#anyway enough ramblings (though believe me there are more thoughts brewing in this little head of mine)

[hnnny]

Frederick and different hairstyles

[mentally-in-northern-italy]

The Best Potioneer (pt. 1) — Harry Potter x reader

***not my gif***

Request: “Hii, I love your work! I was wondering if I could request a Harry x Slytherin!reader, maybe set during the last year at Hogwarts and enemies to lovers? Thank you 💚”

Summary: You despise Harry. Your Slytherin friends seem to have strong opinions of him already, but during your sixth year, you also seem to have found a reason to absolutely hate the boy. But when you’re forced to work on an assignment together and stay up all night, is it possible for those feelings to change?

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: Thank you so much for the request @obsessedwithrandomthings ! Ahhh, I really hope I did it justice!! I’m sorry I had to split it up into two parts because it turned out *way* longer than I expected it to! It was so hard to come up with a valid reason to hate Harry, he’s such a sweetheart, but I tried my best lmao. Anyways, I had such a fun time writing this and I really hope you enjoy!! And stay tuned for part 2!

__________________

You crossed your legs as you nodded politely in agreement with something that Professor Slughorn had said. In all honesty, you had had no idea what he was rambling on about, no one did, really, but still your face held a bright smile as you nodded once again. Your head of house, Professor Slughorn had invited you, among with various others, to his newly formed club.

Your eyes briefly surveyed the others that were sat at the table with you, all listening -- or at least, pretending to listen -- to the Professor about some very rare ingredient that he skillfully was able to find in some remote region. To your right sat Blaise Zabini, a fellow Slytherin, and to your left, a Hufflepuff that you had never talked to before.

All of them were here for one reason, of course; they seemed to show that they were extraordinarily skilled at something. Or, they were related to someone who was. You hoped it was the former in your case.

You liked to believe that you were here not because of your extremely famous Potioneer father but because of the talent you, yourself, possessed when it came to Potions.

Potions had always been your favourite. You liked other things, of course, but none of them satisfied you like Potions did. The feeling of accomplishment as you gaze down at a finished recipe in your cauldron bubbling, to you, was exhilarating, and you couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

Evidently, this was also the case for your father, who after graduating Hogwarts, had gone on to become a Potioneer, brilliant in his field, and make a name for himself. You hoped that you would be able to do the same.

“But enough of me blabbering on,” Slughorn chuckled heartily, “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to hear me talk about myself.”

You met his gaze and smiled politely, making sure that he knows you’re paying attention.

See, Snape had always been fond of you. Snape, as the Potions Professor, gave you brilliant marks (which you deserved, in all fairness) and didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were his favourite. While others got a cold and disapproving glare from him when they had made a mistake, you received helpful insight on where you went wrong. Snape gave others a monotone sentence of approval at their success, while he gave you… Well, he gave you the same thing, really, but you could tell it was more heartfelt. As heartfelt as it gets, coming from Snape and all.

You were determined to impress Slughorn as well. You had decided that sheer talent can only go so far; teachers were human, too, after all. It was with no doubt that you concluded that every teacher ought to have a favourite, someone they will always favour over the next. And, similarly, every teacher has one student they would never think twice about, someone they didn’t even notice. While you were certainly grateful that you weren’t the latter, you weren’t exactly pleased at your position in the middle. It had always been all or nothing for you. You wanted to be the favourite. The best there can be.

But, that was proving to be a little difficult and unexpectedly, it was because of a certain raven-haired, bespectacled, and utterly clueless -- in your humble opinion -- Gryffindor boy.

You had never paid much attention to Harry. He had always been insignificant in your life, having only shared a couple classes with him over the years. And, even in those classes, you had only exchanged a few occasional words. The bottom line was, you didn’t hate Harry and you didn’t like him. He was just… Harry. A Gryffindor.

It was almost as if the universe saw this and decided that this wasn’t enough. Just like you disliked your mediocre position in Slughorn’s class, the universe disliked Harry’s mediocre presence in your life. After all, you were always one to go big or to go home.

