#and we do teach kids how to read follow directions and fill in forms

[cogentranting]

💵

[seiberries]

august with isagi yoichi : short fic

isagi yoichi x fem!reader (hurt, bittersweet end)

warnings: none but it’s 3am and i’m listening to folklore + isagi is aged up for convenience sake / listen to: august - taylor swift

salt air, and the rust on your door i never needed anything more whispers of "are you sure?" "never have i ever before"

it was a windy day, your families had decided to go to the beach. two kids of six years, he was your best friend. isagi yoichi had been with you since diapers. even your baby cribs matched, a result from a sale your parents couldn’t help themselves from.

you shivered as your feet touched the cool sea, your senses reacting to the foreign feeling. the yellow sundress you sported felt like it would blow away from the salt air’s breaths. you were scared inside, it was your first time moving into a water form this large. it seemed like it was gonna eat you whole.

isagi reached out his hand to you as bravely walked towards your fear. you took the hand he gave you, feeling reassured at the contact.

“are you sure? we could always go back!” the boy smiled.

“i’m sure, chi!” you had never done this before, but your knight in swimming trunks made it feel possible. you played together all day, enjoying the special time the universe gifted.

but i can see us lost in the memory august slipped away into a moment in time 'cause it was never mine

twenty years passed since that magical day, two young adults, twenty-six years of age. you worked an office job as a promising young executive, and he was an internationally known football player. you followed the paths you knew you were both destined for, the roads that called you. things were how you’d always imagined them to be,

except that your roads went two completely different directions.

you didn’t accept that until six years ago. the year you turned twenty was when you broke up with isagi.

and i can see us twisted in bedsheets august sipped away like a bottle of wine ‘cause you were never mine

six years ago, you woke up to an empty bed, again. it had been like this every single day for the last year. what started as once in awhile became all the time, and your loneliness had turned into an even bigger feeling of neglect. despite just having woken up, you felt tired once more. a painful silence filled the room you occupied.

he has to go to practice; a sentence that became a default in your mind whenever your tears started to form. you told yourself you’d never make choose between you and his dream. he’d gone on and on about it since he knew how to talk, he really loved football. you distinctly remember him teaching you terms in his room whenever you’d come over, his eyes shined brighter than the stars. you’d be evil to take that away from him.

you just wished he’d be there in the morning. you wish he’d actually read your texts instead of just skimming through them. you wish he’d take you out on a date, just once a month or two. you deemed yourself selfish but... you wish he was more of a boyfriend than just the title.

it was then you thought, you never had isagi in the first place. a tear rolled down your cheek, followed by another, and another- until you sobbed into your twisted bedsheets that you both used to lay in together.

the striker belonged to his dreams, and his dreams belonged to him. where were you supposed to fit? the dam inside you burst. you couldn’t do this anymore. not one bit.

you broke up with him when he arrived back to your apartment later at night. it lead up to fight of “whys” and “hows”, he was so stubborn your blood boiled. you knew him to be calm and rational but, it all went out the window when it came to his career. he couldn’t understand you, therefore you couldn’t him. the air was tense and stuffy, your chest felt incredibly clogged.

isagi’s hand that once held yours into the sea had let go, leaving you to drown with no way to breathe. it ended as you walked away from your shared home.

your back beneath the sun wishin' i could write my name on it will you call when you're back at school? i remember thinkin' i had you

forward again to six years later, you sat in front of your office desk typing a report. suddenly, you recalled that day, twenty years ago. didn’t it happen at around this time?

images started flashing, your mind acting as a projector. it was as if you were having a movie screening, for your eyes and heart only.

you noticed how the sun shined the way it did back then through the glass window panels of the building, exactly like that. it made you smile a bit as a plunge of nostalgia hit you, almost offensively. the memory you spent with a boy you once knew played like an old film.

but i can see us lost in the memory august slipped away into a moment in time 'cause it was never mine

what was he doing now, you pondered. visiting a far away memory, you could remember it all- the little details and the specifics.

you cherish that golden occurrence. it’s enough for this lifetime, that you got the opportunity to love him. the universe was kind enough.

and i can see us twisted in bedsheets august sipped away like a bottle of wine ‘cause you were never mine

twenty years ago, in the month of august, isagi yoichi’s heart belonged to you.

never mine, do you remember?

isagi was yours in that moment. he definitely was.

[igottatho]

News. Didn’t sleep much last night so I’ll have to do captions and more detailed stuff later, my sincere apologies.

Here’s a sumup for Feb 22, 2024:

Norway has divested $500 million from Israel bonds. A huge win for BDS movements. More info and the original tweet thread can be found here.

Hundreds of protestors begin again in the Bay Area, directly to Biden’s fund raiser in SF. All of the standalone images are from this event, as reported by Kqed, found via Instagram here. Descriptions for images are attached to each. Entire post contents are as follows: “kqednews Protesters demanding a cease-fire in Gaza gathered Wednesday night near a fundraiser in San Francisco for President Joe Biden's 2024 campaign. Hundreds of activists filled Alta Plaza Park as part of the demonstration organized by the Palestinian Youth Movement and the Party for Socialism and Liberation. Protestors chanted "free, free Palestine" and "from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free" and urged the president to end U.S. aid to Israel. "How dare he visit San Francisco only to rake in cash, ignoring residents of a city which passed a ceasefire resolution with a supermajority?", said Suzanne Ali, a Palestinian Youth Movement member, in a written statement. "While Biden charges donors $100,000 for a ticket to his cocktail party, bombs labeled 'Made in the USA' are raining down on civilians in Gaza for the fourth consecutive month, killing over 13,000 Palestinian children and counting." "We are demanding that there is a permanent ceasefire now," said Party for Socialism and Liberation member Ramsey Robinson, who spoke at the protest. "That's our money, stolen from the people, stolen from the taxpayers, and we want to let Joe Biden know that we know that." President Biden is reportedly making multiple campaign stops in San Francisco and Los Altos Hills between Wednesday and Thursday. But Robinson thinks that other than "the tiny number of the super rich," Biden isn't popular in the Bay Area. Read for more details at kqed.org/news”

Girl Scouts have received funding from Raytheon Tech and has made “stay neutral” merch. We hates a neutral ass bitch, sorry Girl Scouts, not sorry. Full story, from @prem_thakker : “Wow—Girl scouts wanted to make bracelets to help aid Palestinian kids. @girlscouts leadership threatened them, saying they must "stay neutral." After it was pointed out there've been similar efforts for Ukraine, they pivoted, saying the troop didn't follow "approval processes:” Prem then displays another image which says: “The last sentence hit her hard: "Unfortunately, if this direct violation of the organization's governing documents and policies continues, Girl Scouts of Eastern Missouri and Girl Scouts of the United States have no other choice than to engage our legal counsel to help remedy this situation and to protect the intellectual property and other rights of the organization." "I got a little scared; I'm not gonna lie," she said. "I wondered, what are they going to do to me?* For years, she had strived to give these girls the opportunities she had missed out on herself. The troop had formed a sisterhood, growing up together since kindergarten. Abuhamdeh reached out to the other parents. They decided the organization's values didn't align with what they were trying to teach their daughters.” I’m unclear where this image/quote was taken from, presumably from the original reporting of STLtoday.com

There’s additional tweets from Prem, which talk more about Girlscouts & weapons contractors here. The images at source are screencaps (from the girlscout website) which I’ll share here:

The last two images are the most important; the first depicts an image of a Palestinian boy holding a blanket he has apparently salvaged from rubble. The tweet from @Times of Gaza reports at 2:50 am of Feb 22, “Day 139 | During the past 24 hours: 9 massacres committed by the Israeli occupation • 97 people killed • 132 injured.” At 10:52 am @Times of Gaza reports: “UPDATE | 23 people killed in the Deir Al-Balah airstrikes. The death toll is expected to rise.”

This continued loss of life is irreplaceable and my heart mourns for them. FREE PALESTINE please God.

Eta: I added text to all images for my comrades who need it. I also added a couple new images for Girl Scouts info (I had to remove a redundant img of the Kqed insta, in order to include this info). Please LMK in the notes if it’s more helpful/ easier for yall for img notes or directly in my post. My brain is fried, I’m sorry this is such a haphazard post.

Biden and Raytheon info will have to wait til tomorrow. I also hope to get some info/ articles up about Israel and diamond trade - responsible for a huge portion of Israel’s GDP and stolen exploited resources from the Congo.

[fr0ggs]

[image ids: a thread of tweets by @grumpwitch on twitter, posted on may 15th, 2019. the thread reads as follows:

"Things I have learned about the general public whilst working at the library:

A huge number of people under 20 can't read face clocks, having grown up with only digital one.

Many people don't know how to spell 'library'. It's in our email address. This causes problems

A disturbing number of young people don't actually know how book-lending at the library works. They assume it costs money! Teach your children about libraries!

Crime and thriller are basically the same thing in many cases. In fact, we have doubles of books because of that.

People use hidden codes like asterisks to mark which books they've read. Please don't do that! The system will let you know if you've already borrowed something! Just ask.

If an automatic door breaks, people will walk into it instead of reading the sign at face height.

Libraries are a godsend for blind and deaf people and not just for audiobooks. They can come for help with filling out forms and getting directions.

Some elderly people go through books at a TERRIFYING rate. They are to be feared and respected.

Some people are so afraid of computers that they will come up to you with a query and then become upset if you offer to look it up on the computer instead of in a book.

Some people have never, ever used a telephone. Especially older women. Their husband did it for them.

The DWP fuck over everyone but especially the most vulnerable and I haven't met a single library worker who hasn't helped struggling library users with food or phone calls or even a cup of tea when it's cold and they can't afford heating.

The Jobcentre regularly lie to people and like to tell them they can get services at the libraries that simply do not exist. We will try our very best to help you get what you should have been given at the Jobcentre.

Most banks assume that everyone has an email now. In fact, some people have trouble proving that they exist at all without one.

Library folk are good folk. We do this because we are passionate about it. We have to be.

Libraries aren't quiet anymore. They're community hubs now. They may have quiet study areas but most libraries are bustling with activity. Between kids' classes, singing and memory groups for those with Dementia, craft sessions and noisy office equipment, don't expect silence

Libraries remain the only place where you can spend hours in a publicly-accessible building without being expected to spend money. Parent come to entertain their children for free on wet days. People in poverty come for a warm place to sit. Libraries are a haven.

Some people will go their entire lives only reading 2-3 authors but still have enough material to read a book every month. (See also: Danielle Steel, James Patterson, Clive Cussler, etc.)

A library lives and dies by the staff on the counter. You can have the best funding, all of the books and tech in the world but you'll only get footfall if your staff go above and beyond. Sometimes even that doesn't work, though and it's frustrating.

We're funded based on footfall. I've seen staff cry because we lost a youth group to a private hall that has fancier facilities like a cafe. We need all the footfall we can get.

Staff are hitting their heads against walls volunteering to create events, classes and groups only to have them shot down because local councils don't understand social media or want to charge for it. I can't overemphasise just how much unpaid work staff do.

Most of the facilities are only working because staff pay out of pocket to get things working. My manager bought a new laminator when we couldn't afford one. She buys in colouring materials for kids. We sometimes bring in our own stationery. We even but[put] lightbulbs in.

Authors don't like to visit little libraries because they don't get paid. Bookstores often pay.

The 'sexy librarian' trope has actually done a LOT of harm and has causes countless incidences of sexual assault by men who can't tell the difference between porn and reality.

Old ladies keep libraries in business. Old ladies who read are the best. Old ladies who can tell you exactly which page features the most gruesome murder scene are the very best.

Library staff ALWAYS want to know what you though of the book. We want to know what to recommend to others!

I'm not supposed to have favourite library users but I do: I love library couples, who bicker over each others' reading tastes or share books and then argue about the themes.

I also love the autistic kids with special interests. I will crawl over hot coals to get you a book about the specific type of train you are interested in, tiny child. I will listen to you tell me about it in great detail. I will try to remember for the next time you come in.

The single best moment, for me, is when a library user graduates from Young Adult to Adult and suddenly the entire library is open to them! They can read anything! No more tiny teen section! All of the classics! Sci fi! Horror!

They often get overwhelmed.

And finally, because I've spammed you long enough and because my typos are mounting up, remember this:

Library staff can overcome many challenges but Book Gods help you if you deprive us of caffeine. You don't want to see what happens then." /end id.]

[teddy06writes]

Can I request a Karl x Alex x Nick x Reader fic in which the reader is a teacher and they bring their boyfriends in for career day? I just thought it’d be so cute to see them interact with little kids.

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader

trigger warnings: none

premise: pretty much everything from the ask, although I know nothing about children so..., sorry lol

requested by the person above as well as @eliasxxk who asked for more karlnapity x reader

(y/n/n)- your nickname

(y/l/n)- your last name

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

“Career day?” Nick asked.

You nodded, quickly packing up the last of the assignments you had finished grading and tucking them into your bag, “Yeah, remember how I was planning the different stations and stuff for the kids?”

“Oh yeah, I thought you had all that stuff sorted?” Karl handed you your laptop from across the table.

“We did,” You sighed, “But someone backed out and now we have a slot to fill. So, one of you, all of you, I don’t care, we still need someone to do it.”

Alex frowned, “What would we have to do for that?”

You ran a hand through your hair, “Make a presentation on what you do? We were looking for a broad spectrum and the guy who backed out was someone’s cousin who did like, animation or something.”

As you gathered the rest of your things you explained that one group or person would be set up in each classroom, and that kids would rotate through, not just the fifth graders you taught, but the whole of the elementary school.

Karl grinned, “What time would we have to be there?”

“The welcome thing for the speakers is it 9 ish on Friday, so I can bring back the forms you’d need to fill out today to get them in on time.”

Your boyfriends agreed, and with a smile you pecked them all on the lips, “Alright, I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

“Love you!” Karl called as you started out the door.

“Love you too!”

~~

After practically zooming through your first three units, ELA, Math and History, and sending your kids off to PE, you headed down to the admin offices to make copies and grab the forms.

“Hey Sadie!” You greeted cheerfully.

The secretary smiled, “Hey mx. (y/l/n).”

You moved over to the copier, starting your copies, “Do you have any of those forms? For the people giving the presentations on career day?”

“You found someone?” Adam, the sixth grade teacher who had been organizing the career day asked as he entered the office.

“Three someones actually,” You smiled, “Alex, Karl and Nick said they could.”

“Oh, that’ll be interesting.”  Sadie laughed.

“Minecraft youtubers,” Adam mused unenthusiastically, “I’m sure the kids will love to hear about people without real jobs.”

You rolled your eyes, “They pull just as much if not more than me every year, plus Nicky and Alex are still in college.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow as you grabbed your copies, and then the forms from Sadie, “Well at least I can’t complain, your saving my ass.”

“Damn right I am,” You scoffed starting out of the office, “You owe me.”

Heading back down the hall and then up the stairs to the fifth grade hallway you pulled out your phone, sending a text to the ‘loves <3′ group chat, ‘the files have been secured’

Back in your classroom you began to set out the Novels your class had been reading, and set up the last of the things you would need for the mini science lab that would happen later in the after noon.

~~ The next few days passed quickly, and soon you were pointing your boyfriends in the direction of the library, where the volunteers were supposed to be meeting before heading up to your classroom, greeting the kids who were already inside.

“Hey guys! Are you excited for today?”

A few kids nodded.

“Which presentation are you most excited to see?”

“Probably the actor!” Damien exclaimed.

“The actor? Any reason why or you just think they’d be cool?”

“I wanna be an actor.” He said.

“Yeah?” You chuckled, “What about you Sam?”

The girl through for a moment, tapping at her desk absently, “Probably the firefighter, I want to save people like them some day.”

You nodded, “Calum? Any your excited for?”

“Well I was excited to Ricky, he’s my cousin and an animator but he couldn’t come.” The boy pouted.

“Aw, well I’m sorry about that, but I’m sure there’ll be plenty of interesting people for you to see.” You looked over the schedule again, answering a messege from Adam, willingly surrendering yourself to running around and helping wherever needed during the day, instead of watching the presentations with your kids.

The morning announcements came and went, and the teaching aid who would be taking your place, touring the kids around came in, “Alright guys! We’r~~e going down to the auditorium so that the principal and Mr. Alderton can explain the plan for today, and so that the people who are going to be in these rooms have time to set up!”

She herded the kids out of the room, smiling at you as you grabbed your phone, following them out, but turning down a different hall to the library.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief as soon as you got inside, “Oh thank god! Okay, I need you to get these lovely people to there rooms, Adda is already going around to set up projectors.”

You nodded, taking the papers from him, “Okay people! If you’d follow me, we’ll get you into these classrooms on time!”

The group of various adults followed you out of the library as you started calling out names at each floor, in between the intersection of grade level hallways, pointing out room numbers.

By the time you had made it to the cross roads between the fifth and sixth grade, Adam was already frantically messaging you about being late so quickly you called out the last of the room numbers, pointing various directions and telling the people to let themselves in.

You turned to your boyfriends, “Right you guys are in my room, it’s at the end of the hall, my computer should be unlocked.”

“You’re not like, staying to hang out or anything?” Karl asked.

“I’ve been roped into over seeing this thing. I might be in and out at various times through out the day,” You pressed a kiss to each of there cheeks before starting back towards the stairs, “Have fun!”

~~

You spent your day running around, delivering different things to various classrooms and basically doing Adam’s bidding.

A little way into the last rotation of kids around the building you finally got the chance to take a break and head back up to your room, slipping in and sitting in the back as Karl tried his best to explain streaming to a group of kindergarteners.

They may not have fully understood what he was talking about, but they sure did find him funny.

You watched quietly as your boyfriends interacted with the kids, opening up for questions sooner than they had with the older kids, and patently answering each one.

“What are you going to college to learn how to do?” A young girl asked.

Alex smiled, “Well I’m going to get real smart to be a lawyer, and Mr. Sapnap here is learning about computers.”

“What’s a lawyer?” Another kid asked.

“My uncle’s a lawyer,” someone two desks away offered, “My mom says it’s someone who works in a court!”

Alex chuckled, “You are absolutely right Big Man, lawyers defend people who go to court.”

“If you and you are goin to college,” A boy near the front pointed at Nick and then Alex, “Then what’s he learning at college?” He pointed at Karl.

“Karl isn’t in college anymore.” Nick said simply.

“Not honking smart enough.” Karl grinned as kids laughed at his use of the word honk.

They continued to joke around for a while, until the pa crackled that it was time for everyone to head back to there normal classrooms, and you moved back to the front of the room, “That was entertaining.”

“(y/n/n)! This was awesome!” Karl exclaimed.

You nodded, glancing at the clock as you began to re arrange your desk, “Theres like, maybe ten minutes to the bell, you guys want to hang out in here?”

“Sure.” Your class began to file back in as Alex spoke.

“Mx. (y/l/n)! Why didn’t you tell us you were dating famous youtubers?” Damien asked.

You groaned, looking at a shrugging Nick, “Why have you done this?”

You class laughed at your displeasure, and you were about to start asking everyone how there days had gone when Karl beat you too it.

“Who was your favorite?”

“It better have been us!” Alex stage whispered.

The kids laughed, and you sat back, content to watch your boyfriends entertain the class.

[irrelevantwriter]

No Questions, No Lies

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, angst, characters who refuse to say how they feel, asshole Rio (low key loves it)

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Part 4. Riding a high, you decide to invite Rio over. But things don’t go as planned.

