#I’m pretty sure nate is supposed to be really small in the books but I forgot so he’s just a short king here

[rotomartsblog]

There’s a character in the books called Nathan Nutcracker and I wanted to make a design for him because I think Cedar deserves a friend who can relate to her

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs. 

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks. 

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other. 

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him. 

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago. 

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, ��I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome. 

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts. 

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is. 

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant. 

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever. 

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor. 

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away. 

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack. 

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back. 

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again. 

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans. 

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief. 

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her. 

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York. 

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry. 

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe. 

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color. 

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe. 

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[lampmeeting]

D for Charles/Magnus, I for Magnus/Toki, L for Charles/Pickles, and F for Melm/JT.

eeehEHEHEHE DILF *rubs my little hands together* don't mind if i do~

D for Drunken Love Confession - Charles/Magnus

pre-klok. :') magnus has been chipping away at charles' resolve. there's just something about the bookish, put-together little chuck offdensen that makes magnus wanna break through all his defenses and see him come undone. he always did like a challenge. they have heated, passionate debates about the direction of the band. they get in each other's faces. magnus even kissed him once, but charles pushed him away, furious and blushing, and demanded he leave his office.

after six months of this weirdly charged back-and-forth they have, the band invites charles to come drinking with them to celebrate pickles' birthday. charles declines, concerned they're just inviting him to come because they want someone else to play designated driver. but magnus intervenes like "nah i'm driving tonight, promise. so go nuts." and charles seems to think it over... and eventually agrees.

so they all go out! at first charles seems to be pacing himself, but pickles gets shots, and it's all downhill from there. magnus, staying dutifully sober, watches the rest of the band + charles get sloppy and silly, not minding in the slightest the way charles leans against him a little in the booth and touches him when he laughs. he starts to regret not getting drunk himself, but he'd promised charles. it's enough just to see charles' mask slip, albeit not quite in the way magnus wanted. but he'll take it for now.

at the end of the night, magnus drops the band off at the apartment and then continues on to charles' place. he pulls up, and charles tries to get out of the car, but stumbles and falls. he's a lot more fucked up than magnus suspected. magnus helps him to the door, but charles seriously looks like he's about to black out, so he takes him inside, cleans him up a little, and puts him to bed (on his side, in the recovery position, he knows the drill). before he leaves, he can't help himself... he runs fingers through charles' sweaty hair and strokes his jaw. charles opens his eyes, seeming surprised that magnus is still there, and then... he smiles at him. a genuine smile. and as his eyes close again, he whispers something that freezes magnus in place.

"...mmfm...mmlove you..."

"...what?"

but charles is under again, and magnus leaves in a panic. charles doesn't, can't, have feeling for him. that's too much. magnus just wanted some fun, right? maybe get charles worked up enough for an angry fuck. but...love?

magnus can't sleep. the next time magnus sees charles, charles pulls him aside. "i apologize that you had to babysit me like that the other night. i can't exactly recall everything that happened, so if i said or did anything, ah...embarrassing, i'm very sorry."

so charles doesn't remember what he said. or he does and he's just trying to save face. magnus should be relieved about this, but for some reason his heart feels suddenly sore...

"oh, yeah, no...you were out like a light. don't worry about it."

--

I for "Idiots in Love" - Toki/Magnus

post-post-galaktikon. weirdly enough i'd probably write this from like nathan's pov or something. he's having everyone over to the house for some reason, maybe a holiday or his daughter's first birthday or something (her cool uncles wouldn't dream of missing it). this means..... rrugghhgh magnus is coming over. it's the first time he's interacted with magnus since pickles and charles' wedding, so maybe a good couple years, and he's not looking forward to it.

everyone arrives. toki and magnus are the last to show up, and nathan has to do a double-take because this is SO not magnus. half his hair is back in a ponytail, he's let his beard grow in some, and he's wearing a sweater?? and he's smiling? he genuinely seems happy to see nathan, gives him a hug, says a warm hello to abby.

over the course of the afternoon nathan has to keep looking at him and reminding himself that's magnus fucking hammersmith because he's just so... animated? friendly? he's sitting next to toki and they're holding hands, and when others are talking the two of them are making eyes at each other and cuddling and laughing at little things they seem to be sharing between themselves. they're being a couple of absolute goofballs together, and honestly it's a bit sickening to watch. is magnus just faking this?

at some point nathan excuses himself to the kitchen for something, and while he's in there he's joined by magnus, considerably more subdued.

"sorry, man, i just...i thought maybe we could talk for a sec."

so they talk. they catch up a little. nathan learns magnus has been hitting the therapy especially hard over the past year, making some meaningful strides. it's not an act, he's genuinely happier now. or at least trying to be.

"i mean, you know how it is, nate, right? doesn't abby make you wanna be better just because she exists and she loves you?"

okay, nathan can understand that. he still doesn't understand... them. but it really seems like magnus has turned a corner, which... good for him, he supposes. as long as he's treating toki well.

when they return to the party, nathan watches magnus sit back down with toki and give him a kiss like he'd been gone all month, and they giggle to themselves again. this time, it seems...all right.

--

L for "Love at First Sight" - Charles/Pickles

i'm gonna flip the script here!! i've already done the whole "charles sees pickles on stage and goes gaga for him" twice now... so i'd pull away from the 80s and do a fic where they actually did meet for the first time in the mid-90s when pickles was in dethklok.

so they've got their shitty original manager (the one from doomstar) still, and he's just not pulling his weight. he's managing a few other bands and his heart isn't in dethklok the way it used to be. pickles is worried they're stagnating, and when he learns that it's been magnus lately making sure they get booked, that's the last straw. they all come together, and they tell the dude to fuck off. but then this leaves them without a manager. magnus offers, but pickles has already been wary about how possessive magnus seems about the band recently, so when pickles says no the rest of them vote the same.

pickles blows through his old contacts looking to dig up some manager from his past who can either wants to manage dethklok or has connections to someone else. no dice. skwisgaar comes up with no one. magnus is still trying to campaign for himself. shit gets dire when somehow seth finds out dethklok is lacking management and leaves pickles a voicemail offering his "valuable fuckin' services". pickles blows his fucking top, swearing and screaming. "HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND ONE GUY CAPABLE OF MANAGING A FUCKIN' BAND??"

the doorbell rings, and pickles, still raging, throws it open.

"WHAT??"

"ahh!"

it's just... a dude. like a normal-ass dude. glasses. a nice dress shirt and slacks. nice hair. handsome. he's nervous as shit, but that almost makes him more handsome.

"i, ah...i-i was told that van on the street belongs to, ah...to someone here? i clipped the, ah, the bumper. just a little. but it's noticeable."

anger forgotten, pickles just... stares at him. are his eyes green or brown? and that jawline...

the man shifts his weight just a bit, peeking into the apartment with wide, curious eyes. "sorry, that, ah... that's quite the drum kit."

"huh?" pickles looks back at it and steps inside, and the man follows as if he's simply meant to be there. "oh, yeah, thanks. you play?"

"hardly. a small jazz kit in college for a friend's music project but it, ah, obviously didn't go anywhere." the man glances around and seems to realize that he's just waltzed inside. "right, ah, so about the van--" he pulls out his card. charles f. offdensen of finch & associates. an honest-to-god lawyer. huh. so he's a smart guy. good-looking to boot. knows a bit about music, apparently. and he's looking to make things right about hitting the van...

pickles smiles, hearts in his eyes. "ya like metal, charlie?"

--

F for "Fake Dating" - Melmord/Twinkletits

aaahahah... okay. so, this would be when melm is living with john as part of his continued therapy. a few months pass, and they've actually become good friends, melm thinks, not just therapist and patient. it's nice living there with john.

and then, john gets a call from his ex-wife, joy. she's in town, and she wants to come over for dinner one night before she leaves. the only thing is, she's got her new fiance in tow. she and john ended on pretty mutual terms, so there's really no bitterness there, but even so, john knows it's going to be an unpleasant evening. and then there's the question of what to do about melmord.

"you can just stuff me in a back room and pretend i don't exist. i'll be real quiet."

"absolutely not, you've been watching too many sitcoms."

"excuse you, that's jane eyre."

john just doesn't exactly know how to approach explaining melmord's presence in the house. because he knows joy, and joy will ask.

"tell her i'm a friend who needed a place to crash?"

"joy knows i don't do friends anymore."

ouch go melm's feelings.

"well, uh... you could just tell her the truth? that i'm your patient and i live with you?"

john pulls a face. "absolutely not."

in a flash of sitcom inspiration, melm snaps his fingers. "i got it! i'm your boyfriend! we'll pretend to date!"

"pretend to--?? mel, honey, no. okay? i understand you're trying to help, but--"

"but what? what's your brilliant idea, doc?"

cut to john introducing melmord to his ex-wife.

"and this is my... well, he's uh, my boyfriend actually. my boyfriend melmord."

melm is all smiles as he leans in and takes joy's hand. "please, just call me mel."

and then of course at the end of a long night, joy and her fiance leave, and john and melm pat each other on the back for a job well done. they really gave it their all, put on a convincing performance full of long embraces and doting glances and romantic touches. neither of them really want to talk about how easily it came to them, and how unwilling they both are to bring it to an end.

"well, uhh... good night, then." john chuckles. "darling."

"yeah, haha, sleep good, uh... sugarbear."

they laugh. they're standing in the hall laughing. they should really move apart from each other and go to their respective rooms if they're going to sleep, but they're not moving. and they're still laughing. and now melmord is touching john's shirt, fingering a button, and john has a hand on melm's hip...

"maybe," melm says quietly, "we can just pretend for, like... a little longer?"

[homeformyheart]

tonight - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

day 15 - single

author’s note: @keybleminded suggested the single bed trope for this prompt and this is what i came up with; sorry that it’s a little less fluffy than i originally intended. i hope you all enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 16+; teeny tiny angst, one bed trope, implied drugging word count: 1.6k based on/prompt: day 15 – single from #28dateswithunitbravo challenge by @wayhavenmonthly summary: the night before a recon mission, farah and regina get into a little bit of trouble and adam keeps regina company through the night.

tonight

farah ran into the room and jumped on to the full-sized bed in the room, which was just big enough to be comfortable for two people, if those two people were willing to get cozy. it was the only decent thing in the very small hotel room, besides the small television, and regina was thankful they only needed to spend one night here. tomorrow morning, they would scout out the supposed rendezvous site and hopefully be back in wayhaven by nightfall.

regina sighed and put her duffel bag on the floor before taking off her coat. “i can’t believe there’s only one bed. didn’t adam fill out the paperwork?”

“why, you wishing he was here instead so you could cozy up on the only bed in the room like in the movies?” farah teased, slipping her shoes off and making herself comfortable.

regina rolled her eyes. “like that would ever happen. you all don’t need to sleep, remember? adam would just say i should take the bed because i need the rest while he stays up and keeps watch ‘for my protection’,” she said, using air quotes to emphasize her point.

“that was a great adam impression! it’s too bad you’re not into me, because i would totally pretend it was really cold and we needed to cuddle to keep warm,” farah winked.

“well it actually is pretty cold, so you wouldn’t have to pretend. and we could still cuddle if you want,” regina offered, chuckling.

farah sighed loudly. “not in the way that i know you want to with adam,” she chuckled at the flush that started creeping up regina’s neck before her gaze fell on a flyer placed carefully on the nightstand.

“can we go to this?”

regina skimmed the flyer that farah handed to her. “we’re supposed to get up early tomorrow. i don’t know if going out tonight is a good idea.”

“but it’s singles night! i’ve never gotten to go to one of these before,” farah pleaded, even as she started rummaging through their duffel bags for a more appropriate outfit.

the pros and cons ran through regina’s mind. on the one hand, it would be a chance to relax a little before the mission and distract herself from thinking about adam for a bit. on the other, they could be putting the mission at risk by potentially not being rested for tomorrow or exposing themselves unintentionally.

“i’ve never seen you wear this,” farah said, holding up a shimmery gold draped halter top with thin straps. “let’s go!”

why had she even packed that for an overnight mission? farah tossed it at her and motioned for her to go get changed.

back at the warehouse

the grandfather clock in the warehouse living room ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet space. the other members of unit bravo were enjoying their brief reprieve from farah’s usual antics. nate was reading on the couch and morgan was silently blowing smoke rings from her usual corner.

on any other night, he would be thoroughly enjoying a quiet evening to catch up on paperwork and otherwise relax. he kept telling himself it was a simple recon mission, the type they executed seamlessly numerous times. farah was the best for this type of mission and he trusted her to get regina out of any dangerous situations.

but for some reason, the quiet of the evening was still too loud for him.

he gripped the pen even tighter until the plastic was just on the edge of cracking, bending against even less than a tenth of his strength.

he missed the hum. there was a palpable energy that seemed to emanate from regina that touched anyone in her vicinity wherever she went. an energy that relaxed as often as it moved and matched the steady hum of her heartbeat.

a sound he sorely missed.

adam froze at the revelation, his body as still as the air, except for the crack of the pen as it snapped in half. the sound was quickly muffled by the harsh ring of his phone, jolting him back to the moment. farah’s name flashed across the tiny screen, fear filling his stomach in a way that was becoming all too familiar.

“i will be right there,” he growled into the phone after less than a minute.

nate looked up from his book. “is everything all right? do you need us?”

“no, i will handle it,” adam said firmly, grabbing his coat on the way out.

* * * * * it didn’t take long for adam to find them. even if he didn’t have regina’s scent and heartbeat memorized even more than farah’s (the fleeting thought made his brow furrow), the ruckus they were causing outside the bar would alert anyone to their location.

he sighed and made his way over to where farah was holding up a very drowsy regina, who could barely stand on her own, which he partially blamed on the impractical heels she was wearing and the icy snow on the ground.

“adam, thanks for coming. i think our detective here is going to need to get to bed,” farah said slyly, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that made adam groan inwardly.

he let his gaze wander up and down regina’s body for a fraction of a second longer than necessary to assess her physical well-being, which he knew would not go unnoticed by farah. he tucked one arm under her knees and let farah place regina’s upper body on his other arm so he could carry her, shifting her head to lean against his shoulder.

they made their way back to the hotel room, with heightened speed, farah quickly getting regina changed and comfortable while adam scanned the perimeter.

“what happened?” he asked quietly, once regina was tucked under the covers.

farah sighed. “we went to a singles night event at the bar and she got a lot of attention. i think someone may have tried to drug her. she didn’t have that much to drink when she started feeling dizzy.”

adam pressed his lips into a thin line in an attempt to keep his stoic mask in place. “is she alright?”

“she’s had a lot of water and should be able to sleep it off,” farah fidgeted with the ends of her scarf. “i’m sorry adam; it was my idea to go out and—”

“this is not your fault, farah. you are not to be blamed for inconsiderate fools who would drug and take advantage of someone,” he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder and farah found only sincerity in adam’s gaze. “at least regina—i mean, the detective, is fine. we can postpone the mission.”

“actually, about that – the site we were going to observe tomorrow is the bar,” farah explained. “it’s definitely a supernatural gathering place and there’s something in the basement. there’s not much more we can uncover without proper surveillance equipment.”

adam nodded. “good work. we’ll report back to agent bishop in the morning then. in the meantime, get some rest. i will keep watch.”

a thoughtful look passed through farah’s face before being replaced by a mischievous one. “actually, i think i will head back to the warehouse and you can keep the detective warm,” she said, zipping around the room and packing up her things before adam could protest.

“the thermostat’s broken and she’s shivering like crazy. you wouldn’t want her to catch cold, would you?” farah teased, hovering by the doorway.

adam opened his mouth to say something before promptly closing it. he glanced over at regina’s form under the duvet, and he could tell that farah was right. she was shivering, her body trying to process and expel whatever the toxin was.

he groaned and rubbed his face before giving a resigned nod, unlacing his combat boots one by one and sitting carefully on the other side of the bed.

“i’m pretty sure whatever is in her system will keep her from remembering anything in the morning, so you can let your guard down a little. i won’t tell anyone,” farah said, giving him a sympathetic smile before disappearing and locking the door behind her.

adam sighed and shifted closer to regina, carefully laying on top of the covers so as not to disturb her and maintain some space between them. he frowned at the sight of her shivering and curled up into a ball, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

it was his duty to keep the detective safe. it was natural that he be concerned for her well-being as a member of his team.

he hovered his hand close to her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her pale skin. she let out an almost inaudible moan, her shoulders shaking against the thick duvet.

he needed to find a way to warm her up. he snaked his arm around her waist, tucking one end of the duvet under her body and rolling her on top of his chest, effectively rolling her up in the covers. her head lay on his heart, and he hoped the sound of his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage loudly wouldn’t wake her up.

she let out a contented sigh that tickled his chin and he brought his other arm to her side, rubbing soothing circles up and down her arm and side to warm up her body. her shivering subsided as he did so, her breathing returning to its normal pace.

he closed his eyes and allowed the flutter in his chest to expand, the scent of her surrounding him fully.

just for tonight, he would relish being this close to her.

and in the morning, he would tell himself it was purely for her well-being and nothing else.

* * * * * permatag: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @writer-ish; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @fhauvilles; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart​;

[kdelarenta]

envy

pairing: mason x f!detective (josie valentine), also bobby is in this 

note: after the bakery incident (because I’m still not over it), things are tense and bobby only contributes, a lot of confusion lol, bobby and josie kissed in book 2 

Mason didn't like this, he didn't like this at all.

In theory it made sense with Josie's whole 'all for Wayhaven, town spirit' shit but did it really have to involve that stupid fucking reporter?

Even though Josie went on and on about how it was nice of him to promote the blood drive and how him covering it will draw people in, he saw that she wasn't indifferent to the idea of having him there. Something happened, he was sure of it. All he knew was that the two were best friends in college and somehow fell apart. Josie might be an open book but she was particularly stingy with the details whenever he was involved.

Him. The reporter. Bobby.

The same Bobby who was at Josie's apartment that night, the same Bobby he caught her visiting almost every day at the Agency's hospital wing. The same Bobby that keeps harassing her at work, no matter how much she tries to play nice and ignore him. He knew the shit face was getting to her, the way she was playing nervously with the sleeves of her yellow shirt and that worried look on her face were evidence enough of how much she was dreading this meeting, he thought briefly about having a little chat with him. But why should he? Josie could handle it, besides it's not like they were on the best of terms right now — he'd only make everything worse.

