’re not too good for a picnic?”

He catches it with a hum and mirrors your unfolding, settling it to the ground beneath the shade of a tree in the courtyard. “I dunno. My delicate sensibilities may be set off-balance.”

“Are your delicate sensibilities offended by sandwiches and fruit?”

“I think they can be persuaded to cooperate, unless you forgot the coffee.”

“You think I’m stupid?” you say as you pull the thermos out of your basket.

Arranging your skirt to maintain modesty you take a seat on your blanket. Bucky sits near before reclining to rest his weight on his elbow, body turned toward you.

“Today been okay?” you ask as he takes the wrapped sandwich you offer.

“Just like any other day. It’s blazing hot up there; one of the guys almost had a heat stroke.”

“Goodness, I hope you’ve been drinking water.”

His eyes soften as he replies, “Yes ma’am. By the way, I have an appointment with a local job counselor next week.”

“Bucky, that’s fantastic!” you enthuse, grabbing his arm.

“Fingers crossed he can help me figure out how to head towards being a mechanic.”

“I sure hope so. I’m proud of you for reaching out to him. This is a great start.”

Before you can ask why he’s gazing at you adoringly he asks, “How’s work been?”

“Busy. Our business year is almost done so our mail has been stacking up. Plus I’m pretty certain Anderson’s mistress broke up with him: he’s been in an extra testy mood. Oh, and Dorothy got engaged last night.” 

“I thought that happened last week?”

“No, that was Alice.”

“Hard to keep it all straight,” Bucky mutters as he guzzles his cup of coffee.

You can’t help a giggle. “That’s exactly what Suzy said. Dorothy seems happy, though.” Bucky only hums in thought.

The next several minutes are quiet, spent enjoying each other’s presence as you people watch and eat.

“Dinner tomorrow?”

“Mhmm,” you hum affirmatively around a mouthful of grape.

You sense a hesitancy in Bucky as he stares at his cookie. After a big gulp he says, “Do ya wanna do drinks after with Steve and Peggy?”

Your stomach drops. “You want me to meet them?”

“I do.”

A million thoughts stampede through your brain in the span of three seconds. This is a big deal. They mean a lot to Bucky. These are his best friends. What if they hate me. What if I’m not good enough, what if one word from them means Bucky never speaks to me again? What if-

“Only say yes if you want to, I don’t wanna pressure you-”

“No no no no,” you blurt, shaking your head. “I want to. It’s just. . .”

“Just what?” Words leave you, an empty silence hanging in their place. “Tell me,” Bucky nudges, hand tangling with yours.

“It’s an intimidating prospect.”

“Because of what they do? Really, they aren’t that big of a deal, just have jobs that-”

“Not intimidating because of who they are. But who they are to you, Bucky.” His eyebrows furrow, so you continue. “Steve has been your lifelong best friend and you’ve been to war and back with Peggy, literally. I’m honored that you want them to meet me but at the same time. . .”

“Wait -” he leans back. “Do you think they aren’t going to like you?”

“There’s always a chance-”

Bucky had the nerve to laugh - not a laugh of derision, but genuine disbelief. “Not a chance in the world. Steve knows you’re special. He knows me better than I know myself, he’s seen how I’ve been since you. And Peggy. . . she may be a harder sell. But that’s got nothing to do with you. It’ll go fine. Okay?” And with his fingers running up and down your arm, who are you to question him?

“Okay.” You shove half a cookie in your mouth to stave off the urgent impulse to run away.

------

“They’re late because they already hate me right?”

Bucky scoffs, leaning his elbows onto the table in the back of the club. “How can they hate you when they don’t even know you? I already told you, Steve called before I left to pick you up. Something popped up at work and a meeting was going to run long. They should be done right about-” he checks his watch, “-now. They’ll be here soon. But to me it sounds like you’re complaining about getting extra time with me.”

You shove at his arm and grumble, “Oh shush.” All he does is chuckle. The band playing loudly from the corner does little to calm your nerves. Every few minutes you pat down your hair for flyways and make sure your dress isn’t wrinkled. You twirl the ring on your right hand over and over before Bucky’s hand stops your fidgeting with a gentle touch.

“You okay? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Just because I may always seem confident doesn’t mean I am. Few people get to see me with the jitters.” You slant your eyes to his. “Consider it an honor of yours.”

He opens his mouth to presumably soothe you before something over your shoulder catches his attention. “There he is.” You turn as Bucky stands to greet Captain Steven Rogers and suddenly you understand why Connie is such a fan.

You’d seen the posters and pictures of him in uniform but seeing him sport a suit and tie was another ball game. Somehow his golden hair shines bright under the dull lighting which also cast a beautiful shadow across his broad shoulders. He seems impossibly taller with every purposeful step to your table, jaw set in a firm line. 

But then the biggest smile washes across his face as he steps into Bucky for a hug. As men do, they pat each other on the back and part - suddenly Steve’s attention is all on you. Blue eyes so similar to Bucky’s grow warm.

“It is so nice to finally meet you,” he offers his hand. “You’re all he’s been talking about.”

You laugh and grasp his hand, introducing yourself. You glance to Bucky, worrying he’d be bothered by the admission of him discussing you. He’s remarkably at ease, shoulders dropped, face relaxed.

“Where’s Peggy?” Bucky asks.

Steve gestures dramatically as the three of you take your seats. “She was pulled aside for a private meeting on our way out the door. But she shouldn’t be too long.”

“Never thought you’d be the one in a relationship with work-life balance,” Bucky jabs.

“And you never miss an opportunity to badger me about my work.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you two are quite the pair,” you look between the two men.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh, we’ve got some stories.” As he dives into a story involving a rock mysteriously hurtling through the window of the Barnes’ family home you can’t help but be a bit shocked.

His presence commands attention but his demeanor is overtly disarming, daresay gentle. With a boy-ish charm he animatedly tells the story, strongly disagreeing with Bucky’s adjustment of details. You were expecting a hardened war hero, rough and tumble with scars to show for it. This extremely young man was the last thing you were expecting to walk through the door. You feel a peace settle over you as the men tell their childhood story in tandem.

Bucky gives you a moment of eye contact and his lips twitch to a smile. Not so bad right?

The delightful verbal sparring is interrupted by three giggling women - well, girls. They bounce up to the table, looking barely old enough to be allowed into the bar. Gushing about Captain America this, Howling Commandos that, they talk over each other getting louder by the moment. Steve smiles tight and you take note of how much his posture has shifted. Shoulders squared back, adjusting his tie every few moments. Several autographs later the women are finally guided back to their table by a helpful waitress.

Viscerally experiencing a shift between Captain Rogers to Steve to Captain America had you reeling. Seems the duty of being America’s Golden Boy came with some steep costs. Minutes later the same waitress reappears, apologetically placing a drink to your table.

“A Commando cocktail for you sir, from the same three ladies.” Steve sighs and pushes the drink to the middle of the table, decidedly ignoring the eager glances of the gaggle of girls across the room. “May I refresh anyone’s beverage?”

“I’ll have a Sidecar and she,” Steve points to the empty seat next to him, “will have a whiskey, neat.”

“Make that two,” Bucky adds. 

You indicate that you’re still working on your first before eyeing the gifted drink between you. “The Commando cocktail. . . did your special ops team have a drink named in your honor?” you ask, perplexed.

Bucky moves his head from side to side. “Could be us. Could have a different meaning. I hope to God it’s not us, you’d think someone would have the decency not to mix bourbon and absinthe in our honor.”

Steve changes the subject to avoid any more embarrassment on his part. “I hear you’re a mechanic,” he leans in with interest.

“Was,” you correct. “Now I’m just a secretary.”

“A typist,” Bucky corrects you in turn. “And I’d say your skills are still pretty up-to-date.”

“Updated enough to do a house call? My Harley’s been making a funny noise, maybe you’d be able to fix it,” Steve says with a chuckle.

“I’d love to take a look at it. Is it high-pitched or low? The vibrations in motorcycles tend to knock the batteries dead fast.”

Steve does his best to smother how impressed he is behind his drink. 

“Don’t know what good fixing it will do ya Steve, you’re just going to end up throwing it at something again,” Bucky scolds as he takes his own sip.

“Doing. . . throwing. . . what?” You ask.

Steve blushes, moving to answer when Bucky interrupts him. “This guy has thrown more bikes at enemies than days I spent as a POW. Just ‘cause you’re strong enough to toss ‘em doesn’t mean you should, pal.”

A clipped British accent floats over your table. “Don’t tell me you two are at it again over those motorbikes.”

You turn toward the voice and realize you had not known the definition of intimidation until you’d seen Peggy Carter. She almost perfectly matches Steve’s earlier confident stride except for the click of her heels. After a full day of work her makeup was flawless, accompanied by chestnut hair curled to perfection. High-waisted trousers followed a perfect line to her feet - paired with her simple white blouse and she was one of the most stunning women you’d ever laid eyes on.

The three of you stand as she arrives at the table. “Bucky, always lovely to see you,” she gives him a brief hug before turning on her heel to face you. There’s a sharpness to her gaze as she quickly looks you up and down. “Peggy Carter, pleased to finally meet you.” The handshake you share is firm, inspecting. Just like that, every defense you’d relaxed with Steve was right back in place.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Peggy.” She nods once and narrows her eyes slightly before turning to Steve.

“Hello, darling,” she hums to him with a subtle touch to his arm.

“Did your meeting go okay? Looked intense,” Steve pulls Peggy’s chair out for her before she sits and Bucky does the same for you.

“Bureaucratic nonsense, I’m afraid. I’ll fill you in later,” brown eyes cut to you and Bucky before giving a miniscule shake of her head. “Now what were we discussing?”

“We were talking about the ace mechanic at the table.” Was that a hint of a brag you heard in Bucky’s voice? 

“Ah, yes. I heard of your time working in the factory. Do tell us more,” Peggy says breezily before sipping her whiskey.

You share the same story you’d shared with Bucky on your first date - though slightly less eloquently. While Steve reacts encouragingly and asks questions, Peggy sits in relative silence. Every time you turn her way, she’s watching you. Anyone passing by the table would just see someone listening; you could see the analysis rolling through her mind.

Once the conversation shifts you feel a warm hand gently resting on your knee for the briefest of moments. A sweet, It’s okay gesture from Bucky while he reminisced of their days overseas. Mere weeks into this and he could already read you like a book. Then again, reading each other was what started this whole thing, wasn’t it?

“. . . don’t you think?”

The awkward silence prompts you to shake out of your thoughts and glance around the table, everyone looking at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry, say again?”

Peggy drains her glass before setting her steeled gaze on you. “I was just observing that working with some men can tend to be draining. Have you shared that experience?”

You nod, choosing your words carefully - just as carefully as the question had been posed.

“I believe some men have difficulty accepting that a woman might be more knowledgeable in their field, due to their own presuppositions. I had hoped the way women stepped up to work during the war would have been celebrated but it only seems to have threatened the men that came back. I do hope that changes over time.”

She hums and adds a small, “Indeed” while Steve gives a sympathetic smile. “And how did you come to find out about Bucky’s war record?” The suspicion in her voice is minute, but still detectable.

“He had mentioned serving in Europe on our first date, so I knew he was a veteran. I didn’t find out about the. . . special operations until about a week later. One of my coworkers put two and two together when Bucky visited work one day and spilled the beans.”

Bucky grins in Steve’s direction. “She’s a big fan of yours, Stevie. Practically said she’d marry you on the spot.” Once again, Steve’s cheek dust pink. 

“For which I apologized to Bucky for. It was mortifying. And unfair to have that reveal sprung on Bucky with no warning.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bucky insists, hand finding yours under the table.

Abruptly Peggy stands, prompting the two boys to jump to their feet. “I’m going to powder my nose. Would you like to join me?” she directs your way.

“Umm. . .” Bucky catches the hint of panic in your eye and tilts his head. What’s the worst she can do? “Sure. Could use some freshening up myself.”

“Lovely. Excuse us, boys.” Peggy leads the way through the clusters of people, past the bar to the restroom. The door clicks behind you and you’re afraid Peggy will be able to hear how fast your heart is beating. She rummages through her handbag for a moment before settling herself in front of the mirror. You take a position to her right, utilizing the other half of the mirror. 

Uncapping a tube of lipstick Peggy expertly applies a fresh coat to her already rose-petal-red lips. Even the way she applied makeup was daunting. And you can’t shake the feeling that she’s waiting for you to speak first.

 You clear your throat as you brush your fingers through your hair. “Thank you for taking the time to meet us tonight. I know how important you and Steve are to Bucky.”

“Hmm, yes, it’s our pleasure. They are very important to me as well. Both of them.”

Oh boy.