A/N: Once again, I am here, standing in front of you lovely people and saying thank you for all the love and support this series has gotten. It means the world. And then some. Onto the good shit...this part has lots of feelings, not all of them good. Angst is heavy towards the end, but first...smut. We love some toxic ass yearning, don't we? Also, we get some Rio POV in the first half. I’ve got two more parts planned so as always, stay tuned. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 5 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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

He shifted in his seat, eyes glancing in the rearview mirror. He caught a glimpse of you as you handed off the bag of cash to Mick. Your gaze tried to find his through the blackened windows, searching for his presence in the front seat of the Mercedes SUV. It was no use. The tint was as dark as he could get it without drawing attention. Not that it mattered. The cops were always sniffing around...waiting for him to slip up. They were going to be waiting a long time.

He rubbed his chin as you rounded the vehicle and opened the passenger door. A cool breeze carrying the scent of your perfume swept in as you settled into the seat. He took you in slowly, gaze sweeping over your body as it often did when in your company. The sweater and jeans you wore were nondescript enough, but the hint of cleavage was obvious. And because you wanted to draw his attention, he gave you what you wanted and admired the area he’d been up close with only weeks before.

“Hi.” You greeted somewhat shyly, the gesture making him smirk. Even after the sex, you still got nervous around him. It had lessened tremendously since he’d first fucked you on your kitchen counter, but it wasn’t gone completely. And he had to admit that he liked that. Liked that he had such an effect on you.

“Sup, mama…” He replied, licking his lips as you averted your eyes from his.

It’d been three weeks since he’d shown up at your house in the early morning hours, announcing his return. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss being inside you. Now that he’d gotten a taste, it was difficult to manage without it. But you both had tedious schedules. He had several businesses. You had your kids. It didn’t always line up. And for three weeks it hadn’t. But seeing you now...he’d happily fuck you into the expensive leather of his seats if you’d let him.

“Everything good?” He prompted, noticing that you were fidgeting with your hands. You seemed worried, like something was weighing heavy on your mind. That wasn’t good.

“Yeah, yeah...of course.” You replied unconvincingly.

Rio leaned forward across the seat and placed a hand over both of yours, stilling the anxious movement of your fingers. Your eyes finally met his, a smile gracing your lips.

“What’s wrong?” He gruffly demanded, more out of concern for his operation than your personal feelings.

Your response surprised him.

“I need you to come over tonight.”

He took a long moment to silently take you and your words in. There was a softness in your features. It was unlike the expression of stress he’d seen you wear before. This wasn’t about business. This was personal.

“For what?” He asked, releasing your hand and sitting back to face you.

You bit your bottom lip and he watched as the appendage came away glossy and begging to be touched. His hand itched to reach out, but he stopped himself. Eager to see where you were taking this. Because he already had an idea.

“I...I need you.” You whispered, your gaze sliding to the deserted streets just beyond the windshield. You were hesitant. And that wasn’t going to work. He was going to have to teach you to take. In this world, there was no room for hesitation. You had to have the confidence to demand. If you didn’t, the weight of those around you who did would crush you.

Despite your timidness, his body hummed at your breathy confession. His blood pumped wildly in his veins while deep male satisfaction filled his chest. Inwardly, he was gloating. Outwardly, he was calm and nonchalant.

He shook his head and angled his ear towards you, as if signaling he couldn’t hear. “You gotta speak up.”

There was no humor in his tone. He wasn’t trying to tease you. He was acting as your instructor. Forcing you to be real about what you wanted.

He heard you scoff and as he turned to face you once again, he could see your hand reach out for the door handle. He stopped you with an outstretched arm, making sure to brush against your chest as he did.

“Just tell me what you want, darling.” He rasped, coercing your eyes to meet his.

You sighed, seemingly frustrated with yourself. He lifted his arm from across your body and instead let his fingertips trail down the side of your face. He watched from his peripheral as your chest expanded with a heavy breath, your breasts straining against the fabric of your sweater.

“You. I need you.” You repeated, the conviction clear in your voice this time.

He nodded, his thumb tracing the pout of your bottom lip. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Rio leaned in close, his mouth hovering dangerously over yours. You licked your lips in preparation for the action, the motion momentarily hypnotizing him. His eyes swept over your face, taking in every detail. His intense study made you shift in your seat. Maybe it was unease. He hoped it was arousal.

“I’ll be there.” He replied, pulling away and settling back into his own seat.

You blinked and nodded, still seemingly dazed by his proximity.

He hadn’t kissed you. And it was intentional. The constant push and pull of your relationship was maddening on most days. There was always an aspect of it that needed attention. Whether it was business or personal. It was always work. But times like these were what made it worth it. The teasing. The buildup. The attraction. It was so palpable he could practically taste it against his tongue. You were as frustrating as you were alluring and he was going to indulge in that combination until there was nothing left.

He wanted it all.

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

You smoothed out the fabric of your dress for the umpteenth time as you scrutinized your reflection. Nerves knotted in your stomach as you struggled to maintain some form of composure. Rio had texted you ten minutes before to say he was on his way. You didn’t know how much time that gave you, but it didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be enough.

You’d regretted your desperate demand of him the instant you’d left his car earlier that day. The cool air had pulled you from the fog of your lust and threw you back into reality. And it wasn’t good. You’d made a fool of yourself. You were better than that. You could form full sentences and express thoughts. You were confident and fully capable of telling a man to come over so that you could sleep with him. Especially one you’d already slept with.

You tried to find the courage that had consumed you the last time you’d slept with him. You’d taken without asking and he’d happily reciprocated. It was the very definition of raw desire and you had every intention of recreating it tonight.

Which is why you were taking extra care to make sure your dress was perfect, along with your hair and makeup. Not that it truly mattered. He’d already seen you practically fresh out of bed in cotton panties.

A knock at the front door made you jump in surprise, the knots in your stomach now turning to butterflies. You took one last look at yourself before you made your way towards the entryway, your bare feet soundless along the cool hardwood floors.

You opened the door, seeing Rio on the other side. He looked good. He always looked good. Dark shirt, dark jeans. And that unwavering look of smugness he so often wore. He was expressive without having to do or say much. He was self-assured. Arrogant even. The calm intensity he possessed was almost a magical power, holding you captive. It had a dual effect on your body. You were afraid. But it paled in comparison to your insistent arousal.

“Hi,” You greeted, gesturing for him to come in.

He did so wordlessly, eyes taking in your form as he moved. He let you lead him through the house and towards the kitchen and you swore you could feel his gaze blazing across your back, leaving a mark. He was good at that. He was good at making you feel seen. The rush of having someone pay attention to you in the way that Rio did was utterly seductive. It was addictive. And you wanted it for as long as he was willing to give it to you.

“You want something to drink?” You asked over your shoulder, heading towards the cabinet that housed the whiskey.

Rio’s voice stopped you.

“Nah, I’m good.”

You faltered and turned to see him leaning against the wall, watching you with an amused expression. Your insides heated with every silent second that passed between you. Looking at him made you remember why you’d asked him over. It wasn’t for a drink and it definitely wasn’t for small talk. Primal need began to swell within you as you stepped towards him. He was going to make you see your desperation through.

He straightened as you approached and invaded his space. You reached a hand out to trace the buttons of his shirt, gently tugging at the end of the fabric as you did.

“Come on,” You whispered, nodding your head in the direction of your bedroom. Any form of pretense was gone. You both knew why he was there...why he’d actually shown up.

You prayed he followed as you walked down the hall and into a space he had yet to be invited into. Until now. His footsteps echoed behind you, entering the bedroom and taking in his surroundings. You swallowed and turned to face him, pure want reflecting in his eyes. It urged you forward.

“Sit on the bed.” You commanded, voice surprisingly steady.

The corner of Rio’s lips edged upwards, but he did as you said. It appeared as if he was humoring you, expecting that you’d back out and end the night before it even began. But you were far past that. He’d made it clear, without words, that he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He was going to make you work for everything. Whether that be his money or his affection. So you’d do it. You’d put in the work. And he’d reward you.

You reached for the zipper on the back of your dress, but it was too high. You stepped between his legs and faced away from him, motioning to the metal teeth that held the garment together.

“You mind?” You asked, waiting in anticipation. It was only a second later when you felt the brush of his finger against your back as he lowered the zipper. He made sure to drag his skin across yours, slowly and feather-light. It was almost non-existent, yet it pulled a shiver from you anyway.

You caught the loosened fabric before it fell, holding it to your chest. You turned and met his hooded gaze, noting the way his jaw was clenched. You let the dress fall to the floor, revealing the black lace you wore underneath. His eyes scanned your body like a predator stalking its prey, your nipples hardening in response. The sheer material of the bra barely concealed your body’s reaction. He took notice.

“That new?” He asked, chin jutting out and gesturing to the lace that adorned your body.

You stepped out of the dress and back between the space of his thighs, forcing him to look up at you. That familiar spicy scent filled your nostrils. It was his scent. And it lured you in further to his body’s warmth.

“If you want to think that highly of yourself.” You quipped with a coquettish smile, hands resting on his shoulders. His own hands remained on his thighs; not showing any indication that he was going to reach out and touch you.

His question had been spot on though. You had in fact went out and bought new lingerie. Several things in fact. And you might’ve bought them in black. A color that reminded you of only one person.

Rio chuckled lowly at your answer, licking his lips as you eased your breasts near his face. “You can’t let me have an inch, can you?” He challenged, an eyebrow raised in question as he looked up at you.

“If I give you an inch, you’ll take a mile.” You retorted, hands skimming along the back of his scalp. His fingers twitched against your legs at the motion, so you made sure to do it again.

Again he laughed. Humorless and patronizing.

“I can’t take what’s already mine.”

He said the words with so much confidence that you had to pause. You stilled your hands and for once stared right back into the depthless pools of his eyes. You predictably got lost in them, as you so often did with anything involving the man. His declarations of ownership should’ve scared you. They should’ve made you turn and run away. Instead, you went headlong into the storm.

“Pretty confident in yourself.” You replied, lowering yourself to your knees. He let his thighs fall open to make room for you, his expression showing just how pleased he was with your change in position.

“I’m not the one on my knees.” He threw back, hand finally reaching out to caress your cheek. His thumb swiped at your lips as his eyes zeroed in on them, no doubt picturing them wrapped around him.

“Touché.” You teased, kissing his thumb as it slid across your mouth.

You ran your hands up his thighs and towards his belt buckle. He let you, posture relaxing as he allowed you to do as you pleased. You shifted his pants and underwear out of the way as you pulled him free, your mouth already salivating at the sight. He was hardening with every second, veins and ridges calling to your womb like an old friend. You could feel him watching you as you leaned forward and placed a soft lick to the head of his cock. He tasted salty, but clean, and you wanted more.

You suckled at the tip of him while your hand worked the saliva around his length. He was long and pulsing with yearning in your palm. You let your mouth water around him, the sound of skin sliding against slickened skin now filling the room. The sound aided you in your efforts. You opened your throat to take him in, swallowing and savoring the low groan he expelled. It was music to your ears.

You listened to his reactions, catching every twitch of his cock along your tongue. You mercilessly teased him as you licked long strips along his flesh before you suctioned your cheeks and tightened around him. Your hands worked in tandem. Stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth while traveling down to caress his sac. He grunted and jerked with the action, causing him to slip further down your throat. Tears filled your eyes, but you kept going.

Moisture touched your tongue and you knew he was close. You chanced a glance up and was rewarded with a blissed out Rio. His head was angled back, his adam’s apple bobbing deliciously behind inked flesh as his hand made it to the back of your head. He didn’t push, but he didn’t have to. You happily gagged on his cock.

“That’s enough.” He commanded, voice low and tinged with barely contained control. He pushed your hands off of him and angled your chin up to him, his mouth descending on yours without a second thought.

You let him taste himself. Tongues intertwined in a show of eroticism that mimicked what your bodies longed to do. You steadied yourself on your knees as you grabbed at his shirt while his hands cradled your face. You wanted him to touch you...to explore your body in every way possible. It felt like your entire being was on fire and only he could soothe the ache. You needed him...badly.

“Touch me...please.” You pleaded once you’d broken apart.

He began to unbutton his shirt, discarding the piece of clothing easily as you waited. “Stand up.”

You did as he said, standing on shaky legs between his own. He reached out and smoothed his palms over your thighs and around to your ass, grasping the flesh and kneading. Your eyes closed in blessed relief, a moan just on the tip of your tongue. You jerked in his arms when you felt the wet heat of his mouth against your stomach, his lips trailing kisses along the flesh. Your hands held his head steady as he gave you what you craved. His fingers slid under the band of your panties, shifting the material up and down on your hips.

Impatience drove you to reach around and unclasp your bra, baring your breasts to his hungry kisses. He didn’t miss a beat. He mouthed at the underside of your breasts while his hands cupped them, massaging the sensitive mounds with skillful touches. Your panties felt too restrictive and uncomfortable. Wetness pooled in them as Rio’s touch urged more from you.

“The bed.” You gasped, feeling him pinch a nipple. The sensation made you shudder.

His presence disappeared from your body as he stood, pushing his jeans and underwear down. They fell to the floor as he stepped out of them, his shoes already off. You took him in for the first time. Took in the scarred flesh and lines of ink that ran along sinewy muscles. He was lean, but beautifully toned. All male.

You followed his lead and pushed the last scrap of clothing you wore down. The material fell easily to your feet and you kicked them away. You reveled in the way he looked at you. Untamed and feral. Like you were sin incarnate. It made your pussy clench in urgency.

Your palms glided up his firm chest as you reached forward to kiss him. He reciprocated, insistent hands guiding you to the bed. You let yourself fall to the mattress, his body following yours. Your mouths didn’t separate. You both savored the moment of finally being bare and pressed so closely to one another. You relished the flavors that sat on your tongues as you kissed, barely able to take in a breath. Hands roamed without barriers as he wedged himself between your thighs. You accommodated him, pushing your hips up to entice him inside you. A finger found its way there instead, dragging along your walls and collecting the moisture that had settled within.

“You ready?” He whispered into your ear, his finger now strumming at your swollen clit.

You nodded and moaned, hoping that was answer enough. Your back arched into his chest when he pressed the head of his cock at your entrance, lathering himself in you. Your nails dug into his back, your legs tightening around him. He showered you with tender kisses along your neck as his hips rutted against yours, not yet slipping into the place you both desperately needed him to be.  

“Look at me.”

You obeyed, locking gazes with him as he hovered over you. The moment lasted only a second before he was pushing forward. He was fully sheathed and throbbing within you as you clung to him, mouth open but no sound coming out. His face was buried into your neck as you both became reacquainted with the other. You felt deliciously full. Overwhelmingly so as his cock nudged the natural barrier within you. He was as far as he could go, and yet you wanted him closer.

“Move.” You said with a whimper, shifting your hips so that his cock dragged along your velvet walls.

Rio obliged, a prisoner to the cyclone of sensations that had swept you both up. He set a steady pace, his strokes deep and thorough. You cried out when he thrust so hard that you edged up the bed, the headboard rattling against the wall. Beams of light glowed behind your eyelids as he hit every spot as if he was made to. You clung to the silver chain that hung from his neck as he grunted in your ear, each pass of him stealing your breath.

“This what you wanted? Hmm?” He punctuated his question with a bruising drive of his hips forward, making your toes curl.

“Fuck, yes…” You moaned, disoriented by it all. The feel of him atop you. The rhythm of his hot breaths against your neck. The growls that rumbled from his throat. The sting of being stretched as he fucked you. It was enough to have you succumbing to your climax before you were even ready.

You slipped a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit, increasing the intensity of your impending release. You locked your legs around his waist and scratched at the sheets as ecstasy washed over you. Your pussy contracted with earth-shattering tremors as you flooded Rio’s cock with your spendings. A litany of moans and gasps accompanied your free fall into space. The man above you stilled as you rode out the waves of orgasm and clenched around him in almost painful spasms. And then, your entire body went limp.

The headboard resumed its melody against the wall as Rio chased his own end. He maneuvered onto his knees, his cock never leaving the confines of your body. He watched you from this new vantage point, taking in the expression of euphoria you wore. Your hands trailed up your abdomen and across your breasts, cupping them for him. His hips picked up speed, his body slapping against yours and creating an echo. You accepted it all as he finally came, filling you full with every drive of his hips. He held you firm as he emptied himself within you, ensuring not a drop was wasted. You hummed at the feel of it, warm and thick and possessing you.

His fingers loosened their hold on your thighs as he came down, the flesh already sore from his grip. He soothed the area, the motion making your eyes feel heavy with sleep instead of lust. You met his gaze and let out a breathless laugh, feeling your limbs already beginning to ache with overuse. He slowly retreated from your body and settled beside you, his back pressed against the headboard as the comforter shielded his lower half from view. You eased into a sitting position, bringing the sheet with you. The act of modesty was unnecessary, but you did so anyway.

“You good?” He asked, face turning serious.

You nodded, the mess between your legs proof of just how good you really were.

“We gotta talk.”

His words made you stiffen. The post-coitus high now tainted.

“About what?” You asked, attempting casualness as you faced him.

“You’re gonna have a new contact from now on. Someone besides me.” He explained. His tone was succinct and to the point. He wasn’t interested in making this a discussion. And that annoyed you. Because it deserved one, whether he thought so or not.

“What does that mean?”

“Means I’m moving on to something else. Something different. So now you gotta deal with someone else.”

You shook your head, desperately wishing you now had clothes on. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand. It’s how it has to be.” He stated cooly, features schooled into an expression of professionalism, despite his own state of undress.

“Why?” You asked, still struggling to comprehend what he meant. Because it sounded like he was pawning you off to someone else right after he’d fucked you.

“I’m flipping my game. Nothing can be permanent. You get caught if you get comfortable.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No. You don’t.” He retorted dryly. The quickness of his reply threw you, the coldness in it obvious.

“I don’t trust anyone else.” You said, standing up and wrapping yourself in the sheet. Your thoughts were running wild, the disbelief you felt clearly written all over your face.

“I trust him. He’ll handle shit.” Rio reassured you, though it didn’t translate. He sighed and stood from the bed, searching for his underwear and pants.

Anger flared inside of you as he got dressed. He was going to drop a bomb on you and then leave? The notion made blind fury replace the satiation of sex within you.

“I barely trust you.” You threw back, watching as he buttoned his shirt. He shook his head and laughed, apparently finding your statement funny. “Why are you doing this?” You asked, trying to keep the shakiness out of your voice but failing.

He moved towards you and cradled your cheek, a gesture you were starting to loathe. He didn’t have to say anything to be condescending. The intent was clear. That familiar pit formed in your stomach as he stared at you, licking his lips.

“It’s business. This isn't personal. Don’t make it that way, yeah?”

You twisted away from his touch, gritting your teeth in irritation. “So you coming over to fuck me when you want is business?” You challenged, wrapping the sheet tighter around your chest.

“I gave you a choice.” He replied, voice raising slightly. His face hardened, his eyes narrowing and spine straightening as you fought against him.

“And what choice was that? To fuck you or die?” You questioned hotly, seeing him take a step towards you.

“You don’t make the rules. This isn’t a fucking partnership, darling. You work for me. You listen to me.” He argued, matching your aggression.

An iota of fear crept up your spine, but you ignored it. You shook your head and turned to leave, but he caught you, holding your arm with a firm grip. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either.

“Don’t. Do. That.” He warned, pulling you to face him once again. He was pissed. His temper barely under control as he pinned you with an icy glare.

“Fine....” You acquiesced, jerking your arm free. “Leave me in the able hands of someone else. I’ll make sure and show them the same kind of attention I showed you.” You goaded, seeing the vein in his neck pulse.

“Why do you gotta make shit difficult?” He asked, choosing to ignore your remarks. Rio didn’t wear jealousy well and it was obvious.

“You were the one that came to me, remember? You were the one that spouted that bullshit about trust.” You threw back, uncaring of the consequences.