Josie still hasn't spoken to him except for a brief 'yes' when asked if she was going to be working late again and a 'no' when he asked if she needed him to walk her back to her car.

Both questions work related, as all their conversations were these past few weeks. But whatever. She'll get over it. Mason didn't care, or that's what he kept telling himself, but that still didn't stop the regret from coiling deep in his stomach.

When Bobby finally arrived he was greeted only by Nate and Felix, with Nate giving him a polite nod and Felix looking between him and Mason as if he's expecting the two to jump on each other any second. Adam simply gave Bobby a curt nod while Mason didn't bother to hide his eye roll. Bobby didn't seem too bothered by it but still stayed at the doorway as if waiting for something, Josie shifted on her feet unsure of what to do. The tension in the room was nearly impenetrable and the quiet was only interrupted by the sound of the station's printer. This meeting couldn't end soon enough.

"Hi." Josie blurted out before snapping out of it "Welcome, thanks for coming."

Bobby simply smiled and with a shrug stepped into the office.

"Well I wouldn't be a good reporter if I didn't cover the town's newest event, would I?" He steps further into the room, his attention completely on Josie.

"Especially when it's hosted by Wayhaven's dearest detective."

Mason almost growls at the sultry tone he lets casually slip in the compliment, Josie's eyes widen briefly before she looks away from him, blushing slightly. Mason frowned — what was up with her? She simply offered Bobby a small tight smile, lifting her shoulders to her chin in something akin a shrug. A tell that Mason knows means she's shying away and wants to shrink but Bobby doesn't miss a thing, his eyes gulping her down, hungry.

"Right. Thank you. Well, we should get started."

Josie busies herself with lifting the files from the table to make room for the blueprint of the event. Once she lays it down, Bobby joins her on the other side of the desk to examine it thouroughly. Josie's yellow shirt, with which she replaced her turtlenecks and pressed shirts once summer started, clashes with Bobby's white one causing Mason to avert his eyes every once in a while. The bright yellow should be even more unbearable to look at but somehow on Josie it didn't bother him that much. Bobby's shirt was also slightly unbuttoned, on purpose Mason assumed, since judging by his reaction earlier he didn't expect Unit Bravo to be there at all. He wanted them to be alone.

Mason smirked. He can forget about it.

After a few moments Bobby whistles. "This is the Mayor's idea."

"Yeah." Josie slightly leans on the desk "Flashy. Colorful. Fun — the brighter it looks, the more people it attracts."

"Sounds about right." he says giving her a conspiratorial smile.

Josie shrugs. "It's the best way to get people interested."

"Yes I know Jo." Bobby rolls his eyes "You don't have to jump to everyone's defense all the time."

Mason didn't know if it was the nickname or the almost irritated tone he used that made Josie uncomfortably shrink again.

"Just get on with what you came here to do." Mason interjects impatiently "No one asked for your opinion."

They both finally look up at Mason and acknowledge that the rest of Unit Bravo are still in the room. Bobby makes to probably sass him back before Josie cuts him off.

"Stay out of this Mason." she orders in a strict tone so unlike her usual gentle one "Bobby was kind enough to help us out with this so you should treat him with respect."

Bobby seems just as surprised as Mason at the outburst before turning towards him with a smug smirk.

"Yeah Specialist Agent Mason." he almost spits out the title "Show me some respect."

He simply crosses his arms, stifling the urge to grab him by the collar and teach him some 'respect'. Felix throws him a worried frown but he shrugs it off, he wants a smoke but he doesn't want to leave.

Choosing to move on from the conflict, Josie and Bobby agree to get started with crafting the article. Mason watched with interest as Josie took initiative, listening attentively to everything Bobby suggested and making her opinions strongly known when needed. The change in Josie's confidence didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team who seemed really proud of how far she'd come since their first meeting. And Mason was glad, he couldn't help the small tinge of pride that lingered in his chest at seeing Josie be more sure of herself.

She was a great detective, Mason never doubted that and it was time for her not to doubt it too.

His senses haven't been acting up again, not with Josie's presence there to soothe them, but something was begining to set him off. A strong aroma, as he focuses on finding the source it immediately draws him to Bobby. Overwhelming. His face scrunched up when the scent finally hit his nostrils — juniper, Josie's favorite. Does he really think he's being subtle? Though he doubts subtle is really Bobby's forte.

He's onto the bastard and what's he's trying to do. It won't work, Josie's too smart for that. But as more time passes, the more unsure Mason becomes.

The two work in sinc, dancing around each other in a familiar routine that they only know the steps to. It's like they've done this a thousand times before and Mason briefly acknowledges that they probably have. The way they communicate through glances, the way they finish each other's sentences knowing what the other is going to say before they actually say it. It reminds him of Nate and Adam and he wants to extinguish that connection, they're nothing like Nate and Adam.

He's a bastard and she's—

She's Josie, she's Josie and he can't imagine how they could've ever been friends.

"Are they going to serve food there as well?"

"I guess, since there will be a lot of festivities."

Bobby hums in agreement before sliding his glance briefly over at Mason. He smirks again as if he's suddenly remembered something.

"They better not serve strawberry ice cream though, right Jo?"

Josie looks mildly panicked glancing from him to the team as if they're supposed to know what that means.

"Bobby you promised!" Josie pouts slightly but he can see it's more out of amusement than being upset. They both share a smile from across the table and Mason's sick again. He's throwing it in his face, isn't he? The fact that they have secrets, memories... something that her and Mason don't. Whatever. He doesn't care who she has memories with, he'll win her over soon enough.

Josie joins Bobby's side of the table as they both lean over the blueprint. Mason doesn't miss how Bobby's eyes never leave Josie's face as she talks, too engrossed in the blueprint to notice. He couldn't quite make out the look on the reporter's face and it irked him. Josie was pretty to look at, there was no doubt about it, but it wasn't just that. There was something else there; dialated pupils, fondness...

He's not staying for this bullshit anymore. Josie briefly looks up at the sound of him leaving the chair. He doesn't care — he's not thinking about this anymore. He's not thinking about the fact his hand is only inches away from hers and he's definitely not thinking about the fact that she's starting to forget herself too, leaning into him slightly, their shoulders touching.

"This is taking too long, I need a smoke."

He doesn't look back. He doesn't notice Josie watching him leave.

-

Josie offers a final smile to Nate as she closes the door to her office. She didn't know what exactly encouraged her to walk Bobby out, maybe it was because she wanted to thank him again or maybe it was because she wanted to make sure that everything was right between them. She had her reasons, there was no doubt about it. She prayed for weeks that he wouldn't remember the kiss they shared in her apartment. She wouldn't know what to do if he did. And so far, he hadn't mentioned a thing, so he must've really forgotten everything that had happened.

The meeting felt familiar. And it was familiar, so familiar that if she closed her eyes and let herself drift away, she could pretend that this was a college project. That they were partners, friends, best friends...

She bit her tongue.

"Thank you, again, for doing this."

'I couldn't have done this without you' she almost says, like she did before. But she learned that she could do it without him.

"No problem." he said giving her a friendly smile "I would've stopped by anyway."

Why? , she wants to ask immediately. But she knows why.

User.

"Oh." she simply states and finds herself avoiding eye contact. A small part of her was still scared that one moment he'll snap out of it and remember what happened.

The kiss had remained her own filthy little secret. She didn't tell anyone, not Tina, not Rebecca, not anyone. She was filled with such shame, how could she have been so weak?

What was she thinking? That he actually cared? She had finally stopped returning his calls, stopped turning around when he'd try and talk to her. Stopped treating him as a treasured person in her life that he once was. He decided to stop being that. Her best friend. It was his choice.

So she doesn't believe him when he says he misses what they had because what they had was so easy to throw away for a stupid article. An article that made sure she couldn't show up to campus anymore. Her nails dug into her palms. That was the thing with Bobby, he managed to bring out the worst in her, the worst that Josie desperately tries to keep inside.

"I had a weird dream about you, you know." his voice brings her out of it and she doesn't avert her eyes this time. The way his mouth shaped around the word 'weird' filled her with dread.

"What?"

"It felt so real." he utters somewhat to himself, his eyes laying solely on her lips. Breathing heavily, she reflexively took a step back but stopped the urge to run and lock herself in her office.

"People dream about all sorts of things. You shouldn't worry about it." her words are half-rushed, her tone is all skewed and she all but freezes when his eyes meet hers with intent focus. As he examines her face, she's almost sure he'll give her that content smirk, the one he uses when he knows he's won, and call her out on her bluff. But he doesn't.

Instead he simply looks away for a second and shrugs, visibly snapping out of it. She makes an effort not to let her relief show.

"Yeah, you're probably right. See you around Jo."

She doesn't trust herself to respond, after all, she'd never been a good liar.

And how can she respond when she can still feel his kiss on her lips?

[wayhavven]

Love’s Philosophy

Gift fic for @mewsly as a part of @loveinwayhaven

Pairing: Adam Du Mortain x Detective Orianna Moreau

Rating: All

Word Count: 2712

Notes: Ah! I’m so nervous to post this! I really hope I did your detective justice, she seems amazing 🥺 I went for sort of mid-romance vibes... this is also the first time I’ve written Adam, or anything TWC actually, so I have been a little worried about how he comes across as well. I really hope you enjoy😅

Summary: Adam spends some time in the library.

Adam grunts as his large fingers slip over the leather bound books on the shelf. He’s tucked away right at the back of the library in the bunker, looking for absolutely nothing in particular. If each title that flicks in his peripheral is decidedly not something else, then, well, he wouldn’t notice. And he certainly doesn’t notice the mug ring on the coffee table at the end of the row. Still wet. He can say with ninety-nine point nine percent accuracy that this is a result of a sickeningly sweet, creamer-laced coffee, probably left half full and forgotten momentarily because it’s owner had been perusing the shelves for something else about the supernatural.

And then it catches him, an old—perhaps very early edition if he remembers right—edition of Pride and Prejudice. She doesn’t know it’s here, because he’s sure she would’ve said.

But when he reaches for it, his hand stops by itself. It drags across the direction toward the dark corners, moving at speed until—plod. Something leather-bound with a worn bookmark partway through. As he gently slides it out, Adam notes the gold type font on the front: a poetry anthology. Shelley, to be specific. He knows a lot of these by heart, three-hundred odd years of people raving about the rakes and romantics will do that to a guy. All the same, he’s sure to thumb carefully to the bookmarked part. The spine squeaks as it opens, a quiet yawn where Adam is waking it from a nap. A little dust flies up and is highlighted in the strips of dim lamplight from above. He looks up briefly, checking his surroundings. Not that the detective would be able to come anywhere near him without his pheromones going off. Even if he wasn’t a vampire, he’s sure he’d recognise the sound of her footfall underwater. Because he has to know to protect her properly, of course.

The page the book has squeaked open to has one poem on it: ‘Love’s Philosophy.’

Adam, not particularly taken with poetry for the most part, doesn’t know this one. Only the very famous ones when it comes to Percy Bysshe Shelley: ‘Ozymandias,’ ‘To a Skylark,’ ‘Stanzas Written in…’

Reading for enjoyment as a rule isn’t his thing. But the little he does recall never really lit anything in him. He has never felt how he was told poetry should be making him feel. Maybe he is too worn from years spent focusing on most things aside from feeling. Absentmindedly grazing his thumb over the page, feeling each grain of the pulp on his finger tips, Adam finds his eyes wandering back to the wet mug ring on the coffee table to his right. Drying now, the sheen dulling to match the light wood. It’s nice wood, light, fresh, slightly enthusiastically holding the weight of forgotten books. Adam’s a little lost in the colour. Because it echoes in his mind a similar colour that has been the focus of many an accidental daydream.

Suddenly, he’s seeing pretty light brown eyes; caramelly, iridescent when they’re in that one chair in the office where the sun has a chance to shine on them. Lighting up when she learns new things, particularly those of his world; the supernatural world. Creasing a little in the corners when she makes the odd sarcastic quip. Dilating every so often when he’s talking to her, for reasons he isn’t sure.

One of the books on the table is leather-bound in a deep red, and Adam finds himself imprinting the image of coils of long hair that exact shade into the space he stares at. Adam actively does not enjoy that his brain wanders like this. That it seems to veer off task for silly reasons.

He shakes his head. If only he had a use for sleep. He doesn’t often find himself wishing that, but these days… perhaps more often. Perhaps he wonders what he might dream of.

But he doesn’t want to lose the control of consciousness. It keeps him in check. It keeps him able to protect the detective.

And he doesn’t want to lose control full stop. Doesn’t let himself think too deeply about any of it for fears he may push himself past retrieval.

Adam finds, as he stands there almost frozen, that his mind wanders to a day not so dissimilar to this one. When he had been reading late, against his wishes, for some information Rebecca requested.

—-

With each line he reads, Adam can feel his biceps twitching to get some combat under his belt. This is more Nate’s expertise; he’d far rather be out trying to get one up on Morgan. But, alas, he has been given other responsibilities. And he always fulfills his responsibilities. He finds himself sighing each time he turns the page, increasingly frustrated that he actually seems to be learning less.

Like a saving grace, the library door creaks open and he looks up from where he stands by the window. One hand in his pocket, one under the old book. Detective Orianna Moreau enters, a candle highlighting the high points of her soft, deep brown skin, shining in the light-hued eyes which find him almost immediately. Her silhouette casts subtle grey shadows on the wall behind her as she nears him.

He’d known she was coming, of course. He always does. But it’s always a different thing actually seeing her. Like he’s never completely convinced she’s really there.

She smiles gently at him, nearing with the candle in her grip melting down itself, flickering.

“You’re up late,” she says, placing the candle down by him on a ledge. “I thought you might need a bit of light.”

Light. Like her. Her charming, friendly, easygoing nature always lights up the room. Adam reveres it sometimes. Sometimes he doesn’t.

It makes him a little nervous, actually. And he hates feeling nervous. Hates losing himself in the light when he has to focus on work and tasks.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but is acutely aware as he remains standing in his spot, that the detective goes to sit on a nearby sofa. She’s supposed to be researching too, so it’s not too odd, but humans do have to sleep, after all.

“Should you not be asleep?” He turns just enough so that he can see her from the side of his face.

“I have to learn this, and want to. There are far worse ways to be spending an evening.” She smirks at him, suggestive and amused. “Come and sit with me.”

At first, Adam was going to outright point-blank say no. So he’s not completely sure why his legs carry him over to the sofa and lower him down beside her. But far enough away that there’s significant space between them. She laughs and rolls her eyes, scooting over next to him. The small amount of her body which presses up against him sends a shock of ice up his veins. She’s warm, so warm, that he feels like his ice is melting a little. It’s almost terrifying, but Adam doesn’t move. Doesn’t show outwardly how he’s feeling. Lets his thigh burn quietly as though he’s already extinguished the flames.

The book in his hand drops to his lap, his other hand twitching on his thigh. She gives him that smile again and his heart almost stops. Settling back into the cushions, Orianna picks up the book from his hands and starts to dig into it.

“I was reading that.”

“I know, but you weren’t enjoying it.”

That she seems to know this about him, though, isn’t lost on Adam. He believes himself to be stoic and mysterious perhaps, but maybe Orianna can see past that. Through it. The way Nate always does.

She holds the book in her left hand, her right sitting on her thigh somewhat restlessly. Just inches from his own. Ensuring that she’s pouring all of her attention into the book, which she seems to be, Adam drops his eyes subtly to her hand. Unsure why, but seemingly doing things of his own accord, Adam’s impulse is to make contact with her. His pinky falters, reaching out a little by itself, quivering in a way he isn’t used to. A way he isn’t sure he likes. Nonetheless, he uses its movement to bolster the moving of the rest of his hand. Slowly, millimetre by millimetre, Adam lets his hand move away from his body. Slip across to the detective’s. He places his down on top of hers gently, encompassing it, letting his fingers and thumb curl around its shape. He doesn’t dare look at her, but he can’t miss in his peripheral the smug beaming grin which takes over her expression.

They sit like that a long while, Adam still, holding her hand. He should be frustrated that he’s not getting anything productive done, but he can’t be. Something about her hand in his means he cannot be anything other than content and a touch conflicted. The detective’s expression never falters as she reads, doesn’t worry when she has a hard time turning the page with the use of only one hand. Seems quite amused by it, actually. Adam chuckles himself a little internally, unable to stop the smile which spreads over his face. With his free hand, he reaches over and turns the page for her.

“Thanks.”

“It is my pleasure.”

When the detective repositions their hands, winding hers around and up, so that their hands are completely joined, Adam can’t help but finally look at her fully. She squeezes his hand, and looks up at him too. Their eyes bore into each other, melting.

It had all been going so well until Farah bounded in like a puppy with a new toy. Quickly, rushedly, Adam pulls his hand from the detective’s.

—-

He thinks about that day a lot. Wishes he didn’t. Wishes he didn’t think about a lot of things pertaining to the detective.

As though on cue, the fine hairs on his arm stand to attention, and his ears zone in on the sound of smart shoes on the linoleum. She’s coming back.

Forcing his eyes back down to the page, Adam has completely forgotten what he had even been looking at. ‘Love’s Philosophy,’ that’s it. Shelley.

She’s entering, though, and he can’t focus himself enough on what he’s holding to seem entirely nonchalant. Doesn’t give himself enough time to consider that it probably isn’t in his best interests for Detective Moreau to see what he’s holding. She’s bold, flirty. She’d pick up on something and make a remark that would have his cheeks hot and his jaw tightening in a way he doesn’t want it to.

Through the gap in the shelf he can just about see a fitted pencil skirt, shirt tucked in, emerging into the library. She’s holding another book, something supernatural focused that smells a little of blood and Adam isn’t sure where exactly came from.

Next thing he knows, she’s rounded the corner.

“Oh.” He hears her from the side, always debating how the next words will come from his mouth. She just seems a little surprised he’s there, is all. “Hi.”

He can hear the smile in her voice, senses how she places her book down on the coffee table he’d been so fixated on before. The title looks to be written in Haitian Creole.

“Hello. You have been busy.” He nods to the table. She grins. There’s always a sparkle in her eyes when she’s learning new things; especially new things about the world which only opened up to her not so long ago.