“The three of us have been through a war together, after all. You don’t come out of that without feeling a certain level of loyalty. I believe Steve and I share a concern for Bucky’s wellbeing.”

“Have I done something to make you particularly suspicious of me?”

As she turns to you, her softened features take you by surprise. “Whether he admits it or not, Bucky is an attractive, semi-notable public figure who happens to be attached to an extremely public figure. I wouldn’t put it past a woman to use Bucky to try to get close to Steve. Girls have tried before.” She checks one pin behind her ear before stepping to the door again.

You blink several times before responding. “And you think I’m one of those girls?”

“Not anymore.” She takes a few steps back to you. “My main concern for him now is the fact that he’s. . . in a vulnerable place. The war left many soldiers trying to find their footing. I want to make sure he doesn’t get tipped over in the process. I’d hate for him to feel any unnecessary pain if I could have headed it off from the start.”

“I. . . I do care for him, Peggy.” You face your reflection again, hands resting on the sink. “I had absolutely no intention of becoming romantically involved with someone. And then he was so kind to me in an environment where men have been. . . less than kind. Everything I learn about him draws me in closer. The last thing I want to do is be a source of pain or volatility.”

With a shaky breath you search for eye contact again, finding a new warmth emanating from hers.

“Well, I suppose we can work with that,” she offers as she opens the door. The tense air shifts and you give a small smile as you pass through the door and begin to follow her back to the table.

You are just stepping around the bar when a feminine “That’s okay, really. . .” catches your attention. Following the voice, your attention is drawn to a young couple standing by the bartop. Although every moment they were starting to look less like a couple and more like a man with wandering hands. The girl tries to step back which only results in his meaty hand fisting into the side of her dress and pulling her chest to his. Based on her expression what the man had to say was less than proper. She struggles to step out of his grip which only seems to tighten the more she wiggles.

You’ve had enough of that. 

You detour from the route you and Peggy had set toward the table. Peggy picks up on your absence and turns to watch you curiously.

“Excuse me,” you state more than ask. One pair of panicked eyes and another pair of glazed-over ones come to rest on your face. “Is everything alright here?”

“Ev’things swell, sweet dish. We’s just having a lil talk.” 

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“Is that true, Miss?”

“Um, I- I’m-” she attempts to squeak out before the man bellows again.

“Was my word not good enough for you? You tryin’ ta grandstand your feminine chops for some cool cat?”

“I was speaking to Miss-” you turn expectantly towards the girl who’s looking younger by the minute.

“Cartwright. Helen,” she whispers.

“I was speaking to Miss Cartwright so if you’d please take a step back, sir.”

“I don’t gotta do nothin’ you tell me to.” You pull Helen behind you which only makes the man more belligerent. He starts yelling less-than-appropriate words and soon his anger rounds on you. 

Drawing up to your full height you stare the man dead in the eye. “Is this the way you treat all women? Or just the ones smaller than you?”

A giant hand wraps itself around your forearm, jerking you towards him. “Now listen here bitch, I-” Before he can finish his drunken thought, perfectly manicured fingers clutch his wrist. He’s violently pulled away from you, arm pinned behind his back - his face making intimate contact with the bartop. 

“Now now,” Peggy coos. “That’s no way to treat friends of mine. Seems like you need a moment to cool down.” The brute strains against Peggy’s grip, a foot kicking back every so often. You land a spiked heel directly to the top of one of his feet, digging in for good measure when his howl of pain can be heard over the tune of the band. “Thank you for that, dear,” Peggy says, clearly enjoying the situation. A scuffle is heard behind you but you’re too focused on making sure the boar doesn’t hurt Peggy to pay it much mind.

“Looks like you two have things handled, but could I be of assistance?” Steve strides next to you, honeyed voice contrasting sharply with his stern gaze.

Peggy blows a puff of air at a curl that had fallen in front of her eyes. “Would you mind escorting this gentleman to the curb? I believe fresh air is in order.” 

“My pleasure.” With the back of his collar fisted in Steve’s hand the bully has no choice but to have his face unceremoniously unstuck from the bar and pushed toward a back entrance. Peggy follows closely, speaking in the man’s ear the whole way out, waving off a pair of security guards. 

You can feel Bucky’s presence but turn your attention to the now-shaking young woman, bringing your hands up to her arms. “Helen, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She shakes her head. Tears hang stubbornly in her eyes, fighting not to show how shaken she really was over the ordeal. 

“I’m sorry he put his hands on you. Do you have anyone you can call?” She nods, reaching for the purse hanging off of her wrist. “That’s great.” Your eyes drift to Helen’s waist. “Oh dear. Looks like you didn’t make it completely unscathed.” 

Helen’s gaze follows yours before she lets out a dismayed sigh. “I just picked this dress up from the cleaner’s yesterday.” She fingers the ripped fabric of her dress. Now tears are flowing freely.

“It’s only ripped on the seam, that can be fixed in a jiffy.” You look over your shoulder at Bucky and ask him to retrieve your light coat from the table. He’s gone and back in a flash and you drape it over Helen’s shoulders. “Take this to cover up on your way home. Let me find a pen and paper and I can write down the information for my favorite seamstress in the city. Her prices are fair and her work is solid.” A scrap of paper and a pencil are produced from your purse and you add your information at the bottom. “In case you need anything else while you’re in the city,” you explain as you hand the note over.

“How can I get your coat back to you?” Helen asks as she buttons it closed.

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss. “It’s almost summer and I was due for a new jacket anyway. Just stay safe, okay?” You wipe a few leftover tears from her face and nod in encouragement as she heads to the phone booth by the entrance.

“Are you alright?” Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of Bucky’s close proximity, his hand gently raising up your forearm toward a lamp on the bar.

“Um, I think so. He grabbed me pretty good but it shouldn’t be too bad.” You rub the area the drunk had gripped and hiss softly at the tenderness of your skin. “It’ll heal.”

“I guess I don’t need to tell you that was incredibly stupid?” Bucky attempts to sound nonchalant but the slight edge to his voice gives him away.

“Probably not. But it’s better this than something even worse happening to Helen because I ignored it.”

“My God, there’s another one of him.” You both face a newly arrived Peggy who is taming her curls, Steve not too far behind.

Bucky grumbles, “Evidently.”

“That took an exciting turn. What say we cut a rug to forget that jerk?” Steve steps to your side. “May I have the honor, ma’am?” He asks, offering a hand to you.

“Me? Oh, sure.” You settle your hand in his lightly, looking to Bucky for his confirmation. He quirks his mouth to one side, nods subtly. He’s harmless.

As Steve gives you a simple twirl onto the dance floor you notice Peggy in Bucky’s arms a few couples away and you can’t help but wonder what they’re discussing. As you and Steve move around the room Peggy speaks steadily, Bucky hanging onto every word.

“You alright?” Steve’s deep voice snaps your attention back to him. He’s watching you empathetically.

“Just been a bit of a rockier night than I expected,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle. You catch yourself relaxing in Steve’s arms - not the way you did in Bucky’s, obviously. But there was still a soothing sense of security coming off of Steve in waves. “I pictured this going much differently.”

He breathes a laugh as he spins you out and brings you back in. “It’s going about as I expected, except I wasn’t the one causing trouble tonight. Thanks for that.”

A genuine smile breaks your sobriety. “Just hope it didn’t ruin yours and Peggy’s opinions of me.”

“Hardly!” he says with glee. “I already knew I would like you and the bit at the bar probably sealed the deal for Peg.”

“Really? Because I got the feeling she isn’t my biggest fan.”

“Ah, she’s just protective and tough. The first time she got really angry with me she grabbed the nearest pistol and fired four shots at me.” Steve laughs at how comically wide your eyes grow. “I deserved it. But there’s a lot of love and care beneath the cool gazes and harsh tone.” He catches your eye and clears his throat. “Although I’m not the one who told you that,” he whispers conspiratorially.

A grin overtakes your face. “Thanks for that. Makes me feel a little better.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s driving you crazy not being able to hear what they’re talking about right now, huh?”

You sigh, the pair of you circling around where Bucky and Peggy are in both your sights. “You’re not wrong.”

“Did Bucky ever tell you the specific effects the serum had on me?”

“Made you super strong, super fast? That’s the gist of what I got.”

“To accompany that, all my senses are heightened. I can smell my favorite bakery across the city, can read signs a mile or two away. And,” he looks down at you mischievously, “I can hear just about every conversation in this room.” 

“You can? That has to be insanely overwhelming.”

“It was for the first few months. Then I learned how to tune certain things in and out. You wanna eavesdrop with me?”

You shake your head, “Oh, I don’t-umm, I’d hate to pry.”

“You don’t have to. I’m going to.” Oh, you really like Steve.

Steve turns you so he has a clear view of his best friends and seems to focus intently beyond your shoulder.

“Peggy said something about being careful how quickly he moves forward with you. Bucky just asked Peggy why she was trying to scare you away earlier. She says she was testing your resolve, which stood up better than she expected,” he spares a glance to you, “Bravo to you on that. Peggy says she admired your action with the young woman at the bar. Bucky’s not surprised that you stepped in when there was trouble . . and now they’re just talking shit about me, which is their usual topic of discussion. Did that help?”

“It did. Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime.”

Quiet follows for a few bars of the song, your brain mulling over the whole night.

After another turn Steve asks, “You haven’t met the family yet, right?”

“Right. Bucky’s dodged the subject more than once. I haven’t pushed it.”

Steve grimaces. “I can’t really blame him. I love the Barneses like they’re my own, but they can be overwhelming sometimes.”

“So I’ve gathered. Honestly, all I know is that he has three sisters and that was only shared in a few asides.”

“Three sisters, all younger. Becca, Rose, and Evelyn. He’s close to his Ma and Becca. Him and Rose don’t have many issues, mostly because they never spent a lot of time together. Things with Evelyn are strained because she’s turning into an adult and Bucky is having a hard time letting her. And his father. . .” Steve weighs his words. “His father is old-fashioned and always will be. They don’t get along.”

“Sounds like that’ll be a fun meeting.”

“When the time comes, you’ll do great.” Steve was so earnest in his reassurance you couldn’t help but believe him.

“May I cut in?” you turn to Bucky’s voice, glad to see him smiling.

“Only if you trade for this gorgeous partner of yours,” Steve teases, mocking a bow to Peggy.

“Oh sod off,” she scolds as Steve pulls her close while the band begins playing a new song.

You nestle into Bucky’s side with a hand tucked in his, relishing in the ease of a moment alone together.

“You good?” Bucky whispers when the song has almost come to an end.

Pulling back, you match his amorous gaze. “Yeah. I’m good.” A soft kiss meets your temple and you practically melt further into Bucky.

“Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Thanks for asking me.”

“Try not to be too much trouble next time, huh?”

“No promises, Barnes.”

Chapter Ten

Tags:

@moderapoppins @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lucyyannabel@crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @thinkwritexpress-official @fearless2tobeme @laneygthememequeen @past-perfect-future-tense @drhughgrection @promarvelfangirl @connorshero @anditwasjustus @p3nny4urth0ught5 @usernamemingmei @the-canary @thorfanficwriter @blueskiesbleakeyes @silverwing2522 @satansmushroom @nerd-without-a-cause @barnesrogersvstheworld @firewolf-marvels @reginaphlanageadams @kiliakit @forsaken-letters @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @part-time-patronus @biavastarr @ellaenchanted91 @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @handfulof-roses @bloatedandlonly @barnestruck @itsbuckysworld @captainsbuck @writemarvelousthings @marvelous-avengers @havanaangel @animeflower26 @igotkatiepowers @clockworkherondale @buckybarneshairpullingkink @abovethesmokestacks @lucyyannabel @ursulaismymiddlename @hiddles-rose @thisismysecrethappyplace @palaiasaurus64 @fanfic-diaries @fangirlfictionmain @creideamhgradochas @mcueveryday @cassianpeia

[prettyboyswow]

Attention

Request: Thomas Shelby Imagine? Maybe the Reader and him are married and something causes tommy to get jealous? Love your work!!

Author’s Note: Hi. Hello. It’s been a while! Sooooo, my life has been crazy lately, and I haven’t had time to write. BUT, I pushed through and I wrote this in a sleepy haze (so pls forgive me if it sucks lol)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: like one/two curse words, jealous!Tommy

You had never been more infuriated with Tommy before. Sure, he had done some terrible things. Things that any sane person would never forgive. But, this was just ridiculous.

It had all started about a month ago as you and Tommy readied yourselves for bed.

 “So, I’ve been thinking of getting a job” your words came out slowly and carefully as you took the pins that held your hair in place out, letting your hair fall over your shoulders.

Tommy’s movements stopped and he turned to face your reflection in the mirror. “And who would look after, Charlie,” his eyebrows rose in questioning and he tossed his suit jacket over the back of the chair sat in the corner. You rolled your eyes and let a small sigh pass your lips.