“That's right.” He confirmed, stepping in your direction and crowding your space. You were both practically breathing the same tension-filled air. “And you went along with it. So go along with this. If not, arrangements can be made.”

You blinked, willing the man before you to disappear. You shouldn’t be surprised that things took such a left turn. They were bound to. And Rio was nothing if not an entrepreneur first. You knew that. Didn’t mean it stung any less.

“Leave.” You demanded, not meeting his gaze.

“I’ll be in touch.” He said before he was walking past you and out of the room.

The slamming of the front door echoed throughout the house when he left and you released the breath you’d been holding. Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced them back. The relationship between you and Rio was doomed from the beginning. You were both operating on borrowed time. No matter how much he acted as if he cared, he didn’t. You were a means to an end. That was blatantly apparent now. You were to fall in line and operate under his orders. That was it. But you couldn’t do that. Not when your entire life was at stake. You’d made the mistake of trusting him and he decided to throw it all away. All the progress made...for naught.

Rio would always want his money more than you. It made no difference if you finally offered yourself up on a silver platter, promising to run off with him. He’d surely laugh and pat your cheek, amused by your offer. He’d only been telling you what you wanted to hear. And wasn’t that what you wanted anyway? Wasn’t he just enough for a good time and an even better fuck?

Yeah. He was.

So then why did it hurt so goddamn much?

[supercorpkid]

Once Upon a Time in…

Storybrooke.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Emma Swan x Reader, Regina Mills x Reader, Snow White x Reader, Prince Charming x Reader.

Word Count: 2900.

Previously on the series - Neverland, Camelot

“So we’re back at square one.” You sigh, looking at Henry, while he is reading his enormous book.

“Not entirely true. We know that we have to lift the curse so you can leave, and that we have to do it fast before you become a character of the book.” He says, without raising his head at you. You’re almost arguing when a plate with at least 20 pancakes is placed before you. That stops your mind mid-rant.

“Thanks, Granny.” You smile at her, who smiles back before leaving. “Except that we don’t know who cursed the town, so I might as well embrace my fate of being a fairytale character right now and forever.”

“You know, there is another way.” He finally looks at you and you encourage him with an eyebrow raise. “Too risky and honestly? I don’t even know if they would agree to it…”

“Would you go on with it already? No need to build up the climax, we’re already past that.”

“Another curse.” Henry says and you furrow your brows. Having two curses surely doesn’t sound like the solution. “A liftable curse, of course.”

You just blink at him when he doesn’t say anything for a while.

“Ok, what if my mom cursed you into believing you’re a part of the story? You would be written into the book-” You open your mouth to argue. “But it comes from someone who knows and can undo it. So, when the time comes, she lifts the curse and you’re not in the book anymore.”

“Uh.” You think about it for a second. “Sounds like it could work. It would be like if we had a countdown watch and after your mom’s curse it would just pause it.” You say and he nods in agreement.

“The protection spell around town gets lifted and she undoes your curse right after. The countdown restarts but you would be ready to leave.” He finishes your train of thought. “Only thing is whether she will agree to this.”

“Well, we’ve got to try, right? Might be our only hope.” You’re almost out of the booth when you look at the pancakes in front of you. “Give me a minute.”

“Can’t believe you’re thinking about food right now.” Henry rolls his eyes at you.

“Can’t believe you’re not.” You say inhaling the food in front of you in exactly one minute. “Ok, I’m done.”

“This was traumatic to watch.”

You ignore him and you both run out of Granny’s to Regina’s house at the end of the main street. You try to go slower so he doesn’t fall too far behind, but you’re still in front of her house way before he gets there.

“Next time, give me a ride.” He is breathing hard next to you but recovers faster than normal. “Mom? Are you here?”

“In the kitchen, kid!” You hear Emma’s voice, and you follow Henry to it. You find both Regina and Emma making breakfast together. The scene doesn’t fail to bring tears to your eyes. It’s too familiar. “Oh, you guys are together, great!”

“We think we have a, well, it’s not a solution. It’s more like a-” Henry looks at you.

“Band-aid.” You give them a forced smile.

“Let’s hear it.” Regina asks and you and Henry do your best explaining the whole thing. “So I would undo the curse and she’ll leave, huh?”

“I know it’s not ideal but-”

“But it’s pretty good.” Emma says. She comes closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure about that, though?”

“No. I know nothing about magic.” You shrug. “If this was science or anything related, I would probably be sure, but this is outside my area of expertise. If you two think it could work, then I trust you to bring me back when it’s time.”

“You should know all magic comes with a price.” Regina adds.

“What’s the price?”

“We’ll learn about it later.” She raises an eyebrow at you. You think of Lena and how you need to go back home to see her eyebrow raise.

“I’ll pay.”

“Well, then hold on to it, kid.” Regina says with a smile. “You’re about to become a fairytale character.”

You and Henry look at each other. As good of an idea this was, you didn’t consider all the outcomes. You’ll become a fairytale character; you won’t remember anything about your actual life. You won’t remember your moms, aunts, cousins, girlfriend, grandmas… You know it’s what you have to do, if you ever want to make it out of this reality and back into yours, but still. Not remembering Jamie’s laugh, Maya’s kisses, Kelly’s comfort, Alex’s shoulder squeezes, Lillian’s head tilt, Eliza’s soft voice, Lena’s green eyes, Kara’s smiles, it almost makes you want to forget about this and find another way.

“Ok, the curse is ready.” Regina says and you look up, coming back from your thoughts.

“Smells funny.”

“I know, sweetheart. It's a curse. It's not meant to be pleasant.” She says, making your heart beat faster on your chest. You hold your necklace strongly in your hands; remember your family one last time. Then close your eyes.

“Yay, food!” You open your eyes and look at your moms on the other side with a stack of pancakes in front of them.

“Hey, leave some for your brother.” Regina says, stopping you before you grab all of the apple pancakes she has made.

“Fine, you can have one, Henry.” You joke, putting just one on his plate from the stack in front of you.

“Be nicer, honey.” Emma kisses the crown of your head, before sitting next to you. You smile, putting two more on his plate.

“There, you’re eating just as much as me now.”

“Listen kids, today Emma and I will be working with Mr. Gold to see if we can lift the protection spell around the city. You two will spend the day with the Charmings.”

“Oh, come on, moms. We’re old enough to help!” Henry says and you agree.

“Of course you are. And we will need your help when the time comes. Just, well, you know how is like to work with Mr. Gold-”

“Always an adventure.” You and Henry say in unison.

“Something like that.” Emma agrees looking like she wanted to disagree, instead. “Besides, I thought you had archery lessons with your grandma today?”

“Yes!” You agree, excitedly.

“And Henry, you will be hanging out with your grandpa at the station, right?” She gets his answer in the form of a nod. “Well, great, we’re all very busy today. But we’re still meeting at Granny’s tonight for dinner, ok?”

“Sure thing, mom.” You get up and kiss her head. “See you guys later, I’m late to meet grandma.” You kiss Regina’s head right after. “Bye, mom. Squirt, wanna a ride?”

“Stop calling me squirt.” Henry complains, getting up from the table. “See you later, moms.” He follows you to the front of the house. “Don’t run so fast, I just ate.”

“You know I only have two speed levels. Fast or breaking the sound barrier.” He jumps on your back and out you go, fast enough to be at the station in a blink of an eye. “See you later!”

It doesn’t take long before you and Snow White are walking in the woods close to the city. You love spending time in the woods with her. You love just sitting in silence and letting your senses become even more refined. Sure, you have super hearing, but she teaches you how to focus even on the simpler things. Leaves in the wind, steps in the woods, birds chirping. There’s no other place you feel as in peace as in the woods with Snow.

“So? How are the woods today?” She asks, hand on your shoulder.

“Was there ever a time where there wasn’t anyone in the woods doing weird stuff?” You ask, making Snow laugh loudly next to you.

“Not in Storybrooke.” Snow agrees with a smile and points a direction for you both to walk.

“How do you want to do this?” You ask, putting your bow into position and closing one eye, looking around.

“Like we shall do everything.” You look at her and she winks at you. “Together.”

You miss the shot. You try again. Your arrow breaks. You try again. You lose your temper. You try yet again.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

‘Together’ is the word to live by.

“Mom, can you help me take control of the panic attacks?” It’s late at night when you ask her that. Regina is happy that you’re asking for her help, and you two sneak into her office while Emma and Henry watch Space Paranoids.

“Remember,” She holds you, before she starts. “These are nightmares I’m putting in your mind. None of them are real. You’re safe and sound at home with us. Say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Ok.”

“But sweetheart, you’ve got to fight it. With all the strength and courage I know you have. Concentrate and fight it.” Regina says, and you nod, closing your eyes.

Your mind is filled with visions. Terrible ones, by the way. You see people dying, by shot guns and swords. It’s a war inside your mind. You know it’s not real, but the feeling is the same. You try to run but your legs feel wobbly and weak, and you fall on your knees. There’s a pool of blood under you and when you look to the side you see Henry with glassy eyes, completely lifeless.

“NOOOO!” Your heart starts beating into your ribcage, as you shake before reaching for him. “Please, please don’t be dead.”

“Concentrate. Focus.”

“HE IS DEAD! IT’S MY FAULT!” You yell, with tears wetting your face.

“It’s not your fault.” Regina says in your ear. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

“HENRY! PLEASE COME BACK!”

“What’s going on?” You hear his voice. Regina has already stopped filling your mind with visions, but still you see his glassy eyes staring at you. “Hey, open your eyes. I’m here.”

You see him. But your body is still reacting harshly to the vision. You cry and shake. You’ve failed, but you’re not the one to back down.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

You’ll overcome your fears.

“Hey honey!” Emma wakes you up, with an excited greeting, and you roll to the side not opening your eyes just yet. “I could really use your help with something.”

“What is it?” You mumble, still too sleepy to talk.

“We’ve gotta help Ella. And I thought we could have some mother-daughter bonding time.”

“You’re my mother. Isn’t that enough of a bond?” You ask, as a joke, and you get a chuckle in response.

“Come on. It would be much faster if you could fly around and find her for me. Otherwise I would have to use magic to find a shoe and then more magic to track her, and then-”

“Oh my God, ok. I’ll help.” You get up and get ready in seconds. “I know you just want my help because I’m faster than the Flash.”

“Faster than a flash, honey.” Emma corrects you. “Let’s go!”

So you find Ella, just before her evil stepmother shoots her, and you stand tall in front of her because you’re indestructible, and your mom uses magic to contain her evil stepmother, and it’s just another day in Storybrooke. You know, for a really small town, there’s always something going on in here.

“Saving the town with my kid.” Emma throws her arms around your shoulders with a smile. “What mother could ask for more?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think being saved probably doesn’t sound so bad.” You complain, getting a tight squeeze from her.

“Sitting around waiting to be saved, with no idea whether someone’s actually going to come for you-” She sighs, loudly. “Trust me, I know doing all the saving all the time sounds exhausting. But waiting around is-is as bad as it can get, honey.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

Heroism comes first.

“Are you ready?” Snow asks and you agree excitedly. Bow and arrow ready to shoot. You look at her getting in position. “Together.”

You nod, and you two aim at the same spot. Both of the arrows travel together and land side by side in the middle of the target. You smile, excited. “I feel like the Green Arrow!”

“Who’s that?” Snow asks and you look at her furrowing your brows.

“I-I don’t know.” You think and think about how that name just easily left your mouth. Huh. Weird.

Days. Weeks. Months.

“Here comes the town’ superhero!” Emma says when you walk in the kitchen.

“Here is the town’ savior!” You answer with a smile.

“I could use your help out there today, kid!” She widens her smile.

“Doesn’t this town have enough heroes?” You sit next to her, and she kisses the crown of your head, before placing a plate of hot waffles in front of you.

“But only one is super.” She winks, making you giggle in excitement. You’re convinced right away.

Days. Weeks. Months.

“Focus. Concentrate.” Regina says, close to your ear. And you breathe deep trying to do so.

“It's kind of hard when you're talking in my ear.”

“And when the wind blows, or it's raining, or someone's shooting arrows at you. Yes, concentration's hard. That's the point.” She bumps her shoulder on yours. “Sweetheart, you told me you needed help.”

“And I do.”

“Then let me help.” She runs her fingers through your hair slowly. “The world will always throw disappointments, sorrows and pain on our backs. It’s our job to learn how to handle them. I worked very hard for my first reaction to be as Regina and not as the Evil Queen.”

“I know, mom. You said that a million times.” Your answer makes Regina lose her cool a little. And you smile, apologetic. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I asked for help. I need to know how to handle the pain. Please, I’m ready to go on.”

“Close your eyes.” She asks again and you comply. “Are you ready?” You shake your head in agreement.

You see images. Like a lucid dream in your mind. Regina is using magic to alter what you see. And you see destruction, death everywhere. You see Snow’s head detached from her body, Emma bleeding with a sword on her heart, the only thing left from Charming is his hand, still clinging to his sword.

You should be ready by now. In fact, you should be used to it somehow. It’s not the first time you and Regina do this kind of exercise. But it doesn’t matter how many times you see your family bleeding out, totally lifeless in front of you, every single time, without fail, makes your heart beat faster, your lungs stop working, you shake, you start crying and hyperventilating, ready to destroy everything.

“Focus! No fire from the eyes.” You hear Regina’s voice and you come back to yourself a little bit, just to hold back your first reaction. It’s always the eyes.

“But mom is dead.” You cry out, clenching your fist.

“Concentrate. You can do it.”

You can do it.

You kneel before Snow’s head. Breath in while counting to 3. Hold your breath for 3 seconds. Breath out in the same amount of time. You know this isn’t real. Snow is home, and safe. You’re not in the enchanted forest. Nothing here is real.

You unclench your fist. Steadying your breath. You fight the images. Snow’s head goes back to her body. Charming’s hand disappears. Emma opens her eyes.

“You can do it.” You hear again. And you feel the thump in your heart settling back in your ribcage. Beating normal again. Soon enough the entire thing vanishes in front of your eyes. You open your eyes again. Your hands are still shaking a little, but you’re home with your mom, and you’re safe. She smiles fondly at you. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“I did it. I stopped my panic attack.” You say with excitement planted on your face and she hugs you tightly. It doesn’t matter how many months it took you to do so, you still did it.

“How about we celebrate? Guess who lifted the town’s protection spell this morning?”

“Wait, really?” Your eyes widen in excitement.

“Yes! You know what that means?” Regina asks, and you can barely contain yourself, jumping up and down.

“Pizza from the neighborhood city!” You squeak. “Can I go get it? Please mom, let me go get it!”

“Here.” Regina gives you the money. “Bring enough for your grandparents. And Belle. Maybe Hook too. Just anyone who happens to be at Granny’s.”

“So basically the entire city?”

“Basically.” She smiles and you’re almost out the door, when you look back at her and add.

“Did I have any plans for when we could leave town?” You think and think, but nothing comes to mind. “It’s weird, I swear I feel like I’m forgetting something important.”

“Maybe to give mom a kiss?” Regina asks and you smile. Rushing to her and hugging her, before kissing her forehead.

“Yeah, it was probably just a kiss.” You chuckle.

Days. Weeks. Months.

[mrsbrookegillespie]

-Chapter One- Teacher!Charlie Gillespie x Single!Mom!Reader

(Not My Gif)

This Story Was INSPIRED By @boyfriendskywalker Who Deactivated Their Account While Writing The Charlie Gillespie Kindergarten Teacher Story. I Have Taken It Upon Myself To Write My Own Version With Some Of The Storyline They Used. So, ALL Credit For Part Of The Storyline Goes To Them. This Will Be A Series, And I Will Finish It.

Description: Just Read It While I Try To Come Up With One--GOT IT! Okay, so Y/N L/N is a single mother of her daughter Y/D/N. Having it been four years since the father walked away. Y/N taught herself to never trust a man, but when Y/D/N’s teacher uses his charm to worm his way into her life, will she finally be able to open herself up to love again?

Warnings: Language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of mental abuse, and as the story goes on I’ll think of more. But, be prepared for some angst.

-Chapter One-

“One, two, three, four--”

“Mama?” Y/N looks down at the doe-eyed 5 year old. “Why are you counting?” 

With a head shake, she presses her fingers onto her temples, gently massaging them. “Mama’s just tired, baby,” she explains, calmly. “And has a migraine.” Now flashing her daughter, Y/D/N, a fake smile, she starts the car. “Are you ready for school? Not gonna cause trouble again… Are you?” 

“I don’t cause trouble!” Y/D/N argues, lightly kicking the back of the passenger seat. “My classmates also cause trouble, I just resolve it differently than others.” She crosses her arms with a huff.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows at her daughter's words. “Are you sure you’re five?” 

“I like to say I’m six,” she says, casually.

The seriousness of the young girl’s demeanor was enough to make Y/N fall into a fit of laughter. “Well alrighty then. Six it is.” She pulls into a parking space. “We are here,” she announces, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Finally!” Y/D/N wrestles to get out of her car seat. “Could you help me out?” 

Y/N gets out of the car, rushing to grab her majesty from the backseat. “Do you have everything?” she asks, setting Y/D/N down on the pavement. 

Y/D/N shrugs, but resorts to saying, “Yes.” 

“Good.” Y/N takes Y/D/N’s hand, guiding her into the colorful building they both grew to love and hate. 

“Ms. L/N,” a female teacher says, only giving a stiff nod towards the women.

“Mrs. Winchester,” she replies mimicking the gesture. Both her and Y/D/N shiver when she passes by. “She scares me.”

Y/D/N nods dramatically, agreeing. “I think she’s a ghost,” she stage-whispers.

“Definitely.” Though Y/N’s tone might’ve been teasing, she wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was. 

“Hello Y/D/N!” Another young female teacher waves before meeting Y/N’s eyes. “Ugh…” She continues to walk without giving Y/N a proper greeting.

“Good morning to you too,” she mumbles under her breath. 

Only a couple more awkward encounters were experienced until she heard the loud shrill of-- “Mr. Gillespie!” Y/D/N lets go of Y/N’s hand, sprinting towards the man that she called her teacher.

“Good morning Miss Y/D/N!” he greets verbally, along with a big hug. “And look who’s with you.” He moves from his crouched position to stand as tall as he could next to Y/N. “Good morning, Y/N.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Gillespie,” she responds. “Nice to feel welcomed.” Her tone turned a little colder than what it was. “I swear it was either just someone saying my name, or a judgement glare.” 

“You’ll warm up to them,” he assures. 

“Like I warmed up to you?” she questions. “Don’t put me under the impression that you actually like me, please, it’ll just blow my ego right out of proportion.” She uses her hands to demonstrate.

He doesn’t respond, only showing her a bright smile.

The bell rings, signaling both of them to go their separate directions. “Mr. Gillespie the bell rang,” a student calls out. 

Y/N snaps out of her little daze. “And I guess Y/D/N already went to her seat. See? I knew she wasn’t that much of a troublemaker, but you know--” she cuts herself off seeing his amused expression. “You have to teach,” she blurts. “Right! Sorry, I’ll let you get to that. Bye Y/D/N!” she shouts into the filled room, Y/D/N’s face going into a look of horror. “Love you, stay safe and…” She salutes Charlie. “Good luck.” With a turn on her heel she goes to leave the building, mentally face palming herself on the way.

When in the safe space of her car, she allows her head to fall forward, which only led to her accidentally setting the horn off. It wasn’t like she’s not used to people. With being a hostess at a restaurant, all she did was talk, see, and meet a variety of different personalities and personas. But, after having to raise a daughter on her own you can say her cool way of talking, and the ability to form well rounded sentences went downhill. Baby talk does that.