“Always have to know more, you know me.”

He does. Knows her scent, the exact amount of time which passes between each step she takes, how she shines like the sun whenever something otherworldly occurs. Knows she would be interested to know about the early edition of Jane Austen he completely accidentally came across. Knows that a large part of him wishes he didn’t know these things.

“What are you reading?” she asks, the tone of her voice something Adam hadn’t even realised he’d been yearning to hear.

“I am not. I picked it up. I will be putting it back now,” he nods, hesitating at the sight of the page. His eyes drag over the words subconsciously: heaven, sweet emotion, sunlight, moonbeams, kiss.

Things which are meant to be pretty and emotive and only seem to be making him think of the one thing he doesn’t really want to think of.

How maybe he doesn’t believe in heaven, but that it might be something close to her eyes when she smiles. Or how sweet emotion is something that Adam doesn’t feel like he can achieve, but if he were to, maybe it would be because of her. The sunlight which shines on her in her office, which highlights her features and matches her personality. Moonbeams… electric, softly-glowing, other-wordly. Kiss… well, he tries not to focus on that one.

But he also thinks sometimes he thinks too much and of too absurd topics. That he shouldn’t allow himself to think these things. He has responsibilities. Duties.

He might have closed the book and placed it back when he hears her start to near, but he feels a little too frozen on the spot.

“Shelly,” she smiles again, pulling down on the corner of the book so that she can see the contents of the page. “A love poem! Romantic,” she teases, in the way that only Orianna knows how.

���I was just interested in the bookmark.”

“Oh, that might have been me, I like this one.”

He nods, moving to close it, but his hand is caught by Orianna instead. He stiffens, the brush from her climbing up the brim in his arm right the way to his heart. Reminding him of when he’d held her hand before.

“Let me read it again.” She smiles, letting her eyes drift back over the page. She’s stubborn, so there’s no point arguing. Not that he’d have much reason to, anyway. Adam finds his curious eyes slipping over the page, too, and he reads the words in front of him.

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?

When he pulls his eyes from the page, he looks to the woman beside him. She’s mouthing the last line, subtle warmth on her face, and it’s impossible to not focus on the movements of her lips as she rolls through the vowels and consonants.

“Yes, it’s lovely. Just as I remember.”

“I suppose it is not awful.”

She lets out a little snort. “You hate reading for pleasure.”

The smile he returns is ever so miniscule. She’s absolutely right, but seeing her find joy in it makes it not so bad.

He’s drawn in by the pull of her eyes again, struggling to find the right words. Creasing his brow a little, he watches her edge a little closer. Finds himself willing down the impulse to hold her hand once more.

She smiles at him, in a way that tells him she knows the look on his face. It’s frozen, unsure, repressing. So she just leans in, and places a gentle, soft kiss just below his ear. Her lips on his skin sear simultaneously hot and cold, soft. She lingers a little, hand ghosting at his jaw. A little cold touch from the jewellery she wears.

That spot feels incredibly warm even as she moves away again. Even as she pulls the book from his hands, closes it, places it back on the shelf.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Adam.”

Adam starts, not even remembering what the date was. Perhaps he’d been a little too distracted.

“I—well, yes. Happy Valentine’s Day, I suppose.”

[spookysweet-heart]

Just Another Runaway?

Parings: Circus!Egos x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Youtuber Egos (Mark, Jack, and Nate)

Warning: Vague mention of abuse

A/N: Hello! I deleted the original work I had because I wanted to change a few things. I hope you all like this new Introduction to this Circus series! The lovely aesthetic I’ll be using for this intro is by the very talented @huffle-princess​! Thank you again for letting me use your aesthetics! Edited by @semiproeagle23​

           Life was never the greatest, you had to admit that. From the screaming, to the fights, the bruises, and tears. The only escape you had from what was supposed to be your home, was the local Gym. A little weird, but they had a gymnastics section in there and that’s where you loved to go.

Your best friend since childhood, Stretch, is the owner's daughter. She goes to the same school you do. You two would always be at the Gym after school for a bit, and you’d always find the time to practice some moves and get a workout done with some of the other girls who were practicing. 

Though you would never really join in, you were more off to the side. 

Stretch would help you cover up bruises you had that were visible, but you could see it in her face that she was worried about you, though you always told her you were fine and pushed through it.

Those unspoken words you and her shared when she looked at the pain you were in always ended in you running away at the end of the day, but none were successful.

You made plans and sure you were careful to the tiniest detail, perfecting it after each attempt you took. 

Failure after failure, you never gave up. The first few times after being brought back home from the cops, you were yelled at, degraded. 

It took a couple more years, but once you turned 17, you decided to go through with your new plan you worked so hard on.

Packing up some things in your backpack, you made sure to take everything you needed. You went to school as normal, and hung out with your friends. You weren’t really paying attention to their conversation at lunch till you saw one of them pull out a flier out of her bag. 

“What’s that?” You looked over curiously at the piece of paper.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s a traveling Circus coming into town.” You shook your head and Sam smiled at you. “I heard this Circus only pops up for one week in the year.”

Meer rolled her eyes. “So what? You’re saying it like it’s supposed to be scary?”

“Well, it is. I heard each town this Circus goes to at least one kid from the town goes missing and they never see them again. They say the Circus is for the lost souls of the living.” Stretch made a face while making spooky noises.

The whole table burst into laughter. You pointed at the flier and asked.  “Where is it going to be?”

“In the middle of the woods two miles away from the abandoned train tracks.” Sam piped up in excitement.

“Wait, how do you know that?” Meer raised an eyebrow, looking confused at her friend.

“Jordan from science said he was in the woods this morning and he saw them set everything up.” Sam said as she took a bite of her food.

“Jordan?! You can’t believe everything that kid says.” Meer looked at Sam like she was joking.

“Why not?” Stretch asked as she slid the flier over to you when she saw you trying to look at it.

“The kid’s kinda weird, like not normal weird.” Meer made a face and took a sip of her juice. 

You rolled your eyes and carefully folded the flier, putting it in your bag. “Just because he’s really into science doesn’t make him weird. He just likes what he studies.” 

Standing up from the table and making your way to your next class, Stretch stopped you in the hallway. "Hey! Are we still going to the gym after school? You haven't been going the past week and the coach is starting to get worried."

Adjusting your backpack, you gave her a small smile. "Yeah, about that. I just haven't been feeling too well and haven’t been up to going to the gym."

"Is everything okay? (Y/n), your parents aren't-"

"No! No…they aren't, I just haven't been up to going lately. I'm sorry, I have to get to my class."

Right as you started to walk away, she grabbed your arm. "(Y/n), whatever it is you're going through, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

You nodded and gave her a brighter smile. "Yeah, of course I know. I'll see you around, okay?" Taking back your arm, you headed off to your next class.

------

Towards the end of the day, you had a free period for your last class, so you decided to go look through the school's library. Besides gymnastics, you always loved reading when you were actually home. Scary stories were what you loved to read. Sure, it was a bit childish, but you loved it because you would control the fear and how it affected you. 

Your eyes scanned the shelves of many horror novels, comics, and picture books. Though….you noticed one book in particular. It looked a little odd to the rest.

Picking it out, you saw the cover was faded. There were spots of brown and red, the spine was a bit torn, and the pages looked like they could crumble with the lightest touch.

Taking a look at the cover, the faintest words could be made out. "The Circus of Souls….I read that somewhere- no way…" Quickly taking the flier out of your bag, you put it side by side with the book. "They're the same…."

Gently opening the book, you saw drawings of a ringleader in the shadows with a wicked smile. In his hand held a cane with a small orb. His eyes were hidden by the top hat. What looked like red and black smoke surrounded him.

There were images of a magician in a mask with glowing potions in his hands, a man who seemed to be surrounded by purple smoke singing to a crowd. A mystic and dark fortune teller. A man in pink wearing a blindfold and holding knives. And a girl with glowing green eyes standing next to a tiger.

Every page had a story and specific person to it. Staring at the picture of the Ringleader, you were lost in thought when the last bell rang. You jumped as it brought you back to reality. 

Looking around and making sure no one was near, you placed the book and flier into your bag heading out of the school as fast as you could. 

Holding your bag close, you walked towards the woods, not looking back. You started walking the trail until you turned away from it. 

Carefully, you maneuvered your way through the trees and bushes, making your way to the abandoned train tracks.

Moving through a bush, you made it to the other side to where the track was. Looking around at the abandoned train cars, you sat at the edge of the tracks, taking out a water bottle from your backpack. You sighed after taking a sip, and looked up at the sky, seeing it was pretty cloudy out today. Tugging your jacket a bit closer to your body, you decided to explore the cars that were open.

You knew some homeless people used to live in them, but no one ever saw them around much anymore, so you figured it was safe. Climbing into one, you carefully took out your flashlight and looked around. It was mostly dusty and smelled of rotting food and rusted metal.

In the corner of your eye, you thought you saw black smoke outside of the car, but when you turned to it, it wasn't there. "Weird…" Jumping out of the car, you turned off your flashlight and took out the flier again. Examining it, you saw the picture of the Circus Ringleader. His eyes were, again, covered by his hat and what was supposed to be a charming smile actually looked malicious.

Taking a deep breath in, you turned around to see the black smoke just barely disappear again. You raised an eyebrow at this until you heard the faint sound of music. It was something you'd hear from a music box or a children's lullaby. 

Before you knew it, your feet were walking towards the distant sound. In your head, you were protesting, but it felt like something else was controlling your movement.

Squeezing through tight areas, climbing and jumping from car to car, you put good use into the years you'd taken gymnastics. Keeping your balance and heart rate at a steady pace, you felt like you were being watched with each move you made. 

With the music getting a little louder, you knew you were going the right way. After a while, you found yourself willingly going towards the music instead of fighting back. Curiosity grew with each step, knowing you were that much closer to seeing the source. 

Climbing up onto a tree, you hung onto one of the branches by your hands, carefully pulling yourself up to sit on the sturdy branch. In the distance, you saw it. The circus tents, the lights, the music….everything looked so inviting.

Deciding to stick with staying in the trees so you wouldn't be seen, you managed to swing from one branch to another.

As you got closer and closer, you sat on a branch a good distance away. Placing your bag on your, lap you took out the book and looked over at the tents. "This can't be real…" Opening the book again you saw the circus layout was exactly the same.

Flipping through the pages, you saw two acrobat and tightrope walkers. One was in a blue outfit and the other in a green matching outfit, both standing side by side. Flipping through the pages of story and art, something caught your eye. 

There was a drawing of four silhouettes, but it felt incomplete. Lightly brushing a finger over one, you thought your eyes were playing tricks when you saw golden specks appear when you did so.

Closing the book, you sighed as you put it away. You jumped a bit when you heard a twig snap from underneath you. Quickly putting a hand over your mouth and bringing your knees closer to you, you tried to hide as best as you could.

"Don't be such a frightened stranger. I'm not gonna hurt ya. But it's no use hiding when I already saw you up there."

Your heart dropped hearing that. The man's words meant no harm, but his tone told a different story. 

Glancing down at the figure below, you realized who it was. Carefully, you made your way down the tree and stood a good distance away from the man in the red suit.

“Well, what do we have here? A spectator?” He looked over at your bag and noticed how full it was. His smile grew, making him seem more intimidating. “Ah, just another runaway, I see.” Taking off his top hat, you saw his eyes for the first time. Piercing bright red eyes stared down at you as you took a step back. “Now, now….as I said before, no need to be afraid….yet, at least. Let me introduce myself.” He reached his hand out for you to shake. “My name is Phantom, I’m the ringleader of this Circus here, if you couldn’t tell already.”

Hesitantly, you shook his hand. A shiver ran down your spine when his cold hand touched yours. “N-Nice to meet you…” Taking your hand back, you immediately shoved it into your jacket pocket, surrounding it with warmth.

Phantom stood up straight again and placed his hat on his head. “Tell you what, kid, I’ll give you four free tickets to the Circus Of Souls. They’re valid for the whole week we’re here. You and three of your friends can have all the fun you’d like, my treat.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out four tickets. He smiled as he handed them to you. “You look like you could use a little fun in your life.”

Taking the tickets, you looked up at the man who now you know as Phantom. “There has to be a catch. You don’t just give tickets away like that…”

Phantom held his stomach as he laughed to himself. “Of course, everything has a price to pay. So what would you pay for happiness, then?”

“If I’m being honest….anything really…”

Phantom started to smile again, but you noticed it was the same wicked smile he had, like the picture in the book. “Anything….interesting.” He looked up at the sky for a moment before he heard someone shout by the big tent. “Well, looks like I have to go. You should get home before it gets dark. The woods are a scary place to be at night. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we. Go home, I’ll see you soon, (Y/n).”

As he turned away, you looked down at the tickets and looked confused because you never gave him your name….so how did he know it? Just as you looked back up to get his attention again, he was gone.

Tag List:

@lady-bee-fechin​

@smolwash​

@stretchy-longstocking​

@wildspeciallavender​

@freckled-words​

@nerdqueenkat​

@kateneedscoffee​

@drackenwolfdoctor​

@nekosounds​

[bonniebird]

The Lust Demon Familiar

John x Demon / Familiar!Reader

“Wait. So you’re saying it wasn’t the warlock?” Ava asked Nate and Charlie as they explained what had happened during their recon mission.

“Look, I’m telling you it was the warlock’s magic. But it wasn’t him. Nate was there with him the whole time!” Charlie insisted. Nate agreed and explained when he’d seen happen, which really wasn’t very much.

“So there is something using the warlock’s powers to summon demons and other creatures to this town?” Sara asked slowly, throwing the idea out. She cocked her head before turning to look at Constantine who was looking unnervingly thoughtful.

“There is only one creature I know that can do that.” He said after a while.

“What is it?” Ray asked quickly.

“That’s a difficult question to answer, mate.” Constantine said as he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and twirled it between his fingers as he turned to face Sara. “I do have a friend I could ask though.”

“When did you get friends?” Sara joked as she walked past him.

“In fairness she isn’t exactly a friend. Haven't seen each other in a while.” John admitted.

“Oh well I’m sure this will go great!” Ava exclaimed.

Constantine raised his eyebrows as if he agreed with Ava and glanced over at Gary. “Think I could borrow you for some magic assistance.” “Oh I would assist you with anything.” Gary said before blushing as the Legends gave him an odd look.

“Grand. I’ll be needing your help too. The beast we’re summoning tends to ignore me till she wants a favour. Poor thing is a sucker for authority.” John said as he looked over at Ava.

“Well I suppose someone should be supervising.” Ava agreed. John led the way, Gary following him out of the room, close at his heels.

“Good luck babe.” Sara said with a light chuckle to her tone. She kissed Ava’s cheek before Ava left the room. “The rest of us can start looking into what's happening more closely.”

***************

“So why are we at your mansion and what are you summoning?” Ava asked as John finished up the magic drawings and runes on the floor. Gary had directed each one and they’d talked for at least twenty minutes about positioning of runes. It had gone over Ava’s head but she appreciated how difficult getting it exactly right must have been.

“There are very few things that can use a warlock's powers in the way our Nate and Ava described. I’d bet my last cigarette that it’s a kind of familier.”

“A familiar! Like black cats and toads!” Gary asked with an excited expression on his face.

“Not always. Any animal will do for a powerful warlock. Sometimes they’re a specific type of demon that you can summon to serve you in exchange for the life of… well a pet that is spoiled rotten.”

“So you’re going to summon this, demon… familiar?” Ava asked reluctantly as she watched John lead Gary into the circle and sit, both holding hands.

“No. We’re going to summon mine.”

“You have a familiar! What’re they like?” Gary asked, cutting off Constantine who had started chanting.

“She was the runt of her family, so to speak, took her in so she wouldn’t die off. Something she doesn’t like to be reminded of. Small sweet little thing in a good mood. But you mark my words mate. You piss her off; she'll have your throat in her teeth before you realise her mood has changed. Had to lock her away the last time she lost it. Might have left her for too long.”

Ava wanted to question if this was a good idea. But she recalled the people being attacked and kept quiet as Gary and Constantine chanted. There was a glowing between the two of them and the smaller circle in the center became so bright she looked away. When they were done there was a loud hiss and something small and black shot out of the room.

“Do excuse me. I need to go and grovel to my cat.” Constantine said when it didn’t come back in.

Ava rolled her eyes as he left and shook her head. “I hope this works.”

“(Y/N)?” Constantine called as he started looking through the rooms of his home. A low hiss drew him to the room you were in. Seeing you perched on the fireplace, glowering at him. “Alright love, no need to be snippy.”

He stepped back when you hopped off the fireplace with a gentle thud and shifted into your human form.

“Wow!” Constantine turned to see Gary and Ava looking into the room, curiously staring at you. “She changed! Did you see that. Incredible.”

“Well finally someone who appreciates me.” You almost purred, smiling at Gary who started sputtering and backing away when he realised you were completly naked.

“Alright now! No need to scare him off.” Constantine scolded.

“Oh! Of course. How could anyone pay me a compliment. I forgot I’m some awful demon monster that needs to be locked up!” You spat out at Constantine, squaring up to him.

“Hey now! You brought that upon yourself when you started attacking people.”

“You blabbed about my being a familiar to a bunch of wanna be warlocks! They didn’t even know about familiers.”

“That doesn’t sound like her fault, if anything it sounds like you started it.” Ava said. She looked alarmingly nervous when you actually purred and stroked a finger up her arm, across her shoulders and down the other as you circled her.

“I like this one.” You muttered smiling when she tried to maintain eye contact and not look as nervous as she felt.

“Alright, enough of this.” Constantine said as he shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. “I need you to help me find another familiar.”

“No.” You said and started to leave. Constantine muttered a few words and the next thing you knew you’d walked into a brightly lit metal room. Turning slightly you could see a group staring at you.

“(Y/N) this is Sara Lance, and the Legends.” Constantine said as he, Ava and Gary followed you through.

“Hi!” Ray said as he went to shake your hand. You purred batting your eyes as you used his outstretched hand to pull him close. His eyes went wide and he glanced at Constantine.

“Careful with this one, half lust demon.” Constantine warned Ray who backed away quickly while you giggled at his reaction.

“I’m not helping you.”

“Not right now you’re not. However as you master you’re going to help me because I command it.”