”Isn’t that why you’ve hired all of the staff?”

Now it was time for Tommy to roll his eyes. “No, not specifically,” he mumbled dryly as he changed into his sleepwear. 

“Well, we will hire someone to watch Charlie while we’re at work. I have an interview on Friday,” you pulled your red, silk robe from your body and hung it in the wardrobe.

“Friday,” Tommy’s hands came to rest on his hips. His brow was furrowed and his lips were puckered. “You’ve got yourself an interview for a fuckin’ job, and you didn’t think to talk to me about it first?”

“I didn’t think it needed to be talked about. We have enough money to get childcare for Charlie. And, honestly, Thomas, I need something for myself,” at this, Tommy’s eyebrows rose, making his forehead creased. “I love Charlie, but I feel like my entire life revolves around this house. I’m either taking care of Charlie, or you, or your brothers. I need something that is mine.”

With that, you pushed yourself under the covers and closed your eyes. Tommy was very persuasive, and he knew it. You were not going to let him talk you out of this, You’re mind was already made up.

Your body jerked at the sound of Tommy slamming the bedroom door. You rolled onto your stomach and groaned into the pillow. You knew he’d react like this, but it still frustrated you. He’d come around eventually.

The interview at the small office job went well. You were immediately hired as a receptionist and you loved every minute of it. While many women found the work tedious and boring, you couldn’t help the smile on your face as you walked into work each morning.  

The women you worked with didn’t seem to care much for you. They had all been working together for a few years, and you were new. But, Nick, your boss, was wonderful. He treated you like you were an old friend and you were grateful for it. You needed someone on your side.

Since you had taken the job, you had barely spent time with Tommy.  He was still angry with you for not speaking to him about your plans. You had apologized and tried to explain yourself countless times, but he wasn’t having it. 

So, most nights you spent alone while Tommy was in his study.  And, when he did finally come to bed, he stayed on his side. You hated fighting with him, but you weren’t going to quit your job because Tommy was being a child.

With Tommy being so cold, it was easy for you to take on more jobs at the office. You had always been a hard worker. When Nick asked you to take on some extra projects or stay late to help him finish paperwork, you happily agreed.

“How are you so good with numbers, (Y/N),” Nick let out a small chuckle as he leaned back in his chair. “I swear, without you, there’s no way I’d be able to get all of this done.”

You grinned and shrugged your shoulders. You loved being recognized for your hard work, and you hoped Nick would put you up for a promotion.

“Dunno. Just always been good with them,” you finished your calculations, penning in the last few numbers on the paper before putting the pen down. “All done, boss.”

You both let out a laugh and Nick shook his head. “Great! Now, go home, get some rest. I will see you Monday.”

He stood and put his coat on, giving you a friendly hug before exiting the quaint office.

You followed suit, putting your coat and hat on. The Birmingham weather was unforgiving this time of year, and you were thankful Thomas had bought you a car so you didn’t have to walk.

Your ride home seemed to take forever. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold, or the tiredness you felt taking over you. You couldn’t wait to crawl into your warm, oversized bed.

That wish was crushed the moment you walked through the door.

“Where the fuck have you been,” Tommy’s voice boomed, causing you to drop your purse by your feet.

“God, Thomas, you scared the hell out of me,” you leaned down to grab your purse and hang it on the hook, along with your coat and hat.

“It’s half past one in the morning,” his hair was disheveled and his eyes held a crazed expression. Something you’d never seen before.

“I told you I had to stay late tonight,” you moved to walk past him and up the stairs, but his large, calloused hands caught your elbow.

“Late is an hour or so. Not 1:30 in the morning,” he tilted his head to make eye contact with you. “Who were you with?”

You knew where this was going. “I was with my boss. We were finishing up some work.”

His grip on you tightened then was gone completely. His hands ran through his hair and tugged as he took a step back. “I knew you’d cheat on me when you got a job. I’ve had the boys check up on your little boyfriend. He’s married, you know.”

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand came up to slap Tommy’s cheek. “You’re disgusting, Thomas.”

Standing there in shock, Tommy reached up to rub his reddening cheek. “What? Didn’t think you’d get caught?”

Your eyes welled up with tears and you sucked in a deep breath. “For you to even think that I’d cheat on you, makes me sick.”

“Imagine how I feel, darling,” he finally turned to look at you with a cold glare and you wanted to slap him again.

“You know, Tom, I have forgiven you for so much. I have been there for you through your worst moments,” you took a deep breath and tried your best to blink back tears.

“If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t cheat on you. I would leave you.”

His eyes softened some and he took a step back to fall into one of the red, cushioned chairs. The fire that crackled in the fireplace illuminated his face, and his cheekbones were even more prominent than usual.

“Why haven’t you then,” he blinked slowly and lent his head against the back of the chair. “You’ve got yourself a job now. You’re making your own money. You could leave whenever you wanted.”

You could feel an imaginary crack split your heart in two. This beautiful, broken man in front of you just needed a little attention. You moved towards the chair he was sprawled out in and stood in between his legs. You reached down to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone softly.

“Because, Tommy, despite everything, I’m absolutely in love with you.”

His pink, plump lips twitched upwards slightly. He reached up and put his hands on your hips, rubbing tiny circles into the fabric of your dress.

“You’ve been working late a lot,” his words were quiet and his eyes looked everywhere but your own. “I thought maybe you’d found someone else.”

You used your hand that cupped his cheek to turn his face to look at you. You bent down so that you kneeled on the floor between his legs. “I’ve been working late because I love my job. You should know by now that no one could ever replace you, Tom.”

You leaned forward, bringing your other hand up to rest on his knee. Your lips were almost brushing his own as you spoke, “No one even comes close. You’re my one and only.”

Note: THIS IS SO BAD I’M SORRY !!!!! I really tried hard to make this decent, but I’m so tired lol. Please forgive me, next fic will be better! & like always I love to hear (constructive and/or positive) feedback so don’t be shy :)

[a-splash-of-stucky]

you look so perfect standing there

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes [Not reader-insert]

Summary: When Bucky steps in a Natasha’s model at a shoot, he does not expect the photographer to be this hot.

Warnings: Bucky in lingerie, Bucky thinking very dirty thoughts about Steve, awkward flirting. No smut, but a lot of smutty thoughts. Language. 

Notes: Written for @wehaveabucky’s writing challenge, using the prompt: Photoshoot.

The author of this fic has a gratuitous kink for Bucky in skimpy underwear. I regret nothing. Also, if you ever want to give me a present, I will never turn down fics/artwork involving Bucky in lingerie. Visual inspiration for look [1] [2] and [3]

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky flops onto his couch with a tired sigh, grateful to be off his feet after spending an entire day chasing after a bunch of hyperexcited pre-schoolers. He loves his job, loves the kids in his class but man -- school trips are the worst. Of course, it’s just his luck that this week he’s had to go on three of them.

Thank fuck for child-free weekends.

Bucky hooks his toes under the lip of his coffee table and drags it over. Of course, he could sit up and reach over for the box of pizza, but that requires too much effort. His phone starts ringing just as he’s about to dig in. Cursing under his breath, Bucky wrestles it out of his back pocket and presses the answer button.

“’lo?”

“Barnes,” comes a crisp voice.

“Romanov,” Bucky replies, as he flips open the pizza box and grabs a slice.

“You’re free this weekend, yes?” she asks.

Bucky freezes, hand poised in mid-air. “Uh…I did have plans,” he says slowly.

Natasha snorts. “Really?” she drawls. Bucky can imagine her pursing her lips.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, as he stuffs half the slice into his mouth. “M’gonna sleep in, sit on the couch all day, marathon Parks and Rec, eat a shit ton of junk—,”

“Great, you’re gonna be my model,” she announces.

Bucky splutters in surprise. “I’m gonna what now?”

“A model, Barnes. Y’know—,”

“Yes, I know what a model is, Nat,” he snaps, “But why me?”

“Eh, you’ve got a decent ass,” she replies.

Bucky snorts indignantly. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that my ass is – wait, did you just compliment me? You think my ass looks nice?”

“I said it looks decent,” Nat says, enunciating clearly. “And stop fishing for compliments. Look, you know that I’ve got a new line of lingerie coming out for the store, right? My model cancelled on me last minute, and I needed someone on short notice.”

“I’m flattered to be your plan B,” Bucky says dryly.

“Actually, you’re more like plan E.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky grumbles.

Nat huffs. “So. You in? This Sunday, for a couple of hours.”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Nat. I’m a teacher, I can’t—,”

“It’ll be completely anonymous,” she assures him. “Body shots only, your face won’t be included. And it’s not like you have any identifying marks on your body, so…”

As her voice trails off, Bucky heaves a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine, but you’re buying me pizza after.”

“Deal. I’ll send you the address in a bit.”

----------

When Sunday rolls around, Bucky is most definitely not nervous. Of course not. That funny feeling in his stomach is just…indigestion. Possibly excitement. No nerves whatsoever.

Maybe he’s a little nervous.

He shows up to the location about ten minutes before he’s expected to be there. Nat’s directions have brought Bucky to an empty loft space in downtown. Bucky can understand why Nat’s chosen to have the shoot here; the exposed brick walls, wooden floors and overall industrial vibe is exactly the kind of aesthetic she tends to go for.

The loft is bustling with activity when Bucky arrives. People are dragging around lights, backdrops and various pieces of furniture. Bucky cranes his head around, looking for Nat. He startles when someone taps him on the shoulder.

When he turns around, his nearly gasps in surprise. His brain descends into chaos as his eyes are confronted the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen; blonde, with bright blue eyes and a disarming smile that Bucky wants to kiss right off his lips. Blondie is built as fuck, his broad shoulders and chest tapering into a ridiculously small waist. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his muscular thighs and a light blue t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin.

“Hi,” Blondie says, “You’re James, right?”

Oh. Oh, dear God, he’s talking to you – answer him you idiot, ANSWER HIM!

Why does his inner voice sound a lot like Rebecca?

“Uhh,” Bucky says. He mentally face-palms himself and tries not to outwardly grimace.  

Nice going, Barnes.

Blondie quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Y-yeah, I’m James,” Bucky says, wincing internally at his stutter. “But, uh—just call me Bucky. Only my ma’s allowed to call me James.”

“Bucky, huh?” Blondie says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Bucky echoes distractedly, too busy watching the mesmerising movements of Steve’s lips. He really, really wants to kiss them. “Yeah, yeah, it’s uh…nice to meet you too.”

Get it together, Barnes, where’s your game at?

If Steve’s amused by Bucky’s bumbling pleasantries, he doesn’t let it show in his expression. “So, I’m gonna be your photographer for today,” Steve says casually.  

Fucking hell, Bucky is not gonna survive this day.

“Oh,” Bucky squeaks, “That’s great. That’s cool, yeah. Yeah, really excited to work with you, Steve, Nat’s told me about you.”

Steve laughs softly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “What’d she say about me?”

Hngh, how can this man simultaneously be the hottest and also the most adorable thing on this planet? It’s not fucking fair.

Bucky grins. At least, he thinks he’s grinning.

“Only the good stuff,” he replies, “She told me that you’re the only person she’d trust to run this shoot.”

Steve shakes his head like he can’t believe Natasha said that about him. To be fair, that woman does not give out compliments easily. He clears his throat and meets Bucky’s eyes once again. “Okay, well—um, we’ve got a pretty packed schedule today, so if you wanna head to hair and makeup and get changed and whatever…I’ll just…I need to finish setting up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “Yeah, see you in a bit, Steve.”

Steve flashes him another one of easy smiles and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before he walks off. The lingering warmth of his hand sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. As Steve walks away, Bucky takes the opportunity to ogle his ass – those jeans are doing wonders for him. And that shirt? Hello sexy shoulder muscles.

Bucky heaves a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

He is so, so fucked for this shoot.

----------

“Oh, hey Wanda!” Bucky calls, as he walks into the dressing area. “You’re here to make me look good, I take it?”

“Yup,” she says, “Drop your bag anywhere, then come sit by the vanity. You need all the help you can get, so we’d best get started.”

“Har-har, Wan,” Bucky drawls. He drops the gym bag holding his change of clothes beside the vanity, then plops down in the foldable chair that Wanda pointed to. The surface of the table is littered with an assortment of beauty utensils, and the mirror has huge bulbs built into the frame.

“You look a little nervous,” Wanda comments, as she clips his bangs out of the way and starts to smooth some sweet-smelling cream all over his face. “Why’re you nervous? I know for a fact that this isn’t your first shoot.”

She’s right. Back when Natasha was in fashion school and just launching her online boutique, Bucky had often been the person to model her garments. He’d also done a few other modelling gigs back when he was a broke-ass college student, for some quick cash. He and Wanda had met on one of those gigs; when Bucky introduced her to Natasha, the two of them had hit it off, and now they’re something of a team.  