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you like your daughter’s hot teacher?” her friend, Madison, asks. Madison was a little bit younger than Y/N was, Madison being seventeen and Y/N being twenty-four, she couldn’t help but bond with the girl. 

“That’s not what I said,” Y/N remarks, wiping down a table. 

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” Y/N whines.

“And I’m the teenager,” Madison snickers.

Y/N blows some of her hair out of her face. “I won’t deny that he’s… Decent looking, but the problem is in the question. ‘Daughter’s teacher’,” she repeats the words Madison said earlier. 

“You told me that Y/D/N can’t get enough of what you only call ‘Mr. Gillespie’, I don’t even know his first name.” She scrunches up the right side of her face. 

“Because it’s informal.” 

“He calls you by your first name,” Madison replies back, bluntly. “But, back to the point. If Y/D/N really likes him then what’s the problem?” 

Y/N stops her movements, giving Madison a blank stare. She opens her mouth to answer, but closes it. “I just can’t, okay? Can we please drop it?” 

Madison’s eyes soften when seeing Y/N’s pleading ones. “Yeah, sure.” She leans against one of the tables. 

“Hello!” someone calls out from a few feet away. “We’ve been standing here for like ten minutes, can we be seated?” The annoyance on the man's face was evident.

Y/N sends Madison a cheeky smirk. “You’re on, Mads.” 

She stomps her foot, discreetly, going to the group of people who are most likely ‘hangry’. Y/N glances at her watch, seeing how it was about time she headed out for her break and got Y/D/N from school, only to have the last minute babysitter she found that morning watch her for the rest of the day, so Y/N can finish her shift. It wasn’t the most ideal schedule, but it worked. It paid the bills, it put food on the table--could it be the reason Y/D/N throws fits, and tantrums in classrooms, and seeks attention? Maybe.

“We need to set up a meeting.” 

Y/N gapes at Mr. Gillespie who for the first time she’s seen with a stern look on his face. “Wh-why?” she stutters.

“I know you aren’t blind to see that Y/D/N is…” His voice fades off. “The Principal wants to set up a conference with you, me, Y/D/N, and the counselor after school one of these days.”

Y/N’s frown gets wider, glancing over towards Y/D/N in the seat next to her. The girl only kept her eyes glued to her shoes. “The only days I’m off of work are Saturdays, Sunday’ and Wednesdays.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the calendar. “Yeah, only those days, I don’t know if any of those days would work but…” 

“You work all those other days?” He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah,” she answers, not thinking too much about it. She gasps loudly, when it hits her. “Work!” She looks at her watch. “I’m gonna be late going back.” She stands up. “I’ll send you an email tonight on what time works best for me, and then you as a faculty can talk amongst yourselves if it works for you. I’m gonna take my kid now, and go, so I don’t have to keep being stared at with that look you and all the other teachers give me.” She takes Y/D/N’s hand, the slight pull of it noticeable enough to have Y/N make a mental note.. “Have a nice rest of your day, Mr. Gillespie.

“Bye, bye,” Y/D/N finally whispers towards him. With a weak wave they both leave the room, once out of sight running for the door. “Why were we running?” she asks, when Y/N starts to speed to their house.

“Because Mama’s gonna be late to work, and is now stressed because we have to talk to adults who don’t like her very much,” she pauses. “You and I need to have a very, very, serious conversation when I get back home on where your behavior is coming from.” 

“But, I don’t wanna,” Y/D/N cries.

“I know you don’t want to, I don’t want to, but it’s one of the cons of being a parent, I have to be strict at times when you don’t follow the rules.”

“But--” 

“Don’t make me yell at you,” Y/N warns. “You and I both hate yelling when you’re in trouble, so I think we’d both appreciate it if you promise to be good until I’m back, no arguing.” 

Y/D/N slowly feels the tears come to her eyes. “Mr. Gillespie never yells at me.”

The name made Y/N freeze a little. Was he a part of the reason? 

Taglist

@yagorlemmalyn @justxfolio @charliegillespiewife

[90gemini]

Falling Up 🌇 Steve Rogers x Reader AU

Summary: A meet cute on a morning train between pediatric intern Steve and reader.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: big crowds, just too much fluff ngl

A/N: hope this makes you smile, i really love this AU, might be a part 1 of a whole series:)

Every single morning, as if on cue, approximately two minutes before my train leaves the station near my apartment, I come to the realization that if I do not get into full sprint mode right that second, I will miss my train and then be late to my first class and then have to walk in embarrassed while everyone is already inside and then proceed to feel embarrassed over it the entire day. So, considering the fact that I never seem to make myself leave the house just a few minutes early, for the past three years that I have been going to college, almost every morning I run into the train the last moment before the doors close completely out of breath, and have to subtly work on composing myself much longer than I am comfortable to admit.

Yet today, without even realizing, I got out of my apartment solid seven minutes earlier than usual. My roommate and I were so engaged in our conversation about the events of last nights party so we walked out together still invested in the drama which left me pleasantly surprised with the time I was left to spend before my train leaves after we went our separate ways. The extra time opened a whole lot of opportunities for me, almost made me believe I should wake up earlier every morning and not leave for class at the last possible moment. So, with the 420 extra seconds I got today, I managed to actually dig my earphones out my bag, plug them in and wait for the train with the sounds of my morning playlist filling my mind.

Inside the train, when I wasn’t preoccupied by catching my breath but also, even more importantly, focusing on not making it too obvious I was out of my breath, I became very much aware of my surroundings, noticing everything and everyone around me.

There was a girl sitting down right across from where I was standing, she looked about my age and she held a little baby in her arms, slowly rocking it and I noticed the way she was looking totally spent but the moment her baby made this cute laughing sound, a smile spread on her face completely overshadowing the exhaustion in her eyes. Next to the door was an older woman not so subtly judging everyone who was sitting down and has not offered her to sit and right next to the door was a man sitting down and sleeping like a log. I had the urge to wake him up and ask him when he has to get down or if he has already missed his stop, but in all honesty, it was too early in the morning for me to be considerate like that. While continuing to carelessly look around, my eyes landed on something that opened drawers in my memory I did not even know existed.

It was a book cover. A simple white background featuring a boy with frizzy hair who was flying over a drawn-on city with the words ‘Falling Up’ in the middle. So many moments of my dad reading poems from that book to me before bed when I was a kid came up and instantly forced a smile on my face.

In my head, I started reciting the words to my favorite poem from that book, remembering my dad teaching me how to read with those poems when my eyes fell on the arm holding the book and the man attached to it.

And God, was I thankful for the boosted-up heating in the train this morning because that made him take off his leather jacket and throw it over his arm, leaving only a thin, too tight white shirt to cover his upper body and it worked amazing for me that the shirt wasn’t doing its job well.

I heard the sound of the door opening and saw way too many people try to make their way into the train making it way more crowded which pushed the mystery man to move closer to me. Not as close as I wanted though.

My mind was focused solely on him that at one point I wasn’t even aware what station we were at and have I maybe missed mine, but I found myself not caring at all. The point my eyes landed on his face I was basically addicted. His hair was a gorgeous mess, a bit outgrown but looking so good. And, oh my God, his eyes. I was so upset I am only seeing them under the fluorescent light of the subway because I am positive that it would be an out of body experience seeing them under the sunlight.

At that moment I was sure he was the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on and was already cursing myself because I knew I was too nervous to talk to him and will regret that forever.

His lips would occasionally move into a small, barely noticeable grin while he was reading and every once in a while, his tongue would go over his lips leaving them all full and glistening which led to a whole new set of unholy thoughts entering my brain. And his fingers, the way he flipped over the pages was just so-

‘’May I help you somehow?’’ I was snapped out of my trance by his voice and met his eyes that were looking into mine with the coldest, most unimpressed expression as if he was in front of the most annoying person to ever grace the Earth.

‘’Shit, sorry,’’ I apologized quietly and pulled out one earphone to hear him better because no matter how rude it looks he is going to be right now, his voice was just heavenly. ‘’I zoned out when I saw that book.’’ I pointed to the book in his hand and his eyes followed the direction my finger was showing as if he was surprised I wasn’t staring at him but at the book. I was most definitely staring at him though, but I don’t plan on revealing that. ‘’My dad used to read it to me when I was a kid so just seeing the cover brought back too many memories. Sorry.’’ I said in a soft voice and gave him a forced smile hoping he was not going to talk to me again because I really don’t want to be yelled at by the most attractive man alive at 7.23am on a Tuesday in the subway.

‘’You know this book?’’ his voice broke the short-lived silence between us, making my head snap up to look at him again and I was met with a much softer face adorning an adorable smile. ‘’You must think I’m so weird for reading poetry for children.’’ He let out a small laugh which was, without exaggeration, the greatest sound I have ever heard in my life.

‘’No, I think it’s cute.’’ A sly smirk found its way on my face as I felt my usual confidence come back now that I knew he wasn’t planning on yelling at me.

‘’So, you think I’m cute?’’ The smirk on his lips, on the other hand, was not as subtle as mine was as he turned more towards me, quickly closing the book and focusing his eyes on my face.

‘’I didn’t say one thing about you being cute, I was talking about the book.’’ I lied to keep my cool even though cute truly wasn’t the first word that came to my mind when looking at him. It would be something more in the neighborhood of I-would-drop-on-my-knees-for-you-right-this-momentor whatever.

‘’Okay, so you don’t think I am cute?’’ he leaned closer and licked his lips instantly sending shivers down my spine. This man is too much for me to handle right now.‘’Because I think you are really cute.’’ He whispered loudly enough only for me to hear and moved away a bit to fully appreciate my flustered expression because he obviously was aware of the exact effect he had on me.

‘’Well, I guess you aren’t that bad yourself.’’ The fact that I was not literally falling apart in front of this god cosplaying as a man is still not something I can understand. ‘’And thank you.’’ Saying that my voice got super quiet, and I could see him grin proudly at my reaction.

‘’You are welcome,’’ he didn’t finish that sentence and looked at me asking for my name.

‘’Y/n.’’

‘’Y/n.’’ he repeated and stepped closer to me with an excuse of letting someone else pass and giving them space. ‘’That is a real pretty name.’’ I smiled to say thank you and looked at my feet for a second to get myself together.

I didn’t even run to catch this train yet I’m still out of breath.

‘’I am Steve by the way.’’ He stretched out his free hand in my direction but not for one second broke the eye contact between us. ‘’It’s so nice to meet you, Y/n.’’ God, just to hear him say my name was killing me.

‘’Nice to meet you too, Steve.’’ I connected my hand with his much larger one and was painfully aware of the fact he must have heard the soft sound I made the second my skin first touched his.

‘’So,’’ he continued while slowly pulling his hand from mine. ‘’do you like poetry in general, ‘’he lifted the arm with the book and nodded towards it. ‘’or is it just this one book you like?’’ he asked with so much interest in his voice making me absolutely thrilled he was keeping the conversation going.

‘’I love poetry.’’ I kept my answer short because forming decent sentences was a though job while looking at this man and seeing the way he was looking at me.

‘’What kind?’’ he adjusted in his spot somehow that he was even closer to me, leaving basically no space between us, yet to everyone else it seemed normal because the morning rush in the New York City subway never was famous for the spaciousness.

‘’About love.’’ I said softly and witnessed his expression changing from the cocky, overconfident one he had on, to a completely soft one.

‘’Same here.’’ He replied and as if he can do it on cue, looked even more deeply into my eyes. ‘’I like reading about how people feel things I have never felt, it lets me to feel the emotion without risking being hurt.’’ He confessed to me and I couldn’t believe a guy that has such a hard exterior is ready to share that much emotion after talking to a stranger in a train for only a few minutes. But I was thanking all the gods he was.

‘’That’s much deeper than my reason for loving it.’’ A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at me to continue. ‘’I just like reading about love and watching movies about love and basically everything about love. Makes me feel all warm around the heart.’’ He let out a small laugh reminding me why it’s my new favorite sound. ‘’That must sound so cheesy.’’

‘’I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think like it is really nice to love love.’’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘’It’s cute.’’

‘’So you are calling me cute?’’ I looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he let out a huff once again leaning all into my personal space.

‘’I am. I have once before too.’’ He whispered near my ear and I know he knew just what he was doing to me.

‘’What poets do you like the most?’’ he moved away leaving me upset over not feeling his breath on my neck anymore.

‘’I don’t read a lot in English.’’ I fumbled with the edge of my jacket and lowered my eyes to focus on my boots because his face was way too distracting. ‘’My dad is not from here and I got the gene for loving poetry from him so most of the things I read are in his mother tongue because it’s really the only way to keep myself from forgetting it.‘’ Making a mental note to call my dad tonight because it’s been too long, I suddenly became extremely aware that I am sharing so many personal information about me with a random man I met on the subway. ‘’So yeah, most of the poets I read, never got international fame so you unfortunately didn’t have a chance to hear of them.’’ I felt a dash of electricity go through my body when he put his hand under my chin tilting it up so we can once again face each other.

‘’Don’t hide that gorgeous face doll.’’ Dear Lord, I can’t believe I might actually die on a train because of a hot, poetry reading guy. ‘’I’d love to read some of that poetry you like if it is translated.’’

‘’I don’t know if any of it is translated but you can check, I can write down some of the names for you.’’ I said quickly really happy that he wants to read something I will recommend, still recovering from that ‘gorgeous’ comment.

‘’I don’t have anything you can write it on, we can just-‘’

‘’Oh, I have a piece of paper to write it on to, it’s no problem.’’ I interrupted him while flashing him another smile and started digging through my bag for pen and a paper only to have his hand stop mine making me look at him with confusion written all over my face.

‘’I was thinking something more in the lines of you writing your number in my phone,’’ he took his phone out his pocket and directed it at me. ‘’then I can text you and we can meet up so you can tell me more about those poets and maybe translate some for me on the spot if you want to.’’ The smile was evident on his face when I took the phone out his hand and started writing my number into it.

‘’I would really like that, Steve.’’ I gave him his phone back with a smile a bit too big for the cool persona I was trying to present myself as.

‘’Well, I am really looking forward to it, Y/n.’’ he returned the big smile and focused his eyes on my face once again.

‘’Can I ask you something?’’ I looked at him curiously.

‘’Anything, doll.’’

That nickname is going to kill me.

‘’How come you are reading poetry for children?’’ he left out a chuckle and gazed over the book in his hand.

‘’There are two reasons, actually.’’ He shifted from one leg to another and started talking kind of nervously. ‘’Firstly, this book is something I always come back to for some reason. My grandma bought it for me when I was just a kid and I reread it for too many times, so I always go back to it because it’s safe. Something like playing Friends in the background because there is nothing else to watch but it always makes you feel good, you know?’’ I nodded and he continued. ‘’Second is that currently I am interning at the pediatric wing at the hospital downtown and kids love me reading these poems to them so I always find a few I think they would like the most when I am getting to work in the morning.’’

‘’That is really amazing, Steve.’’ I put my hand on his forearm and looked at him with so much affection in my eyes. ‘’Those kids must feel really special having you read to them, it’s really heartwarming you do that even though you don’t have to.’’

‘’They are going through too much shit, if I can make it any better for them, I will.’’ How pathetic is it that talking about kids with this guy I met literally minutes ago, makes me think about having his kids?

‘’That is really too sweet.’’ I had plans on saying so much more to him, but I heard the automatic voice announce how my station is next. ‘’Shit I have to go; this is my stop.’’

‘’Oh.’’ He said and I swear I could hear some disappointment in his voice. ‘’I guess I will see you again?’’ he asked as if he is not sure if that is going to happen.

‘’You most definitely will see me again.’’ I looked at him fondly again and I don’t even know what force gave me the confidence to do so, but before making my way to the door I got on my tip toes and kissed his cheek.

‘’Bye, Steve. See you soon.’’ I said while walking away from him but still keeping my eyes on his as I saw him put his hand on the place I kissed him with a small smile on his face.

‘’See you soon, Y/n.’’ Was the last thing I heard before exiting the train, completely sure that I won’t be able to focus today in class.

But I don’t mind.

really hope you enjoyed this, any comment on it would truly mean a lot!<3

[hood-ex]

Dick stares at the ceiling of his darkened bedroom for what feels like forever before the alarm on his phone starts going off. The Backstreet Boys song that Babs had set as his default alarm fills the room with a chorus of, “Everybody! Rock your body right! Backstreet's back alright!” 

He normally tries to shut the obnoxious song up as soon as it goes off, but, well, there isn’t really anything normal about Dick’s current situation, and he figures that letting the song play out for a little longer than usual might curb his feelings of homesickness.

It fades into background noise as he flings off the covers and rolls out of bed, wincing as his bare feet meet the chilled wood floor. He blindly turns in the direction of the Alexa device and—wait. It’s called Cora in this universe, not Alexa. 

Right. 

“Cora, turn on Dick’s bedroom lights,” he says to the small white device that’s sitting on the bedside table. Cora glows green to indicate that she heard the demand, and the lights flicker on immediately. 

Dick squints at the sudden brightness and stumbles his way into the bathroom for a piss and a quick shower. It takes him all of ten minutes to finish. After he dries his hair with a towel, he heads to the closet and surveys the small selection of clothes that are all in his size but aren’t actually his. That’s made obvious by the fact that all the shirts are neutral colored, many of the pants are ripped at the knees, and any form of outerwear consists mostly of hoodies. 

At 27-years-old, Dick can’t imagine himself wearing ripped jeans. He knows from what Alfred told him when he arrived here that this universe’s Dick is only 19. Still, even when Dick was that age, he’d been wearing outfits that were considered more fashionable. 

He figures the casual wear has something to do with the fact that this universe’s Alfred and Bruce are way more laid back in both manner and appearance than his own. Just yesterday, Bruce had been wandering around the kitchen in nothing but briefs and a t-shirt, something Dick's Alfred would definitely not have been pleased about.

He grins at the memory and surveys his options one last time before pulling on some light wash jeans and a beige colored Stussy shirt. He goes for a watch next—this Dick is apparently a watch guy because he’s got like six of them—and while he’s in the middle of fastening it to his wrist, he’s startled by Cora suddenly glowing green and emanating the sound of a bell ringing. 

Alfred’s pre-recorded voice then comes through the speaker and says, “Breakfast is ready. Please make your way downstairs before it gets cold.” 

Dick has to admit that out of all the things that are different about this alternate universe, having Alfred take full advantage of Cora’s abilities is one of the most amusing. Also, weirdly convenient. He’ll have to see about teaching Alfie how to use Alexa when he gets back home. 

The Backstreet Boys are finally silenced once Dick turns off the alarm. He shoves his phone in his pocket before following the heavenly scent of food towards the kitchen. 

The first thing he sees when he walks in is Bruce is sitting at the table with a tablet, no doubt reading this morning’s news. He’s already dressed in a black polo with the Wayne Enterprises crest embroidered on the breast. It’s tucked into a pair of gray trousers that are nicely tapered and draw attention to his suede penny loafers. Bruce’s hair is already neatly styled into place, and as Dick takes a seat across from him at the table, the smell of spicy cologne hits his nose. He can’t help but feel a little sad that the cologne isn’t the same as what his Bruce wears. 

Bruce sets the tablet to the side when Dick finally settles in his seat. His soft blue eyes roam over Dick’s face in a way that Dick’s come to be familiar with since landing in this universe. He figures it’s because he looks a little different than 19-year-old Dick and that Bruce is probably curious about what his boy will look like in eight years. Either that or he just misses his kid in the same way Dick misses his Bruce. 

“Morning, Dick,” Bruce greets with a smile, his tone rather chipper. 

Bruce’s upbeat attitude and smiles had thrown Dick off when he’d first arrived in this universe, not having seen his own Bruce act like that since it was just the two of them against the world. 