“I thought you were the one that liked to get bossed around.” You said casually as you stepped close enough to Constantine that he leant back and smirked down at you. “At least that's what Lucy told his demons.” Sara spat out a laugh she tried to hold back and turned away from the two of you.

Constantine frowned at you as you spotted Charlie and smiled, swaying your way to her. She grinned at the attention and watched you curiously. “Well hello there. Where’ve you been hiding?”

“Johnny locked me away and I’ve been so bored.” You said with a flirty breathless tone.

“Well that seems just awful.”

“Alright, you can play when you’re done. I need your help.” John said as he snapped his fingers. The Legends, except Charlie, and Ava all hopped back in surprise when you returned to your cat form. You hissed at John as he picked you up, smacking him in the face with your thrashing tail for good measure.

************

“I’m only helping you if you let me go!” You snapped. Constantine had managed to lock you to a spot in the library and convinced you at the very least to wear one of his shirts. Back in your human form, all you needed was to be let go so you could stretch your legs and explore.

“I can let you go if you really want love, but you won't be around long enough to appreciate it.” He warned as he flipped through a book that had the names of all familiars that were sworn to warlocks.

“If you lock me back up in that horrid house again I’ll eat that nervous one. I bet he’d let me go.” You said to yourself, lounging as best you could in the small spot on the floor.

“You harm a hair on Gary’s head I’ll be sending you to hell.”

“Hey, Sara found some more information that might help you.” Nate said as he stepped into the room. He tried handing Constantine the papers he had in his hand but missed when you rolled over, biting your lip and swinging your legs as you batted your eyes.

“Easy there mate. She’ll rock your world but leave you with some pretty nasty scratches.” Constantine said as he held his hand out.

“Oh! No. I wasn’t. I didn’t. I um.” Nate spluttered as he shoved the papers in Constantine’s outstretched hand and almost ran out of the room.

“These people are fun to play with Johnny. Can’t you just let me out for a little while.” You tried pouting and batting your eyes. It would have worked. But he gave you a casual look and shook his head.

“Sorry sweetheart but it’s work before pleasure here.”

“Oh I don’t need your permission to have pleasure.” You purred and ran your hand down your body as you rolled to your back. Constantine snapped his fingers and walked over to you, seeming to have found the spell he was looking for.

“Look sweetheart. This bastard is hurting people. I know deep down you want to help. Besides. Help me and I will be your magical wingman. We can have a rager. Charlie, the shifter can come, whoever you want but you have to help me first.” As he spoke he’d picked you up and scooped you into his arms, you rubbed against his chin, enjoying the feeling of his stubble. He found just the right spot to itch.

“This is… weird. You need a moment?” Sara asked from the doorway.

“Just a little sweet talking.” He said as he set you down on his chair, changing you back. Sara’s eyes went wide and she spun around when you were suddenly, human shaped and naked again.

“It’s this one.” You huffed and pouted at him. Sara slowly glanced back when he snatched up the shirt you’d been using, tossed it your way and Constantine took the book to show it to her.

“You’re sure. She doesn’t seem to like you.”

“Covered myself in catnip. Poor thing can’t resist it. Now, let's get going. I need to get back to my cat before she gets mad at me.”

Sara glanced at you, seeing you curled up in Constantine’s chair, napping under his shirt. “She’ll be ok like that?” She asked and he nodded, fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes.

“Oh yeah, nap for a couple hours. Although I’ll need to be back before she does wake up. Lust demons get a little frisky when it comes to large doses of catnip. Everyone is her type and I did promise her some fun and unless everyone here wants to get some, we’re probably best dropping her for some time at the peak of the sexual revolution so she can calm herself down.” Constantine winked at Sara as he passed her on the way to the brig.

“Good for her.” Sara muttered, recalling Ava saying how awful she felt for you, being locked up by Constantine for defending yourself.

[izzielizzie]

Hey Iz, could you do a one shot about Natewyn growing up, based on It's Nice to Have a Friend?

Yes! I feel like we talked about this a long time ago and then I never wrote it. Here it is Jane. 

I realize that it doesn’t snow in San Diego, but let’s pretend shall we? Lyrics in italics. Definitely go listen to INTHAF by Taylor Swift, it’s one of my favorites. Enjoy!

(sorry for any typos, I wrote this really late at night)

School bell rings, walk me home

“Hey!” Bronwyn turned, and she saw a familiar looking boy waving at her. He had black hair and deep blue eyes. Bronwyn paused and smiled as he caught up to her. His black jacket was open to reveal his untucked shirt. Even at the age of nine, dress code violations annoyed Bronwyn. But there was something about this boy that interested her. He was funny, but he was kind too. Just last week, when someone was picking on a boy named Chad, Nathaniel Macauley had stepped up to defend him. 

“Hello Nathaniel,” Bronwyn answered. 

“It’s Nate, okay?”

“Okay. What’s up?”

Nate paused and looked at the ground. “Can I walk you home?”

Bronwyn hesitated. It was only earlier that year that her parents had decided it was safe for Bronwyn to walk the seven blocks to her house, and she was rather proud of the responsibility. But, company, she had to admit, was welcome. Especially when she had to cross the intersection with the grumpy crossing guard. After careful deliberation, during which Nate watched her patiently, Bronwyn came to a conclusion: “sure.”

Nate smiled at her, and he followed her onto the sidewalk. 

Sidewalk chalk, covered in snow

The flurries were light, but strong for Bronwyn, who had never seen snow before, and they were concerning. “Will they block the hop-scotch board?” Bronwyn asked Nate fretfully. Every day at recess, Bronwyn religiously drew the sloppy board in chalk with her best friend Olivia. Hop-scotch was one of Bronwyn’s great joys.  

“You do know they melt right?” Nate asked, looking askance at the girl he had, up until this point, considered to be the smartest person in the world.

“Of course I do,” Bronwyn snapped.

Nate’s smirk softened. “Sorry. That was mean.” 

Bronwyn smiled at him as they turned the corner. They both looked up at the sky, and, without thinking, stuck their tongues out to catch the thinning flurries. They laughed and jostled against each other as they walked down the street, side by side. Bronwyn marveled at how easy it was to be around Nate. She didn’t have to be perfect. If she had stuck her tongue out around Olivia, Olivia would have been scandalized. And Maeve, well, Bronwyn wasn’t quite sure what Maeve would have thought about her older sister sticking her tongue out like that. Bronwyn realized with a pang that her little sister wouldn’t be well enough to leave her hospital bed and look out the window to see the snow. She considered telling this to Nate, but she learned from talking to Olivia that other people didn’t want to hear about those types of things. Bronwyn didn’t tell Nate, but she thought that maybe one day she might be able to. 

Lost my gloves, you give me one

A few feet after the intersection with the guard who growled at people when they took too long, Bronwyn noticed Nate was shivering. “Are you scared of the guard?” Bronwyn asked him. Nate shook his head. His teeth chattered. 

“I’m cold. I lost my gloves, and my hat doesn’t fit me anymore.”

Bronwyn looked at Nate. His coat was still open, and his head and hands were bare. Bronwyn looked down at her own small gloves, with the fur inside. She pulled off the left one and handed it to him. “It might be small.”

Nate looked as if he was going to argue, but Bronwyn grabbed his hand and placed the glove in it. “You’re gonna get pneumonia.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Nate said.

Bronwyn didn’t answer, seeing as she didn’t know what it was either. She did know that it was bad though, and that people got it when they were cold. Instead, she pointed at his coat with her gloved hand. “You need to zipper that.”

“It’s stuck. I can’t get it closed.”

Bronwyn looked at the zipper for a few moments before tugging him towards her. She wiggled it to the left so it was straight, and pulled it up to his chin. “There.”

Nate smiled at her. They walked to Bronwyn’s house in silence after that, and they hovered at her door for a moment.

Wanna hang out?

Bronwyn bounced on the balls of her feet anxiously. She was waiting for Nate to say no. She was waiting for him to leave her. She was waiting for her life to go back to silent, too-large houses, anxious parents, and constant fear. 

Yeah, sounds like fun

Nate didn’t want to trek back to his house yet. Being with Bronwyn was a new type of comfort he had never experienced before. 

Video games, you pass me a note

“You really don’t have any video games?”

“Nope.”

They had tugged off their wet things and were curled up in front of the fireplace. Bronwyn watched as Nate looked around the living room, which was filled with books and board games and pictures. No video games in sight. 

“Fine. Do you have Battleship?”

“Of course.”

The next day, a note was dropped on Bronwyn’s desk. She picked it up and read five simple words: “Video games at my house”. For the first time in her life, Bronwyn couldn’t wait for school to end.

Sleeping in tents

It had taken a lot of conversations between their parents, but Nate and Bronwyn were finally going on a camping trip. Of course, they were only going to the end of Bronwyn’s yard, but she couldn’t wait. They spent the entire evening telling stories, laughing, and eating more marshmallows than generally acceptable. When it came time to sleep though, Bronwyn started to panic. She had never slept anywhere other than her white metal bed with the lavender quilt. She was about to admit defeat and head into her house when she felt a hand slip into hers. Nate squeezed her hand, and that was enough to calm her down. 

It’s nice to have a friend

It took Bronwyn five months after the night in the tent to tell Nate about her little sister’s cancer. He didn’t judge her, or pity her. He just pulled her into a hug and told her he was there for her. He didn’t tell her it was going to be okay, which she appreciated. Because sometimes it wasn’t.

It’s nice to have a friend

Nate spent a year calling Bronwyn his best friend before he told the clever, grey eyed girl that sometimes his parents’ yelling scared him. Without knowing how it happened, Nate spent every Friday with the Rojas in their house, where, for the first time in a long time, he felt safe.

Light pink sky, up on the roof

“Should we be up here?” Bronwyn asked fretfully. They were seventeen now. Half child, half adult. Some things, like Bronwyn’s cautious nature, hadn’t changed yet. When Maeve had made an offhand comment about how it was possible to get to the roof from her bedroom window the previous Friday, Nate was insistent he wanted to try it. Since it was as much his house as Bronwyn’s at this point, he did just that. Bronwyn went with him of course, since she was the one who made sure he stayed out of trouble.

Nate ignored her. 

Sun sinks down, no curfew

“I don’t have to be anywhere,” Nate assured her. When she still questioned the validity of their current location, Nate waved a hand at the sunset in front of them. “It’s so pretty Brownie. Stop worrying.”

Bronwyn blushed at the silly nickname. She wasn’t sure when her crush on Nate developed, but it was still lingering in her subconscious, no matter how many times she tried to suppress it. 

Twenty questions, we tell the truth

“Let’s play a game,” Bronwyn said, to get her mind off how far they were from the ground.

“Twenty questions,” Nate responded promptly. They always played that game.

You’ve been stressed out lately? Yeah me too

“I’m sorry Bronwyn.”

Bronwyn shook her head. “It’s fine. I just, Maeve hasn’t been feeling well and I don’t know if I’ll get into Yale, and I’m just so scared of messing up my future Nate.”

Something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

Without thinking, Nate reached over and placed his hand over Bronwyn’s. He was transported, suddenly, to the day she gave him her glove as they walked home. It was at that moment he knew he loved that bright, kind girl he watched from afar. He never knew that he would become as much a part of her life as she was in his. Nate vowed, at that moment on the roof, that he would do everything in his power to take the pain of her life. 

Without thinking, he leaned forward, and pressed his lips against hers. He was surprised to find that she was kissing him back. He was enveloped in the smell of green apple shampoo, and Nate could have sworn that he was in heaven.

It’s nice to have a friend

“Girlfriend?” He asked as they broke apart.

It’s nice to have a friend

Bronwyn held up their hands, their fingers intertwined. “Boyfriend,” she confirmed. Their grins spoke every word they couldn’t say out loud.

Church bells ring, you carry me home

Bronwyn was laughing as she watched her sister lean in to Luis. She had just caught Bronwyn’s bouquet, and Bronwyn knew her superstitious sister would take that as an omen. She shrieked however, when Nate picked her up at the bottom of the church stairs, bridal style, which, Bronwyn supposed, was incredibly accurate.

Rice on the ground, looks like snow

“The rice looked like snow,” Bronwyn said as they drove towards their apartment. They wanted to spend their honeymoon at home. 

“Like the day we became friends,” Nate agreed.

“The best day of my life.”

“Better than today?” Nate asked with a cheeky grin. Bronwyn poked his shoulder.

“Maybe.”

The car behind them honked for what felt like an eternity before they pulled away from their kiss. They spent the rest of the drive laughing. 

Call my bluff, call you babe

“I hate this dress,” Bronwyn grumbled as she nearly tripped over it as Nate set her down.

“No you don’t. You’ve been gushing over it all day.”

Bronwyn swatted Nate’s arm. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Feels like home, stay in bed

“I love this place.”

“Me too.”

“Should we finish putting up the pictures?”

“You, Mrs. Macaulay, are staying in bed with me. We can do that tomorrow.”

“Hmph.”

The whole weekend

“Nate, it’s Monday.”

“No it is not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s too cozy to get up.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

It’s nice to have a friend

“I love you Bronwyn.”

It’s nice to have a friend

“I love you more Nate.”

It’s nice to have a friend

“You were the best friend that ever happened to me.”

“Agreed.”

[weakzen]

Cigarettes and Iced Espresso

Felix tries the Detective's coffee. Mason starts a research project. And Nate just sighs eternally.

pairing: female detective/mason rating: t

AO3 version

-

The late sunlight warms the paper beneath my hand and casts a shine on the wet ink of my half-finished words.

As the tip of my pen hangs above them, the carriage clock ticks away steadily in the background, almost as if hurrying me to just get on with it. Get it done already. Commit to it once more and don't look back. Sighing softly, I lean away from the coffee table and idly tap the end of my pen against my lips while I mull over the best way to do exactly that.

More specifically, the best way to phrase the lie I'm about to write into my report in order to cover the Agency's ass.

Again.

I suppose, at least, I don't have to worry about telling it well enough to slip it past Tina. She already knows about the latest incident. And she's helping again too, with a subtlety that no longer surprises me, even if the Agency doesn't appreciate or know about it.

…I hope.

My pen stills as my lips press together. Unease coils in my stomach, same as it always does whenever I think too much on Tina's precarious position.

The one I let her walk into, ultimately.

No matter what she says.

My shoulders begin to stiffen too—but then Mason brushes his knuckles across them, and starts skimming his fingers along the skin bared by my sleeveless top.

I exhale a small breath and lean into his touch, sagging slightly against his leg and the sofa behind me. My head tilts back and he draws his fingers up my neck in response, combing them gently into the hair above my nape.

For a moment, I let my eyes fall shut and relax into the lazy strokes he delivers from his sprawled out position behind me.

We'd settled like this at least an hour ago, me hunched over the coffee table, slowly sinking into the rug while trying to catch up on paperwork; Mason stretched out on the sofa with one foot on the floor, dozing slightly with his leg pressed against my side; and Nate curled in a nearby armchair, an old leather-bound book nestled on his long legs, one he hasn't glanced up from since he first coaxed open its creaky spine.

As though on cue, he carefully turns one of its thick pages, a content little smile resting warmly on his face.

A faint smile of my own pulls at the corner of my lips, and Mason draws it into the open entirely when he deliberately grazes a ticklish spot on my neck.

With a very soft chuckle, I nuzzle my face against his hand and he eagerly catches my jaw in return, curling his fingers along the edge of it as he strokes my cheek with his thumb. Fondness swells across my chest as he does, filling my heart to the point where it aches slightly.

I've… really come to enjoy these lazy afternoons together.

And I'm so glad to be here now.

With him.

With all of them.

Sighing again, more contentedly this time, I press a parting kiss to Mason's knuckles and lean forward once more. His fingers trail down my spine with the movement, until they come to a rest on my waistband and hook into my belt loop. He toys with it idly while I turn my attention back to my report, reading over my words again as I fidget with my pen.

I'm halfway through them when the ice shifts in my cup, and I absently reach over to take a sip of my drink. And I'm halfway through that, frigid and rich bitterness washing over my tongue, when inspiration slams into me. I quickly return my drink to the coaster, careful not to let any condensation drip onto my work or the table.

Then I start writing my lie.

For a long while, there's nothing but the scratch of my pen against the paper and the ticking of the clock, with the occasional sound of Nate turning a page.

Mason gradually ambles away from my pants to stroke at the exposed skin on my lower back.

And eventually, some time later, he speaks to break the silence.

“They're back.”

Nate perks up right away, inhaling slightly as his attention pulls away from the book.

“I'm glad. I hope it went well.”

Mason grunts in agreement and I nod softly.

Nate reaches for the bookmark he placed on the coffee table earlier. The ornate wooden one I've never seen him use before today, lacquered black and decorated with a scrolling and beautifully delicate mother-of-pearl inlay of chrysanthemums, all topped by a shiny silk tassel. The one he seemed almost embarrassed by when he caught me staring at it wide-eyed, and reminded me he did, in fact, have much nicer ones, but they were all being used in other books at the moment.

Of course, Nate.

Just oh, this old thing me with your gorgeous fucking bookmark that's older than I am and probably worth at least a few months rent.

Grinning quietly, I roll my eyes and shake my head a bit as he tucks it back into the book.

Then he sets his book on the coffee table and stretches, long arms soaring into the air as his shoulders crack.

“It sounds like it went well,” he comments, breaking into a smile.

I have only a moment myself to catch the storm of excited footsteps in the hallway before Felix explodes through the doorway.

“Good afternoon, everybody!”

He barely stops to deliver his greeting before he launches himself into the nearest free armchair, which grunts loudly beneath the force of his landing. “I'm back and you can stop missing me now,” he adds, folding his arms behind his head as he winks.

I wink back. “You're actually implying that's possible? I'm shocked.”

A loud laugh bursts from him in response and Mason flinches slightly.

“Good point,” Felix replies, grinning at me. “Continue pining away then.”

“I'll be sure to do that,” Nate says, smiling warmly. “How did it go?”

“Just fine. Easy. Incredibly boring, though,” Felix says, sighing. “Nothing happened, so I'm sure Adam is super excited to tell you all about it.” He jerks his thumb toward the doorway. “He's on the phone with Agent Black right now, but—ugh, enough about all of that,” he says quickly, waving his hands around as his grin widens. “What's going on with all of you? What have you been up to?”