So yeah, Wanda is correct; this is not Bucky’s first photoshoot.

“’S my first one in lingerie, though,” Bucky mutters. He closes his eyes as Wanda starts to buff some foundation onto his face.

Wanda snorts. “Buck, you’ve done underwear modelling before, right? How’s this any different?”

Bucky shrugs. “Dunno,” he replies, even though he does. This photoshoot is different because the photographer is the most beautiful man that Bucky’s ever seen and Bucky desperately wants to bone him. Or be boned by him, whatever, Bucky’s not picky.

As Wanda picks up her powder, Bucky frowns in confusion, a lightbulb going off in his head.

“Wanda, why the hell’re you puttin’ makeup on me for?” he asks, “Nat said my face wasn’t even gonna be in the shot.”

Wanda pauses, her brush in mid-air. “Crap,” she mutters, “I forgot. It’s like a reflex, sorry. I’ll wipe it off—,”

“Wait!” Bucky blurts. She freezes in surprise.

If he’s going to have any chance at getting into Steve’s pants – or at least, at getting Steve to ask him out on a date so that he can eventually get into Steve’s pants – then he’s going to need every piece of help that he can get.  

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Bucky says, shooting her an easy smile. “I do. It helps me get in the right headspace.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking in surprise. “Oh, okay then, I’ll just…continue on.”

“Please do.”

“But seriously, relax, Bucky,” Wanda says, as she sweeps powder onto his face. “You got this.”

Bucky sighs. “M’ just a lil’ nervous, is all. Haven’t done this in a while, don’t go to the gym as often as I used to.”

“Bucky Barnes? Insecure in his own skin?” Wanda scoffs. “Puh-lease, now there’s a joke if I ever saw one.”

----------

Natasha drops by the hair and makeup area just as Wanda leaves in search of an extension cable.

“Romanov,” Bucky hisses.

She arches an eyebrow at his tone. “Yes, James?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he growls, careful to keep his voice down so as to not draw anyone’s attention.

“Tell you what?”

Bucky makes an exasperated noise and gestures towards Steve, who’s setting up some lights with the help of a couple of assistants. Natasha follows his gaze and, when she spots Steve, chuckles darkly.

“Oh, that you’d be parading around in lacy underwear in front of a blonde beefcake?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That.”

“Whoops, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she says innocently.

“Some friend you are,” Bucky grumbles.

She hums thoughtfully as her eyes drift back to Steve. “He’s bi, you know? And single, too.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky groans, his heart doing excited somersaults in his chest.

Nat snickers. “No, but that’s something you might wanna ask Steve about,” she teases.

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky snaps, turning away from her to hide his blush.

“Who knows, Barnes,” she sing-songs, “Something good could come out of this. Look, you’re gonna be parading in front of him in black lace, so make the most of it, is all I’m saying.”

Bucky snorts. “Would you kill me if I have a boner in like, half the pics?”

She turns on her heel and stalks off, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

----------

Once Wanda has finished his makeup and arranged his hair into a loose bun, she hands Bucky a pair of black lace panties, which, apparently, constitute his first ‘outfit’.

“Off you go,” she says, ushering him towards the corner of the dressing area, where a privacy screen has been set up. “There’s a mirror behind the screen and there should be a robe hanging off of it.”

Bucky dutifully trots off to get changed. He unzips his hoodie and slides his sweats and boxers down, leaving his clothes folded in a neat pile beside the mirror. The lace is surprisingly soft against his skin and the black compliments his skin tone nicely. He’d been worried that the lace would be too revealing, but actually, the pattern is busy enough to not leave him too indecently exposed. Bucky twists around to check the view from the back and gives himself a pat on the shoulder; his ass looks good.

When he looks at himself dead-on, though, he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Maybe he should’ve done some extra crunches when he went to the gym yesterday, or possibly even opted for something other than the greasy Chinese takeout he had last night. Either way, his abs are not as defined as they could be.

Is Steve the kinda guy that likes a toned man? Or, is he okay with a little bit of pudginess? Well, if Bucky’s going to be prancing around in his underwear in front of Steve, he’s going to damn well make sure that he looks smokin’ hot. That means pulling out all the stops.

“Hey Wanda?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you c’mere for a sec?”

“What’s up?” she asks, popping her head around the side of the screen. When she catches sight of him, she gives a low whistle. “Woah, Bucky, you look nice.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, flushing hot. “Um—d’you think you could…abs?” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the region of his body in question.

“Abs?” she echoes, confused. “What about ‘em?”

“Could you…make ‘em look more obvious?”

Wanda smirks knowingly. “You want me to contour your abs, Bucky?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighs. “Make me look like I go to the gym five times a week.”

“I mean, yeah, I can do that, but you look great, so I don’t really see the point. What brought this on?” Wanda asks, as she steps around the privacy screen. She pulls out a brush and some contour powder from the utility belt strapped around her waist.

“Nothin’, I just wanna look good,” Bucky says.

She cocks her head to the side. “Look good? But you—oh my god,” she gasps.

“What?”

A maniacal grin stretches her lips. “It’s because of Steve, isn’t it?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at her. “No, it’s not,” he says tersely.  

“It is, it totally is,” she giggles, “Oh, did you know that he’s—,”

“Bisexual and single, yeah, Nat’s already told me that.”

“More importantly, he’s your type,” she whispers contritely, nudging Bucky with her elbow.

“I don’t have a type,” Bucky retorts defensively, “I just go for the nice guys!”

“Uh-huh,” Wanda says, a dubious expression on her face. “The nice guys with blonde hair and thighs that were made for grinding on, am I right?

Bucky doesn’t dignify her with an answer.

(She’s totally right)

“Flex your muscles. Tense up,” she instructs.

Bucky does as he’s told. Wanda dusts contour powder over his body.

“What d’you think about body oil?” she asks, as she moves her brush to his iliac furrow, sculpting out those lines too.

“What do I think about body oil?”

She looks up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Imagine – glistening abs, glistening shoulders, looking like you’ve just had the best sex of your life—,”

“Sign me the fuck up.”

----------

After making himself look like a vision of sex, Bucky throws on a black silk robe and pads off in search of Steve. Bucky finds him standing beside a pile of white sheets that have been spread out on the floor. They’re piled on top of each other, creating sensual ripples in the fabric.

“Hey, Bucky!” Steve chirps, flashing another one of those killer smiles. “We’ve just finished setting up, you’re just on time.”

“This is the set?” Bucky asks, jerking his chin towards the unassuming mountain of white fabric.

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We couldn’t find a real bed on such short notice, so we kinda had to make do. The plan is for you to roll around in the sheets, with me standing above you, and then I’ll get a few shots. Sounds cool?”

“Yep!” Bucky replies, voice a little strangled.

Sure. No big deal. He’s going to be rolling around in silk sheets, in his lacy underwear, with Steve standing over him. No big deal.

“Great. So, if you’ll just drop the robe, we can get started.”

Bucky takes a deep, fortifying breath, then unties the sash holding his robe together. He doesn’t miss Steve’s sharp inhale as the silky garment slips off his shoulders. Despite his nerves, Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. He hands the robe to an assistant and then crawls onto the sheets. When he’s in the middle of them, he twists around so that he’s lying on his back.

Steve is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. “If you could just let your legs fall open a little,” he instructs, “Bring your feet in – yeah, just like that.”

Once he’s arranged Bucky to his satisfaction, Steve picks up his camera and stands between Bucky’s legs. The air is filled with the rhythmic snap of the shutter, as well as Steve’s murmured encouragements and instructions. Bucky’s nerves fall away as he gets into the zone. He manipulates his body as Steve directs, arching and flexing and relaxing as required.

The knowledge that his face won’t be in any of the shots doesn’t stop Bucky from giving Steve his best bedroom eyes. Bucky tips his head back invitingly, baring his throat and letting his lids droop half-shut. He parts his lips on an exhale, the corner of his mouth crooked up in a soft smile. He hopes that Steve is picking up his signals.

Steve curses under his breath when Bucky slips his right thumb into the waistband of his panties and tugs them down a little, as if he were about to slip them off. Bucky spends some time teasing Steve like this, sliding his fingers back and forth, and slipping a couple down the front, so that his fingertips are brushing the base of his cock. He arches his back and thrusts his pelvis upwards, his lips parting of their own accord on a silent moan.

“Uh, Bucky?” Steve asks, tearing his eyes away from the camera for a second. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip; Bucky notes the flush of colour on his cheeks.

“Could you—um, could you roll over, please? I need to – uh, I need to get some shots of your a—I mean, I need to get some shots of the back,” Steve stutters.

“You wanna get some shots of my ass, Steve, all you gotta do is ask,” Bucky drawls, smirking to himself as he rolls onto his stomach.

He finds himself naturally bringing his knees up under him and pressing his chest to the floor; the position draws attention to his lace-clad ass. Bucky can feel the weight of Steve’s stare, intense and heated, as it rakes over his back. He has half a mind to start grinding against the sheets, humping the floor like he’s some horny teenager.

Once Steve’s gotten all the shots he needs, Bucky gets sent off to Wanda to change into his next set. She’s waiting in the dressing area with a knowing smirk on her face.

“What?” Bucky asks, as he walks past her.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Barnes,” she says, turning to keep pace with him. “I think the only way you could’ve been more obvious was if you ripped the panties off and flat-out asked him to fuck you. Like, seriously, we all thought we were seconds away from watching you two shoot a porno!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugs, despite the flush crawling up his cheeks. “Didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt, y’know? If he wants it, he wants it and I’m gonna let him have it.”

“You should’ve seen the look on his face when you rolled over,” she comments, as Bucky steps behind the privacy screen. “I’m pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack.”

“My ass does that to people,” Bucky agrees. Wanda snorts in response.

The next set that Bucky changes into comprises of more pieces. There’s a pair of white thigh-highs with a lace trim, a garter belt to hold them up and some matching lace panties to complete the look. These panties are cut differently to the ones that Bucky currently has on; nearly half his ass is going to be on show.

Luckily, Bucky’s ass is at peak form. All those squats have finally paid off.  

“Hey Wanda?” he calls, as he takes the lingerie pieces off their hangers.

“Yeah?”

“Do I put panties over garter, or garter over panties?”

“Garter over panties,” she replies, “You only do it the other way ‘round if you’re planning to take the panties off, which we’re not doing.”

“But what if I wanna take ‘em off?”

“Barnes, none of us wants to see your bare ass,” Wanda sighs.

“Steve might,” Bucky grumbles.

The garter belt and clips are a little fiddly, but once everything is in place, Bucky has to admit that he looks good. The thigh-highs elongate his legs and the belt emphasises the smooth curve of his waist. His cock is snugly held by the lace panties and the bottom of his ass cheeks look especially perky.

If Bucky were Steve, he’d fuck Bucky.

Bucky slips on his robe and pads back out to the main area, where an assistant points him to where he’s needed. From the looks of it, he’ll just be shot in front of a simple black backdrop – Bucky is thankful that this set-up doesn’t involve Steve standing over him, as he doesn’t think that he’ll survive another round of that. A couple of light boxes cast a warm glow.  

Steve catches his gaze and smiles, gesturing for Bucky to step onto the set. This time, when Bucky drops his robe, Steve is more open with his appreciation; his eyes widen noticeably, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze roams over Bucky’s body hungrily and, when their eyes meet again, he doesn’t bother to apologise.

“You look good,” he says instead, voice dark and husky.

A rush of heat travels down Bucky’s spine.

The current set-up is more similar to modelling gigs that Bucky’s had in the past, but the fact that he’s strutting around in fancy lingerie is definitely new. He’s also never wanted to fuck his photographer this bad, either.

“Okay, Bucky, if you could just tip your head back and cross one leg in front of the other – yes, hold it, just like that,” Steve praises, peering into the viewfinder as he snaps a few pictures. Steve encourages Bucky to move around and do whatever feels natural, so Bucky finds himself twisting himself this way and that, focusing on creating sinuous, sensuous lines with his body.

“That’s great, Buck, real good,” Steve murmurs, every now and then.

Bucky finds it ridiculously endearing that Steve’s somehow managed to make a nickname out of his nickname. He likes how the syllable sounds as it rolls off Steve’s tongue, the easy familiarity behind it. Bucky wants to find out what his name sounds like rolling off of Steve’s tongue when Bucky’s sucking on his dick or riding his cock, but that’s a mystery to be solved later.

“Turn around for me, please? Great, could you put one hand on the back of your neck and look at me over your shoulder?”