“Good morning, Master Dick,” Alfred greets while he gathers two plates from the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. He’s decked out in his white apron which looks pristine as always. 

“Morning,” Dick says. He reaches for the carton of milk in the middle of the table and carefully pours it into the glass that’s been preset next to his placemat. 

Alfred swoops in with the two plates and places one in front of Dick and the other in front of Bruce. Dick nearly curses in excitement when he sees what it is. 

“A full English breakfast, Alf? Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he says, and his stomach rumbles loudly as if telling him to shut up and just eat. “But I’m so glad you did.”

“Me too,” Bruce says, having already taken a bite out of a sausage. “Thanks, Alfred. This is great.”

Dick hums in agreement and quickly works on lathering his bread with some of the beans, meat, and eggs.

“Thank you, sirs. I figured Master Dick might like it, seeing as he mentioned it’s something my counterpart enjoys making.”

“You figured right,” Dick says after he finishes swallowing a mouthful. “Back home, I’d eat one of these plates so fast that Alfie would get all Shakespeare on me.” With a switch in accent and tone, Dick imitates Alfred and says, “‘He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his!’” 

Something like pride fills his chest when both Bruce and Alfred’s faces scrunch up in laughter. Bruce’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Alfred covers his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement. 

Dick’s just glad they have something like Shakespeare to relate to even though he knows that this universe's William Shakespeare only wrote half the number of plays that are in Dick’s universe. Not seeing the recognition on Bruce and Alfred’s faces when he had quoted Romeo and Juliet at them the other night had broken his heart if only because it’s quoted frequently in his family.

“Sounds like Alfred alright,” Bruce grins. 

“I’ll have to save that for when our Master Dick returns,” Alfred says, looking both fond and sad at the reminder of his missing boy. 

“He’ll get a kick out of it,” Bruce nods, looking equally as wistful. 

Dick shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the blatant display of affection for his counterpart. He can’t help but wonder if he’s being missed just as strongly back home. If he is, he’s sure it’s not being expressed as openly as this. Well, he likes to think that Babs, Tim, and Damian might have something to say about it in their own ways. 

Alfred clears his throat to dispel the sudden quiet that falls over them. “Excuse me, sirs. I’ll be eating my own breakfast in the other room.”

“Going to catch up on watching You Just Got Served?” Bruce asks knowingly. 

“What’s that?” Dick asks.

“A morning gossip show in the UK,” Bruce says, taking a sip of his coffee to no doubt hide his smirk from Alfred’s piercing gaze. 

“Gossip,” Alfred practically scoffs as if offended by the idea that he could ever find such a thing enjoyable. He grabs his plate and cup of tea from the counter, and before he leaves the kitchen, Dick hears him mutter, “If I wanted to be entertained by gossip of all things then I would spend my days reading tabloids with your face plastered across them, Master Bruce.” 

“Ohhh, burn!” Dick cackles while mentally high fiving Alfred and his quick tongue. 

Bruce cocks an eyebrow. “Burn?”

Right. Universe differences. 

“Where I’m from it’s something you say when someone else gets mocked or teased but, like, in a playful way.”

“Oh,” Bruce says quietly, eyes raised to the ceiling like he’s thinking. “I don’t know if we have a word like that here. I’ll have to ask Dick when he’s back.”

Dick hums in acknowledgment and falls quiet. His mind is a little occupied by all the food that’s still sitting in front of him, and he can tell that Bruce is the same way. Both of them are happy to sit in comfortable silence while they finish off the majority of their meals. 

It’s only when Dick is washing most of it down with his milk that Bruce suddenly asks, “You sleep okay, Chum?” 

Dick pauses at the question. Not because Bruce refers to him by the same nickname that his own Bruce calls him on occasion, but because the nickname is said with a soft look that Dick hasn’t seen on his own Bruce’s face in god knows when. He’s not sure what prompted the question, but he guesses he must look a bit rough for Bruce to bring it up. 

“Kind of,” Dick admits with a shrug. He places his glass back on the table and then continues to dig into the scraps on his plate. 

“Nightmares?” Bruce prods after chewing a mouthful of baked beans. His eyes are trained on Dick, and they’re unguarded in a way that his Bruce’s rarely are. It’s obvious he’s concerned, and Dick feels slightly touched that this Bruce who isn’t his dad is worried about him.   

Dick’s fringe flops in his face when he shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “My mind just wouldn’t shut up.”

Bruce hums. “Thinking about home?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair. “Mostly just thinking about what I’m going to do if things go wrong in my universe and my Bruce isn’t able to implement the protocol.”

The protocol in this particular situation, as Dick had explained to Bruce the first night he showed up in this universe, involves a ten day wait period. He’s to standby and wait for his Bruce to get either Zatanna or Doctor Fate to open a dimensional portal to take Dick home. If they don’t come within the first ten days of Dick’s arrival, Dick is supposed to seek out the closest thing this universe has to a magic user. 

On one hand, Dick is lucky that he ended up in a universe that has a non-hostile Batman who’s willing to help him. On the other hand, he’s completely fucked in that this universe’s Zatanna is on a deep space mission and isn’t due to return for another month. The League is also apparently not on good terms with Doctor Fate here, and while it’s not out of the question that they can eventually get him to help, Dick’s been told that it will be extremely difficult. 

Dick knows that Bruce has already been looking into other options, desperate to get his own Dick Grayson back. For now, they’re mostly relying on Dick’s Bruce to make a successful swap. 

“We’ll figure it out, Chum,” Bruce says with a comforting smile. “Worst case scenario, we wait a month for my Zatanna to get back.”

Dick bites his lip. “And if she dies on the mission?” 

Bruce’s face shifts into a closed off expression that’s familiar to Dick but looks weirdly out of place on this Bruce's face. “Like I said… we’ll figure it out.” 

Dick's mouth twists into a frown at the answer that is, frankly, not good enough for him. The only thing that keeps him from pushing the issue further is that he can tell Bruce isn’t satisfied with his answer either. 

Dick decides to back off… for now.

[dnarez]

Chapter 7 - Autumn Coat

It's been a few months since you started to work as a caretaker, nothing grand happened, but the times you left for your break once every 14 days, you always come back to a crying Keigo, and a missing mother.

The last time he wrecked the house, there was glass on the floor, footprints on the ceiling, walls painted with... wine? jelly? blood? You don't know, but it was hell to clean, which of course you made lil birb help too.

By questioning him after cleaning everything and then cleaning him, you discovered that his "mother" gave him coffee, and A LOT of it, and went her merry way to meet with someone.

---

To say that you were pissed was a mistake, you were furious, but the commission didn't let you reprehend her, so you had to teach him to not eat and drink something that his mother gave to him, without knowing what it was, and that if he drank coffee he would stop growing, which made him cry, but you promised a day outside with him, where they would eat out, maybe go to a mall, and he could have anything that he wanted.

It was his first time going out to have fun, instead of just going to the gym, or the doctor appointment, so with the 'okay card' from your boss you took him for a stroll, which is why there is a very excited Keigo jumping on your bed at 6am.

"COME. OOOOON!!! WE STILL HAVE A BEAUTIFUL DAY AHEAD OF US!" he shouted while jumping up and down on your bed, his wings flapping behind him.

"Hun, what time it is?" you yawned and sat on the bed.

"It's 6AM! On a Monday!!!"

"I wish you would be this easy to wake up every day, it would make my mornings easier" you huff and got up. "Go wash your face, I will get changed and come to help you change yourself."

"I don't need help! I'm a big boy! I can change myself!" he pouted and crossed his arms.

You smiled at him, seeing how much he opened up to you in comparison to the first day, when he would tremble form how scared he was, and how he talked so little. "I know you can, but you need to put warmer clothes than normal, and it would be better if you didn't pick that awful t-shirt again"

"The one that his written 'Daddy's little boy' with the Endevour's face?" he tilted his head a little.

"Exactly, that one! Now go, we will eat breakfast outside today."

"Woo-hoo!" he raised both hands and was about to jump down to the floor when you held him back and fills his face with kisses "Let me go mommy!" he giggles a lot, and you keep doing it until you decide to release him.

"THE FLOOR IS LAVA!!" You shout and jumps up "If you aren't on your bedroom in 15 seconds the world is going to END!" You say dramatically and open's the door to the laundry room "1... 2... 3... aaaaaand... he's gone" as soon as you opened the door and started the countdown he flew off your small home to his room.

After fixing your bed and washing your face, you went to get changed and choose something comfy, some black jeans, a long sleeved red shirt, a black purse and your favorite beige coat that had white fur on it.

You went to his room to get him ready when you were surprised by the scene, him, Keigo, your baby birb, the cute little shit that was getting more confident with each training, that had the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

On the floor, curled up in a ball, with a few drops of blood on the ground of the floor, and his mother with her hand in the air, like she was about to hit him...

The world was turning slowly, almost stopping, after three movements of your finger, the one that the nail was always painted black, the dame that had cut the wall.

As the world was moving slowly, you were moving like normal.

5... you calmly walked to Keigo

4... you took him on your arms

3... you put him on the bed

2... you took the pillow case from the pillow

1... you tied both of the hands of Keigo's mother.

The world was back to normal, and Keigo blinked looking at what was now his mother on the ground and you on top of her mobilizing her, while he was no longer on the floor, but on his new fluffy bed that you picked for him "so quick..." he mumbles and look at you with admiration.

You took your phone from your purse, and sat on top of her back "Hello? You saw from the cameras, didn't you? Yeah... I think she needs a few days of vacation... about a week? Okay I let her on the couch then? Thank you, good bye" you turn off the cellphone and look at Keigo who was mouth agape looking at you with shiny eyes. "Let's go?" You smile and pick him up.

"YOU WERE SO AWESOME!!! And didn't you told me to change my clothes?" He hugged your neck

"We can just buy it on the mall but... outside is really cold..." you put him back on the bed and took off your coat "here, I'll lend you my favorite coat, please take good care of it"

He sniffs the coat and is meet by the soft smell of lavender and sweetened coffee.

He looks at you with shiny eyes, "okay!"

You pick him up again and hold his mother's ankle while you drag her to the living room. "Tomorrow is your trainer's day off, so today you can sleep later"

"Woo-hoo!!"

You chuckle and let the woman on the couch, then you go out with him.

"Let's have breakfast and then go out and about"

You carried him to the car, and there you put him on the backseat and when you were going to buckle him up he stopped you.

"Let me do it! I'm a big boy" you nod and watch as he struggles, but after some time does it.

"Good job" you kiss his forehead and goes to the front seat.

As you drive around you put some kids pop, which he sang along to the Disney songs from the movies you showed him.

As you stop at a café that you liked, "Let's go?" He unbuckles himself, and you open the door to him, picking him up again

"I can walk!"

"Not with that bare feet of yours" you tickle his feet which makes him squirm and giggle.

Walking in you take a sit and sat Keigo beside you. "You can get anything, ask away" you took the menu and give it to him "since you learn how to read better I'm sure you can pick what you want"

"Okay!..." he spends 20 minutes  choosing his food, which ended up being a chicken breast sandwich and a soda, you immediately told him no soda in the morning.

"How about some juice?" You offer

"What are you going to drink?" Keigo tilts his head to the side.

"I want to go out and by sweetened coffee from the vending machine, it's my favorite, and no you can't have some"

He giggles and nods "I want strawberry juice!"

"I'm gonna go order it to the cashier, two chicken sandwiches and a strawberry juice"

"Can I pick a dessert?"

"After you eat everything, sure, here play a game on my phone while you wait, I'll be right back" you give him your phone unlocked and go to the cashier.

Keigo is playing on your cellphone when someone approaches him, his little trained feathers don't recognize this person's vibrations, so he looks up and sees a dude with a scary look and long black hair.

They both just stare at each other "sup" Keigo say and discreetly send a feather to you and taps your feet.

You come back to the table and is surprised to see your oldest friend, you give him a big smile "Shouta-niisan!" You hug him, but he only pats your head.

Keigo looks surprised at the interaction, you don't talk about yourself, only the basic and vaguely gives information about what you did before him.

"Is this your kid?" The man looked at Keigo, the man looked like it was around 23 maybe 25.

"Yeah! I'm his-... mom, yeah! I'm his mother" you smile breaking the hug and sat down "too busy to stay?"

He nods and put a can of your favorite sweetened coffee in front of you "You're doing a good job, just be careful, you never know"

You nod back at him and give him a big smile "I will, at least I'm no longer doing patrols, don't forget to call me once a week"

"I never broke a promise, won't start now" he pets your hair and goes away.

Keigo watched the weird transactions extremely curious "Who was him? Is him your older brother? You don't look alike. Why didn't you say goodbye to him? Why does he look like a bun? Why-"

"Enough!" You put your hand on his mouth "He's an old friend, I call him nii-san because I always called him that, no we aren't blood related, he always looked like that, and... we promise to never say goodbye to each other"

"Why?"

"Because a goodbye can be forever, so we just don't say it" a waitress comes to you both and puts everything on the table.

You open the canned coffee and drink it, smiling at him as he eats, you both eat and then went shopping.

...

Keigo could fit in anything, and he would look cute you just loved the way he looked on yellow or beige, they fit well with his red wings.

"Hey mom... I wanted to know if-..." he was scared, uncomfortable maybe? About something.

"You can ask me anything Birb, there is no way that I will not answer" you kneeled on the floor besides him and looked at him through the mirror.

"What's your quirk?" He looked at you while fiddling with his hands.

You smiled at him "It's kinda hard to explain, It's better if I show it to you" you took his hand and paid for the clothing, now that he was with some clothes that were good for the Autumn cold weather.

After getting to the car you drove off to the training gym.

"Why are we here?" Keigo recognized the building quickly.

"My power can be a little destructive, its1better to do this in a place that no one can get hurt" going in you went to your private training room with the little boy following you like a baby duck.

"How destructive?" Keigo held your hand and you held his.

"Very, now stay back" you pressed a bottom on the wall "My quirk needs ink all the time to do anything, and I always have it around me, most likely on my point finger, here I can do almost anything" you made a straight line in the direction of the dummies and cut 3 at the same time, cutting through them.

"Woaaah! What else?" Keigo's wings fluffed up at your awesomeness.

You walk to the middle and make a dot next to him, a huge tree appears from nothing surprising him, he falls to the floor shocked.

"I can also make a path of flowers, and the tree will only stay there for a few seconds, but it can surprise the enemy enough to take them down" you move your finger around under Keigo's feet and there grows some flowers.

"My ability is called Celestial Brush"

"THIS IS SO COOL!" He runs to you, and you pick him up when he's close enough. "MOM YOU ARE AWESOME!"

You look at him surprised and hug him tightly "My son, you are awesome too"

You two stay like that for some time, until he bugs you to show more of your ability,  which you do, you show him each trick and technique you learned until now.

https://youtu.be/BRcfqu3hQkY (your quirk)

(Yes this is your quirk, and everything you can do with it)

After showing him everything  you picked him up and you both go back home to take a shower, eat and sleep.

Those moments in his life were the happiest that Keigo had ever been, always protected by you, he was given the love and affection that he always wanted, he didn't care for everything else, he just cared about you, because you were his true mother, the woman that he would run to when he got himself hurt, to ask about life, to ask about anything really, since you also were his teacher. When he had nightmares you would hold him until he calmed down, would kiss his head, would compliment the small things he had done, and would scout him when he did something wrong.

Keigo loved you more than anything in his life, and Hawks miss you dearly in his, because in the end, you still worked for the commission, and he too didn't have a choice when you went away for an important mission.

The day before your departure you both made a pillow nest in the living room, you induced him on his bird instincts, HD wouldn't have such luxury after you went away.

Neither of you talked about you leaving, instead you showed him your favorite movies, snacks and old latin folktales, the feeling of sadness was there the whole moment.

You tried to give as much advice you could, and only took him off your arms to use the bathroom.

Keigo also didn't wanted to let go of you, both sleep hugging each other, you promised that you would come back as soon as you could, that tou would  ever forgive him if he died while being a hero, that you knew he was build for greatness.

Only when you had to leave that you allowed yourself to cry, at the door with only a backpack in hands, you put your coat on Keigo while he sleep, also letting your diary on his bed, to let him have you all the time.

After tucking him on his nest, you kissed his forehead and kisses his toy's head, going out of that house took a lot of strength, you didn't wanted to go, but duty called, you just hopped it would take less then a year.

. . . . .

But it didn't took a year, it took 18 years to take the ring leader down, and just now you were finally going back to Japan, and to the now number 2 pro hero Hawks.

.............. As you can see there is more to this book

[joyandeggs]

I’ve been snowed in for the past three days so the cooking was sweet to read! Do you have headcanons for Knuckle and Shoots childhoods and/or families?

I'm so sorry for the late reply. Three days??? Wow. It makes me think if whenever we had that surprise snow storm last Jan/Feb in Texas. I was snowed in for a week with barely any groceries. 💔 So I hope wherever you are you're safe and sound. Or if you're used to the snow around there, then yay!

I've genuinely thought about this for both of them, and it's a little hard to fill in those missing gaps of backstory. Let's see...

(Warning: This is long! 😌 And it ended up being quite sad, with a lot of angst.)

Knuckle and Shoot's Story... 💔

I feel like I'm about to write an essay approaching this topic. No grades please!! I'm not that smart!!

Knuckle Bine

When Gon asks him about why he became a Beast Hunter, he explains, "...It's a long story." He doesn't want to remember, doesn't care to being it up. He wants to forget. And that's all we know of him, as the viewer, along with his rather vocal personality and character traits.

As a child, Knuckle was rambunctious. He was a good boy, minded his mother...but had the delinquent attitude pretty early in his life. Not just as an adult. His mom would help him style his hair in the mornings, until he learned how to do a pompadour himself.

Knuckle's childhood through his grade school to teenage years...were troubling. The only backstory we have of Knuckle is him running away from the police to help his friend. That has been a bad habit of his. Running. And being chased by law enforcement, of course. Knuckle got into fights a lot growing up, bullied on top of that. He even got in trouble for things other kids accused him of. Another form of bullying from the other kids who didn't like him that much.

Majority of the time, however, he wasn't caught by the police, or anyone else. Knuckle was a very good runner, and still is. He is fast.

At some point after graduating high school, he decided to go to college. To start over, to stop everything following him from his childhood. Part of it was his own decision, but...his mom also was part of his reasoning too. She encouraged him to go, kept pushing him as she did all his life. She wanted nothing but the best for him, and, despite all of the trouble he had caused and been in prior, all of her scolding and groundings, she knew that he was a good boy. That he could accomplish great things, do amazing things, for that she knew how kind hearted he was, how he cared for others and fought for a better world around them. Knuckle appreciated him mom, more so when she pushed him more in the right direction.

Knuckle had decided to become a Hunter once he was about to graduate. Some things from his past kept haunting him, people he had fought with or that had bullied him pestered about things he really wanted to forget. Sadly, keeping himself busy and getting away from it all wasn't going to make this go away.

Knuckle drops everything, and attends the Hunter exam. He pushes through until he passes.

After officially becoming a Hunter, he had met Morel by chance. Maybe on a mission he was invited to be apart of, or maybe Morel was looking for students to teach, and word of mouth just got around about him. Knuckle was practically begging him to teach him how to become a better Hunter. Morel had been annoyed by him the first times they had worked together, as he tried to teach him well...but in the end, Knuckle looked up to him so much, admired him. Like the father he never really had growing up all these years. He was thankful.

He doesn't end up meeting Shoot until a year or so after he had studied under Morel. Knuckle was definitely iffy about the guy whenever he first met him, keeping up his intimidating delinquent energy around him. Slowly, he discovered that he had that same intimidation, with how quiet and reserved he was, a bit scary looking. And, even more slowly, he discovered Shoot was a total coward when it came down to it. He was a crybaby! Knuckle tended to tease him, and call him out on all of it.