It was as if Harry had been pushed onto the stage that was your life, forced to play a role, as soon as your sixth-year Potions classes had begun. And, Harry might be a hero to some, but in your play, he was easily the opposite.

All because Harry had started doing exceptionally well in Potions. You didn’t know what it was. His potions always turned out perfect, capturing Slughorn’s praise. Praise that you wish you were receiving. Naturally, before you knew it, it turned into a competition, both determined to out-shine the other. You couldn’t let him beat you.

A recent occurrence annoyed you, in particular, just a few weeks ago, when Harry was able to brew a draught of Living Death perfectly, and in record time. You were close, of course, but Harry had managed to do it before you, resulting in him getting awarded with a vial of Felix Felicis and getting praised relentlessly by Slughorn. Harry, being aware of just how much you resented him doing better than you in Potions, sent you a small smile as he stood at the front of the class, holding up the vial of the luck potion. It was clear at this moment that you had to be better than Harry. There was no other option. Excelling at Potions was in your blood.

However, the sole reason behind your undying hatred for the boy was not just the fact that he had magically turned into a brilliant Potioneer. No, it was also because of your friends, who were mainly Slytherins, had told you all about their interactions with him over the years when you brought up how he seemed to have claimed your spot at the top of the class. Since you only got a one-sided testimony from your friends, you were always led to believe that Harry was in the wrong.

If Harry were being honest, he wasn’t exactly sure why you hated him and wanted to beat him so badly in Potions. Regardless of the reason, Harry certainly wasn’t one to back out from some (un?)healthy competition. A part of him only seemed to want to compete with you on principle; a typical Slytherin vs. Gryffindor feud. He certainly didn’t take this little competition as seriously as you did.

But this ‘competition’ for you meant a lot more.

“Ah, Ms. [Y/L/N],” Slughorn directly acknowledged you for the first time that evening, “how lovely it is to have you here!”

“It’s a pleasure to be here, sir,” you replied kindly.

“Tell me, how is your father doing?” Slughorn questioned with genuine curiosity, “I haven’t heard from him in ages! Correct me if I’m wrong, Ms. [Y/L/N], last I heard, he was running some sort of experiment trial with sleeping potions?”

Your heart sank. You couldn’t help but think you were only here because of your father. You despised the thought. You caught your smile from faltering and took a breath in.

“He’s doing well, Professor,” you nodded, “And yes, he is running an experiment with sleeping potions. Unfortunately, he hasn’t shared much about it with me just yet.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Slughorn said to you, “He was always quite the expert at sleeping potions…”

He paused at this before smiling and turning his gaze from you to Harry, sat directly across from you, “But of course, we have another emerging sleep potion expert in the room!”

At this, you grudgingly turned your head to Harry as well.

Great. Just the thing you needed this evening; to be reminded of your failure to brew a sleeping potion, one that your father would easily be able to brew in his sleep.

You continued to try to smile politely as Slughorn once again, started to praise Harry for his perfect potion. Harry smiled and accepted the compliments quietly, but he shot you a few glances in between, which only made you angrier.

“Quite remarkable, indeed,” Slughorn praised, “Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. [Y/L/N]?”

“Yes,” you agreed, still smiling, although you knew that everyone could tell it wasn’t genuine, “It is quite interesting how much Harry has been able to improve this year.”

“Indeed, indeed,” came Slughorn’s response who nodded and smiled at Harry.

“In my opinion, it just seems too good to be true,” you continued, your smile turning more into a grimace, as you shifted a little in your seat, “how exactly did you manage to brew a potion like the draught of Living Death so brilliantly, even though you could barely manage to brew a draught of Peace just last year, Harry?” You tried to keep your tone curious and casual, but you failed as a few murmurs broke out amongst the table, clearly picking up on the tension in the air.

“Well,” Harry began, holding your gaze keenly and smiling slightly, “I just followed the recipe.”

“Of course,” you said as you nodded slightly, patronizing him, “but was crushing the sopophorous bean in the recipe?”

“I--” Harry tried to reply as he, too, shifted in his seat. His smile had vanished.

“And,” you continued as you rested your elbows on the table, “Is ‘following the recipe’ a newly acquired skill?”