Bucky does as he’s told, craning his neck around until he’s looking at Steve. He notices how Steve’s gaze is appreciative as he casts it over Bucky’s back and ass. When their eyes meet, the corner of Steve’s lip twitches, like he’s resisting the urge to smirk. Bucky wouldn’t call himself vain – well, no vainer than the average person, at least – but he’s looked at the mirror enough times to know that he’s got a little bit of muscle definition going on back there when he flexes. Clearly, Steve likes what he sees.

Bucky makes sure to arch his back so that his ass looks perkier. He tells himself that he’s doing this for the sake of modelling the panties, but really, it’s because Bucky wants to shove his ass into Steve’s face.

Figuratively and literally.

----------

Bucky’s final pair of panties are deep-red and high-waisted, with a criss-cross ribbon design in the back. Wanda also hands him an oversized, white, long-sleeve button-down to wear; it hangs off his shoulders in a sultry manner.

Bucky is accosted by Natasha after Wanda finishes touching-up his makeup and dousing his hair in more texturing spray.

“Barnes,” she says primly.

“Yes, Natasha?”

The smile she gives him doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re modelling for an advertising campaign, yes?”

Bucky nods in agreement.

“Good,” she says, “Keep that in mind.”

His brows pull together in confusion. “What’re you…tryna say, Nat?”

“Stop acting like you’re on a porn shoot.”

Bucky blanches. “Am I…that obvious?” he asks, as they start walking to the next set.

She quirks one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Look, if you wanna seduce Steve, then don’t let me stop you, just…maybe stop trying to get him to fuck you on the spot?”

“I…make no promises,” Bucky says.

Nat snorts. “Then I retract my promise of buying you pizza.”

Bucky’s eyes land on Steve, who’s conversing with a couple of assistants on the other side of the space. “If I get to have a slice of that beefcake, I think I’ll be okay,” he tells her.

“Oh my god,” Natasha mutters, shoving his shoulder. “That was terrible. I’m leaving you, go away.”

Bucky walks away from her, still cackling.

The final set consists of a chaise lounge that has been positioned in the corner of the space, in front of an exposed brick wall. It’s angled so that it is bathed in the sunlight pouring in from a nearby window. The chaise is upholstered with maroon velvet and sits low to the ground. There are cream and off-white blankets draped over it in a haphazard manner, and someone has piled on some throw pillows.

Steve grins when he spots Bucky, not bothering to hide his meaningful once-over. Because Bucky’s wearing the oversized shirt, Wanda hadn’t bothered to give him a robe. And, since the shirt is unbuttoned, Steve can plainly see the red panties that Bucky is wearing.

“How do I look?” Bucky asks, as he makes a show out of turning around in a circle.

Steve tilts his head to the side, an amused smile on his lips.

“Stunning,” he replies softly.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly going dry. Jesus, is this guy even real?

Steve asks Bucky to lie on his couch with his head against the arm rest, legs sprawled out over the blankets.

“I just want you to relax into it, Buck,” Steve says, as he brings his camera to his eyes. “Less posing more…softness. Like you’ve just woken up.”

With those directions in mind, Bucky slouches further into the chaise and brings one knee up, resting his wrist atop it as his shirt pools around him. With the too-big garment constantly slipping down his shoulders, Bucky has multiple excuses to run his hands over his body, under the guise of rearranging the material. The shutter clicks continuously.

Bucky has long recognised the value of having a narrative to use when he’s modelling; if he can become someone, if he can step into a character’s shoes, then it becomes much easier for him to deliver the desired aesthetic. With his skimpy red panties and his oversized shirt, it’s easy for Bucky to imagine that he’s spending the night at Steve’s place, and that he’s borrowed Steve’s shirt so that he’s not totally naked as he lounges on the couch. Oh yeah, that’s a dream he’s happy to entertain – maybe they’ve been seeing each other for a while and this is the first time that Bucky’s spending the night at his place. Yeah, that would explain why he doesn’t have any clothes here.

Or maybe – maybe Bucky’s some sort of kept boy, a sugar baby, perhaps. Steve’s given him these nice panties and has now asked Bucky to model them for him. Distantly, Bucky wonders if Steve would be into that kind of relationship.  

Steve calling his name snaps Bucky out of his whimsical daydream.

“Huh?” Bucky says, blinking owlishly at Steve. Damn, what’d he just miss?

Steve smiles benignly. “I asked if you could get up on your knees so that I could see the back.”

“Oh,” Bucky murmurs, “Yeah, sure.”

He rearranges himself so that he’s kneeling on the chaise, facing the brick wall behind it. Bucky slips the shirt off his shoulders and gathers most of the material in his hands, so that it drapes over the backs of his legs and leaves his ass completely exposed. When he hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath, he smirks – the criss-cross design exposes the top of his crack in a rather scandalous way.

Steve moves around him, taking shots at various angles. Bucky tenses his muscles and flexes his back, contorting his body every way he can, to give Steve some variety to work with.

“That’s good, Buck, that’s real good,” Steve praises, “Could you turn to the right a little – yes, just like that.”

The entire photoshoot is over in a depressingly short amount of time.

Steve calls it a wrap with a booming voice and a loud clap of his hands. Bucky shrugs the shirt back onto his shoulders, but leaves it unbuttoned as he walks back over to the dressing area, unwilling to hide his body from Steve’s appreciative gaze. The man in question gives Bucky a friendly smile as Bucky walks past him. Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets distracted when Natasha calls him.

Bucky grabs the bag that he’d dumped beside the makeup station and brings it to the changing area. He slips out of the panties and the button-down, then pulls on the street clothes that he’d brought with him; CKs, a pair of black skinny jeans and his favourite red pullover. Bucky stuffs the hoodie and sweats that he’d been wearing earlier into his bag, bids goodbye to Wanda and is scanning the studio for Nat when someone catches his wrist.

“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly, when Bucky turns to face him.

“Hey yourself,” Bucky replies.

“I—uh, I just wanted to say that I had a great time working with you today,” Steve says, ducking his head shyly. “Uh—yeah, you were really fun to shoot. It’s always nice to work with someone playful and responsive.”

Bucky flushes, scuffing the toe of his Converse against the floor in embarrassment. “Um—thanks. That’s—yeah, it was real great working with you too, Steve. You—um. You really knew what you were doing.”

Really, Barnes? Can you not handle a compliment or something?

Steve ducks his head in acknowledgement of the praise, a tiny smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he murmurs. Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it.

“You doin’ anything nice this afternoon?” Bucky asks, as he readjusts his grip on his bag.

Steve snorts. “You, I hope,” he mumbles. There’s a half-second of silence, before his eyes widen and a scarlet blush blooms over the apples of his cheeks.

“I—I mean,” he stammers “I—uh, shit, that’s not what I—I mean, yes, I’d like that but—okay, fine laugh it up.”

Bucky is giggling – giggling, like he’s some sort of schoolgirl – at Steve’s mortified expression. “Well, that’s one way to be direct,” he jokes, as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

If it were possible, Steve’s flush goes even redder. “I—what I meant to say,” Steve sighs, “Was—would you, uh, I mean, are you busy this afternoon?”

Bucky cocks his head to the side and appraises him. “Well,” he drawls, “I did have plans.”

Steve’s face falls. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t wanna—,”

“I was gonna go home,” Bucky continues, talking over Steve. “Take a bath, order in some pizza, crack open a beer, maybe watch some Game of Thrones.”

He trails off with a shrug. “But, y’know. ‘M open to other suggestions,” he says, knocking his shoulder against Steve’s.  

“Really?” Steve murmurs, a smile gracing his lips. “Well, maybe you’d let me take you out for a coffee?”

Bucky bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, Steve. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

[morikothehalfangel]

InuKag MirSan AU~ The Amusement Park Princesses

I was inspired by reading a coffee shop AU earlier by @eternalnight8806-3

I’ll also upload this to FF.net! 

@keichanz Thoughts? 

I wrote this in under an hour and on a whim, so forgive me for any mishaps, y’all.

_____________________

“Well, why didn’t you tell me that you get motion sickness? Aren’t you part youkai? I didn’t even know you could be affected by that.”

“Can you be quiet?!” Inuyasha hisses annoyedly near his best friend’s ear. “Maybe that’s because I don’t want people knowing, ever think about that, ‘Roku?”

“Touché, my friend, touché. But other than your… Hinderance—” Miroku chuckles under his breath as Inuyasha softly growls. “How did you enjoy the ride?”

That stops the hanyou’s growling as he mulls over his answer. “I could do without the loops.”

“And other than that, you’d probably like it?”

“Maybe.” He huffs.

“Great, then let’s move on to the next ride!” He grabs his buddy’s clawed palm and makes a beeline for the nearest coaster, Inuyasha grumbling the whole way. “This one is my second favorite, and it doesn’t have any loops! It just locks you in, and your feet hang out the whole time.”

“Greaaaat.”

Miroku rolls his eyes and glances down at his friend’s sandals. The young inu hanyou strongly dislikes having his feet confined in any way. Kinda like an actual dog, heh. The thought nearly has Miroku laughing out loud, but as he glances back up at Inuyasha, the teen’s scowl quickly rids him of his huge grin. “Ehem, well, let’s not wait around to get in line!” Miroku starts moving once again, Inuyasha following… Slowly behind him. “You’ll probably want to take your shoes off before we lock in. Pretty sure tons of people have been hit by airborne shoes around here.”

“Keh, please, what kind of idiot would leave loose shoes on while— GAH!”

Miroku turns his head in surprise to see his friend’s face blocked by a flowery pink sandal.

“I’m assuming the owner of that flip-flop is the idiot?” Miroku laughs as Inuyasha angrily rips the shoe from his face.

“The biggest idiot!” Inuyasha goes to toss the shoe behind him, but Miroku stops him.

“Hold up, let’s return it to the nice lady. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting them to fly off. Besides, if she’s alone…”

“You could get a date, ha ha. Maybe I’ll just throw it at her face?” Inuyasha waves the shoe threateningly in front of wide violet eyes.

“Now, Inuyasha! You and I both know neither of us would ever harm a young lady!” Miroku gently grasps Inuyasha’s wrist and pulls his hand down. “I was going to say that you could use the shoe as a chance to maybe get a date. You know? You’ve been single for an eternity.”

“I’m only 19!”

“And you’ve never been laid.”

“Say another word and this sandal will become a part of your fucking face, Miroku.”

“Oh thank goodness!”

A bird-like voice rings out from behind Miroku, and the boys’ attention are drawn to the newcomer.

Well, newcomers.

“Thank you so much! I was worried that I’d lost it after it fell off! Sango said I should’ve taken them off before, but I was afraid they’d be stolen or something stupid… Oh, my, I’m so sorry. Did it hit you in the face?”

“Good going, Kagome, you directly harmed a man with your anxiety.”

“Shut up, Sango! I said I was sorry!”

Miroku’s eyes dart back and forth between the two young women, both very short, one a dark braided brunette with chocolate eyes, the other with ebony curls and cerulean irises. He’s drawn in as he eyes the one named Sango. She gives off a sporty and strong, but still feminine vibe; Kagome a petite and soft aura. Both are now looking at them expectantly—

Oh, shit, what’d they say?

Miroku coughs as he’s brought out of his awestruck ogling, “Pardon me, I just wasn’t expecting to come upon two celestial maidens this fine afternoon.” He looks at Sango directly, her face showing that she’s not at all impressed. Kagome squeaks and flushes red. “My name is Miroku, and this is my good friend, Inuyasha.”

Speaking of Inuyasha…

Inuyasha ascended to Nirvana at the mere sight of this woman. One would say, Love at first sight. But he felt more of a Stole my heart at first sight. For love would be cliché, no?

Wasn’t I gonna throw a shoe at her? Wasn’t I just calling her an idiot?

Stupid, she apologized and was just nervous, accept the apology! Get her eyes back on— AH, her eyes are on you! Her eyes are on me! Why are they on me?!

“Uhhh—” The sound escapes from his frozen throat.

“Inuyasha, say hello…” Miroku is nonetheless surprised at his friend’s current mannerisms. The young man has seen many a beautiful woman, and this is the first time he’s struck speechless.

“Uhh, hi?” He croaks.

Kagome giggles. “Hello, Inuyasha. I’m Kagome, and this is Sango… Again, I’m very sorry about the shoe. I could see the imprint on your face when we came up.”

Inuyasha seems to regain his senses and refocuses on the blue-eyed girl. “It’s… It’s fine. Just a shoe. Not like it hurt or nothin’.”

“Oh, that’s good! Can I, uh, can I have it back?” She holds a hand out sheepishly, scuffing her shoed foot.

Inuyasha nods and is about to hand it over when Miroku grabs his wrist once again. “Kagome, how about you go sit on that bench right over here, and he’ll slip it on for you?”