Mason huffs out a breath. “Enjoying the quiet while it lasted.”

Felix leans forward in the chair to smirk at Mason. Then he cups his hands around his mouth.

“Sounds boring,” he blasts in reply like a foghorn.

Nate and I both wince beneath the volume—and Mason sits upright and growls at him so deeply the whole sofa vibrates.

“Maybe even more boring than reading,” he continues on without skipping a beat, glancing at Nate's book. His gaze slides over to my stack of papers next, and his lip immediately curls. “But not as boring as that.”

Then his eyes fall on my drink.

“Hey, what is this?” Felix snatches my cup from the table without waiting for an answer, then immediately swirls it around with a shake of his hand, rattling the ice together as the liquid sloshes dangerously close to the rim.

Nate stiffens, sucking in a breath as he reaches out a hand toward Felix. “Be careful with that.”

“Careful's my middle name,” Felix replies coolly, waggling his eyebrows at Nate. He gives my drink a deep sniff before his eyes flash to mine. “Smells weird. Can I try?”

I glance at the cup clutched in his grasp, Haley's logo emblazoned on the side, water droplets beading across it from the half-finished, half-melted iced espresso still spinning inside.

With the extra shots I'd asked for, oily foam spiraling on the surface.

And no cream or sugar to cut the sharpness of it at all.

Mason snickers quietly and settles back against the cushions again. A subdued chuckle makes his body tremble slightly.

“You haven't tried coffee before?” I ask, raising a brow.

“I've tried hot coffee—gross, by the way. And one of those frappé things, which was way better” he replies, nodding as he gives the plastic cup a few rapid, crackling squeezes before he holds it up. “But nothing like this.”

“Uh, well…” I begin, pressing my lips together briefly. “It's not that different from hot coffee, and I really don't think you'd like it. It's pretty bitter. Might be a little too… intense for you.”

Felix scoffs—but still pauses, eyeing my drink carefully before he gives it another quick sniff.

“I agree with Alex,” Nate says, frowning with concern. “And you definitely don't need the caffeine.”

“Caffeine doesn't affect us, Natey. You know that.”

Nate gives him a wary look. “Yes, but I still don't want to take any chances.”

“I think it's worth the risk to see him try it,” Mason says, dark amusement coloring his words. “Go ahead, Felix. Take a big swig. It'll put a bunch of hair on your chest—if you can handle it.”

“Really?” Felix's eyebrows shoot up.

“No,” Nate says, narrowing his eyes at Mason. “That's just a terrible and very inaccurate saying.”

“The more you drink, the better it works,” Mason continues on, ignoring the look. He claps his hand on my shoulder. “Just ask Alex.”

Felix cocks his head to the side and grins at me. “Does that mean you have a hairy chest, Alex?”

“Incredibly hairy, yes. Like a shag carpet down there,” I say, grinning as I glance at my breasts.

“Whoa! Alright then, I'm in!”

“Felix, wait—”

Nate's arm flings forward, but his protest comes too late as Felix jolts up into a stand, tips his head back, and downs such a large and confident gulp of my drink that he pretty much finishes it off entirely.

…He doesn't swallow much of it, though. Mostly just holds it inside of his now comically large cheeks.

Beneath his slowly widening eyes.

The clock ticks away as we watch him in silence.

Until a choked noise suddenly spasms in his throat.

Mason chuckles deeply—and I can't help but join him a little.

Then, in grimacing horror, Felix spits all of it back into the cup and Mason breaks into a loud laugh.

A look of wounded betrayal flashes across Felix's face, one he quickly directs toward my drink. For a moment, he appears so upset to have it in his hand that it actually seems like he's about to fling it away entirely, but then he recovers enough to pivot.

And moves to slam it down toward the table instead.

In a flash, Nate whips forward, arms gliding outstretched to both break the cup's impact and slide a coaster beneath it in one smooth motion.

And despite how often I've witnessed him make similarly graceful saves to prevent disaster, I still remain impressed as hell—

“Felix!” Nate sputters loudly, shooting him a wide-eyed look.

—although, whether the reprimand this time is directed more at the backwash, the potential water damage, or the near miss of my drink exploding across the room, I can't say.

Felix ignores it regardless, retching out coughs as he clutches his throat.

“Disgusting,” he manages to choke out, his voice hoarse. He begins pacing around in a distressed little circle, fanning his tongue. “That was awful!”

I just shake my head, unable to hide my grin. “Told ya so.”

“Feel that hair coming in yet?” Mason asks, laughter still clinging to his words.

“No,” he moans, “but I feel the barf coming up.”

Nate sighs. “Go drink some water, Felix.”

“Right.” Felix nods firmly, his brow furrowed.

Then he crouches next to my bag, rips it open, and yanks out my water bottle. In a blur of movement, he spins the cap off and starts chugging, swishing the water around in his mouth noisily before swallowing.

“That's not the water I meant…” Nate begins, then shakes his head and sighs again. “Nevermind.”

As Felix continues drinking and the moment dies down a little, I glance back at my paperwork, my amusement fading. I know I should really keep going at it right now. Just pack it up and find a quieter place to work, or else I won't get it done at all. And I did want to have it finished today…

I sigh and tap my pen against my lips again.

But Felix isn't exactly wrong in his assessment of how exciting it is.

“How do you even drink that stuff anyway?!” he cries out to me, plunking my water bottle onto the table. “It tastes like— like—” His hands flail around at the corner of my vision as he fumbles for the words. “Ugh, it tastes like a soggy ashtray full of old cigarettes,” he finishes, then shudders audibly. “No wonder you like kissing Mason so much.”

“Mason doesn't taste like cigarettes,” I mutter unthinkingly, without glancing up.

Mason shifts behind me immediately, and I can feel his smirk drilling into the back of my head just as surely as I feel the fingers he starts tracing along my arm.

“Is that so, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dipping into a low and teasing tone. “What exactly do I taste like then?”

“I'm sure that's a fascinating topic,” Nate says quickly, “but let's—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Felix cuts in loudly. “Exactly! Let's hear it! What does he taste like?”

“You don't have to answer that, Alex.”

“Oh, but she does,” Mason drawls.

“Yeah, Natey. You're outvoted.”

“Don't I get a vote too?” I ask, grinning.

Felix and Mason's shared and immediate no batters hard against Nate's yes.

“Outvoted again! Hah!” Felix's amused gaze swivels toward me, his coffee-related woes apparently forgotten. “Now spill it.”

Nate sighs deeply in resignation and offers me an apologetic look, although it's difficult to see it over how closely Felix slides in to crowd his face near mine. A sly smile unfurls across his lips as mischief twinkles in his eyes, and Mason completes the pincer with a flank from behind, leaning in so closely that his breath tickles hot against my skin.

My cheeks prickle with heat in response, but I remain where I am, pressing my lips together tightly as I try to squash down the nervous chuckle that threatens to escape me.

“I must taste like something good,” Mason whispers in a husky tone, his lips brushing against my ear as his fingers glide down to squeeze my waist, “considering how often you come in for a bite.”

A shiver ripples across my body, tearing that chuckle free in a wake of goosebumps.

Mason grins against me.

“So what is it?”

I bite my lip, but I can't stop the answering grin that bursts across my face, not any more than I can ignore his fingers teasing my hip or the anticipation building in Felix's expression.

I think I hear the faint sound of a facepalm, too.

“Well, uh…” I drop my gaze to the pen I'm waggling rapidly between my fingers. “First off, that was an amazing pun. Good job.”

Felix snorts as Mason's grin widens.

“Secondly, I, um…” Another chuckle escapes me as my cheeks flare to what I'm certain is an embarrassingly bright shade of red. “I… think I really need to, uh, do more testing before I can give you an accurate answer. So, I'll have to… get on that and come back to you later,” I finish weakly, my words trailing off into a cringey little noise of distress.

Felix peels away from me, sputtering into a cackle. “Oh, wow! That's it? Not what I expected! I thought for sure you were gonna say he tasted like you.”

Then he waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively and I break into a snorting laugh.

“Okay, okay, that's— That's actually pretty good, Fee. Wish I'd thought of that.”

We laugh together loudly. And somewhere off to the side, Nate groans in pained exasperation.

But Mason only sits up and immediately pushes off the sofa—hooking his hand under my arm to take me with him.

I stumble up to my feet with the motion, still shaking with amusement as I turn to face him. And when I do, when I finally meet those pretty grey eyes of his, he smiles down at me with playfully curled lips and that achingly familiar look of affection. That extremely inviting half-lidded gaze, where promises of pleasure smolder away intensely. That passionate stare he always captures me with right before I end up pressed against him and doesn't release until long after he's finished unraveling me beneath.

That look of resolute and fathomless adoration that I'm still falling into and have fallen into every day since that moment he first cupped my face in his hands, peered into my soul as he offered his, and told me that he loved me.

That he always would.

And despite the countless times I've glanced up since then and found him watching me with that exact same expression, my breath still catches every time.

Even now.

Even more so when he slides his hands around my hips to pull us together, and a long thrill of yearning twines around my heart.

“Well, if you need to do more testing to be sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips lifting with amusement, “then let's head to the lab right now so you can, uh, 'get on that before you come for me' as soon as possible.”

Felix explodes into another wild laugh, one that I have to join, but Nate just whirls towards all of us, his mouth already twisted into a disapproving frown.

“No,” he says firmly, “you can't do that in there. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Mason counters, pulling his eyes away from me to smirk at Nate. “It's research, right? That's what labs are for.” His smirk slowly sharpens. “Unless you mean we should do our research in the library instead…”

Felix rolls back onto the floor howling, clutching his stomach as he shakes, while Nate fixes Mason with such a dry, withering stare that I actually start to worry for the plants in the room.

But Mason only chuckles in response.

“So when can we expect the results?” Felix wheezes a moment later, grinning up at us as he wipes the corners of his eyes.

“Not any time soon,” Mason replies, then glances back to me. “It's going to be a long and very involved process, isn't it? Need to make sure our testing is very… thorough. And exhaustive.”

“Well, good research does take time.” I cap my pen and toss it onto the table. “Sometimes years,” I continue, sliding my hands up his chest to circle my arms around his neck. I flick my gaze to his, smiling slyly. “And it also requires a lot of repeated experimentation to ensure the results are accurate.”

He catches his lower lip between his teeth and inhales slightly. “Oh, I'm looking forward to it.”

Nate expels a loud, groaning sigh and claps his hands together a few times.

“Alright. We are done with this topic now.”

“What's wrong, Nate?” Mason flashes him another teasing smirk. “Aren't you always going on about how I need to 'broaden my horizons?'”

“Yes, but I—”

“And that I should learn new things?”

“Yes—”

“And try doing stuff I've never done before?”

Nate closes his eyes and inhales very deeply as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, Mason, I have said all of those things, and this is not what I meant by any of them and you know it.” He sighs heavily again. “But… if you insist on conducting this so-called—” he grimaces slightly “—research you have in mind, then at least do all of it in your room, please.”

Mason lets out mock sigh of resignation. “Well, if you insist. Hope it won't end up compromising our results.”

“Pretty sure they'd be way more compromising if they weren't done in there,” Felix quips, his lips thinning into a smirk.

Mason looks back to me again, smiling, and I can already hear the comment forming on his tongue.

“Oh, give Nate a break,” I say quickly before he can speak. “He's earned it.”

“If you insist,” Mason repeats, more genuinely this time.

And with that said, he gives me another lingering look before he slings his arm across my shoulder and turns to guide us from the room. I curl my arm around his waist in response as I fall into step with him.

“Wow, Natey. You're not even gonna tell them they need to stay for the meeting?”

“I'm sure we can manage without them this time,” Nate replies dryly—then adds in a more sincere tone, “and thank you, Alex.”

I flash him a quick smile over my shoulder.

“Have fun!” Felix calls out as we exit.

Once outside the living room doorway, I catch a final fragment of conversation.

“Ahhh, that totally made up for the boring patrol…”

But then it's lost to the sound of our footsteps and the anticipation stirring quietly inside of me.

We soon reach the primary juncture of hallways in the Warehouse, and I turn to head toward Mason's room, but he tugs me in the opposite direction instead. I raise a brow, but still follow his lead.

“We're going to my room?”

“Yeah. Don't wanna make a mess in mine.”

"Wow." I roll my eyes and give him a smirk. “Love that you think it isn't one already, sunshine.”

He smirks in return.

As we follow the long, bending corridor that winds toward my room, Adam whirls out of one of the adjacent hallways ahead, striding toward us with that purposeful gait of his, matched by an equally determined expression.

“Where are you two going?” he calls out as he nears.

“To make important scientific discoveries,” Mason replies without stopping, clapping him on the shoulder as we pass.

Adam turns, raising a brow in question. “We need to debrief first.”

I glance away from him as we keep walking, unable to hold back a snort.

“Yeah, that's kinda the plan,” I mutter.

Mason curls his arm around me tighter, his chuckle echoing down the hallway behind us.

[smalltowndetective]

Hiya! I have a request! From the "Question Ideas #12" the prompt "What color is it?" for Pearl, please!

Hey Buddy! Thank you for the request!

This is easily the most self-indulgent thing that I have ever written ever (And I already write pretty self-indulgently) But I hope you like it! :)

Ao3 Link

Title: Snowy Afternoons

Pairing: Nate and Pearl

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Winter baking (and that’s pretty much it haha) Also a bunch of references to snow, because I miss it

Whenever it started snowing in Wayhaven, it rarely stopped. The thick blanket of snow would continue to cover the entirety of the sleepy little town until the first hints of spring. The air barely seemed to go above freezing, it always making her nose and face red, almost like a permanent blush.

               But as frigid as it may be outside, Pearl could not think of a time of the year that she loved more. With it being in the middle of the holidays, and the overall beauty of the season strangely made her nostalgic, despite the unsure feelings she had toward the holidays in general due to repeated absences and half-baked apologies from her mother.

               Maybe it was the time of the year where the town got together to celebrate, no one being left out. Downtown always looked beautiful with all of the decorations, the same decorations year after year, and even with the familiar sights, it was nostalgic almost. Even with all of the recent changes, Wayhaven, was well, still the same. Not even the supernatural could change that.

               And she supposed there was something comforting in that. Whether she liked it or not, this was her home, and nothing would ever change that. Pearl had tried to leave once, and it made her feel more lost, despite the fact that she believed that was following her dreams at the time, and was frustrated with herself to why it just left her feeling unfulfilled.

               But just maybe, with the arrival of Unit Bravo in the town, she felt like that perhaps her calling was to be a small-town detective dealing with the supernatural at every turn. And that was not such a bad thing.

               Especially with the arrival of one particular member.

               Pearl’s eyes went straight to Nate at the other end of her kitchen, her fingers delicately tracing over the pages of one of her cookbooks, and even though they may have not been dating for long, he looked like he had belonged there, and had been there for his entire life.

               She had invited him over that morning to help her out with baking with the holiday party at the station. It was something that she did every year, and while it could get a bit overwhelming at times, it was never something that she really needed extra help with. The routine of it all was familiar to her at this point.

               Perhaps she just wanted an excuse to invite him over.

               Not like she thought he would need one to come over anyway.

               He always managed to make himself at home at her place anyway, even with it being a bit of a disaster at the moment. She had always managed to keep it so neat before she met the team, and now it had turned into what she optimistically put as “organized chaos” (Though she was sure Adam would disagree) Paperwork and other Agency materials piled up on about every flat surface, with several assorted technology bits that she had taken from the warehouse’s tech room to look further at.

               And Nate had found his own way to add to the clutter, often bringing books and other various items that he owned, and his comfort in her space never failed to bring a smile to lips. It was a sign of their continued closer relationship, and it was something that she hoped would never fade.

               “Do you think the cake is cool enough yet?”

               Pearl blinked in surprise at the moment broken, to find Nate looking straight at her, his brown eyes as gentle as ever, bringing one of her old collegiate mugs to his lips, full of the tea that he had made the both of them when he had first arrived. She was not sure just how long she had gazing at him, but from the hint of a smirk on his face, it had to have been a while.

               Got me feeling like I’m in the clouds, don’t you Agent?

               But the cutting flirtation that she wanted to respond that smirk with seemed to die with the rising blush on her face, and all she could do was give him a smile.

               “Uh, yeah, I think so”, she stammered out, trying to tear her eyes away from his and failing miserably.

               Nate was kind enough not to tease her about it, and he moved closer to her until their shoulders were brushing together, “Want to show me how this is done, [redacted pet name]?”

               The simple question surprised her, since it was a rare feeling for her to feel like she had anything that she could teach him. He knew so much, knowledge gained over human lifetimes, and while she may know the parts of a computer like the back of her hand, it was pale in comparison to all that he knew.

               And baking was not something she was particularly good at either, just something that she enjoyed as more of a guilty pleasure, but maybe that was what she was willing to do now. Not feel like she had to the best at everything around him, even with the competitive part of her not as pleased with that.

               Pearl gave him a wink, “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

               She took one of the bowls that was full of the icing that she had made earlier, it bright white, and she brought it over to her kitchen table, which like the rest of her apartment, was also in a sort of mess, with flour covering one half of the table with various bits of decorations that she had made earlier. She looked over at the currently plain white cake that she and Nate had spent the morning making, and it had turned out as just perfect as she would ever want it to.

               “So”, she began, dipping the spatula in the frosting and starting to lather it on the top of the cake, “We’ll start with a crumb coating at first, and then we’ll do a second coating later, since that kind of helps hide the imperfections”

               Pearl paused, and she looked back at the focused look on his face, and she could not help but smile, “I feel like I’m in some sort of cooking show or something”

               Nate laughed, “And I’d say you do quite well in one”

               “Wouldn’t go that far”, she replied, trying to ignore the feeling of butterflies in her stomach, “But thanks”

               She then handed him one of the over spatulas, “You get the top, and I’ll get the sides?”

               “A sound plan”, he agreed, and the two of them both started to work.

               As she normally did when she was baking, Pearl started to hum quietly, something that she did while she baking, hardly noticing that she doing so. It was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room, and he gave her smile, smiling in a way that no one had ever smiled at her before.