“No,” Harry kept his calm as you struggled to do the same.

“Because, if I recall, you couldn’t simply ‘follow the recipe’ last year,” you accused and narrowed your eyes. You had stopped pretending to be polite. More whispers and murmurs broke out while Slughorn watched this scene unfold in distress, “Or the year before that, or--”

“Are you trying to imply that I cheated, [Y/L/N]?”

“How lovely of you to finally catch on, Potter.”

Slughorn seemed to have decided that he had seen enough. “Alright! That’s enough, Mr. Potter and Ms. [Y/L/N]! Everyone, help yourself to this delicious chocolate cake! This ought to calm some of you down a notch...“

You and Harry kept your gazes on each other, both unwilling to break first as several people around you finally started to talk again, instead of listening intently to the heated interaction between you two.

Finally, Harry was first to break, looking away from you and picking up his cutlery.

__________________________

If it wasn’t already clear to you that this year just was not your year, it became clear when Slughorn declared that your class would be working with partners on the next assignment.

It became crystal clear, however, when you got partnered up with none other than Harry Potter.

You groaned as you walked back to your assigned seat beside Harry after arguing -- respectfully, of course, -- with Slughorn for fifteen minutes straight on just how well you could do on this assignment by yourself. It would be an understatement to say that you were severely displeased when Slughorn repeatedly suggested this was a two-person job.

You took a seat beside him with a frown set on your face, as Harry glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He was dreading this as well, of course, but certainly not as much as you seem to be dreading this. Was it because you hated that he was a Gryffindor? Perhaps you thought he was lesser-than because he was a half-blood? Or because he hung out with the Weasleys and Granger, both considered to be near the bottom of the wizarding social status hierarchy? He decided that it most likely was a combination of all of these, judging from the green and silver on your robes.

The truth was though, you couldn’t care less about what house he was in. Or, who his friends were. And, you certainly didn’t give a damn about his status. You resented him because he was doing better in Potions than you were, but you hated him because that was just the norm. You were expected to hate him. Only now, you actually had a reason to.

But now, because he was paired up with you, his failure was your failure. His success was your success. You couldn’t one-up him this time… you would have to actually cooperate with him. Interact with him. You scrunched up your face at the thought.

“Memory potions!” Slughorn clapped his hands as he started to tell the class about their upcoming assignment, “Who can recall what those are?” He chuckled slightly at his own joke.

Hermione Granger’s hand shot up.

“They’re exactly that, sir,” she informed, “They can boost one’s memory for up to six hours, depending on the dosage.”

“Yes!” Slughorn seemed pleased at the answer, “Yes, Ms. Granger! Memory potions are very powerful, indeed… I had a particularly nasty experience with those once…” He trailed off into telling his very underwhelming anecdote that no one really cared much for.

“Oh no,” you whispered, not particularly to anyone, as you realized it’s going to take Slughorn a while to actually get to the point.

“We’ll be here a while,” Harry whispered back, which surprised you. It was a very rare occurrence for you two to whisper to each other, and even more unusual for you two to be agreeing.

“But never mind that!” Slughorn said finally, “You lot will be brewing memory potions!”

Almost instantly, you grabbed a hold of your Advanced Potions book to examine the recipe. A few others did the same and Slughorn visibly noticed.

“Ah,” he said, “You won’t find the recipe in there. You will have to find the recipe yourselves.” He smiled. “After finding the precise list of ingredients and measurements, I would like you, with your partners, to brew the potion.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration. Find the recipe?

“This assignment is, of course,” Slughorn went on, “a competition. The first pair of students to successfully brew a memory potion with effects lasting for precisely 7 hours will receive an O on the next essay!” He smiled as his eyes moved around the room. “You have until next week, but this potion can be done in a day...” His smile grew, waiting for a reaction from the group.

The students in the room all had no idea how to proceed. Find the recipe? 7 hours? This assignment seemed like way too much work, all for an O on the next essay?

“Alright! Get to work, you lot,” Slughorn urged as he laughed and walked back to his desk, failing to elaborate.