The dog-eared youth looks at him aghast. “W-why can’t I just hand it to her?!”

“My friend, these two lovely ladies are practically royalty in our eyes, we must treat them as such!” Miroku admonishes him and flicks his friend’s ear.

Kagome’s eyes are drawn to the odd movement, and she gasps at the sight of the two ears upon his head. “So cute!” She whispers.

“I agree, Kagome-sama.” Miroku chuckles, and she blushes at being heard.

Sango pushes Kagome towards the bench. “Why not be a princess for today, Kagome-chan? Maybe we can get a royal foot massage!” The girls giggle as Kagome takes a seat and holds her bare foot out.

Miroku rests his palm on Inuyasha’s back. “Romance is in the air, my friend… You’re welcome.” And with that, he gently shoves his best friend towards what he sees to be a blossoming romance.

Inuyasha stumbles in embarrassment, and he slowly moves to bend down onto one knee. He takes the girl’s ankle and quickly slips the floral flip-flop back onto her foot.

Anti-climactic, to say the least.

His ears catch Miroku’s whispered words from behind him, and he actually decides to listen to them for once, cause damn, everything’s actually worked so far?

Smooth, Miroku. For real.

Inuyasha stands and reaches to take Kagome’s hands and pull her to her feet.

Kagome giggles at the little show. “Man, I haven’t felt like such a princess since I was six!”

Inuyasha falters at what to say. He’s never been much of a talker, especially not to girls.

Isn’t there a story like this? With a princess and a shoe or something? A prince did that for her or something, right?

“Well, I’ve never been a prince before.” He blurts out.

Kagome laughs airily behind her hand with a pretty blush when Sango snickers beside her suddenly. “Who said you two were the princes? You could just be servants.”

Inuyasha nearly has an internal panic attack of Oh crap, I just screwed this up, just as Miroku jumps in beside Sango with a smug grin, “Sure, but I don’t think servants go on amusement park dates with princesses, do you, my dear Sango?”

“Who said we’d go on a date with you two?” Sango quickly moves away from the dark-haired man and crosses her arms. “We could just be wanting to be on a girls’ outing, right Kagome?”

Kagome, still holding Inuyasha’s hand, remains silent as she continues staring at her honey eyed prince. “Ehhhh, I dunno, maybe we can reschedule a date or something… Right?”

“Kagome-hime is quite smart, don’t you think?” Miroku moves closer to the now scowling, flushed brunette.

“I won’t disagree…” She starts.

“Great! Then what would you like to reschedule? I mean… We’re all here now… No problem there.”

“Miroku, quit harassing her, damn it.” Inuyasha finally decides to butt in.

“You wound me, my fellow prince.”

“Don’t push it.”

_____________________

Tell me ya’ll’s thoughts? :)

[fluffyllamas-23]

The Blind Date (2/2)

This is...just...way longer than I anticipated.  I’m v sorry lmao

Part 1 can be found here

“You’re doing that thing again,” Hannah says, taking a seat on the other side of her couch.

“What thing?” Chloe mumbles sleepily, looking up from the textbook in her lap.

“The thing where you run yourself into the ground.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes, “you look like you could sleep for ten years. And you never come to my place unless you’re exceptionally stressed out. Take a break.”

Chloe yawns, “we’re in the nursing program. We all need ten years of sleep.”

“Have you talked to Sawyer? He called out of work again, and I’m annoyed.”

“Why?”

“Because, he was the only thing keeping me from throttling our incompetent, fucking moron of a coworker,” she scowls.

“He texted me this morning that he’s still not feeling well.  I’m going to bring him some soup in a little bit.”

“That’s very girlfriend-y of you,” Hannah grins, nudging Chloe with her foot.

Chloe flushes, “shut up.”

“You’ve never been this forward with a guy before.”

She chews on her bottom lip, “I just…really like him…a lot and it’s scary.”

“That’s so cute!  Anyways, how many days in a row have you even been over there?”

“I dunno…however many it’s been since Friday night.”

“Holy shit. You know you’re going to wind up catching it, right?”

“Doubtful. It’s been four days, and I’m still fine.”

“I dunno...you look like you feel pretty shitty.”

“I haven’t slept in two nights, that’s probably why.”

“Just...don’t...die. Or infect me. Paige and I have a hot date tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow is Wednesday. Who the hell has a Wednesday night date night?”

“Two people who have completely conflicting schedules, that’s who. My class is cancelled, and she has the night off work.”

“That sounds nice.”

“She’s coming over in a little bit, actually.  We’re going to try and get some studying done...do you mind?”

“Not unless you guys start makin’ out.”

Hannah smiles wryly, “duly noted.”

Chloe rubs her eyes, which are throbbing with exhaustion at this point, before closing her textbook. She’s been staring at the same page for almost an hour, now, and she’s given up on the idea of studying anymore tonight.

Her insomnia really only kicks in when she’s stressed, and boy, is she stressed.  Not only is she stressed because of school, but she’s stressed because she’s moving into Hannah’s apartment that weekend, and now she’s even more stressed because Sawyer is sick, and doesn’t seem to be getting better, and she hates it.  

“Hey, guys,” Paige chirps, walking inside Hannah’s apartment, “I brought food! And coffee, I figured you haven’t slept, Chloe.”

“You’re the best, holy shit,” Chloe groans, pulling herself off the couch, “Hannah, your girlfriend is the best."

“God bless you, you beautiful angel,” Hannah says, pecking Paige’s cheek, before the bag and drink carrier from her.

“Here,” Paige says, handing Chloe a large cup.  

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver. Okay, I’m going to head out.”

“Tell Sawyer he’d better get his ass in gear and show up to his next shift,” Hannah calls after her at the same time Paige chirps out a, “bye, have fun!”

At this point, Chloe doesn’t even bother knocking.  It’s easier that way, because he doesn’t have to worry about getting up, which he really doesn’t have the energy to do.

After letting herself in, she follows the sound of his coughing to the couch.  

“Hi…I’m sorry you’re still sick,” she frowns, putting a hand on his forehead.

He’s shivering beneath the blanket, gripping it tightly as he stares at her with glassy, fever-bright eyes.  His cheeks are flushed from the fever, a stark contrast to how pale his face is.  

“S’okay,” he rasps, clearing his throat a couple of times.  

“We’re going to the emergency room.”

“Nooooo,” he groans, “I don’t need to go.”

“Yes you do. You’ve had a fever for four days now, and you sound awful. You might need antibiotics.”

“But-”

“-It’s not up for discussion.”

He lets out a croaky groan of frustration, “fine.”

“Hannah is mad at you, by the way.”

“What?!” He squawks, “how? I haven’t even seen her.”

“That’s why. She said you’re the only one who keeps her from throttling your dumbass coworkers.”

He bursts out laughing, which turns into a coughing fit that makes his chest burn and throat ache, “ugh...yeah, I’ll bribe her with food.  She’ll be fine.”

They’ve been in the ER for over two hours now.  Sawyer is slumped against her, head on her shoulder as he drifts in and out of sleep.

She’s exhausted.  It’s been awhile since she’s gone this long without sleep, and between the god-awful headache, sore throat and her heavy, aching body (all of which make her desperate to go and lie down), she’s forgotten how miserable it is.

Sawyer shifts beside her, and she looks over to see him sit up and rub at his eyes.

“Welcome back,” she grins.  

“They still haven’t called me?” He asks, grimacing as his hand darts to his throat.  

“We wouldn’t be here if they had called you, would we?” She asks, annoyance edging into her tone.  

“Uh...no, I guess not.”

“Sorry...I just...want to get you checked out so we can leave.  I’m exhausted.”

“You and me both,” he sighs, coughing into a fist.  “Didn’t you say you’re moving in with Hannah this weekend?”

“Mmmm,” she mumbles, nodding.

“Do you need help?” He asks.

“If you’re feeling better by then, I’d love some.”

He squints, “so…why are you moving in with her? I think you might have told me, but I can’t remember.”

“Her roommate just moved out.  My lease is up, too, and it’s cheaper for me to move in with her than it is to extend it...we’re over at each other’s places all the time anyways.”

“Oh yeah...I think you told me that already.”

“The fever is turning your brain to mush,” she teases.

“I feel awful,” he groans.

Her heart drops, “I know...but hey, at least the congestion is pretty much gone.”         

They lapse into silence again, and as the minutes tick by, she finds herself sagging against Sawyer this time.  

“You okay?” He asks softly.

“Just...tired. I haven’t slept in two…almost three days.”

“What?” He cries, launching himself into a coughing fit.  

She pats his back with a grimace, “relax. It’s just insomnia.”  

“Is there anything you can do?”

“Not really...s’just from stress.”

“I-”

“-Sawyer Daniels?” A nurse interrupts.  Chloe helps him to his feet, and then trails behind them as they go into an examination room.

As soon as they get back to his place, Sawyer goes right to his room/ Chloe follows him, but suddenly feels uncomfortable  and hangs in his doorway, unsure of what to do or where to go.

“You can...um...you can lie down with me...if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, eyelids drooping, “yeah.”

When she climbs into bed next to him, he immediately cuddles up to her, resting his head on her chest. As Sawyer drifts to sleep, Chloe lies awake. She wants to sleep, her body is begging her to, but she can’t. Her mind is racing, refusing to shut off and allow her any peace and quiet.

She’s suddenly filled with anxiety.

The move is coming up fast, and she’s nowhere near ready. She hasn’t even started packing up her apartment, and she has to be out of there by Saturday. She has the week from hell - two tests, three papers and a group presentation all due, the last of which is due on Thursday. Sawyer has the flu and bronchitis, bordering on pneumonia, and even though he has antibiotics, she still can’t help but worry.

Everything is too much.  She tries to stay where she is, because he’s comfy, but her skin is crawling and she has the overwhelming urge to bolt.

Chloe slides out from underneath him, heart pounding in her chest and ringing in her ears as she struggles to get her breathing under control. She, unfortunately, didn’t get out of bed very gently.  Her movements are jerky and frantic, and Sawyer forces his eyes open.  

“Chloe?”

“I, uh-” her breath catches in her throat, “I n-need to l-leave.”

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice thick with sleep.

She nods emphatically, biting down on her lip so hard she tastes copper, “yeah! Yeah! I’m great!”

“Chloe-”

“I’m great!” She repeats, a little bit more forcefully this time.  

His eyes search her face, but ultimately, he’s too tired and feels too shitty to say anything other than, “okay.”

Hannah is lying on her back, legs straight in the air as she holds her textbook above her face.  Her phone rings, and when she goes to answer it, she drops the book directly on her face.

“Fuck! Sonuvabitch!” She yelps.  

Paige bursts out laughing, and pulls the book off of Hannah’s face, “oh no, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine...fuckin’ book,” she grumbles, rubbing her nose. She glances at her phone briefly before she makes a face and answers it, “what’s up, deadbeat? Are you calling to apologize for leaving me with the fuckin’ moron?”

“Is Chloe with you?” Sawyer asks, ignoring the dig.  

Hannah frowns, sitting up straighter, “you sound like shit.”

“I’m aware,” he snaps, and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “Chloe. Is she with you?”

“What? No. Why? I thought she was with you?”

“She left hours ago...she looked freaked out,” he rasps, “she’s not answering my calls.”

“Oh...she...shit, she’s been really stressed out and not sleeping...I’ll try her too.”

“Is she okay?”

“I’m sure she’s fine...she’s probably at her apartment.”

“Okay.”

“So what’s wrong with you?”

“The flu...and bronchitis.”

“Fuck. Don’t die.”

“Workin’ on it,” he mumbles.  

She grimaces when she hears him start to cough, “okay, I was mad at you for bailing on your shift, but now I’m glad you did, because you have the fucking plague and nobody wants you to cough all over their food and coffee...unless you wanna come in and just like...cough on Robert.  He sucks, I hate him.”

“Leave Robert alone.”

“I will not.”

Sawyer sighs, coughing again, “will you just text me when you get ahold of her?”

“Yeah.”

Hannah hangs up with Sawyer, and then immediately dials Chloe’s number.  

“Hello?” she whispers, finally picking up after what must have been fifteen tries.

“Chloe, thank GOD,” Hannah breathes, “are you alright?”

“Um...no...n-not really.”

Her heart drops, “do you need some company? Or do you want to be left alone?”

“Alone...I c-can’t...I need to be alone.”

“That’s fine,” Hannah says softly, “just...text me when you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

Hannah hangs up, and then shoots Sawyer a text saying she’s okay and not to worry.

“Is everything okay?” Paige asks when Hannah groans and puts her head in her lap.  

“Chloe’s having a hard time,” Hannah mumbles, pressing her face against Paige’s thigh.

“Does she need anything?” Paige asks, playing with Hannah’s long brown hair.