               “Wow”, she whispered as she looked at the now completely iced cake, “We did good” She then looked up to Nate, and she gave him a lopsided grin, “But with us working together, I hardly expected anything different”

               “Neither did I”, he responded, getting even closer, and she moved to stand on her tiptoes in order to kiss his temple, and even though she may have not been a vampire, she could feel his heart race at the touch.

               “I’m going to put the cake in the fridge to cool for a bit”, she whispered, her lips just barely brushing the outside of his ear, Nate bending down slightly in order to let her do so, “Then we’ll work on the fondant, mio amor”

               While Pearl may have not been very far outside of Wayhaven in a long time, she always had a knack for languages, part of the reason for that was all of the international friends that she made while she had still done coding events. And one that had stuck with her was a certain Italian phrase and though she doubted she would ever be able to top the one that he had given her, it was something that, well, summed up everything that she felt about him.

               My love

               And possibly the only true one I’ve ever known.

               She reluctantly moved away, and it looked like Nate did as well, but she got everything put up that needed to be before going to stand next to him, and she picked up some of the green fondant that was going to go on the side of the cake.

               “So”, she began, “What color do you think this is? Because I’m not sure if I made it more of a seasonal green or more of a spring green”

               “I think it’s quite seasonal”, he smiled, and while she was not sure what he would have answered if it was not, she let it go.

               “Good”, she replied, the hint of a smirk on her lips, “Would hate to look like I’m pining for another season”

               He chucked, the kind of chuckle that almost seemed to brighten the room, and without really thinking about it, she tugged down the top of his jacket to meet his lips with hers, which he gratefully accepted, kissing her in return in just as much feeling as she was, and it took everything in her not to outwardly moan at the contact.

               And while they have still had plenty of work to do still, the two of them, for a few glorious minutes, forgot all about it, letting the two of them get lost in the sensation instead, the two of them needing nothing else besides each other.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Wayhaven Week, Day 7

For Wayhaven Week 2020, hosted by @otomefandomevents. Thanks for having this week, it’s been so much fun seeing what everyone comes up with and getting back to knocking the rust off my own writing.  I haven’t completed a fandom event in some time and it feels really nice to contribute to all seven days!

Prompt: Mend Pairing: Mason/Zoe Dawson Warnings: in-book level violence, slight injury mention, tiny Book 2 villain spoilers Word Count: 1,662 Summary: Take a hike in the woods, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Worst. Date. Ever.

There was something to be said about a warm shower after being soaked to the bone from getting caught in the rain. Zoe curled up in her bed at the Warehouse, the duvet draped over her shoulders like a cape, and concentrated on the material in her hands.  Rain still pounded against the windows, but she was grateful to be indoors instead of out in it.

There was a sharp knock on her door and she turned her head in time to see Mason come in, a mug of something in his hands. “Thought you might need it,” he offered, handing it out to her.

She took a deep inhale, enjoying the scent of freshly brewed coffee as the warmth of the mug seeped into her hands. “Thanks.” She pat the side of the bed. “There’s room enough for two over here, you know.”

Mason smirked, but didn’t hesitate to slide into bed with her. “Just can’t wait to get me in bed with you, could you, Sweetheart?”

Zoe rolled her eyes and set the mug on the bedside table to concentrate on what she had been doing. “That is such a tired line, Sunshine.”

“And yet it still manages to work.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked down at the material in her lap. “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing with it?”

She held up the needle and thread. “Well,” she started, continuing to stitch as she talked, “you have a hole in your shirt where a hole doesn’t belong and I’m patching it up for you.”

“Didn’t know you knew how to sew.”

“Brace yourself: I also know how to embroider.” She smiled at his soft snort of laughter, his arms casually draping around her to bring her back flush to his chest, his legs bracketing her hips. “You should check out my Etsy shop.”

“I really don’t see you as the type to do those Live, Laugh, Love or Home Sweet Home type samplers.”

“No, but do you see me being the type to do elaborately done flowers surrounding Fuck this Shit or Don’t be a Dick on it?”

His arms tightened around her waist. “Yeah. Yeah, I totally see something like that coming from you.”  He silently watched as the long gash on his shirt’s sleeve was mended, Zoe making stitches so small that he had a hard time trying to see where it had been cut in the first place. “I’m okay.”

She froze, hands reaching for the travel sized pair of scissors in her mini-sewing kit she had brought along with her in an overnight bag once that had managed to just eventually stay at the Warehouse. “I know you are.” Her fingers smoothed over the mended material. It was drying, but she had scrubbed the sleeve to make sure she got all his blood off before she started sewing. “Why wouldn’t you be?” She closed her eyes, desperately trying to tamp down on the fear that had seized her earlier that evening.  She and Mason had been on patrol on the outskirts of town, following up on a tip that some leftover Trappers had made a temporary base of operations somewhere in one of the many abandoned industrial buildings that dotted the countryside.  It was supposed to be a quick reconnaissance only mission, just observe and take note of their whereabouts and then report back so the entire unit could go neutralize them.

And the evening had been incredibly quiet too. The two of them had made their usual banter as they hiked, but Zoe had stopped to simply enjoy the peaceful look on Mason’s face the further they got from town. 

And then the bottom had dropped out of the sky. It had looked like rain all day long, but then again, it had looked like rain for the past week without anything to speak of, so neither of them had expected the sudden thunderstorm to hit.  Luckily, they had been close to the old abandoned steelworks that hadn’t seen anyone in it since probably the seventies. Zoe’s foot had slipped in the softening dirt and while she had wrenched her ankle pretty badly, at least Mason had saved her from a face full of mud by catching her and slinging her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes as he sprinted the last few feet towards shelter.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been the only ones to find the steelworks. Zoe was hopping on one foot while cursing her ankle when she realized that Mason had gone absolutely still, the sound of his warning snarl warring with the rumbling thunder outside. She’d barely had a second to unholster the Volt from her hip before the Trappers they’d accidentally discovered attacked.  Luckily, even as outnumbered as they were, they’d had the slight advantage of being on their feet where most of the Trappers had been seated around a makeshift fire.  Mason had made quick work of most of them while Zoe had taken down her share, adrenaline making her forget about her twisted ankle.

She had been in the middle of cuffing the unconscious Trappers with their own supply of zip ties when she noticed Mason inspecting his forearm, his free hand digging into his back pocket for a cigarette before realizing that the rain had ruined what was left in the pack.  She wouldn’t have said anything, except she happened to catch the way blood dripped down his arm to spatter on the dusty concrete at his feet.  She’d hobbled to his side as fast as she could, hands ready to rip her own shirt to act as a makeshift bandage before Mason had shoved his sleeve up to his elbow, showing her that while the skin underneath was bloody, it was whole.

One quick phone call to Adam had the rest of Unit Bravo, accompanied by several other agents to transport their quarry, at their location within minutes. She’d protested, but Mason hadn’t listened to her as he scooped her up in his arms and settled her into the back of the SUV Adam had been driving. To his credit, he hadn’t argued when she plucked the cigarette from his lips that he had lit from the pack he found in the back seat console to smoke for herself, he merely sparked up a second one and reached out to grab her foot and keep it elevated on his lap for the remainder of the ride back to the Warehouse.

The debriefing had been quick, both of them tired of being soaked to the bone and their replies snippier than they probably both meant for them to be.  Blessedly, Nate had been the one to suggest calling it a night, seeing that they had gotten enough details for a preliminary report and they’d get back to it after a change of clothes and a good night’s sleep.  For her part, Zoe had shot Adam an apologetic glance before limping towards her room.  There was a silent sorry for being grouchy that was left unsaid between them, but she felt better when he sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly and his eyes softening as he nodded in understanding.

Mason had surprisingly left her alone to shower once he was satisfied that she was able to put weight on her ankle and move around by herself.  Luckily it hadn’t swelled much and after using a wrap from the first aid kit she found underneath the bathroom sink, felt a lot better than it had earlier.

“At least no one died this time,” Mason told her, his mouth muffled by her shoulder and bringing her back to the present.

“No one died the last time,” she countered, turning her head to look at him.  “Though you came damn close.”

“Still here, aren’t I?”  He held her closer, his chin nudging her oversized shirt’s neckline out of the way so he could press a kiss to her exposed shoulder, then another to the side of her neck. “You can’t let one time get to you.”

She exhaled. “I know. Letting things get to me means I become a liability.”  She frowned. “But I didn’t freeze.” In the moment, she had channeled all her fear at the possibility of Mason making a repeat performance of being overwhelmed with no one around to help them into pure rage, attacking hard and fast so the Trappers wouldn’t have an opportunity to hurt him.

“No, you didn’t.” There was a thread of pride in his voice as he shifted closer.  “You did good, Zo.”

“You weren’t too shabby yourself, Mason.” She held up his finished shirt. “Even if you did get tagged in the end.”

He made a dismissive noise against her skin. “Better me than you. At least I heal up without needing stitches.” Mason reached out and took the shirt from her hands.  “Damn, this is good work.”

“You think? I tried to make the stitches small so you wouldn’t feel them against your arm.”

Mason put his hand into the mended sleeve and try as he might, he couldn’t even tell where the rip had happened. “Can’t feel a thing.  I wish we’d teamed up earlier, you could have saved a bunch of my clothes from getting trashed after missions.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Well, I can’t have that. You look damn hot in this shirt.” She moved so she could set her sewing materials on the nightstand next to the now-abandoned mug of coffee. “Though you look damn hot out of it too.”

Mason chuckled. “You flirting with me, Sweetheart?”

“Fucking trying to, Sunshine.”  Zoe laughed when Mason tumbled them both across the bed, somehow pulling the duvet out from between them in the process.  He grinned against her mouth as she tangled her hands in his hair and it wasn’t long before the two of them were lost in the other, the thunder and rain outside muting the world around them.

[inkribbon796]

Forgotten Light Ch. 1: Refractions

Summary: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men . . . couldn’t put Thomas back together again.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

During the several days that the Sides were in Brighton, the Coalition went through their house and every room they tended to frequent in the base with a fine-toothed comb. Trying to find another aura trail, which King, Nate, and Mare were doing the bulk of the aura searching.

The humans came in their civilian attire, not wanting to draw attention to the Sides’ home.

Deep indigos, pastel blues, sparkling reds, and vibrant purples. All the Core Sides were accounted for. There was evidence that Janus and Remus had been over to their home by the faint aura trails.

“So what else are we looking for?” Silver groaned as Jackie came back in from searching places the Sides liked to regularly frequent.

“I’ve got fook-all[1],” Jackie groaned.

“We need evidence of someone living here since March, because that’s when Deceit and the Duke moved out,” King rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. “And Spade doesn’t count. Spade was just spicy Logan with extra steps. He’d have almost the exact same type of aura as him.”

Joan sighed. “Either way this place is clear, what if we don’t find it?”

“Then we hope the legate is dead,” King decided. “Which is probably a good thing. Being trapped for so long without a lot of aura, it would probably make any demon crazy.”

“So what are we supposed ta[2] do?” Jackie groaned. “Put e’erythin’ back an’ pretend nothin’s happened? All yah’ve told us about this thin’ is that it’s dangerous or somethin’.”[3]

“Honestly I’ve never heard of one either,” Mare admitted, coming out of a wall. “I knew there were other types of demons, but I thought it was just a regional language thing.”

“Well different cultures do call you guys different things in different part of the world and that does influence it a little,” King agreed.

“Kid,” Mare crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re an empath just like me, you’re just a small one.”

King frowned, glaring at Mare. “Least I still have my own body, I don’t have to borrow or steal someone else’s.”

Mare looked exceptionally smug, “Just wait until yours starts rusting on you. Bodies don’t last forever. You’ll pick a fight, or someone will pick a fight with you while Daddy’s not watching, and you’ll lose. Or your body will get so useless you’ll have to leave it. It happens to everyone. You think Nate was my first body, or the one your old man’s got was his? Bodies don’t last forever, Dark’s probably overdue a trade out. Being in a broken down body can’t be good but he was always made of nothing but spite and coffee so fuck that body, I guess.”

King just about bared his teeth at the older demon, but he didn’t want anymore of that smug look pointed at him and thankfully Nate intervened.

“Okay, okay,” Nate used his magic to nudge Mare away, trying to break the stand-off and deescalate the two of them. “Let’s focus on this legate, because I was raised with the Legionnaires and I just thought that a legion was like a group of demons like a murder of crows. It’s why the Legionnaires chose their name because they were a powerful force, or at least I thought so.”

“Well that is partially true,” King agreed, searching for something in the magic space he had on the inside of his cape. “A group of demons is called a legion, but it’s also a type of demon for the same reason.”

Then King paused, “Shoot, I forgot it at the base, and we should probably go back to the base, leave this place back for them.”

“Yeah we’ve combed through this place enough,” King sighed and Joan and Silver stayed behind to make sure everything was moved back to where it was supposed to be as everyone headed back to the base.

King went to go find the tome he’d been looking for in his room, and while he was gone Silver and Joan came back into the base.

“I think we got everything back to where it was,” Silver told them. “But I guarantee we missed something.”

Joan rolled their eyes. “Lo’s absolutely gonna[4] know someone went through their house, and if he somehow doesn’t find out I guarantee you Virgil will when he goes through his stuff. He used to live with the Duke after all.”

King walked back in, Lunky clinging to his cape, King smiled and was talking with his child. There was an old book in his hand. “You can stay, but you can’t meet the new demon, he’s not very nice like 할아버지[5] is.”

“You do know you’re talking about Dark, right?” Silver asked.

“Yeah, well, he’s nice to Lunky,” King smiled, before his level leveled onto a more neutral frown as he cracked open the tome. “Alright so on Illinois’s first trips to Egypt he found this book in the bowels of some library.”

“Does it talk about Legates?” Jackie asked, walking over and getting a low warning hiss from Lunky for approaching the spawnling’s father without Lunky’s permission.

“Hey, it’s okay,” King told his child, before looking at the book. “So this book doesn’t directly talk about Legates but it kickstarted this little bout of research he and I did. What this book details is some spawnling that was formed by a lightning strike and began conquering the area. The Old Man’s apparently met this guy too, he likes building stuff apparently.”

“They play poker on the weekends or somethin’[6]?” Jackie tried to joke.

“No, they haven’t spoken in almost 200 years,” King dismissed. “More importantly this research Ills and I did helped us learn a lot about demons. Mainly that demons aren’t categorized by aura or region of the world, but based on how they collect aura. If they can survive being struck by lightning without discorporating, control lightning, or technology; then they’re glitches. If they feed primarily off the emotional state of other humans or demons, then they’re empaths. If they collect aura by manipulating people and making deals: that means they’re deal makers. If they’re attention whores that collect aura from large groups, they’re showmen.”

“Wait, glitches have an affinity fer[7] lightnin’[8]?” Jackie asked. “Since when? Anti doesn’t go outside in lightnin’[8] storms.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” King replied. “Honestly there should be a hell of a lot more glitches with an outright phobia of lightning. Before technology really took off the only way to get a glitch was if one split off from another demon, like what happened with Lunky, or something like lightning strikes them. I’m pretty sure Anti was human once and he’s old enough that he was probably killed by lightning.”

“What?” Jackie shouted.

“Yep,” King popped the end of the world. “Which is why glitches were seen as weaker or rare for centuries, it was hard for them to get a lot of power until the industrial revolution hit. But while we were deep diving in some of the books we found, we found some myths and legends that talked about another type of demon. It was like a hybrid of other demon types. Like a jack-of-all-trades, master of none, kind of demon.”

“So if demons are separated by how they collect aura,” Silver commented. “How do these . . . legates? I assume these types are legates, right? How do they collect aura?”

“Yes,” King confirmed hesitantly, “and that’s the problem. Legates are like an octopus. Eight legs, but one octopus. Something in the process of creating a legate, regardless of what it would have become, doesn’t split properly. If the legate was already a proper demon it would just make a spawnling and both the demon and the spawnling would be fine. And 99.99999% of the time the person just dies instead of making a legate. But it’s that incredibly slim chance where the soul is resilient enough that the energy can’t fully make a proper demon. That energy has to go somewhere so it makes a legate and this pseudo-demon, for lack of a better term, is dangerous because the demon itself can’t collect aura, but it’s legs can.”

“Is that where the Sides come in?” Joan asked.

“Exactly,” King gestured with his arms. “It explains why there are so many. Because when a demon makes a spawnling, multiple spawnlings mean a lot of energy was split off but when a human is turned into a demon there’s barely enough energy to make one demon, let alone seven. So the legate can’t absorb aura properly on its own, making it crazy and hungry because it can’t feed like it’s supposed to. It’s like being lactose intolerant but only being able to eat and drink dairy products. But the arms or extensions of a legate are fully capable of getting aura and bringing it back to the legate in a way it can feed from. The better control a legate has over its arms, the better it can feed. So it quickly gains complete dominion over the arms and turns them into mindless thralls.”

“But all the Sides have some of the most bombastic personalities I’ve ever seen,” Silver reminded, as Nate hummed in agreement, Mare was talking to him in his head.

“Precisely,” King smiled. “They’re not thralls, so that means they’re not giving their legate aura. So the legate is either dead or is kept somewhere that it can’t collect aura and turn the Sides into thralls. If we can verify the legate is actually dead or kill it, then the Sides keep their individuality.”

“So how do we do that?” Nate spoke up. “Especially without hurting the Sides in the process?”

King thought on that for a second. “Well when they get back we should come clean and just talk about the whole thing and maybe they know something they haven’t told us.”

“Okay, what if they don’t?” Mare asked.

“Well they’re non-violent for the most part, so if we leave them be they’re not going to torch the city down,” King shrugged, he tucked the tome into his cape. “Unless there’s something you guys haven’t told me. How did Thomas die exactly? Knowing what all the Sides have in common will tell us a lot about the legate we’re looking for.”

Nate gestured to Joan, who quickly began explaining, “So I found this old camera at an estate sale and brought it to some party. I was messing around with it, dropped it, and Thomas caught it. When that happened, he split apart and that was it, it went that fast.”

“You’re sure nothing happened in-between that time?” King asked.

“Yeah,” Joan answered, hesitant but sure.

“We still have that soul splitter,” Nate supplied helpfully. “We’re pretty sure it used to be Wil’s.”

“What?” King spat.

“Yeah, I’ll go get it,” Nate offered and ran out of the room to go fetch the camera. King at the same time sent Lunky back to Google. The spawnling complained but eventually the two heroes came back with their little missions completed.