You looked around the room to find that everyone had started to talk to their partners, trying to figure out how they would be going about this peculiar task.

“We need to stay up all night,” you said quickly, turning your head to face Harry.

“What? Why?” he questioned with confusion in his eyes, “We have a week!”

“Zabini and Greengrass will most definitely stay up all night,” you told him urgently, “I know it. We need to beat them.”

“But--” Harry tried to reason with you. Spending all night working on potion with you? He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

“Look, do you know where we might be able to do this?” you ignored what he said previously, turning to get a fresh piece of parchment, “I was thinking of an abandoned classroom, but Filch will easily catch us.”

Harry did know a place. But did he really want to work on a potion all night? With you, no less?

“Fine,” you sighed as you once again turned to face him, “You need to sneak me into your common room then.”

“What? No!” he exclaimed, alarmed. He was not about to do that. For all he knew, this was all just some clever ploy to get back at the Gryffindors for beating the Slytherins in the Quidditch match last week.

“Where else would we go?” you question irritably.

“What about your common room?”

“No. I already told you Zabini and Greengrass will probably use it to brew their potion tonight.”

“But, I can’t sneak you in.”

“You have to!”

Harry was conflicted. He couldn’t sneak you into his common room, and he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he were caught in your common room.

“Fine, okay,” Harry said as he fixed the glasses on his face, thinking, “I might know a place.”

“Okay?” you said, getting incredibly frustrated at his cryptic response, “Please enlighten me, oh Chosen One.”

“Just meet me on the seventh floor tonight.” He ignored your clever response and gave you a straightforward one. Like he always did.

“But there--” you tried to protest. The seventh floor had no classrooms that you could use.

“Just--” Harry also seemed to be getting frustrated as he insisted, “Just do it. Alright?”

“Fine,” you crossed your arms and leaned back into your seat.

You expected the night to go horribly. You expected a dreadful night, filled with insults. You expected your hatred for Harry to only have increased in the morning. What you didn’t expect was what actually happened.

(Part 2 has been posted!)

[wannabetwins]

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much... before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. "Maybe it's a lint mutation!" Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin.... The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

Despite the sting of the heat, his fingertips pressed into the ceramic mug in a last attempt to keep his composure. But it was too late. He had reached the end of his tether, and his brain was beginning to tatter.

“Hey, clean freak,” Yooha’s usually unwelcomed voice slashed through the muddled swirl of Taehee’s angry thoughts. The latter looked up, finding the fox waving his open palm in front of him. “What’s with that face?”

“What?” Taehee rasped, brows furrowing in annoyance. He could already sense the stupid comment on his upturned lips.

“Usually, when you drink your coffee, you turn all pensive—like an old man,” Yooha shrugged. He took a casual sip of his wine. What lunatic even drank this early? “But you looked really pissed just now.”

Taehee blew out a sharp huff. If this fox knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. Anger was coursing through his veins and Taehee had been wound up too tight; he was this close to snapping.

“Oi. Kim Taehee. You okay? Why aren’t you—”

“I can’t...” Taehee mumbled through his gritted teeth.

“—drinking your coffee?”

“I CAN’T!”

Taehee’s shout echoed in the empty living room, and for the first time Yooha actually looked a little scared of him. The fox’s speechlessness made an awkward silence settle between the two as Taehee mentally berated himself for losing control over his temper like that. He had to stay calm. Be calm. Calm...

“Woah… yeah you’re definitely not okay. Wanna talk about it?”

The sound of Yooha’s voice ignited yet another spark of rage within him, and before he could do something else he would regret, Taehee grabbed his cup and emptied its tainted contents into the sink.

Yooha gaped at him expectantly, though a trace of awe and fear were still visible between his furrowed brows. He probably thought Taehee was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Oh, God...Taehee hoped he didn’t go into one of his rambles praising his own wisdom guised as shoddy advice. Not now.

However, the goblin was saved from such torture by the soft pad of footsteps down the stairs.

“What’s going on? I heard yelling.”

MC’s voice drifted from the stairs, and soon she came into view, bed head still fresh and her eyes smaller than usual, groggy with sleep. Taehee’s heart gave a small leap in response. As usual.