“No...she just wants to be alone...which is fine.  Maybe she’ll finally sleep, God knows she needs it.”

Chloe rolls over in bed the next morning, gripping her pillow.  The anxiety has passed for the most part, which is good, but she’s still stressed out, and has no desire to get out of bed and face the world.

On top of the sheer exhaustion she feels from the mixture of two and a half days without sleep, and the anxiety from yesterday, the sore throat and headache are back with a vengeance.  She groans as her body throbs, and is filled with the sinking realization that she’s finally come down with what Sawyer has.  

Somehow, she manages to force herself out of bed, and go about her day, which passes in a blur.  She feels as if she’s on autopilot, and when it ends, she walks into Hannah’s apartment and collapses onto the couch.

“Hello to you, too,” Hannah says, patting Chloe’s back.

Chloe sniffles, “I’m so tired.”

“Yeah, and you sound like shit.  Finally caught what Sawyer has?”

“No...I’m not sick, just tired.”

“Yeah, okay.  So you want some DayQuil?”

“...yeah.”

Hannah rolls her eyes, but grabs Chloe the medicine anyways, “don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m fine.  It’s not a big deal.”

“You had a panic attack yesterday.”

“I didn’t...I had anxiety, that was it.”

“Okay, fine.  Whatever.  You had anxiety, which never flares up that bad unless you need a break.”

“I took a sleeping pill last night.  I slept, I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.  How long did you sleep?”

“Like...seven hours.”

“You’re going to die.”

“Will you give my eulogy?” Chloe asks, voice muffled by the couch cushions.

“Yeah, it’ll be the best one, too.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Sawyer was worried about you.  Have you texted him?”

“I’m going over there in a little.”

“Are you going to tell him you’re sick?”

“Why would I do that?”

“...Have you heard yourself? Or seen yourself? You look rough, dude...don’t sound much better.”

She sniffles again, “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“You’re shivering. Do you have a fever?”

“I dunno.”

Hannah presses a hand to her forehead, “you do. Oh shit, you’re burning up, dude.”

“M’fine,” she mumbles, “just give me the meds, I have shit to do.”

“I don’t approve.”

“Nobody cares.”

“Rude,” Hannah says, dropping a blister pack of DayQuil next to her.

Chloe lets herself into Sawyer’s apartment, and then stops in her tracks when she finds him at the stove, stirring something in a pot.

“Um...hey.  Feeling better?”

He wheels around to look at her, a grin crossing his face, “yeah, a little bit.”

“Oh, good,” she sighs.

“Are you alright?” He asks, the grin dropping from his face, “I didn’t think you were going to come back today.”

She rubs the back of her neck, “ah...yeah...sorry about that.”

“What happened?”

She drops her eyes to the floor, fiddling with the ring on her finger, “uh...anxiety has been kicking my ass. I just...I couldn’t handle it yesterday. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She groans, pouring herself into a seat at his kitchen table, “I don’t know, I just...heh...ihtchiew! Snff…snfff,” she rubs at her itchy nose, making a face, “I feel bad I just left yesterday.”

“Bless you,” he frowns, “don’t feel bad. You’re allowed to take time for yourself, you know that right? You’ve been over here everyday since Friday night, and I really, really appreciate it, but I know it must have been hard.”

“I guess,” she mutters, slumping down in her seat. She still feels like shit, and if anything, the medicine is making it worse, and she just wants to go lie down.  She pitches forward with another sneeze, and then blinks tiredly at the table for a second before she pushes her hair off of her face.

“Hey, how about we go watch a movie?” He suggests, coughing into his elbow. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you are, too.”

She sniffles, “yeah...you read my mind.”

“Feeling okay?” He asks softly.  

“Yeah,” she lies, “just...exhausted.”

“How’s the...uh...the anxiety? You okay?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

She rubs her left eye with the heel of her palm, “It’s better...sleep helped.”

He wants to ask her if she’s alright again, push her a little bit, but he’s reminded that he’s only known her for five days.  He feels like he’s known her forever, but it’s only been five days. Five days isn’t long enough to prod.  

He thinks she might have caught what he has, and the thought is enough to fill him with dread, especially because he still feels shitty, and if she’s sick, he wants to be able to take care of her.  

She deserves it.  

“What movie do you want to watch?” Chloe asks, plopping down onto the couch.

“Harry Potter,” he grins.

“Again?”

He pokes his bottom lip out, “yes.  Please?”

She grins weakly, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

Halfway through the movie, she’s so congested she can barely breathe. Her head is spinning, and all she can do is lean against Sawyer and try not to pass out, throw up, or both.  

“Hey, Sawyer?” She croaks, grimacing at how awful she sounds.  

He’s half asleep, but forces his eyes open so he can look down at her, “yeah?”

“I think I’m going to head out.”

“You okay?”

“I am,” she lies, “I’m really tired, though.”

Chloe isn’t completely lying - she IS tired.  Exhausted, really, even more now that she’s officially ready to admit to herself that she’s sick.

Her entire body aches, as does her head and throat, and she just wants to crawl into a hole and be put out of her misery.  Surely death would be more pleasant than this.   She wants to tell Sawyer - he’s staring at her so intently with this cute, worried expression, like he knows how awful she’s feeling.  

“Actually...would you mbind if I slept here?” She asks, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and words blurring with congestion, “I dond’t trust mbyself to drive.”

“Yeah, of course. You can take my bed.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but the words die on the tip of her tongue, “Okay...thank you.”

“You sound a little stuffed up,” he frowns, “are you feeling okay?”

“I’mb just tired,” she sniffles, ���I’mb finde.”

Chloe rolls over, sniffling as she nuzzles her face into his pillow. She squints as the light streaming through the curtains send a stab of pain through her skull.

“Oh, god,” she croaks, grimacing as she pushes herself into a sitting position.

Everything hurts.

She looks at the nightstand, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when she sees the humidifier set up. There’s a glass of water and an open blister pack of medicine next to a box of DayQuil and a box of tissues, and she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Exhaustion weighs her down, but the moment she looks at her phone, she nearly has a heart attack, and she nearly trips over herself as she scrambles to get out of bed.

10:16 am.

She has class in fourteen minutes.

She has a test.

Sawyer is half asleep on the couch, playing on his phone when she comes flying out of the room, a look of sheer panic on her face.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” He croaks.

“I overslept!” She squeaks, voice cracking on the last word.

“Chloe,” he says, struggling to a sitting position. She’s still running around in a panic, looking for her stuff, and he tugs on her hand gently, “relax.”

“I cand’t!” She cries, eyes filling with tears, “I have a test!”

He puts a hand on her cheek, and inhales sharply, “you also have a fever.”

She pushes his hand away, “I’mb finde...I have to go.”

Sawyer runs a hand over his face as she runs out the door, worry gnawing at his chest. She’s burning up, and definitely doesn’t look like she’s feeling well.

He plops down on the couch, eyes burning as he rubs at them.

The door opens and he looks up to see his roommate.

Sawyer grins weakly at him, “long time no see, thought you were dead.”

“Sorry...I was visiting family and it ended up lasting longer than I thought it would,” Owen frowns, taking in Sawyer’s appearance, “shit, you’re still sick? It’s been like...six days since the gig.”

“I feel better...antibiotics helped.”

“Antibiotics? You actually went to the doctor?”

“Chloe made me.”

“Chloe...is that the chick you were supposed to go on a date with?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How’d she manage that? Remember the last time you got sick? We had to drag you kicking and screaming to the doctor.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Dude, you had a sinus infection and strep and we had to keep an eye on you in case you wound up with bronchitis, what do you mean it wasn’t a big deal.”

Sawyer shoots him an annoyed look, “it was fine.”

“Anyways, how’d she get you to the doctor? Did she drug you?”

“I didn’t want to tell her no...and I’d had a fever for four days...and she’s a nursing student and I trust her opinion.”

“So what’s the matter with you? Do we need to find a new lead singer?”

“S’the flu and bronchitis,” he mumbles, coughing into the crook of his elbow.

“Ouch. No wonder you sounded so shitty. Just...don’t die on us. We don’t want to have to try and find your replacement. Too much effort. We’re lazy.”

Sawyer smiles weakly, standing up, “no promises.”

“So you really like her, huh?”

Sawyer’s cheeks flush, “yeah, she’s great.”

“Our baby is in love!” Owen cries, launching himself at Sawyer.

Sawyer groans as they collide and he falls back into the couch, “why are you like this? Get off me.”

“Shit…fuck, sorry…I forgot you’re on your deathbed. You okay?” Owen says, pulling him to his feet.

“I’m fine…going to bed.”

Chloe walks out of her class, trembling so hard that her knees have nearly buckled three times.

She stumbles to a bench, and collapses onto it, feeling like she’s about to pass out as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. She dials Hannah’s number with shaky fingers, and when she doesn’t pick up, Chloe tries Paige’s number. When she doesn’t pick up, Chloe nearly bursts into tears. She just wants to go home and she doesn’t feel well enough to drive - not without crashing at least.

She dials Sawyer’s number, rubbing at her itchy nose.

“Hey,” he greets her.

“I’mb really sorry,” she whimpers

“What are you sorry about? What’s wrong?”

She leans over so that her head is between her knees.

“Chloe? What’s wrong, are you okay?”

“I’mb gonnda pass out...mb’stranded at school.”

“Okay, Okay,” he soothes, “just breathe, I can come get you, can you remind me what school you go to and where you are?”

She manages to tell him what school she attends, but her head is so fuzzy, she can’t remember the building.

“I really dond’t feel very good,” she croaks weakly.

“I know darlin’, I know,” he says softly, “just hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

She hangs up the phone before curling up on the bench as a shiver runs down her spine.

She drifts in and out of sleep, until she feels a cool hand on her cheek, then the back of her neck, and then between her shoulder blades.  

“Huh?” She mutters groggily.  

“Hey, there,” he says gently, “ready to go home?”

“I’mb sorry,” she croaks, blinking away the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

“Why do you keep apologizing?” He asks, helping her to sit up.  When he goes to pull her to her feet, she shakes her head.  

“W-wait...dizzy,” she says weakly, gripping his arm tightly.  

He crouches in front of her, putting a hand on her cheek, “okay.  Alright, we’ll go slow.”

As soon as she’s okay to move, he gets her to his car, where she apologizes again, “I’mb sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“You’re sick,” she sniffles after a few moments of blinking heavily.  

He chuckles lightly, coughing into a fist, “I’m fine.  You, however…I need an address...I don’t know where you live.”

She’s shivering beneath a thick blanket.  She can’t find the energy to move, and each sneeze sounds as weak and tired as Sawyer thinks she feels.

He coughs into his shoulder, pausing so he doesn’t spill the tea he had made her.  

“Here,” he says, putting it on the nightstand.  

She sniffles, “thanks...umb...could you help mbe with sombethi’gg?...hih...ihhh...hih’tshh! Ihtsch! Tsch! SnffSNFF...ugh...”

He hands her the box of tissues, “yeah, of course.”

“I ndeed to findish packi’gg up mby apartmbendt.”

“Are you serious? Chloe...you have a one hundred and three degree fever.  You’re miserable, you need to be resting.”

“I’mb mbovi’gg ind two days...mby lease is up Saturday...I dond’t have a choice...I havend’t evend started yet.”

“Okay...how about I call Hannah to come help, then?”

She hides her face in the blanket, “do what you wandt.”

He takes that as his cue to drop down onto the couch and pull his phone out with a yawn.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Hannah asks when she answers the phone. “I’m assuming it has something to do with Chloe, because she’s the only thing you ever call or text about.”

“It does.”

“Knew it,” Hannah chuckles, “what do you want?”

“She says that she has to be out of her apartment by Saturday.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“She’s sick and she wants to pack up because she hasn’t started yet.”

“Aw, fuck. That sounds like her,” Hannah groans. “How bad is she?”

“She has a fever.”

“Shit. How high?”

“Oh hundred and three...I don’t think she should be trying to pack up her apartment.”

“Yeah me neither. Paige and I will be there soon. Does she have boxes?”

“I’m not sure.”

“...Are you going to ask?”

“...Oh. Right. Hey, Chloe? Do you have boxes?”

“Ndo.”

“She says no.”

“She’s the worst at this kind of stuff, oh my god. We’ll be there in an hour.”

True to her word, she walks through the door exactly an hour later.  Paige walks in behind her and goes right to the kitchen.  Hannah makes a b-line for Chloe.

She presses her hand to Chloe’s forehead, sucking her teeth in disapproval, “you did that fucking thing again, babe.”

“Go away,” Chloe whines, hiding her face with the blanket as she sneezes for what feels like the thousandth time.

“You moron,” Hannah scolds gently, ruffling Chloe’s hair, “you do this all the time, and then you practically kill yourself.”