This sweet boy still keeps in contact with his dear mother, who will never forget the day she went ballistic over how he sounded over the phone that day, exclaiming, "I'm going to become a Hunter!" ...Though, after the shock of the situation...she was proud. Proud of him for wanting to do something like that, continuing the path of becoming a better person. She still scolds him about finishing school, rather playfully.

Shoot McMahon

When it comes to Shoot, any backstory is a complete mystery. All we know for him are his name, age, and what type of Hunter he is. Any backstory that we are able to think of has to be by context clues alone, which leads to a past that could be quite troubling for Shoot. Possibly traumatizing.

Even at a young age, Shoot was quiet and reserved. Very shy, timid, not good at meeting new people or talking to others. It doesn't help that others bullied him for many years for the way that he naturally looks. Even when he had both of his arms. Regardless of this, Shoot was a good boy growing up, attending school as normal, minded his parents and other adults, though keeping to himself.

Shoot wasn't close to any family, siblings or relatives, sadly. Mostly due to him keeping himself locked away from most contact, physical or not, on reflex. He did love and appreciate his mother, who was the only one who understood that he was just that way.

Shoot...greatly dislikes conflict. Growing up being bullied led him to being hit and shoved a lot, though he refused to fight back for himself. If siblings or relatives did the same, even if it was more verbal, he wouldn't speak up. Both of these things, he has tried, but failed. So he doesn't fight back. He can't stand the thought of hurting another person.

The environments he ended up growing up in led him to cowardice. Fear. He was left feeling weak, alone, worthless. Shoot tried to be brave, fighting himself to stay alive...but it was taking a heavy toll on him, especially growing up through his teenage and young adult years. He thought he was worth more by not being here any longer.

Once he became an adult, he decided that everything was going to change. He will take the Hunter exam, and pass it, in order to become stronger, to actually fight for himself and come out of his shell. And he did.

Things changed drastically.

Shoot was about early twenties whenever he lost his arm. It was on one of his first missions, fighting a battle that had turned to the absolute worst. Somehow, something had caught his arm, and ripped it off. All he could do, after he had defeated whatever he was fighting, was tighten the chain caught around the lower half of his shoulder, slowing down anymore blood he was losing. Weak, and exhausted, Shoot screams in frustration, tears pouring. It takes him a while until he can get to a hospital.

Losing his arm discouraged him from fighting, as he strictly trained by himself for a year or so, learning how to conjure those Nen hands he is so good at using. The extra help was needed, though he had his reliable birdcage already. Shoot received even more help whenever he had met Morel, by chance, as he was looking to teach his own students. He was trying not to be afraid of seeking help...despite the troubles he had with Morel along the way, with the way that Shoot was. Morel was a little sympathetic with him.

Knuckle meets him after discovering Morel had taken another student. Which didn't really go well for a while, until they had trained together and fought alongside each other. It took some time until Shoot spoke to him, intimidated by Knuckle's energy and appearance. It could have been worse. Just took them some time to get used to each other.

Before Shoot had lost his arm, after passing the exam, he got his extra piercing and cuff (to go along with his already pierced years from his teenage years), and then got his star tattoo. Shoot just wanted to get them after he had the money to do so. Shoot is happy he decided it on a whim, much like his choice to become a Hunter. A little celebration, if you will. Back then, he was trying to find his style. After training more under Morel, he had the habit of hiding his lost arm around anyone other than him or Knuckle, so we started wearing the purple robes he always wears. He only shows it whenever he's getting ready to fight. As for his hair...he has always braided it or tied it up in some way, even though he wore his hair down more growing up since it was short to medium length. Just so he can have it out of his way. His mother taught him how to do it when he was younger.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

One + One is Two

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: Please listen to Sam Cooke’s (What A) Wonderful World while you read this, or at least during the last scene. It was the brain child of this story & will make your heart happy, I promise! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary: 

Dissatisfied with his life as a book publisher in Seattle, Peter heads across the country to take a teaching job in High Rock, North Carolina. The town is beautiful and the new job is everything he could want - yet, true contentment comes when a saucy drama teacher sits down next to him at a staff meeting.

Much cuteness ensues.

Or, the one where Tony serenades Peter & we all go awe.

Read on AO3 here.

For the first time since his own high school days, Peter felt nervous.

Moving to the small little town of High Rock was one of the best decisions of his life – Peter knew that without having to exist in the masses of it for very long. While Seattle was gorgeous, and home to many, many book publishing agencies, it didn’t feel like home. And after almost ten years in the business, editing and selecting the next newest best seller just didn’t do it for him, anymore.

Instead, Peter found himself drawn to both a new career and a brand-new place.

When Peter first started college, he initially wanted to be a teacher; the education department at Columbia ranked amongst some of the best in the nation. After a bit of writing success, however, Peter changed his tune and started down the publishing career track, instead. He let himself get lost in the mess of creative writing and editing, his love for the art quickly taking on another shape. And for a time, it worked – honing in on different skills brought about a different love for the subject as a whole.

Things started to change when Peter took a step back and really looked at where he was. Though successful in his career, Peter spent most of his time making everyone else’s writing better, and no time on his own. The apartment he lived in since graduating college was gorgeous, yet it never screamed home the way he wanted it to. The social scene and foodie experience were great but lacking the sense of fulfillment that little pleasures like that should bring.

The perfect opportunity to change things up came in the form of a call from a friend he hadn’t seen since leaving Nag’s Head so many years ago. Ned, now the principal of a high school in High Rock, needed an English teacher – and was willing to look past the immediate lack of credentials. It didn’t take but a beat of silence for Peter to say yes – the decision made before he could think about it.

How natural it felt – that said something.

In the time between uprooting his life in Seattle to moving back to North Carolina, Peter took care of the certifications he needed and brushed up on teaching theory. His head was so stuck in the literary world that every step away, back towards his original passions, made his heart pound with excitement; a feeling so foreign, Peter almost didn’t recognize it.

Life in Seattle was great but being in High Rock was amazing – for the price of his apartment’s rent, Peter found a three-bedroom house with three times the space. The town resided around a lake, and to really drive that delicacy home, the weather was good enough to visit whenever the fancy struck. The everyday flow of life was different – a change of pace that Peter appreciated from the very second he walked into it.

Now, finally on the cusp of what could be considered to be his “dream job”, Peter felt nervous. Not the bad kind of nervous, where his stomach felt like it could drop out his ass at any minute. It was the kind, instead, that made his palms sweat with sweet apprehension – like the start of something totally new.

The reality of his fresh start didn’t truly set in until he pulled up to High Rock High School and parked in his employee parking spot a week before the start of school. The rest of the parking lot was relatively empty at the moment, but soon, all of the spaces would be occupied – taken up by young minds that Peter now had the opportunity to shape. It felt so real as he walked through the front doors and anxiously navigated himself to his perfectly decorated classroom. He pulled in a long breath and let the potential of what could be settle over him.

He took his time reacquainting himself with the room he put together a few weeks ago when the teachers were allowed access during summer break. After a lot of thought, Peter meticulously used his calligraphy skills to make hangable quotes from the books he couldn’t wait to cover throughout the year. His desk, though smaller than what he was used to, stood proudly in the corner he made for himself – the bookshelves he brought from Seattle set up along the walls were already stuffed to the gills with books and resources.

For the first time in what felt like ten years, Peter felt a sense of home that settled him – his chest finally loosening after such a long time.

That settled feeling followed him all the way into the cafeteria, where the first ever staff meeting of his career was set to take place. In the book world, meetings with clients and supervisors were always stuffy, filled with sucking up and holding back little truths that would change the interaction if known. Transparency wasn’t anywhere close to the name of the game.

Not knowing what to expect from these, Peter felt the apprehension start to creep back in.

Might be a good thing, Peter thought – nerves kept him on his toes and in this new start, he wanted to put his best foot forward. Never having taught before, Peter wasn’t sure what that actually looked, but the best intentions were there.

Taking a seat at the big circle of tables already decked out in coffee fixings and donuts, Peter let his eyes roam around. Despite being more than ten years removed from high school, the lunchroom looked exactly like he pictured the one he spent so much time in during his school days. The old smell of large pan pizza and disinfectant even seemed the same. The familiarity of it, despite the newness of the space, brought that feeling of comfort rushing back.

Suddenly, the smell of woody outdoors and musk and man filled his nostrils. Turning his head in the direction of the smell, Peter was surprised to see the seat next to him now occupied. The man (though Adonis would be more fitting) sat up straight with a warm and welcoming smile on his face.

It took Peter a second to register the fact that social protocol usually demanded something from him at this moment in time. His attempt to pull in a deep, calming breath was thwarted when the exhale brought in that delectable scent. Feeling his cheeks pinken, Peter ducked his head, the lack of eye contact just enough to get his shit back under control.

“Uh – hi! I’m Peter. Peter Parker,” Peter finally said in greeting, his hand moving into the space between them. If things weren’t awkward enough, Peter’s nerves were back through the roof – though this time, they brought a sort of warmth that could easily be intoxicating.

A warm hand slipped into his own, the man’s grip tight without being too overbearing; eerily right in the sense that their joint contact didn’t feel forced at all. “Hey there, Peter Parker. I’m Tony Stark – resident drama teacher.” He pulled his hand away from Peter’s to gesture at himself.

Not completely out of his mind with surprise any longer, Peter took the rest of Tony, resident drama teacher, in. His goatee, while not entirely thick, was styled within an inch of its life – the edges were sharp, and the corners came together in a severe angle at the start of his jaw. A waistcoat sat over a dark salmon colored shirt that was delightfully finished with a black striped bow tie. Peter wasn’t sure what shouted drama teacher about the ensemble, but he nodded anyway – he enjoyed the open invitation to take more of Tony in without the whole thing feeling a bit creepy.

“Dramatic,” Peter finally added, the free-range movement of his eyes probably too much without at least a little continuation of the conversation. “It’s English for me – I’ll have the junior and senior AP kids.”

Tony’s nose scrunched up adorably, his face suggestive in its emotional expression – dramatic, after all. He shifted a little closer, the space between their seats not much now that they sat shoulder to shoulder. If he really tried, Peter could feel the warmth of Tony’s arm drift just barely under the surface of his skin.

Briefly, he wondered what the warmth would be like if that skin was bare.

Then, Tony’s melodic voice pulled him from his inappropriate thoughts. He bumped their shoulders, a smile on his face. “If you’ve got the juniors, that means we’ll get to work together pretty closely. We do a stage rendition of Hamlet to take the Shakespeare out of good ole Willie’s work. It seems to help with the comprehension.”

Face lighting up, Peter felt his heart thump a little harder – his love of Shakespeare was what brought about the English passion to begin with. The fact that he already had reason to spend time with the enigma of a man next him barely even registered. “I love that. His plays are meant for the stage, after all.”

“They are – and totally accessible to modernization. If you’re on board, we can put together something fun and educational.” Tony’s lips were pulled into a smirk, Peter’s lack of verbal and emotional filter giving away so much more than he truly wanted.

Blushing, Peter brought his hands together, lacing his fingers for the tactile distraction of the movement. It took him a second to hold back the blurt, his brain working overtime to process the words Tony said and respond accordingly. Just because he was now in a high school, didn’t mean he needed to act like one of its inhabitants.

“As long as you don’t expect me to be in it, I think it’ll be great.”

Tony laughed at that, the already adorable nose scrunch making its way back onto his gorgeous face. He ducked his shoulder into Peter’s again, that same smirk on his face. “What you don’t like to make a fool of yourself?” Tony asked as he pushed back from the table to get up.

“Speaking of,” Tony trailed off, the man now completely out of his seat and making his way to the front of the cafeteria that was now quite occupied with his fellow teachers and administrators alike.

With wide eyes, Peter watched as Tony stood in the middle of three other middle-aged teachers, their shirts and bowties noticeably coordinated now that he was paying attention. As if waiting for Tony’s arrival, the room went silent. With a few well-timed snaps, a cluster of voices started in what could only be described as a jazzy barbershop quartet version of the school’s fight song.

Peter watched in awe, his eyes glued to Tony – the moves he brought to the table were fancy and smooth, completely in sync with the subpar performers around him. They didn’t matter, that was easy to see. Tony drew everyone’s attention, his big personality and undeniable talent noticed by just about everyone in the room. Despite these people probably having seen this little song and dance before, they still watched with rapt attention.

Unable to stop himself, Peter clapped when the cacophony of voices came to an end. He got up from his chair with little finesse, his body way ahead of the heavy thing that existed between his shoulders. The rest of the room looked at him oddly for a second, then added to the applause.

In terms of first impressions, Peter was totally winning.

Thankfully, the rest of the meeting went without a hitch. Peter got a couple of minutes to introduce himself and talk a little bit about his previous experience. He knew he brought an interesting perspective to the table, both as a teacher and someone interested in making the student’s lives as easy and enriched as possible. When it came time to sign up for volunteer chaperone opportunities, Peter cleverly put himself in a couple he thought might attract Tony’s attention, too.

Because, for some reason, Peter’s brain decided that Tony Stark needed to be in his life in some way. Though he forced himself to not name the way he wanted it to be, Peter understood all too well what a crush felt like. There was a lot of time between his last flame and the surge of that old familiar feeling rushing within him – and despite barely knowing him, Peter knew potential when he saw it.

Of course, his next chance to see Tony outside of the classroom setting didn’t come until several weeks into school. Decked out in his new High Rock gear, Peter tried not to look out of place at the gates of the football stadium where he signed himself up to take tickets for the first half of the game. Some of the students that recognized him waved and tried to make small talk – an art that Peter hadn’t fine-tuned in quite some time. Everyone else cast him a sidelong glance and went about their way.

An internal groan radiated through him – it felt silly to be so frustrated about these young kids not liking him, and yet… most of his thoughts revolved around bridging the gap he knew existed. Not for the first time, Peter figured the skill was one he would’ve learned in the education program he so carelessly threw away. Book dealers and authors were a stuffy sort – the extent of wanted conversation existed within the bounds of how good (or sometimes, how shitty) their latest piece was. And profits – always profits.

“If you just relax, they’ll be way more receptive.”

Turning to find the source of the words, Peter didn’t even try to stop the smile on his face from blooming when he realized who it was. A sudden gratefulness settled over him – in his many attempts to dress for the evening, Peter put on his newest (and nicest) jeans. They were both comfortable and fit him like a glove. The secret of his crush wasn’t much of a secret – why try to hide anything else (especially his nicest assets)?

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Stark – you ooze cool from your pores,” Peter remarked, his eyebrows waggling cheesily. “In all seriousness, I’m trying. The shift in mindset has been a challenge. Kids want realness and that sort of thing would’ve landed me on my ass not too long ago.”

The low sound of Tony’s laugh rang in Peter’s ears, the octave of it so rich in its depths that a shudder ran down his spine. He wondered, not for the first time, how the musicality translated to other more melodic things.

“None of that Mr. Stark shit from you, Peter Parker – it’s bad enough the kids call me that. I’m just a regular, single gent outside of the classroom.” As he spoke, Tony narrowed the space down between them, their shoulders once again within brushing distance. “Why don’t you try not trying? I’ve taken a peek in your classroom during a lecture or two – you know your shit and have passion for it. Let a little more of that seep into the everyday stuff and you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Is that what you do? Let all of the bubbliness pour out until they can do nothing but admire the hell out of you?”

Peter pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the sound that threatened to fall from his lips when Tony laughed again – it shouldn’t be legal, being that goddamn adorable all the time.

“That’s exactly what I do. I enjoy every second of my job and let people see that. Being genuine goes a long way, Pete.”

Sucking in a breath, Peter felt those words hit him square in the gut. Were there truer words in existence?

“In an attempt to be genuine, would you possibly be interested in a drink later?” Feeling his eyes bulge at the words that effortlessly came out of his mouth, Peter tried to backtrack. “I mean – I – “

Tony cut off the splutter with a hand on Peter’s shoulder, his touch that same warmth he remembered. “I’d love to. I wasn’t sure you were going to finally pull the trigger – I planned to ask you out myself if you didn’t soon.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed, the heat of them burning so hot he had to be as red as a tomato. Between the flame and the stretch of his lips, Peter wasn’t sure he’d see the end of the night with all of his face intact – smiling his way to an early death.

After that, the rest of the game flew by in a whirlwind of easy conversation, student monitoring, and one too many hot dogs. At one point, Peter bought them both another just to see Tony open his mouth – the literal thirst he felt towards the drama teacher something Peter wasn’t sure existed before meeting Tony Stark. There was just something about his lips…

By the time the last two minutes of the fourth quarter were ticking down, Peter was more than ready to get the hell out of dodge. The thought of having his students witness his awkward mating dance made his skin crawl. He loved being back in the high school atmosphere – that time of adolescence was an exciting one. At the same time, the wagging gums of the gossip mongers were hard to get used to. There were things he knew about some of the kids that passed through his door that no other human should know, let alone the simple, unsuspecting English teacher.

When the game clock finally dwindled down, Tony bumped into his shoulder. Realizing that was Tony’s way of drawing his attention, Peter looked over at him. Tony stood casually against the fence, both hands in the deep pockets of his jacket.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before there’s a huge sea of teens heading right for us. If they spot us, it’ll be ages before we’re in the clear,” Tony remarked, his right hand slipping out of the pocket to grip onto Peter’s elbow, instead.

It didn’t take anything more than that to kick Peter into gear. He allowed himself to relax into the touch and walked with sure steps towards the exit. Now that his duties were done for the evening, Peter felt a different sort of contentment wash over him – the rest of the night was for himself, and if things went really well, a slice of Tony Stark, too.

“There’s a nice wine bar about twenty minutes outside of High Rock’s city limits that’s got a great chardonnay – want to follow me?” Tony asked as they approached the parking lot, his hands already tossing his keys around the ring over and over.

The man’s inability to stay put was easily one of the things that Peter felt immediately attracted to. There was a reason for it, and he couldn’t wait to find out.

“Yes, please. For such a small town, it’s surprisingly difficult to navigate.”

“They do that on purpose. Small towns, I mean. It discourages the infiltration of outsiders.” Tony shot him a look, the mirth in his eyes hard to decipher. If it weren’t for the telling smirk on his lips, Peter never would’ve gotten the joke.

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Peter asked, affection lacing his voice. “And a transplant too, isn’t that right?”

“The nicest asshole you’ll ever know.” He looked up; surprise evident on his face. “Very clever, Peter Parker – doing your homework. I grew up on the upper east side in New York and went through Tisch’s theater program. Thought I’d be a star.”

Peter chuckled at that – the entirety of the school idolized Tony. It wasn’t the biggest stage to be the center of attention of, but stardom wasn’t something that Tony lacked. “You are. I’ve looked in your door while you were teaching, too, y’know. Every person in your class watches you with this look of awe in their eyes. That’s star power, my friend.”

“Do I smell a bias?” Tony joked back quickly, the words covering up the flash of unnamed emotion the man refused to let settle across his features. “If my campy spiel is enough to rope you in, I can’t be too upset.”

Not giving a shit about revealing too much of himself the same way Tony did, Peter let the beaming smile play along the seam of his lips. His cheeks were pinching with overuse, burning and a little tingly. It felt great – enjoying life and someone else in it so much.

“Bias or not, it’s the truth.”

Tony threw his hands up in concession, the earnest way Peter spoke obviously too much for him. His cheeks were a little red, and the tiniest bit of blush on cheeks was unmistakable. It was unfair really; how attractive someone could make just about any emotion seem. Shy and demure, or rambunctious and fiery – Tony owned them all. Peter had to work very hard to stop from admitting that outright. Instead, he ducked his head and let out an overwhelmed breath.