And apparently, it wasn’t alone.

The fox perked up, sitting straighter in his seat and his previously lazy demeanor turning almost puppy-like.

“Ah, MC,” he said, a grin now stretching across his lips. Taehee barely held back his own smile at her presence which now whittled away at his annoyance. “Good morning! Did you dream of me?”

Taehee rolled his eyes at Yooha’s unnecessary wink. MC was equally unamused, tired as she was, though she did spare him a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure did,” she replied with a brief smile, before her attention turned to Taehee. It was strange how easily she could calm him down. Just one look from her and he felt his breathing start to slow down, and the angry, scrambled thoughts in his mind began to scatter. All that was left was a pounding in his chest as he met her concerned stare.

“Is… everything okay?”

With practised ease, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile, erasing any and all traces of irritation from his face. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” Yooha snorted. “This guy nearly had an aneurysm.”

“What?” MC said, her gaze once again snapping towards the goblin. His cheeks heated under the sudden scrutiny.

Feeling slightly embarrassed now at the reason behind his outburst, he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no,” he stammered. “I’m really fine. I’m just… feeling off this morning.”

The girl seemed unconvinced. Her eyes drifted to the dumped coffee in the sink, and Taehee could practically see the calculations behind her forehead.

Abruptly, MC turned to the fox. “Yooha,” she began, startling when he suddenly transported behind her back.

Taehee’s skin tingled when the man slid his arms around her waist.

“Yes, MC?” Yooha hummed.

She promptly swatted his hands away. Taehee smirked in amusement...or maybe triumph.

“Did you make him mad again?” she went on.

Yooha stumbled back in offense, hand over his chest. Dramatic…

“What? No!”

MC crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she flayed him with a hard, interrogative stare.

Yooha let out a sharp sigh. “I didn’t! Really!”

He glanced at Taehee, no doubt to clear his name. The latter pursed his lips. Should he clear the air? Technically, Yooha did add to his frustration. His presence alone could sour Taehee’s mood considerably any day, and especially today.

In the span of silence he took to think, MC seemed to interpret it as a confirmation of Yooha’s guilt, and his sentence was passed immediately.

“Go on, apologise to Taehee. You two should make up and at least try to get along.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Yooha argued, genuinely looking quite upset now. Even MC seemed to be surprised by his reaction.

“Master, you don’t believe me? That’s hurtful…”

And then it happened.

Like a snake, his nine tails unfurled behind him one after another, practically glowing with the blindingly white sheen of his fur.

White. Fur.

The answer had been right in front of him the whole time, the source of his nightmares for the past week right under his nose and Taehee hadn’t so much as noticed.

He should’ve known. Ever since that stupid fox materialized from that scroll, nothing and no one else in this house rattled him as much as he could.

And at this very moment, he was downright pissed.

He hadn’t even realized his outstretched hand. His tense fingers were bent into a claw, ready to strangle one of the nine hydras sweeping through the air, further tainting the cleanliness of the house with those loose strands of white.

Rage coursed through his veins, and somehow, his magic followed suit with blue fire flaring into the center of his palm. Taehee hadn’t meant to move his hand any closer to the infuriating white fur. But his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, and little by little, those flames licked perilously close to the thin strands until…

“OW!!”

Taehee recoiled as the sharp sound pierced his ears, his anger subsiding enough for him to return to the present moment. He saw MC’s reaction first. Her eyes were wide in shock, and her mouth was frozen in a perfect “o.”

When his gaze fell on the fox again, the tails had vanished. Yooha was storming over to him, anger etched on his usually laidback face. He looked feral.

“Did you seriously just try to burn my tails? Kim Taehee!”

Taehee knew he should apologise. Clearly he was in the wrong here. But his mouth began flapping, retorts bubbling in his throat, unable to restrain himself in front of the fox. Especially when he was the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

“Would you prefer for me to shave them clean instead? Since you’re shedding anyway.”

“You-” Yooha’s voice cut off, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Me? Shedding? What do you think I am? A common dog?”