“Dond’t be mbeand to mbe.”

“Well who else am I going to be mean to,” she teases, “Paige made you some tea and soup.”

“And also brownies,” Paige says, walking out of the kitchen with a box before sitting down next to Chloe’s book case.

“Oooh did someone say brownies?” Sawyer asks, poking his head out of her bedroom.

“They’re on the counter if you want one.”

“Hell yeah, I want one.”

“Are you finally coming back to work?” Hannah asks, turning to look at sawyer

“Yeah, but I’m not scheduled until Sunday night,” he mumbles, words muffled by an entire brownie shoved in his mouth

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” Hannah groans, sticking the thermometer in Chloe’s mouth.

“Hanndah-“

“Shut up and let me take your temperature.”

“Your bedside mbannder could use sombe work,” Chloe grumbles.

Hannah grins, “my bedside manner is great.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Shut up. I want to get a reading on your fever, will you just be quiet?” She snaps.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she chokes on a sob as she averts her eyes, “sorry.”

“Oh shit,” Hannah grimaces, taking the thermometer out of her mouth before crouching down and putting a hand on Chloe’s burning cheek, “hey, look at me.”

Chloe sniffles, rolling on her side to look at Hannah, “I’mb sorry...please dond’t be mbad.”

“You know I’m just worried, right?” She says softly, “I’m not mad at you...I just don’t like it when you’re this sick.”

Chloe shivers, hiding her face in the pillow again, “cand I have sombe ndyquil?”

“I will absolutely give you some after I take your temperature.”

Hours later, they have a little more than half of her apartment packed away. Sawyer can feel himself dragging, exhaustion seeping into his bones and muscles and making him ache again.

The NyQuil had completely knocked her out, so much that she didn’t even budge when he scooped her up and carried her into her room.  

“Okay,” Sawyer says, walking back out into the living area, “I got her to her bed, and I’m exhausted...I think we should be done for the night.”

“I agree,” Hannah yawns.

“Thank you guys so much.”

“Yeah, of course,” Paige says, “you should get some sleep.”

“Take the couch. One of the boxes has a blanket in it…” Hannah trails off, looking around. “Hey, I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you going to man up and ask her to be your girlfriend already?”

“What?”

“When are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend?” she asks slowly, as if she’s speaking to a child. “Seriously, you can’t be this dense. You two are practically dating at this point, just ask her already, you coward.”

He rolls his eyes, “goodbye, Hannah.”

“But-“

“-let’s go, honey,” Paige says, nudging her towards the door. “Stop bullying the poor guy.”

“If anybody is being bullied, it’s me,” Hannah grumbles.

Paige giggles, “let’s just go. I’m starving.”

Sawyer closes the door after them, dissolving into a coughing fit.  

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sawyer asks anxiously.  

It’s officially move in day.  Chloe had spent all of Friday in bed, skipping classes and only waking for food, water, and to use the bathroom. Still though, she still only feels slightly better.  

Sawyer would give anything for her to be able to rest, but instead, she’s on as many cold and flu meds as humanly possible, so that she can function enough to get everything moved.  

“I’m...I feel like shit...but I’m okay,” she mumbles.  

“I’m so sorry I got you sick...you can punch me in the face.  I told you that you could.”

“Don’t be so dramatic...s’fine. It happens.”

“Okay, so what needs to be done?” He asks, more than grateful that he feels almost completely better (save for an annoying lingering cough, and some fatigue).  He’s not sure how this would have worked if they were both sick.

“Uh,” she says, rubbing her forehead, “Hannah should be here with the moving truck at like...shit, I can’t remember what time...but...soon?  We need to scrub this place down and make it l...heh...heh’tschh! Snff…guh...we have to make it look like new...I need that deposit bahhh...heh...hhh...hihtsch! Ihtsch!  Snff! Back.”

“Bless you.”

She gives a couple of coughs into the inside of her wrist as the front door opens.  

Hannah walks inside, “alright, let’s do this shit. How do you feel?”

“I crave death.”

“You can’t die, I need help with rent.”

Paige flicks the back of Hannah’s head, “be nice.”

“Ouch!” She yelps, rubbing the abused spot.  

Paige grins, kissing Hannah’s cheek, “better?”

“Yeah…you’re lucky I love you.” Chloe coughs again, and Hannah grimaces, “you’re coughing now? You almost never cough when you’re sick.”

“You don’t?!” Sawyer asks, eyes snapping to her face, “do you want to go to the ER? You’ve been coughing all morning.”

“I’m fine,” she croaks, “I just want to get this over with so I can go back to sleep.”

“We can do it for you, and you can go lie down.”

“What? No, absolutely not.  I’m not dumping that on you. I’ll be fine.”

Despite her claims, it’s very obvious that she’s struggling, even from right off the bat.  Her movements are sluggish and half-hearted, and since nobody trusts her to walk up and down the stairs to put boxes into the car, she’s been put on cleaning duty.

“Honey, you’ve been cleaning the same spot for the last thirty minutes,” Sawyer says softly, putting a hand on her lower back.

“Huh?”

“Go sit down, you’re miserable.”

“No...m’fine.”

She forces herself to keep going, because the cleaning needs to be done, and she’s determined not to be useless.  

Sawyer keeps trying to get her to rest, but she’s adamant that she’s okay, and that she doesn’t need to.  

Paige, Hannah and Sawyer get the moving van all loaded up as quickly as they can.  Both Sawyer and Paige return to Chloe’s apartment, while Hannah goes to her and Chloe’s apartment to start unloading.

“I’ll start in the bathroom, you go help Chloe,” Paige says, shutting the door behind them.

Sawyer finds her in her bedroom, sitting on the bed and staring blankly at the door.

“Shit,” he hisses, crouching in front of her. He presses a hand to her forehead and then shakes his head, “You’re done. Paige and I will finish cleaning, you’re going to sit here and rest, okay?”

“But I-“ she breaks off coughing, and Sawyer rubs her back gently.

“But nothing. You have a fever, you’ve helped enough.  We’ve got this.”

When all the cleaning is done, and Sawyer gets her to her new place, she nearly cries in relief when she lays down in bed.

Her bedding is the only thing unpacked, and she’s never been more grateful for Hannah in her entire life.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” She mumbles into her pillow, already half asleep.

“I’m one hundred percent sure we don’t want your help,” Sawyer says gently, “all we want is for you to go back to sleep. I’ll come back in to check on you in a little bit.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, eyes drooping shut as she falls asleep.

Sawyer breathes a sigh of relief, kisses her burning cheek, and then leaves her room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

[justme-noonebutme]

Coincidence - Part 1

Summary: An unexpected accident and a coincidence change my life when I meet someone who makes it all better...

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Be gentle. This is my first fic and I hope you guys like it. After reading so many great ones on Tumblr I had to try it myself. Big thanks goes out to my beta @anticipate1003 for being awesome and pushing me to write my best and have so much fun while doing so. Thank you @torn-and-frayed for the beta shoutout, you saved me! And thanks to @joseyrw for the input, you have been great! 

Part 1

I had just left the hotel in a hurry knowing I would have to go back there eventually to get my stuff, but too scared to deal with all of it right now. My head was spinning with everything that had happened in the last hour as I was crossing Main Street when I heard a loud squealing noise. That's when my whole life changed.

Its funny how the mind works and it will never cease to amaze me. I remember how everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I was running into the street, only focused on my next steps, and when I looked to my left I saw it coming just a little bit too fast around the corner. I remember thinking to myself, ”Damn, that is a big ass beautiful car, that is going way too fast. It's definitely gonna stop because why wouldn‘t it?” And a second later everything went black.

I woke up in the ER at the hospital. The loud beeping noise recording my pulse seemed to be hammering in my brain with never ending persistence. My eyes fluttered open. It took me a second to adjust to the light, but when I did my eyes met the green ones of the strange man sitting next to my bed. They were filled with guilt and worry.

“How ya doin’, Kiddo?” he said with a crooked smile on his face, his elbows leaning on his knees as he folded his hands.

“Hi.” was all I managed before the sharp pain in my abdomen made me gasp for air.

“Woah there sweetheart. You took quite a nasty hit.”

I looked around the room scanning for anything familiar, still trying to figure out what had happened. He must have read the confusion on my face because he started to explain.

“So...I...uh.. might've…um...hit you with my car…” he stammered, running his fingers roughly through his short hair, “Dammit! I just didn't see you. I shoulda been payin’ more attention! I...I was in a hurry…I don‘t know why I didn‘t see you. You came out of nowhere, sweetheart. I was so sure the street was empty when...I called the ambulance...got here as fast as I could…” He looked down at the floor and stopped rambling, his focus landing on his shoes.

The Rolodex in my head was whirring, attempting to find some context for what he was trying to tell me. This man had an american accent. Am I in the US? Even though I had no issue in understanding him, I was certain that english might not be my first language. It was like switching on a light. As soon as I heard those first few words in English, my brain just clicked and was now functioning on that language setting.

“Uh, I'm gonna go get the doc. Tell ‘em you're awake.”

He stood up quickly and was out of the room like a shot. Even though I was pretty sure the two of us didn't know each other, I felt weirdly comfortable in his presence. I was still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing when an older, kind looking woman in a white lab coat walked in.

“Hello Miss. I’m Dr. Hall. Can I check your vitals?”

The light she shined in my eyes left me temporarily dazzled. She checked the bandage wrapped tightly around my head, which I had previously failed to notice. When she lifted my light pink hospital gown and tapped my stomach, which had turned a nasty blueish-green color her face lighted up. She didn't look too worried, which eased my fears a bit.

“Well, all things considered, you seem to be doing well.” She gave me a small smile. “There's no internal bleeding and your nervous system seems to be functioning fine. You haven't suffered any major external injuries except for the laceration on the right side of your head. The MRI we did has shown a small swelling in the frontal lobe which means you most probably have a - “

“ - a traumatic brain injury.” I concluded. The words escaped my mouth without me really noticing it.

“That is correct.” She smiled at me, her delicate features framed by her dark brown hair. “Could you tell me what day it is?” My mind was blank.

“It‘s alright.” She continued, “It is Saturday the 25th of August. Can you remember your full name?”

My uncertainty must have been visible on my face as the woman laid a hand on mine, trying her best to comfort me.

„This is absolutely normal. No reason to panic.” she said in a reassuring tone.

„I have retrograde amnesia due to the frontal swelling. Usually due to impaired episodic and declarative memory.”

“I get the feeling that you have not lost your knowledge of what seems to be a medical background.” She stroked my hand, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

My eyes started to fill with angry tears. How could I know all this and not my own name?

Just then a movement from the doorway caught my eye. I looked up and noticed the man who hit me with his car standing there, holding two paper cups in his hands. He had an unsure expression on his face. It seemed as though he didn‘t know if his presence was welcome. How long had he been standing there?

“You should rest for now.” Dr. Hall said gently, while getting of the bed, “Headaches and temporary memory loss are very common after an accident like this.”

I nodded my head slowly, as the pounding was still almost unbearable.

“I will check on you later. Try to sleep and get as much rest as you can. Should you experience any increase in pain don‘t hesitate to press the button to call the nurse’s station, they will be happy to help.”

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my gown and nodded, not facing her but, instead, focusing on my hands, scanning the light scratches from my accident. My eyes fell on my left ring-finger. It had a line as if a ring was missing from it. I traced the line with my thumb and index finger, trying to remember if I had ever owned a ring that I would wear regularly. A slight cough ripped me from my thoughts. I looked up at the green eyed man, unsure of why he had come back.

“Um, I brought you some coffee. Maybe that's not the best idea, though, since the doc said to get some rest. I dunno, I had to do something…” he mumbled.

“Who are you?” I said as I squinted up at him.

He walked cautiously into the room as if he wasn‘t sure if he really belonged there.

“My name is Dean. Dean Winchester. I ...I hit you, remember?”

I put my hands over my face massaging the bridge of my nose with the tips of my fingers. “Yeah, I remember.”

Dean sat in the chair next to my bed placing one cup on the bedside table and sipping from the other. He reached into the pocket of his worn green jacket and placed milk, sugar and sweetener packages beside the cup.

“I didn‘t know how you‘d like it.”

“Neither do I.”

I had no intention of crying in front of this stranger and I certainly did not expect that coffee could ever make me cry.

“Hey.. it‘s alright sweetheart. You're gonna be fine.”

His calloused hands took mine as he began drawing small circles with his thumbs. I looked up into his eyes and I believed him. Dean’s face was warm and even though his eyes looked tired I knew he would stay by my side until I got better.

Part 2

Next part will be out latest by next Friday :) I would love to hear what you guys think! 

Tags: If you want to be taken off, let me know ;) 

@anticipate1003​

@erin654​

@wheresthekillswitch