Getting to the winery felt a little like floating on air – Spotify hit all the right jams and before Peter knew it, they were parking in front of a rustic looking building. There was outdoor seating with people milling about, the soft orange of the light such a good marketing technique; one look and Peter immediately felt at home.

To order, they had to walk into the storefront that opened into a small bar area. The chalkboard leaned up against the wall held the menu with a vast expanse of wines that would be overwhelming if he wasn’t going to parrot Tony’s order. A few people milled about waiting for their drinks, and in the mellow atmosphere, soft music played to top it all off.

Peter took a moment to soak it in – an aura of atmosphere that was everything he didn’t know he wanted settled in, the beautiful man next to him really driving it home.

They waited for a few minutes to order, the two of them chatting back and forth about the game and their excitement for the weekend. Tony leaned into Peter while he talked, a whiff of delectable cologne wafted into Peter’s nostrils with every press of his body. The whole thing was intoxicating, the head-spin almost like he was already drunk – high on the rightness of all the things.

With a glass of wine each, Tony led them back out towards the scattered seating outside. They took a seat in a couple of chairs that sat at the edge of the little fireplace in the middle of the setup. Though the night wasn’t too cold, the warmth was welcome – the flicker of flames casting Tony’s skin in a golden hue not hurting, either.

“So, tell me a bit more about you, Pete – what brought you to High Rock?” Tony asked after a couple of long sips of wine, the silence and overall mood hovering between them so much more than enough.

Peter stuck his nose in his wine and took a deep breath, thinking for a moment about how to express himself. “A lot of things,” he said softly, his eyes roving across the flames of the fire in front of them before meeting Tony’s gaze. “I think I got caught up in the excitement of being young and veered off the path I truly wanted. I was happy enough for a long time that it didn’t really matter, either. And then one day, I blinked and dissatisfaction with just about everything in my life was there, plain as day in front of me. When Ned offered me this job out of the blue, it just felt right.”

Tony watched him while he spoke, his eyes trained first on lips around words, then on the expressions flitting across Peter’s face. It felt a little unnerving, being so seen by someone, but Tony simply smiled at him, a small smile on his face. “Wanderlust. I know what that’s like. All I wanted to do was be on Broadway – then all of the sudden, working sixteen hours a day just to be broke in the chorus wasn’t all that fun, anymore. I spread open a map of North Carolina, closed my eyes, and picked a place at random. I love High Rock – it was the best decision of my life.”

“I like it here, too. And I like teaching. I like being able to sift through the books I loved so much growing up, watching the kids learn how to love them, too. It’s… it’s really nice.”

The conversation went on like that for a while. Tony told him horror stories of his first couple years or teaching, and some of the better times in his stage experience. In return, Peter described some of the worst plotlines ever put in front of him, and the story behind the long scar that took up residence on the back of his right hand.

While he regaled Tony of his epic adventure with a printing press, the older man reached over, his fingertip running along the length of the sensitive skin. Peter came to an abrupt stop, his brain emptying of everything other than the sensory experience of warm skin and gentle exploration.

There was a second where Peter thought he might not ever catch his breath again – the adrenaline pumping through him from such a small thing shouldn’t have been so exciting. The idea that someone, anyone, could make him feel like that, so caught up and overwhelming, it should’ve been scary. Instead, it felt exhilarating. Like he didn’t have the patience to see what happened next, he just wanted.

“Since being genuine is the name of the game, I’m going to admit that I wouldn’t be opposed to getting out of here and continuing this at my place… or yours,” Peter admitted, his previous train of thought completely out the window. Whatever they were talking about before didn’t matter – not when the firelight made Tony’s eyes look like molten amber in the dark of the night.

Tony’s gentle laugh pulled a chuckle out of Peter, the air suddenly filled with a tranquil sort of tension that would only get better the longer they nursed it. Peter felt that in his very bones.

Without saying anything, Tony tucked his wine glass back and tipped the rest of the wine into his mouth, his lips shining with the excess when he pulled away. Peter felt his tongue dip out, the tip running along his bottom lip the same way he wanted to do to Tony. The wine was magnificent and had the capacity to only get better off of Tony’s kissable skin. It took every ounce of power within him to stop Peter from closing the distance.

Have some self-control, Peter Parker.

“I’ve got some wine that will piggy-back nicely off of what we just drank,” Tony said as he stood, his movement beautiful relaxed. The offer was nice, but they both knew another glass of wine wasn’t what the rest of the night would entail.

Getting up himself, Peter shot Tony a saucy grin, the soreness in his cheeks reminding him just how good their time spent together was and certainly seemed like it was going to be.

“Lead the way.”

Surprisingly, Peter’s impatience was easily overridden by Tony the second they were through his front door. Peter didn’t get any time to take in the place, his entire being instead focused on the warm chest and plump lips pressing against his own. Trim hips were in the palms of his hand, and nothing else mattered.

Peter didn’t really know Tony all that well, but what he did know was that Tony did everything with his entire being. Dancing, teaching, even having a simple conversation, Tony focused on the task; and kissing wasn’t any different. His long fingers took up residence in the length of hair at the back of Peter’s neck. His lips, both soft and slightly chapped, pressed confidently against Peter’s with gusto – he took and gave, his head turning to deepen the kiss when tongues slid together in a sensuous dance.

They took their time shifting from surface to surface during the journey from the front door to Tony’s bedroom. The impatience of a quick fumble dulled considerably when a few things registered – Tony’s touch was magical, their bodies fit together seamlessly, and when combined it all felt like something Peter never felt before (and didn’t want to ever not feel again). Something in the way things played out so easily between them said this wouldn’t be the only time like this, tangled up and caught.

By the time Peter pushed Tony back against the bed, boxer briefs were the only thing separating bare skin. Settling between spread legs that were lithe and clenching with muscle, Peter filled all of Tony’s empty spaces with his body – their chests pressed together and when Tony wrapped his legs around Peter’s hips, there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

Peter kissed a path down Tony’s jaw and neck, across the span of a surprisingly hairy chest, and further along the length of his toned stomach – the slightest swell of a belly right along the edge of the soft waistband a lovely contradiction. Tony painted a gorgeous picture and the smallest “imperfection” played in contrast so deliciously.

Hooking his fingers under the waistband of Tony’s underwear, Peter glanced up to catch the lust filled, hazel glance. Tony answered the look with a nod of his head, his mouth opening in a silent moan when Peter finally removed the last barrier. He made quick work of his own drawers in an attempt to finally knew what Tony truly felt like.

The first brush of Tony’s warm skin against his own brought Peter’s hips forward, a soft gasp falling from his lips when cock brushed against cock. The level of excitement spoke for itself when the slide was easy, both heads already leaky with pre-come. Peter ducked his head in Tony’s neck to avoid embarrassing himself – it felt too good and the edge felt so close already.

“What do you want?” Peter asked, his lips pressing against the moist skin of Tony’s neck as their hips rolled together. He used his free hand to hike the muscular thigh higher around his hip, the move making the angle even better than before. “You feel so good, Tony. Tell me what you want – I’ll give you anything.”

His words brought a groan from deep within Tony’s chest – Peter felt it before it sounded in the space between them. He felt Tony reach up to grip his bicep, the man’s fingers digging in tight.

“God, you’re better at this than I imagined. Your words feel like liquid fire against my skin. I want you, Pete – anything and everything.” Tony finished his words with a kiss against the side of Peter’s head, his lips just barely brushing the shell of Peter’s ear. “We have time for that, though. Tonight – I think you should fuck me.”  

Peter pulled back then, his hips stalling for a second. Their eyes locked and for a second, his heart felt like it was stuttering through its cycle, systole and diastole suddenly out of sync – was there anything sexier? Drawing his lower lip to stop any rogue words from falling out before the time was right, Peter nodded, his cock throbbing at the very idea.

With a quick kiss on the lips and a fumble with the bedside table, Tony shifted onto his stomach, arranging himself in a glorious position. His legs were spread and every time he leaned forward on his forearms, Peter watched Tony’s hole fluttering, the muscle clenching and unclenching with every move.

Unable to decide whether he wanted to dive in face first or just get prep over and done with, Tony made the decision for him – the lube hit Peter square in the chest when Tony tossed it at him.

“Please, Pete.”

The words were directive enough. Peter flipped open the cap and poured a good amount into the palm of his hand. He let the slick warm up before letting a little drip down Tony’s ass cheeks, the lube sliding across his twitching hole enticingly. Using his thumb to spread it around, Peter forced himself to take a deep breath before pressing the tip of his point finger in. He was met with no resistance, so he slipped forward until the webbing of his finger stopped him.

That same rhythm went on as Peter entered a second, and then finally a third finger in, each new digit loosening Tony considerably with every push and pull, in and out. His skin was covered with sweat and every moan Tony made let Peter think he could cum without ever having touched himself. Things were intimate, each touch like making memory. If they went on like this forever, Peter could die happy.

“Okay, okay – I need you to fuck me. I could cum just from your fingers and I planned on pulling you over with me.” Tony panted out, the words a little muffled by Tony’s forearms, where the man was leaning heavily.

Understanding the sentiment, Peter slipped his fingers out carefully. He immediately wrapped them around his own cock, spreading the excess lube around. While he tried to piece himself together enough not to come upon first touch, Tony fumbled in the bedside drawer again, a condom hitting his knee a second later. His skin flushed and with shaky movements, Peter picked up the foil packet, ripped the edge with his teeth, and quickly got the damn thing down his length.

With a little more lube, Peter was finally pressed against Tony’s entrance, the muscle giving way without much of a push. He made himself slide into Tony’s tightness with one steady stroke – if he pulled back at all, the whole thing would be over. When he was finally seated fully, Peter came to an abrupt halt. Breaths were hard to come by, his entire being on fire. The few seconds Tony needed to adjust gave Peter a second to lean his forehead against Tony’s back and simply breath.

Tony clenched his hole around Peter in invitation, the pulse of the muscle there immediately dragging Peter’s hips forward. A loud groan echoed around the room, neither knowing (or caring) who the noise belonged to. It felt too good, and as Peter set up a steady rhythm, both men got lost amongst the haze.

Peter’s body took over, the neurons in his brain operating on fight or flight. Long fingers dug into Tony’s hips; his grip tight. There’d be bruises there later, Peter using the touch to pull Tony back against him. Thrust after thrust, the tip of his cock brushed more frequently against a sensitive prostate, and once Peter knew where that pleasure center was, he didn’t let up.

As the end drew near, Peter changed his approach. Plastering himself over Tony’s back, his hips slowed down a little, and with a better grip, Peter thrust in deeply, his arms around the trim chest pulling Tony back hard. Now, every thrust hit Tony’s prostate dead on – the sounds coming out of the man’s mouth magnifying the feeling for them both. The helpless groan of pleasure-pain was delicious – Tony clenched with each dead-on hit, the grip so fucking tight around him.

A soft groan of Peter’s name was the only warning he got before Tony was cumming; the flutter and tightness pulling Peter right along with him. Peter shouted his surprise and pulled Tony as tightly against him as he possibly could. The world felt like it was melting around him – that little death fucking earth shattering.

When he finally came to, Peter felt Tony’s hands petting over him, his touch providing a tactile support that helped to ground him and prolong the sensitive pleasure. He loosened his grip up a little but didn’t let go until the need to dispose of the condom became too necessary to postpone. A pathetic little groan slipped from his lips when he pulled out, Peter’s body already missing the connection.

They cleaned up before the stickiness of their skin made the next morning more crusty than necessary, then fell back into bed – the two of them avoiding the wet spot instead of changing the sheets like any normal people would. Peter felt his limbs start to give up on him, the soft mattress and warm man promising a sweet sort of sleep that couldn’t be resisted.

Settling in with Tony wrapped up behind him, Peter let himself fall asleep – the future bright in front of him.

----

Things developed between them so easily after that. Being with Tony felt like getting to hang out with his best friend every day, and without any hesitation from the man, they spent practically all their time together. The fact that it felt like nothing but the best things changed in his life said a lot – he introduced a whole ass person into his space and time without any problems. Most people took years to find the sort of comfort that existed between him and Tony.

Because of all the time they spent together, it didn’t take long for the secret to get out. When Mr. Parker started to spend all of his lunch hours in Mr. Stark’s office, the rumors started. By the time Peter finally just pulled Tony into a kiss before they split up in the morning to shut everyone up, the ideas the students came up with were hilarious. Many people speculated that they’d been married for years, their sense of ease together too perfect to be as new as it truly was.

When Peter got to High Rock, he wasn’t looking for love. The idea of a change included a new job and a new place to explore, not a person who he suddenly couldn’t live without. Though he didn’t set out for it, love found him all the same.

Around Valentine’s Day, Peter felt the itch to finally tell Tony what they both already knew. Despite spending almost every available second together, the words were never said, even though the feeling was so transcendent it was stupidly hard to miss. They had the sort of connection that didn’t need a name – and once the genie was out of the bottle, Peter wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop saying the words he felt so wholeheartedly.

On one hand, he wanted the whole thing to be special. A night where they wine and dined, talked into the early hours of the morning, and then, when they were sated and close to passing out from marathon love making, he’d press the words into Tony’s skin. It fell into the dramatic category that Peter knew Tony would absolutely appreciate. Yet, the feeling existed between them from the very get go – did putting a name to that feeling really matter all that much?

The answer came a couple of weeks later. They were in the heart of AP test preparation, so he had after hour study sessions on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. After taking Tony’s advice and relaxing a little, students actively paid more attention to his class and the seats were almost always full during his get-togethers.

They made great work on some of the imagery that encompassed the Scarlet Letter, and Peter left his classroom more than satisfied. The thought of simply walking down the hall to see his favorite person didn’t hurt his mood, either. Tony sometimes spent the couple of hours after school in his classroom waiting, and today was one of those days.

For the first time since the end of the holiday school musical, Peter heard music playing in Tony’s classroom. They were in the depths of play season, so Tony’s mind was usually elsewhere. Yet, the closer he got to the door, the louder the music became. The smooth sounds of one of his favorite Sam Cooke songs picked up the pace of his steps – the dopamine of good music and Tony spurring him on.

What he found when he walked in the door was so much better.

Down to his white shirt and black waistcoat, Tony was counting out steps as he sang along with the music. Instead of Sam Cooke’s voice, Tony sang the cheesy lyrics with amazing clarity. The last time they listened to this song, Peter was dumbfounded by the deepness of his voice – and now was no exception.

He must’ve been in the zone, because Tony didn’t acknowledge him at first. The music played and a well-practiced dance followed. Peter watched with rapt attention, the whole thing the best thing he’d ever seen. By the time Tony noticed him, Peter was closing the space between them, his voice echoing the last round of the chorus.

A look of surprise passed across Tony’s face, his years of experience not letting it show anywhere else. He smiled at Peter, dancing into his arms until they were chest to chest – finishing the song looking into each other’s eyes.

Delightful red flush covered Tony’s cheeks when the music stopped, his eyes still wide with surprise and delight. “You weren’t supposed to see this yet,” Tony admitted, a sheepish look on his face.

“I’m glad I did. I love watching you like this. In your element.” Peter gripped Tony’s face in his hands then, fingers digging into the long hair at his temples. Even if he wanted to, Tony couldn’t break the eye contact between them. “And gosh – I love you. So much, I almost can’t stand it.”

Tony’s eyes roamed over his face for a second, the honey-hazel glance obviously taking in the genuineness in his words. When he found his answer, he leaned forward, taking Peter’s lips in a passionate kiss. He didn’t linger, however – their eyes locking again just seconds later.

“I love you too, Pete. It’s so easy and being with you – it finally feels like I’m right where I should be.”

Grinning, Peter brushed their noses together, his lips ghosting over Tony’s lightly.

“We both are.”

[effiethebookworm]

TSE Appreciation Week Day 3!

Hi again! Wow, almost halfway done with TSE Appreciation Week ALREADY? No way. If only it could be TSE Appreciation Month....... *wistful sigh* Here’s the fanfiction for Day Three! This one wasn’t my best one. I started out with a ton of motivation, but quickly lost it. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Idony and Melody

I sit next to the cold window, the smell of smoke wafting from the fireplace in the corner. I touch the windowpane, feel the frost seeping through, and quickly remove my hand. The children are out sledding today, but I decided to stay in. I dislike the cold, and wanted a bit of peace. The door to the room opens, and I hear my mother's boots stepping on the wooden floors.

“Idony, we have a new child with us.” I turn my face towards her, and get up from the window seat. I hear a smaller set of shoes now, coming into the room.

“Hello, what's your name?” I ask. My mother replies.

“This is Melody. Noah found her by the docks.”

“How are you doing, Melody?” Silence.

“Idony, Melody is mute.” I keep my smile on, although I no longer feel happy. Melody will be a new challenge. How will I keep track of her? I grope for my umbrella, and reach in Melody's direction.

“May I feel your face?” A hand grabs mine and squeezes. “I'm blind, you see.” The hand squeezes twice, and I reach up the arm and find the face. It has an upturned nose, long eyelashes that are damp with snow, full lips, and short curly hair.

“Mother, how do you know Melody's name?”

“She wrote it out in the snow for me when I asked.”

“So she knows how to write her name. Melody, can you read?” I ask. Her chin moves up and down.

“Wonderful. Do you know where your parents are?” Her chin moves up and down again.

“Perfect! Are they here in Greenway?” She pauses a moment, and then shakes her head. A moment later, she nods.

“Did you run away from home?” Another head shake.

“Did your parents abandon you?” Head shake.

“Did they die?” A nod. I reach onto her cheeks and feel tears. I grab a handkerchief from my pocket and dry her eyes. “I am very sorry to hear that, Melody.” She sniffles.

“Please take Melody to her room.” My mother says from the doorway.

“Yes, Mother.” Taking my umbrella in one hand and Melody's hand in the other, I take her upstairs to the girl's quarters. I don't really need the umbrella, I know the orphanage halls like I know the sound of my brother's voice, but it makes me feel safer. We get to the room, and I tell Melody,

“This is your new room. Find a bunk with nothing on it, and it's yours.” She lets go of my hand, and walks towards the bunks.

“The bell will ring at five for supper. The girls bathroom is the door to the right.” I point to my right, where I know the bathroom is. “Welcome to the St. Claire Orphanage, Melody.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Baysmore! Welcome to the St. Claire Orphanage. You're right on time for your appointment! My name is Idony St. Claire, and my mother owns the orphanage. Are you interested in adopting a child?”

“Yes. May we meet some of the girls?” A deep voice says.

“Certainly. Please follow me.” I lead them upstairs to the girls wing. Most of the girls are downstairs, playing or helping with chores, but a few stay up here and read.

“We have visitors, girls.” I can hear them scrambling into a neat line.

The Baysmores pass me to look at the girls.

“Hello, what's your name?” Mrs. Baysmore says.

Anna speaks up. “That's Melody. She's mute.”

The Baysmores quickly move on to the next girl, and I sigh. Melody has been here for three months now, and she has gotten that response on every single visit. As the Baysmores move down the line, I hear the rejected girls go back to their activities. It doesn't seem to bother them, being rejected so many times. I've talked to a few who actually don't want to be adopted. They want to stay until the age of eighteen and then go out into the world on their own. I know a few who have, and become successful workers and even business owners. I hear the Baysmores walking towards me, along with a girl.

“Miss St. Claire, do you have a foster option? We don't want anything final quite yet.”

“Oh, certainly!” I say. “If you'll just come downstairs with me, you can fill out the paperwork. Also, may I ask which girl you chose?”

“Me!” Rebecca says. The Baysmores sound confused.