“Okay, Logan really likes it for some reason,” Nate informed King when they were both back. By the look on King’s face the young man was thinking along the same lines. “Deceit hates the thing apparently, but none of the others have more than a passing tolerance towards it.”

King picked up the camera and groaned at the pink mustache stained into the side. “Of course it’s Dad’s. His magic always did weird things to stuff to begin with.”

The young man began trying to send his aura at it, to get it to react, but he was met with nothing.

“Okay, Dad, what weird thing did you do to make this?” King grumbled in frustration.

“That’s all I could ever get it to do,” Nate lamented. “I’ve tried popping the film cartridge, but it’s stuck. I think it’s just old.”

Humming a bit in affirmation, King turned it over a bit and set it on the closest table, his fingers drummed pensively. “Okay, it’s Dad’s, there’s gotta be some trick.”

King took out one of the medallion necklaces Dark had made for Lunky and hung it right over the camera.

Still nothing.

Frowning, King channeled his aura through the camera and finally a reaction took place. A mix of King and Dark’s aura in proximity to the remnants of Wil’s that stubbornly held the camera together brought forth another aura. It was distinct and visible: a shimmering, rainbow aura. It lasted for a second but it was there.

In alarm, King flew back from the camera, pulling the necklace away. In an instant the aura disappeared.

King approached and experimentally held just the necklace above before taking it away again and trying to search for an aura trail.

“Oh, you sly bastard!” King realized as he pulled out the very dagger that had caused part of his soul to split off and create Lunky. He’d kept it because he was certainly not letting the Jims get their hands on the knife again. “I fucking found you!”

King tried to drive the soul splitter into the camera and some protective spell fanned out to break the soul splitter and bruised King’s hand.

At first King thought his hand had been broken or fractured, but as the pain subdued to a dull, aching throb, he began trying to move it and realized that at worst it had bruised his bone.

“Fucking shit!” King hissed as Silver ran over to him. The force of the barrier spell and King’s attempted blow had caused the table to break and the camera to fall to the ground, undamaged by the fall.

Nanites surged out of some unseen compartment in the camera and created a projection disk. There was a whirl and a hum, before a holographic symbol hovering in the air. It was a blackened symbol of three heads and dozens of arms surrounding it, the only words there were: “Hecatoncheires Projects Presents:”

The symbol lasted for a second before the projection showed an image of future Logan, Spade, standing in front of them.

Spade’s projection smiled at them and he took a deep breath before he greeted them, “Heroes.”

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

Accessibility Translations:

1. Fuck-all

2. to

3. Put everything back and pretend nothing’s happened? All you’ve told us about this thing is that it’s dangerous or something

4. going to

5. Grandfather; Korean. Specifically the informal way to address your paternal grandfather. Phonically read as “halabeoji”

6. something

7. for

8. lightning

[solasan]

96 + june & adam 👀

angst/fluff prompt list

96 — “can’t you stay a little longer?”, late book 2

The Agency’s medical facilities have a lot going for them, obviously, being super-secret government-run places that cater almost exclusively to the equally-super-secret supernatural patrons of the world. The law of super-secret government agencies says that they have to be pretty well put-together, y’know? Captain America wasn’t made in, like, a garage. Iron Man doesn’t get treated in a public hospital. Batman never got himself stitched up in the parking lot of a Denny’s, or anything.

So, yeah, they’re top-notch. Grade A, or whatever. But they’re still indentured to the general rule of all hospitals and hospital-adjacent facilities worldwide, so— like, the food fucking sucks.

Which wouldn’t be a problem, normally. Except that Adam’s still laid-up from what the Trappers did to him — which June is still very carefully Not-Thinking about, because she’s very good at Not-Thinking about these kinds of things — and she’s obviously not about to, like, leave him, or whatever, even if he did have to be moved to the main Facility to be monitored. Which means, y’know. She’s stuck with shitty food.

Today’s fare had been a choice between soggy salad or soggy casserole, and June’s not a rabbit, thank you, so casserole it is.

Or— probably casserole it is. She’s not, like, actually sure? It’s kinda stodgy and stiff, and she’s pretty sure casseroles aren’t supposed to be like that, but then what would she know? She hasn’t had casserole since the week after Dad’s funeral, when it was all they ate, ‘cause Rebecca couldn’t get out of bed to cook.

She heaves a sigh, shakes her head, and knocks on Adam’s door. Only obviously, Adam isn’t the one to open it.

Elidor’s lips are twitching, but there’s a stern line to his brow when he looks at her that really isn’t encouraging. “He’s sleeping, June. Go back to the cafeteria.”

“Ugh, I can’t. It’s too quiet.”

“It’s quiet in here, too. He needs his rest.”

“I know.” June grins up at him, batting her big brown eyes that way she’d perfected by the time that she was twelve and Miss Lewis caught her carving binary translations of swear words into the underside of her desk. “Look, I’ll be real good, okay, I promise. And c’mon, who’s gonna know?”

“I’ll know.”

“Yeah, yeah, you will... But! We’re friends, Elidor. Right?”

He stares down at her for several very long moments, blinking slowly like she’s a special kind of idiot — which, ouch, she has an IQ of 163, thanks— before he sighs. Only after giving a careful look over his shoulder does he say, “you promise to be quiet, June?”

June mimes locking up her lips, then throwing away the key.

The corners of Elidor’s mouth jerk, and she grins triumphantly, her smile only growing when he sighs and opens the door wider. “I’m going to be making the rounds, but I’ll be back in an hour. Behave, alright? He’ll never get out of here if you and your team don’t let him heal.”

Which officially has her mood plummeting, but alright. She nods, face as solemn as can be, and with one last careful look, Elidor lets her through and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The room is pretty small, when she steps into it. Cold, too. Doesn’t Adam mind? Or do vampires not get cold? She’ll have to ask — probably not now, though. Nate usually answers her questions… he might not mind.

The floors are some kinda fake-wood linoleum, and they squeak under her sneakers as she crosses the space to settle in the plastic chair set up by the side of Adam’s bed. There’s a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights and a mostly-empty mug of tea on his bedside table, so Nate was probably the last one in here. Hopefully he also doesn’t mind her taking his space.

Bed doesn’t look comfortable, she thinks, wrinkling her nose at the thin-looking sheets by Adam’s feet. How’s he not going totally crazy?

Because he did go a little crazy when they told him they’d be moving him. To keep an eye on you, Elidor had said, and you’d have thought someone had shot Adam, the way he reacted.

Well, no. June has shot Adam, and he, like, barely reacted at the time, so...

Still. You get it.

She has to inhale carefully and clench her jaw before she can force herself to look at his face. He’s less fucked up than he was, at least; vampire healing’s nothing to sniff at. But one of his eyes is still a little swollen, his cheekbone the lurid yellow of a mostly-healed bruise, and her chest twinges at the sight.

Stupid. She’s really fucking stupid. Especially since this is, like, at least fifty percent her fault.

But that’s not a thought she likes to linger on, really, so June does what June always does: she pushes it away, swallows, and bottles it up somewhere it’ll never see the light of day.

The casserole is just as disappointing as it’d looked, and she pokes at it disinterestedly, nose wrinkled, daydreaming idly about the Chinese place around the corner from her apartment, chicken chow mein and dumplings steaming on the tongue. 

As soon as Adam’s healed up, she’s heading back to her place and absolutely splurging on as much takeout as she can carry. No one can say shit about it, either, because she’s going actually batshit as things are, and if they do, she might just hit them.

After a little while more of pushing about mushrooms and what might be beef with her fork, she gives it up as a lost cause and drops the bowl on Adam’s bedside table, swiping up Nate’s book with her other hand and rearranging herself on the rickety plastic chair so that her feet are on the seat, knees drawn up to her chest.

Only it turns out Wuthering Heights is, like, super fucking depressing. Like, seriously? This is the kinda stuff Nate reads? He’s so… not happy-go-lucky, but nice. Serious, for sure, but not depressed.

Probably.

Well.

Okay. She can’t actually pass judgement on that, since she’s been carefully-cultivating herself so that no one would guess at the bottles of zoloft in her medicine cabinet since she was, like, seventeen, but still. It’s a surprise, kinda.

Her cheeks puff out as she exhales, blowing a raspberry that’d shame any toddler, before resettling herself in the chair again. Maybe she’s just not comfortable enough?

“Bad book?” 

“Jesus!”

Her and the chair very nearly become intimately acquainted with the floor, and it’s only by mercy of her quick thinking that she manages to hook her hands onto the foot of the bed, steadying the seat before she can embarrass herself even more.

And— did Adam just laugh?

June blinks at him owlishly, taking in his sleep-mussed hair, his hazy green eyes, the ever-so-faint quirk of his lips. He— that might have been a laugh. A very, very quiet one, but—

She grins, positively fucking buoyant. If someone tossed her into a river right now, not only would she float, she’d fly. “How long have you been awake, asshole?”

He pulls a face that she’s never seen before, nose scrunching up beautifully, and Jesus Christ, what she’d give for a camera right now. “I do not know. Not long.”

“Not long,” she repeats. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, she whispers: “Were you spying on me?”

“No!” he half-yelps, his eyes green and wide and green. “I would— I would never do such a thing.”

June laughs, her heart doing something funny behind her ribs. “Alright, old man, chill. I was kidding.”

“Yes, well I was— not. Kidding.” He purses his lips, eyes narrowing as he seems to run over that sentence in his head, and then he sighs. “At any rate, you did not seem to be enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it?”

“The book.”

“Oh! Right. The book.” She clears her throat. Seriously, he is way too distracting. “Weeeeeell. I know it’s high-brow reading, but — and don’t tell Nate I said this — it’s a little boring.”

His face contorts into a vague approximation of his usual frown, and he goes a little cross-eyed as he squints at the cover. “Wuthering Heights is not boring.”

“Oh, so you’ve read it? Wait, that’s a dumb question, of course you have. You’re a trillion years old.”

He huffs through his nose in that maybe-laugh way again. “Not a trillion.”

“Basically a trillion.” She tilts her head at him, setting the book down where it was. “You doing okay?”

“Hm. I would be doing much better if they would let me out of this bed.”

“Well, no, you’d probably be doing much worse. Let the medical professionals do their jobs, idiot.”

Adam scowls properly then, but it didn’t exactly intimidate her when he was upright and unhurt, so it definitely doesn’t intimidate her now. He’s kinda like a pissy kitten, she thinks, eyeing his messy hair and trying not to laugh. A puffed up, super pissed, super adorable little six-foot-something kitty.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” he grumbles, eyes locked on a spot somewhere over her left shoulder.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” he says expansively, jerking his hand in the rough direction of her face.

“‘Cause that explains everything. Man, how much DMB do they have you on?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She laughs properly then, and his gaze snaps back to her all at once, the line between his eyebrows smoothing out as his whole face softens. “Aren’t people supposed to be less grumpy on painkillers? Like, I’ve seen the wisdom teeth videos. Aren’t you supposed to be all dopey and nice?”

Adam blinks at her for several very long moments. “I do not have wisdom teeth.”

“What, seriously?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like, at all?”

“At all,” he agrees with sickening pride, jaw cracking around a yawn.

“Damn,” June sighs. “You’re so lucky. I had wisdom teeth, right, but I had to get them removed when I was nineteen. I think I’ve still got the video from after somewhere— God, okay, I have to delete that before Farah ever finds out.” Straightening in her seat, she points a finger at him, giggling when his eyes cross as he tries to focus on it. “Don’t. Tell her, okay?”

“Alright,” he says readily, narrowing his eyes at her finger. “I will not tell her. What am I not telling her?”

“Precisely.”

Adam frowns. “What?”

The door clicks open before she can respond, and she blinks innocently up at Elidor, who’s already sighing.

“June, you said you would let him sleep.”

“I did. I did say that. And I did also let him sleep— he woke up on his own, Scout’s honour.”

“You were a Scout?” Adam asks.

“Uh— technically? No.”

And— and at that, Adam laughs. It’s such a cute little laugh, too, a slightly-dazed little snorting giggle, and whatever she was about to say next literally does not matter, the whole world does not matter, because that is, officially, the best sound June has ever heard. Her heart tries to throw itself out through her sternum and into his hands, and she doesn’t even blame it, because holy shit. How has she been living her whole life not knowing he could laugh like that? Jesus fucking Christ.

Elidor snorts. “Okay, while this is all very sweet and everything, you,” and here he gestures to Adam, “need to rest, and you,” he points at June, “need to let him rest.”

“Uh—” June swallows, clears her throat. “Right. Yeah.”

So sue her, she’s still a little wrapped up in the way Adam had laughed. It’s very fucking understandable, in her opinion.

Adam frowns, hand reaching out clumsily to catch with hers, and this time her heart is trying to worm its way up through her esophagus, she swears to God. “Can you not stay a little longer?”

Her brain has… broken, a little bit, perhaps. Which is why it’s probably for the best that Elidor sweeps in, shaking his head. “I’m afraid she can’t, Agent du Mortain.”

He grumbles.

“Look, I’ll be back, okay?” June offers when her tongue decides to work again, swallowing thickly around the heart she can still feel beating in her throat. “Right, Elidor?”

Elidor sighs, eyeing the two of them and their hands, which are — somehow — still joined. “If I say yes, will you be good about leaving?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, then. She’ll be back, Agent du Mortain.”

She squeezes his palm with her fingers, and Adam finally relents with a sigh. “Alright, then. Goodbye, June.”

[haledamage]

7: I'll keep you warm

(have some Kira & Tina! Unit Bravo is great, but Tina should get more love too. Though also featuring a bit of Kira/Adam because I wanted to and no one can stop me :P)

“Well, it could be worse.”

“Please. Enlighten me.”

“We could be alone in a big, drafty building with no heat in the middle of a sudden snowstorm.” Despite her cheerful tone, Tina rubbed her hands together and stomped her feet, trying to keep them from going numb from the cold. “At least we have each other.”

Kira crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as if it would somehow make it warmer. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Ooh!” Tina exclaimed, loud enough that it made Kira jump. “I have an idea! Be right back.”

“Tina, what’re you--” Kira sighed as her friend disappeared into the back room without another word. 

She came back a couple minutes later with her arms full of blankets. “Ta-da!” She laid out one blanket on the floor, sat down on it, and wrapped two more blankets around her shoulders. Then she held her arms out to Kira and waggled her eyebrows. “C’mere, Detective Kingston. I’ll keep you warm.”

“This isn’t very conducive to getting any work done,” Kira grumbled as she sat down in the blanket nest and let Tina hug her close. The combination of layers of blankets and human body heat did a good job of dispelling the worst of the chill.

“You sound like your Commanding Agent,” Tina said slyly as she tucked her head into Kira’s shoulder.

Kira pushed her friend’s pile of brown curly hair out of her face enough to rest her head on top of hers. “Now that’s just rude.” She couldn’t hear Tina’s laughter, but she could feel her shoulders shake from it.

"I wish we had a few more of these, we could build a blanket fort!" Kira grimaced at the idea of someone coming to the station for help and finding the officers on duty stringing blankets up between the desks. Tina didn't seem to notice, and kept talking jovially. "Did you ever do that when you were little? My stepmum would help me build tunnels all through the house, like a blanket labyrinth."

Kira nodded. "Mum would help me string up fairy lights inside, so I could sit in my fort and read."

"Now I'm just picturing your mum," Tina said with a giggle, "in her power suit and heels, crawling into Little Kira's blanket library and somehow still looking like a badass."

"Oh yeah, she's always been like that," Kira said fondly. She could almost see it, Rebecca just home from work, sitting under the dining table with a sheet draped over it, tired but smiling, lit by the soft blue lights as she listened to a very young Kira tell her about the book she was reading, or what happened at school, while very carefully skirting around talking about her own day. "A picture of poise and grace, no matter where."

She shook herself out of her reverie, but Tina was still in her own. Thinking of her stepmother, maybe. Kira had never gotten the chance to meet her, she'd died just before she and Tina met, but Tina spoke highly of her. Kira hugged her friend a little closer and let her take all the time she needed.

"You ever think about how things would be if we'd met when I first moved here? When we were kids?" Tina asked abruptly.

"I don't think you would have liked me," Kira replied after thinking about it for a minute, then quickly amended, "Well, no, that's not quite true. I'm told I'm very likeable. Lots of people like me. Never really had many actual friends, though." She shrugged nonchalantly, unbothered by the relative solitude of her childhood. "Too shy, I guess. Until you. Until Verda. Until…" she stopped, not shocked by the fact that she considered Unit Bravo to be friends, but that she'd put them - all of them - on the same level as Tina and Verda.

Tina heard the rest of the sentence, even if it hadn't been spoken aloud. She lifted her head from Kira's shoulder to turn a sly grin in her direction. "Their introduction wasn't that much different than mine, if you think about it."

“Really?” Kira scoffed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “Because when we were introduced I thought 'wow, she's really nice!' and when Mum introduced me to them I thought 'wow, I didn't know migraines came in human form!'”

"You didn't really think that."

"Not about Nate," she said immediately, almost defensively. "He's a genuinely great guy. And Felix was… a lot, but maybe not so terrible. Adam and Mason, though, absolutely."

That sly grin grew dangerously. "My my, how quickly things change."

“Not really.” Now Kira did actually roll her eyes, though to her annoyance she could feel her face get hot as she blushed. “They're both still a complete pain in the arse.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“Ha ha ha,” Kira deadpanned.

“You wanna know what I think?” Tina kept talking without giving her a chance to answer, expression suddenly serious. “I think someday you'll look back and find that the day those vampires crashed their way into your office was the most important day of your life.” There was a moment of thoughtful silence as her words sank in, and then her smile was back. “Well, second most. After the day you met me, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Kira gave Tina’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I love you, Tina. I hope you know that. No matter what supernatural bullshit I get dragged into, you’ll always be my best friend.”

“I know. I love you too.” Tina leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder again. Quietly, almost hesitantly, she added, “You know you don’t have to feel guilty for enjoying your time with Unit Bravo, right? You can love me and love them too. You don’t have to choose one or the other.”

Kira didn’t respond to that. It was feeling, more and more as the days went by, that she would have to choose. Probably sooner rather than later. And if she was honest with herself, she already knew what her choice would be. She just hoped, when that day came, she’d be able to take Tina with her somehow.

“Your favorite Bravo Boy is here, Kira,” Tina said, interrupting her thoughts with an elbow to her ribs. Kira followed her gaze through the glass front wall of the station, watching the man in question striding confidently through the falling snow, his dark grey coat stark against the blanket of white. “Maybe you should ask him to warm you up instead of me.”

“Tina, it’s not like that.” It sounded like a lie even to her own ears.

“It could be,” she said with a barely stifled giggle. “You never know if you don’t ask.”

Before Kira could reply, Adam walked through the door, purposeful steps slowing to a confused stop at the bundle of police officers in the middle of the room.

She smiled up at him, ignoring the sudden nervous flutter in her stomach and the knowing way Tina looked back and forth between them. “Hi.”

He raised one dark blonde eyebrow, but his face remained otherwise stony and emotionless. “Hello, Detective. Officer Poname. Slow day?”

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Tina said lightly. “Just a couple of cop-sicles.”

For a moment, the station was so quiet you could almost hear the snow falling outside. Then Kira and Tina collapsed into giggles, falling against each other in their little blanket nest. Adam watched them, face blank, but Kira knew him well enough to see the amusement in his icy green eyes.

“Go on.” Tina gave Kira a nudge, still laughing. “I got to cuddle with you all day, now it’s his turn.”

“Tina…” Kira said warningly, though she did start detangling herself from the blankets so she could climb to her feet. She very pointedly didn’t look at Adam; it was safer not to know what expression was on his face.

Tina’s grin was completely unrepentant. “Just send someone by in a few hours to chip me off the floor.”

It was much colder outside of the blankets than it had been before. In the three steps it took to get to her office to grab her bags, Kira was already shivering again.

“Are you all right, Detective?” Adam asked as he followed her, a concerned frown breaking through his stoic mask.

She waved off his concern, very quickly checking her messages to make sure she hadn’t missed anything while she and Tina had been huddling for warmth. She hadn’t. “I’m just cold. It was supposed to be nice today, so I didn’t wear a heavy enough coat. Wasn’t expecting the heat to be out either.” She turned to face Adam in time to see him finish unbuttoning his wool peacoat. Without thinking, she grabbed it by the lapels before he could take it off. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you my coat,” he said, like it should be obvious.

“I’m pretty sure the cold affects you a lot more than it does me, no matter how good you are at hiding it. You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake.” She uncurled her hands from their grip on his coat and, without really thinking about it, pressed them flat against his chest, letting his warmth seep into her chilled fingertips. She yanked her hands away when she realised what she was doing, and turned away from him again. “Keep it. I’m fine.”

A warm weight settled over her shoulders and she spun around with a gasp to find Adam right there, pulling his coat firmly around her shoulders. It reminded Kira abruptly of that night on patrol, all those months ago. So much had changed since then, but not the way her heart raced to have him this close, or the heat building in the space between them, or the spark that traveled through her the moment his eyes met hers.

He swallowed hard, as if he was thinking of the same thing. “It’s okay to let others help you sometimes, Detective,” he murmured.

That drew a grin to her face, and she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “You know what they say about people in glass houses, don’t you, Adam?”

His lips quirked in a small smile. “Perhaps. I am trying.”

“I know.” She slid her hands up the coat until her fingers brushed his. “Thank you.”

He allowed the touch for a few long moments, a softness in his eyes that drew her an unconscious step closer. He studied her face slowly, purposefully, and she could almost feel the weight of his gaze against her skin.

Then he pulled away all at once, walls snapping firmly back in place. “I will wait for you outside.” He turned and stalked away without another word.

Tina sidled up next to her once he was gone, as if she appeared out of nowhere. “Told you so.”

“Sod off.”

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

fidelity (kinds of love)

Tony Stark x Reader

Part Ten of the Kinds of Love Series

Summary:  *wedding march plays*

Characters/Pairings: tony stark x reader, laura barton, clint barton, natahniel barton, lila barton (mentioned), cooper barton (mentioned), nick fury (mentioned), steve rogers (mentioned), natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff (mentioned)

Warnings: pure, unadulterated fluff.

Word Count: 3.033

Prequel - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 -

MARVEL MASTERLIST or CHECK OUT MY FANFIC DEDICATED BLOG

Light, airy music trickled in through the ajar window along with the breeze, and you stood, moving to the window as you tried to recognize the tune. An artfully-made archway of light-colored wood had been built on the lawn outside about thirty feet from the house, draped in stark white cotton and blush-colored flowers and delicate wreaths of baby’s breath. There were no chairs – it seemed unnecessary with so few guests invited – just a small table set to the side of the arch to hold the marriage certificate.

Butterflies rose in your midsection.

You returned to the dresser, eyes on the mirror as you applied the finishing touches to your make up. You traced your lips in red, bright against the white of your wedding night lingerie and the robe you wore over it.

“Oh, honey, you look beautiful!” you glanced up, smiling widely at Laura Barton’s reflection behind you. She closed the door quietly behind her as you wrapped the robe around yourself and secured it, three-year-old Nathaniel balanced on her hip and already dressed in his own little button-down and vest.

Laura was wearing a lilac wrap dress, Nate’s tiny fist bunched in the ruffle over her shoulder. She’d tucked her curls over the other shoulder, no doubt to avoid them getting the same treatment. “Mr. Stark isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“Pretty sure he asked you to call him ‘Tony’.”

“And I will,” she smirked crookedly. “As soon as he stops calling me ‘Super-Secret Housewife’.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll have a word with him.”

“Ooh, you are going to be a wife to be reckoned with,” Laura teased, and the butterflies relaunched.

You grinned, your excitement pulling your mouth too wide. “I’m gonna be a wife.”

Laura gave a little squeak of excitement, juggling Nate to the side to wrap an around you in a hug. She touched a hand to your hair as she pulled away, smoothing a flyaway delicately. “He’s a lucky guy, Y/N.”

“Not as lucky as me,” you replied, squeezing your hands together. “Would I sound like a huge cliché if I said I can’t believe this is really happening?”

“Only as much as I did on my wedding day,” she laughed.

“Laura, thank you so much for all of this.”

You were standing in the master bedroom of the Barton farmhouse, with a garment bag hanging from the wardrobe door and the contents of your make up bag strewn across the top of Laura’s dresser. Your overnight bag sat open on Clint and Laura’s bed.

Tony had tried to convince Ross to lift Clint’s house arrest for your wedding day – set a month before the decoy date that had been leaked to the press once they’d caught wind of your nuptials – but the man hadn’t budged. So, Tony had surprised you with another idea.

He’d called Clint and surprised you with the venue change on the drive last night. He’d dropped you off with a kiss on your cheek and a friendly wave to Clint before he’d driven off to the room he’d booked in the nearest hotel. You’d woken to breakfast on the stove and a gaggle of excited kids running into the guest room to wake you.

Lila had already knocked eagerly on the door to show you her new dress, and you’d heard Clint holler more than once for her and Cooper to stop running down the hall.

“I mean, you barely know either of us, and you’ve done all this…”

“Are you kidding?” she told you, setting Nate down on the bed. “Honey, you’re family! After everything you’ve been through with Clint, and all those times those magic shields of yours have saved his life—”

“—But after everything with the Accords—”

“Families fight, Y/N. You did what you thought was right; Clint was never going to be able to hold that against you. It’s the same thing he was doing. Besides,” she continued with a warm smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as speechless as he was last night. You might have broken him.”

You snickered, your nerves stirring in your belly again as you heard a car door slam. “Is that Tony?”

“He got here an hour ago.” she said with a shake of her head. “Must be the photographer. I better go show them where to set up.”

“Okay.”

“Nate, no—” she scolded exasperatedly as he tried to climb into your suitcase, fat little fists closing around the heel of your shoe. She scooped him up into her arms before he could bring it to his mouth, giving you a smirk before she moved to leave. “Better get dressed, honey. And no more peeking out the window; you’ll ruin the effect.”

You gave her a mock-salute and a grin. “Yes ma’am.”

You turned to the window as the door closed behind her only to close the blinds before moving to unzip the garment bag. The stark white lace spilled from it, and you ran your fingertips along the pattern gently. Everything seemed so surreal.

“It’s a pretty dress.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you spun around, eyes wide. “What are you—”

Nat smiled at you from where she stood against the door; one of those warm and familiar, one-sided smiles you’d missed so much over the last year. She was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, and you couldn’t help but double-take as you took in once-fiery hair now hanging a pale blonde. “Did you really think I’d miss it?”

Her grin widened as you rushed to her, wrapping your arms around her neck. She squeezed you back, her chin tucked over your shoulder. She held onto you for a few long moments before holding you out at arm’s length. Your robe had loosened, and she raised a teasing eyebrow.

“Stark really never really stood a chance against you, did he?”

“You make it sound like I seduced him.”

“Only by being your incredible self.”

“Flatterer.” you said. “What are you doing here? How’d you even find out? Why the hell are you blonde…?”

She chuckled, tucking it behind her ear. “It’s easier to be lost in a crowd when they’re looking for one thing and you happen to be something else. Sometimes the simplest things can do wonders.”

“Do the others know you’re here?”

Nat shook her head. “Plausible deniability in case Ross has any questions. Although, I wouldn’t doubt that Clint has realized it by now.”

“You aren’t going to see him?”

The curve of her smile turned sad. “Don’t want to risk extending his sentence.”

“Then he didn’t tell you we were here. Or about the wedding.”

“Even off the grid we still get the news,” she replied as she stepped past you to sit on the edge of the bed. She touched a hand to the duvet, running her fingers over the material. “And you’ve been all over it. Still, the two of you caught Steve by surprise.”

“We caught each other by surprise, I think.” You said quietly, sitting beside her.

“That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” you scoffed. “So, we caught Steve. Did we catch you?”

She smiled again, her lips pursing slightly in amusement. “You should be getting ready. Won’t be long before the wedding march starts.”

You snickered, standing and moving to take your dress from its hanger. You turned your back to her as you slipped the robe from your shoulders and went through the motions of slipping on your wedding gown. “So, if Clint isn’t the one who told you, who did?”

“Tony did.” she said simply as she stood, stepping up behind you to begin carefully fastening the many buttons that lined the back of the bodice.

You paused, surprised. “He did? How?”

“Steve sent him a phone. Said if he ever needed us, all he had to do was call.” she explained. “He didn’t tell you?”

You shook your head.

“He told him you needed us,” she continued gently, fingers soft on the back of your dress. You could hear her smile in her voice. “I don’t think it was an easy call for him to make. With his pride, I didn’t think he’d ever call at all.”

“He’s not so proud. He’s just playing pretend.” you said quietly as she stepped back, and you turned to face her. “You were supposed to be my bridesmaid, you know.”

“Who do you have now?”

“I don’t.” you shrugged, a tightness in your throat. “Couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted there with me.”

She touched a hand to your cheek. “You’re a beautiful bride, Y/N.”

You looked down at yourself, smoothing your hands anxiously over the skirt of your dress. You arranged the folds of it carefully around yourself. A simple, understated A-line cut that fell from your waist to flare ever so slightly down to the floor. A slit rose daringly high on one thigh. You ghosted your fingertips over the light corseting at your waist; nervously adjusted the deep cut of the v-neckline. You looked back up at her, biting your lip.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she replied, warm and honest. “And we’re going to be here. Steve and Wanda and I. We’ll see the whole thing. We wouldn’t miss it.”

You smiled, and you could feel tears well in your eyes. “Thank you.”

“I have something for you,” she continued, as though she’d only just remembered. Hand in her pocket, she took your hand in her other. She looked down, a smile gracing her lips again. “Consider it your something blue. And something borrowed.”

She turned your hand over in hers, pressing a patch into your fingers. It was an Avengers’ ‘A’, and you ran your thumb over the material. “Is this from…?”

“Steve’s uniform.” she nodded. “Guess he wasn’t as ready to give the team up as we thought.”

You grinned, pressing your lips together in hopes that you’d keep your emotions under control. You fumbled for a place to put it for a moment before pulling your skirt aside and tucking it into the thin lace garter halfway up your thigh. Nat chuckled as you straightened.

“You’re coming home, right?”

“Someday.” she said. “World always seems to need saving, doesn’t it?”

***

“You know, Clint, I don’t think you have to escort me all the way from here. I think the edge of the porch is fine.”

Clint grinned widely, offering you the crook of his arm. You took it with a good-natured roll of your eyes, his hand warm and calloused it slid over yours, holding it in place against his forearm. “Can’t have you tripping down the stairs, can we?”

“Once. Once that happened.” you protested with a laugh as he began leading you down the stairs. “And I didn’t break anything, did I?”

“Only ‘cause you fell straight into Bruce.”

“Which I apologized for!” you said, and Clint snickered. Sobering slightly, you gave him a warm smile, squeezing his arm as you came to the foot of the stairs. “You look pretty damn good in a suit, by the way. I’m starting to see how you managed to snag a fox like Laura.”

Clint gave you a lopsided smirk and a laugh. “You don’t look so bad yourself, kid.”

“It’s my wedding day, and you still call me ‘kid’?”

“You could be eighty-three and President of these United States and you’ll still be ‘kid’ to me,” he said affectionately. He bumped his shoulder against yours playfully and you scoffed.

“Yeah? And what would that make you, old man?”

“I would hope your dashing and formidable Vice President,” he teased, and you laughed. He brought you to a stop as you came to the back door; you could just hear the sound of music and light chatter through the wood, warmth and excitement underscoring the conversations you couldn’t quite hear. He turned to face you, clearing his throat and taking your hands in his. “I, uh… I know I haven’t been… exactly…”

“Supportive?”

“There’s a word for it,” he smiled sheepishly, relaxing slightly. “I—”

“Clint, it’s okay,” you assured him. “You don’t have to give me some big speech about how you want me to be happy or how you’ve accepted me being with Tony. You’re here. You let us be here. You’re walking me down the aisle. You’ve said it already.”

“You’re a hell of a lot more eloquent about this shit than I am.”

“Pure talent, Hawkeye.”

“Sure it is, Barricade,” he snickered.

“So,” you smiled, straightening slightly and exhaling. “How ‘bout we go get me married?”

Clint grinned back at you, offering you his arm again and moving to open the door. “Let’s do it, kid.”

***

“You know, I put a lot of thought into what I was going to say today… more so than I would usually put in in any other situation.”

“So, it turns of Mr. and Mrs. Hawkeye throw a pretty good shindig, Tony said with a smile, one hand warm and delightfully possessive on the small of your back. The other was wrapped around your own; his fingertips kept finding the wedding band on your finger, like a tiny, subconscious desire to make sure it was really there. You laughed as he spun the both of you in time with the music; his body was pressed to yours, his lips touching your temple as he spoke in your ear. “Remind me to tell Ygritte they did a good job.”

“You know her name is Laura, right, honey?” Your arms were around his neck, a half-full champagne flute for the each of you in your hands. The stems clinked together with your movements, and you’d surprised even yourself that you hadn’t spilt any yet. You’d tried to tell him that as he’d pulled you into his arms, but he’d shrugged away any worry about potential damage to his tuxedo.

Tony raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk, leaning back enough to take his glass from you. “Not Laura. Her husband.”

“’Ygritte’?”

“Game of Thrones.”

“Ah,” you rolled your eyes with a smile, now empty fingertips playing idly with the hair at the nape of his neck as you sipped your champagne. “I might regret convincing you to watch that one. Your archer references are getting a little too obscure.”

He brushed hair behind your ear with a gentle hand, a light smile on his lips. “Noted.”

“I tend to just say the first thing that comes in my head… most of which is something sarcastic. But I did. I spent a lot of time over the last few weeks… hours… thinking about what it was I was going to say up here, standing here with you in front of all the… in front of some of the most important people in our lives.”

“I don’t think this quite counts as a shindig,” you replied teasingly, sliding your free hand over his shoulder and smoothing the lapel of his suit. “I haven’t seen a single wine barrel, or a bale of hay being used as furniture.”

“Ah, but that would be a hootenanny. Not a shindig.”

“Oh, of course,” you eyerolled with a smile at his scholarly tone. “How silly of me.”

“Always happy to help, Mrs. Stark.”

His lips were in your hair again, and you wanted to melt into his embrace. You settled for returning the gesture and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“I don’t think I want to be called anything else ever again.” you blushed.

“So, no more ‘sweetheart’?”

“And just like that it turns out I was wrong,” you laughed, slinging your arm around his neck as he captured you in a kiss. It was sweet and loving, tickling with champagne and joy.

“Sweetheart Stark.”

“Great,” you joked. “It’ll sound like you married a stripper.”

“Well, you are really good at—”

“Or a My Little Pony.” you finished pointedly, pinching him by way of teasing reprimand.

“And y’know, everything sounded so cliched and old hat except for the fact that I love you. I can’t think of anything more important and more incredible than that.”

“Hey,” you started slightly as Tony found you again. The two of you had been separated by well-wishing friends; he’d been lured away by best man Rhodey with a bottle of scotch while you had danced with Lila and Cooper. His hand slid over your hip, and you smiled as you leaned back against him, interlacing your fingers with his over your side. The sun was setting, setting the lawn aglow. “What are you looking at?”

You dragged your eyes away from the edge of the Barton land reluctantly, eyes closing as he kissed your forehead. “Nothing. Good day?”

“Happiest.” He said, offering you his glass. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Couldn’t be more perfect.” you grinned warmly from over the rim of the glass. “So, are you going to tell me whether or not Fury was ordained before this wedding?”

“What, do you think he actually told me?”

“You ever gonna let each other go?” Clint called out from where he was sitting on the porch step, grin on his face and Nathanial on his knee.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Tony called back, pulling you towards him and wrapping his arms around your waist as your back met his chest. You laughed as his lips brushed against your neck, and he rocked the two of you playfully back and forth to the music.

“God, you’re such a dork,” you said, arching your neck back to kiss him. His arms tightened possessively around you it deepened.

“You love it.”

“It might even be the biggest cliché, a guy like me telling a girl like he loves her. But maybe that’s why clichés exist. Because they’re true. Because they’re real. And there is nothing in the world that is more real to me than the way I feel about you. And I really, really love you, Y/N. More than I really thought was ever possible. And at the risk of another cliché, I gotta say, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my damn life with you.”