“Why did you ask? Don't you know her name?” I laugh a bit.

“Of course I do. Can't you tell that I'm blind?”

“Oh my, I'm so sorry,” Mrs. Baysmore says.

“No reason to apologize.” I say. “Let's go fill out those forms.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“Hello, and welcome to the St. Claire Orphanage. Today is our annual Adoption Fair!”

Claps from the small crowd.

“This year, we decided that instead of having the girls' line on one side and the boys' on the other, they are grouped by age. Remember to look at all ages, not just the babies. All of the children are wonderful, and many would find amazing homes with your families. So, let the annual Adoption Fair begin!” More claps, and a few whistles. A very loud, high frequency squeaking noise.

“Enel, please stop. No one wants to go deaf today.”

The squeaking stops, and I hear giggles. I grab hold of my umbrella, and walk down the wooden ramp of the outdoor stage. The air is warm and at a perfect humidity level, perfect early summer weather. Child voices mingle with adult voices, and I hear laughter and even singing.

“This might be our most successful fair yet,” I hear a familiar voice say from a few paces away.

“Noah!” I rush towards my brother, and his arms envelop me. “How long have you and Papa been back?”

“A few hours. I have great news.”

“You and dad can stay forever?” I touch his face, and feel a slight frown. It disappears quickly when he says,

“Nope. I got accepted into medical school in the East!” I gasp. “That is amazing! Now you'll get to be a doctor, just like you've dreamed!” And maybe help me see again, I think, but don't say.

“The bad news is, I'll have to leave in the fall.”

“Oh, okay. But you usually do leave in the fall.”

“I'll have to stay until next spring.”

My face falls. “So long? Don't you get Christmas off?”

“Yes, but only two weeks. It takes a month to sail from Gallitan to Cedulan, where the school is.”

“Oh.” We are both silent for a while. “Well, I guess I'd better see how the fair is coming.” I say.

“And I ought to go unpack.” Noah squeezes my shoulder, and then lets go. I walk towards the noise of the crowd.

“How are you doing?” I ask a person at the edge of a cluster.

“Pretty well.” She responds very slowly and nasally. It is very hard to understand her.

“That's good!” I say. “Have you met any of the kids yet?” There is a long pause, and then a male voice says, “No, we haven't. I know this is an odd question, but do you have any deaf children here? We specifically want a deaf child.”

I am confused. “No, I'm afraid we don't. Is there any particular reason you want a deaf child?”

The woman speaks again, very slowly, and with a slight stutter.

“When I was a child, until r-recently, I was deaf. I had a surg-g-surgery last year so that I could hear. That is why I s-speak so s-s-slowly. I only learned to talk last year. I have-have been making a kind of speaking, but with hands. I call it S-Sign Language, and I want a child that I can teach it to. I al-also know the hardships of being deaf, so I might be a better mother than someone who has h-heard all her life.

“Oh, my. I am sorry that we don't have any deaf children.” Suddenly, an idea hits me. “We do have a mute girl. She can read and write, but she cannot speak. Do you think that she would work?”

“Yes!” The man says enthusiastically. “May we meet her?”

“Right this way, please.” I tell them. I walk over to a voice I recognise as Kulie, one of Melody's roommates.

“Kulie, do you know where Melody is?” Kulie looks around, at least, that's what it sounds like, and says, “There. 2 o'clock, straight shot.”

“Thank you Kulie.” I lead the couple over to Melody.

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“Melody? Melody! I know you can hear me!” I almost trip over a see-saw, but catch myself with my umbrella just in time.

“Melody! Come out. You need to go home with your new parents. Please, Melody.”

I hear a small whimper from inside the slide tower, about twenty feet away. The orphanage playground is huge, full of nooks and crannies and tiny secret passages perfect for hide-and-go-seek, but terrible for finding kids. I walk slowly over to the tower, carefully sweeping my umbrella in front of me before every step.

“Melody, please. You will love it with your new family, they have a big house, and a cat, and a big yard, and a big family of kids next door who you can play with. The mom used to be deaf and mute, and she can teach you how to speak with your hands. You liked her when you met her, remember?” I use the voice that I use to comfort sick babies. I am at the foot of the slide now, and I can hear Melody whimpering at the top.

“Melody, I know that change is scary, but you need to accept it. It's going to happen whether you like it or not. You need to come down by yourself. It's your choice. You don't have a choice on whether you're adopted or not, but you need to come down on your own. I'll wait for you.” I stand at the bottom of the slide for a moment, and then I hear the squeaky whoosh of Melody coming down the slide. She takes my hand, and squeezes. I take my handkerchief out of the pocket of my pinafore, and use it to wipe her eyes.

“Come on, sweetie. Let's get you to your new home.”

The End

[quicksilversquared]

I will say, before saying anything else: I’m sure that there are homeschoolers who are lovely and well-adjusted and learn well and have at least a halfway decent amount of common sense. But.

But.

That particular variety of homeschooler is not well represented at our monthly Homeschool Days at our ski hill (where homeschoolers and their parents get a discount on lift tickets/lessons). The majority of the people that we get on those days seem completely oblivious to their surroundings, utterly lacking in any sort of common sense, completely detached from the reality of the world, and generally acted like half of their brains had been consumed by some sort of parasite. The number of people that I saw today who came in with their masks under their noses, or holding scarves up in the vague direction of their faces, or with ski masks that they would sort of pull up and then have immediately fall back down, or under their chin/off, or wearing this sort of mask which is meant for blocking the chill but not breath- like, it was insane. I kind of wish that I had a bullhorn to yell at people with. I might ask my boss about it for the next Homeschool Day.

.....perhaps it would be better if someone a little less prone to swearing was actually in charge of the yelling bit.

This one lady came in with three kids, all well over the minimum age required to wear a mask, and there were no masks in sight. I said something, and she was all “I have ski masks for the kids to wear outside! :)” and I was just like. Lady. For fuck’s sake. I’m not worried about their skin getting frostbite, I’m talking about the masks you wear inside to stop being a plague rat and then she finally pulled out a mask for herself but not any for her kids. Someone else told her that her kids needed to be masked and she apparently vaguely mentioned to them that they needed to get their masks out but didn’t actually make them do it or make any move to help.

Another homeschool dad pulled his mask down when he was filling out his forms (despite being RIGHT NEXT TO another customer) and didn’t pull it back up for a good 8-10 minutes until he was finished. Like, thanks for wearing the mask when you’re close to me, but would it kill you to just KEEP IT ON YOUR FACE? And then once he got his rental stuff, he got all upset that his two 2-foot tall thermoses didn’t fit in the lockers and wanted to maybe store them in the employee break room (uh, no) because apparently he was worried that someone would steal them (???????) and putting them above the lockers (y’know, where a good 75% of the customers here can’t reach but this guy definitely could) wasn’t secure enough. He kept going on and on about it, so we put his ridiculous thermoses behind the counter so we could stop dealing with him (actually, to be more accurate, we offered to put them behind the counter and he decided to take that as an invitation to just come back behind the counter himself) and he just. never came back for them.

Why even bring them inside. Just leave them in the car, for fuck’s sake.

And then there were just a ridiculous number of people who would just wander off without their boots? Or they would get their boots, go “oh these fit!” and then come back to the boot counter to ask where they should go next instead of, y’know, bothering to read any of the signs that we had around or employing the teensiest bit of common sense. Or they would come up with unfilled forms, we would tell them exactly what needed to be filled out, they would take easily three times as long to fill their forms out as a normal person would, and then they would return to the counter.... and they would still be missing half of the required information and we would need to prompt them through every. single. step. And then there were the people who, instead of just looking in their boots to see shoe size, were using our little foot measuring things, but they would either jam their toes in where their heels were meant to go, or they would have their heel at the opposite end. Clearly I need to make more labels on HOW TO USE these foot measuring devices that are completely self-explanatory, except to these people who are apparently teaching their kids. Somehow.

....shoutout to the one homeschool mom who actually read the sign on how to work the scale and followed the instructions without any prompting, though. At least someone was there representing the lovely, well-adjusted homeschooling family faction.

[maraudersandlily20]

Disturber of the Peace

Harry was used to visitors. His friends made it a habit to come and check on him, at least once a month, just to ensure that he was still living. It had been a few years since The Boy Who Lived had disappeared and Harry was almost glad to see him go. He was learning a great deal about himself in France and liked the constancy of a place that belonged to him.

He had been occupying himself while there, of course. He had taken to tending plants as well as painting. Draco told him he was rubbish, but he still liked to try. And then of course, there was the reading. McGonagall had sent him an array of books regarding defensive magic. He wasn’t completely daft and knew that McGonagall wanted him to return to Hogwarts, but as a teacher. She had as good as stated it in her last letter, telling him that he was always an extremely bright student and his life experiences were more than enough qualifications to get him the position. He had enjoyed the books, toyed with the idea of going to teach, but had declined the offer. He declined the offer three separate times. But, he had to admit, at least to himself, that he felt a bit of longing in him when he thought about it. He would have the chance to form the minds of students, create in their minds an image of him that didn’t revolve around him being the chosen one. It was a nice thought. 

He sighed as he flipped through the pages of one of the latest books regarding countering spells. He had learned a great deal from the writers and knew that, with all of the knowledge he’d gained recently, he was more than capable of teaching. But he felt blocked, like he wasn’t sure. He was afraid of deciding and that left him stuck alone in a cottage in France.

As he was contemplating this dilemma, he heard a knock from the door. Assuming that one of his diligent friends was returning with some kind of food or some great story in their new positions, he rose to get the door. He was glad his friends were moving on in their lives, but he sometimes felt like he was being left behind. It was his fault, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Ron was becoming one of the brightest aurors of their generations. Hermione had already taken a position in the ministry. Ginny was a professional quidditch player and Luna had started on a path toward tattoo artistry. It was all rather fine and well. And Harry was in France, tending his plants, and hoping no one would recognize him. It felt off and a bit unfair.

He shook himself of those thoughts and moved to answer the knock. Wondering if Draco had returned from England early, he opened it to reveal, not Draco, but someone he was unused to seeing at his front door. 

Neville Longbottom stood on his porch, holding what appeared to be a succulent in one hand and a bag in the other. He hadn’t seen Neville since his wedding nearly two years ago. He looked good. 26 years old and one of the youngest professors in Hogwarts history. His work in Herbology was revolutionary and the research he provided was unmatched. Harry would never admit it to him, but he had purchased every single piece that Neville had published. He didn’t understand any of it, really, but he liked seeing Neville’s name on the top of the parchment. A comforting thing.

But this wasn’t a paper, this was Neville Longbottom in the flesh. Harry felt himself grin.

“Neville!”

“Hello, Harry!” Neville answered, moving forward and giving Harry a hug, though an awkward one, considering his hands were full.

“Come in, come in!” Harry said, moving aside so Neville could enter. He did so and took in the sight of the little cottage that Harry had made his home. His eyes scanned the pictures on the shelves, some magic some not, as well as paintings and wood carvings. Neville was also pleased to see that every plant he had ever given Harry was on display somewhere on the walls. 

Neville turned to Harry, setting his bag down and holding out the little plant. “This is for you. I found it in a little shop on the way in, and figured you might like a plant that wasn’t entirely magical.”

The other man smiled and accepted the gift. “Thanks Nev. It’s lovely.” He moved further into the room and placed the plant on a shelf, beside one of his favorite flowers that Neville had gifted him. It had very picky standards when it came to shelf-mates, but Harry figured the little succulent might do the trick. The plant bent over in curiosity, seeming to smell the succulent before releasing puffs of pollen in appreciation. It liked it. Harry turned to find Neville grinning in pride.

Later, when they had settled into the main room with cups of tea in their hands, Harry began to ask Neville the questions he had wondered since his arrival. “What brings you here, Nev? I haven’t seen you since the wedding. How's Hannah? How’s Hogwarts? Tell me everything.”

It seemed Neville couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. “I know, it’s been too long. I’m sorry about that. But, between the field work, the wife, and the teaching, I haven’t really had any time to think.” Harry waved him off, not caring about the time. He was simply glad to see him. “Hm, alright, well. To start, Hannah is doing well. She’s taking to healing like a bee to honey. She and Draco were in the same classes when they started, though Draco left after they became certified. She likes having her own practice. She’s set up shop in conjunction with a few other healers in Hogsmeade, so we have a small house out there. That way I can still teach. It’s wonderful.”

“That sounds lovely, Nev. I’m glad you and Hannah are doing well.”

“Yes, me too. And to answer the question I’m sure is on your mind but you’re too afraid to ask is no. No babies on the way yet. Much to Hannah’s mother’s disappointment. I’m so scared of babies that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it.” He persisted, despite Harry laughing at his words, “They’re so complicated! Why can’t they be more like plants? Water, dirt, sunlight! That’s all they need.”

“You could argue that kids need the same though,” Harry said, placing his cup onto the saucer on the table.

Neville rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. We just don’t want to rush anything.” He turned his attention to the plant sprouting on the table beside his chair. It was growing quite splendidly, Harry would often brag, and it was. The flowers were beginning to come in and the scent of the small tree-like plant was unmatched. 

“As for the other two questions you asked, they are actually connected,” Neville continued, avoiding Harry’s eyes by staring at the plants.

“Oh?”

“See, Hogwarts has been quite the place since the war. Much of the integrity is still there, but it has that feeling of purity that you only get from a new building. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s good,” Harry was cautious in his reply.

Neville turned to look at him. “It also is looking for new teachers.”

Harry immediately sighed, figuring the conversation was heading in this direction. “Nev-”

“No, Harry, come one. Hear me out?” After a moment, the exasperated man gestured for him to continue, looking put out. “I know McGonagall has been on your tail about taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and I know you’ve been pretty persistent in turning it down. But McGonagall thinks now is the best time. Our current teacher, Douglas Finn, is going on sabbatical to study the movements of Thestrals. We need someone.”

“There are plenty of capable people who could fill his position, Nev.”

“Yeah, but none of them are you.” 

Harry stood angrily at his words, grabbing their cups and heading into the kitchen to clean up. Neville followed. “You know I’m right, Harry. After you decided to leave Auror training, you’ve been listless. Not even trying to find things that make you happy. Ron’s told me all about it. You’ve grown stagnant the past few years.”

“I’m fine, Neville. In fact, I’m really happy. I like living here, I like not having people stare at me all the time. I like the peace and quiet.”

“Bullocks!” Neville interrupted him. “I know you, Harry Potter. I know everything about you and how your brain works. We’re practically brothers at this point. I’ve seen your dick, alright? We have a bond.” “Please don’t say we have a bond after stating you’ve seen my dick ever again, Nev. Please.”

“Fine,” Neville was trying to hide a laugh, Harry could see, but he pressed on. “I know that you’ve really enjoyed your peace and quiet. And I’m not saying you should give it up completely. But you’ve been here so long that the world suspects you to be dead.”

That made Harry smile. “I know, I’ve seen the articles.”

“Exactly,” the man stated, pushing at Harry’s shoulder. “You’re not dead, Harry. You just aren’t living. You aren’t doing anything anymore. And I can tell that you’re not happy. Content, maybe. But not happy. And teaching these kids, with the experiences you have under your belt, might be exactly what you need.”

Harry folded his arms, leaning against his counter. “I mean, I understand where you’re coming from, Nev, I really do. But I don’t think I’m cut out for it. And then, there’s the whole Draco situation, which, if you’ve spoken to Ron, I’m sure he’s told you all about. It’s hard with him having to return to England and spend so little time here. If I was at school teaching, I wouldn’t have any time to spend with him. Our relationship is so new and fragile, I can’t risk it. It just doesn’t make sense for me to throw away everything I’ve built here just because when I was younger I worked so hard NOT to be dead.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Harry trying to show Neville that he was being sincere. But Neville had a way of seeing Harry in a way that he had forgotten. It was almost like he could read his mind. 

“I don’t think you mean it, Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been so worried about peace and quiet and anonymity that you’ve forgotten about living. And this cottage is changing from a home into a hideaway. I think you’re using all of this as an excuse. I think that you’re hiding.”

It struck a chord in Harry that he had tried to ignore. Was he giving up life because he was comfortable? Was that the way he was supposed to be living? He wanted to feel fulfilled, wanted to have a life that didn’t revolve around him being Harry Potter, and he thought that France was the answer. But, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Harry was hiding. Hoping the world would forget about him. 

Maybe he wanted that, though, because he thought that was best.

“I really appreciate you coming here, Nev, to talk to me. I know McGonagall probably sent you here. But I really am happy. I like living in this town where no one knows me. It’s…”

“Safe?” Neville finished for him. Harry nodded. “I don’t mean to sound like a prick, Harry, but when have you ever cared about being safe?”

Again, a tug in his chest. He didn’t like how much Neville could see him. These were all arguments he had had with himself before, but Neville had a way of making it stick. “I’m afraid-” Harry started, his voice getting caught. He cleared it and stared out of the window, trying to work up the courage to admit this. “I’m afraid I won’t be any good. I’m afraid I’m going to let them all down. I don’t want to feel responsibility for so many kids. I feel like it’s taken me this long to be responsible for myself. I’m afraid of failing.”

There, he had said it. The truth about the offer to teach at Hogwarts. Harry was terrified. His friend seemed to understand him completely, nodding and moving to stand beside him.

“When McGonagall asked me to teach, I didn’t know what to do. Hannah thought it was a brilliant idea, even though she was still doing her nursing courses. But I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t exactly been the brightest or most liked at school as a kid, and I worried that the moment I stepped back into those halls, that boy who everything always went wrong for would come swinging back into me.” He laughed. “And he did, a bit, but that’s beside the point.”

Neville took a moment to think, as if planning his words carefully. There was a moment of peaceful stillness between them before he carried on. “Before I made the decision, I went and saw my mother. She was happy to see me, as she always is. She doesn’t really know who I am besides the boy who brings her snacks. But she knows me, and that seems to be an improvement.” 

Neville shoved his hands deep in his pocket, a habit he had when he felt uncomfortable in his vulnerability. “I told her about the offer to teach and how I worried I wouldn’t be good enough. And she listened, like she always does, but she said something pretty remarkable after I finished. She said, “no one is ever good enough until they try”.” He looked back at Harry, his face red. “I decided that I would give it one year, and if at the end of the year I hated it, I would leave. But I tried. And I loved it. There’s something about kids that brings a light to you that you can’t get anywhere else. And here I am, three years later. I have had a lot of awkward moments, but I’ve also learned a great deal about myself. I get to care for these kids and instill in them a passion for things they learn about. It’s pretty special.”

Harry contemplated his words as Neville tried to drive the point home. “Just give it a try. Give it a year. And if it’s not for you, then you can move on. I won’t try to stop you or get you out of your comfort zone ever again. You can come back to France and have all the peace and quiet that you want. Okay?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit overwhelmed. But he sighed. “Alright Nev. One year.”

Neville grinned and clapped him on the back. “I’m glad to hear it! I’ll let McGonagall know.” He headed back toward the front door to pick up his bag, Harry trailing behind him in confusion. 

“Do you need a place to stay?” Harry asked, wondering again if Neville had come all the way to France to convince him to teach.

“Nah,” Neville smiled. “Mrs. Longbottom is currently waiting in a hotel in Paris for me. I’m all set. We’re celebrating one of our many anniversaries, because she likes to celebrate and I like her. So it works out for everyone.” He opened the door and stepped through before taking a pause and turning back to look at Harry. “It’s good that you said yes, Harry, considering Malfoy agreed to take the potions master position last week. See you at school!”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed in surprise, but it was too late. Just as quickly as he had appeared, Neville Longbottom was gone. Leaving Harry confused and suddenly employed. He wasn’t sure what had happened.