“No,” Taehee returned with more composure than he felt. “Dogs are more likeable.”

“Why, you—” Yooha began, though he stopped himself again. His fist was balled tightly at his side, but he seemed to have enough restraint to keep it there. A tense breath wisped from his lips. “Look, you’re having a bad morning. I get it. But just because MC likes my tails more than you doesn’t mean you can abuse your magic fire trick.”

Several unintelligible syllables spluttered from Taehee’s mouth.

Words...he needed to use words.

“MC doesn’t— Fire trick? You don’t—”

No, no… sentences. He needed sentences. But his brain was too muddled with his emotions, and that stupid simper on the fox’s face was only making it worse.

“Or maybe… If you wanted to touch my tail so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Taehee was about to open his mouth again when MC’s face appeared in his line of sight, blocking the fox from his view.

“Enough, both of you. It’s too early in the morning for this, let’s just stop here, okay?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who resorted to violence,” Yooha added stubbornly, shooting a glare in Taehee’s direction.

“It wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you would’ve cleaned after yourself,” he spat. To emphasize his point, he swiped his hand over his sleeve, sending a few tufts of white fluttering into the air.

Yooha squinted at the hair, his features once again contorting in offense. “You think that hair is mine? Is that what this is all about?”

“Think?” Taehee scoffed. “I think we all saw how much hair fell off that fur trap of yours.”

MC groaned and flopped back onto an empty chair. “Guys, can we not—”

“This,” Yooha interrupted, holding up his pinched fingers where Taehee assumed he had caught one of his hairs, “is not mine. Look how coarse and short this is! My fur is softer and longer than this—and whiter!”

“You can’t compare anything when you can barely see that hair between your fingers.”

“Maybe you can’t, since it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your eyes.”

“Oh? Let’s pluck out some of your hair and check then.”

“What? You think this is some kind of game? My tails aren’t for you to screw around with!”

“You always take them out when MC is here anyway. Like a dog wagging its tail for its master.”

“You- Did you just call me a dog again?”

“So on top of excessive shedding you can’t hear right either? Maybe it’s time to take you to a vet.”

“I told you that fur isn’t mine! I’m not shedding!”

Taehee slammed his palm onto the counter. His adrenaline was waning, and he hadn’t even had a sip of coffee. He was getting more exasperated by the second...

“Then what?” he sighed. “Do we suddenly have a cat in the house or something?”

A soft meow interrupted the growing tension between them, and both men turned to MC who was still innocently sitting at the table.

Yooha clicked his tongue, a smile unbefitting of the situation rapidly overtaking his previous scowl. “That was cute, MC, but this is serious,” he said. His palm rested against her mussed hair. “My honor is at stake here.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Yeah MC, I know you’re trying to help us but we need to work this out,” Taehee added, slapping Yooha’s hand away from her head.

She huffed and pushed both of their hands away from her face. “Guys, I said it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah.” A tuft of red hair appeared from the corner of Taehee’s eye. Biho shuffled meekly into the kitchen, and three pairs of eyes followed him curiously. “It was me.”

Yooha’s gaze shifted from Biho to Taehee, then back to the younger goblin. “You...meowed?”

The redhead’s chest heaved in a deep, forlorn sigh. He pressed a hand over his heart and shook his head. “I am deeply sorry for my actions. I didn’t intend for it to go this far.”

“What are you talking about Biho…” Taehee’s voice trailed off when they heard another meow. The younger goblin’s mouth was closed however, and the sound seemed to be coming from his head.

Was this a new power? Taehee had never seen anything like it. Hansol never mentioned anything about Biho’s new ability either.

However, the explanation for the strange occurrence soon made itself known… with its tiny, white ears peeking over Biho’s bright red hair.

Another one of his doleful sighs filled the stunned silence in the room. “I woke up and heard you guys arguing about Yooha shedding.”

“Like I said, I’m not—” Taehee slapped his hand over Yooha’s mouth to shut him up, wanting to listen to Biho instead of that annoying fox’s voice.

“I think it was actually this kitten’s fur… Sorry Taehee, I know it’s been bothering you this whole week.”

Taehee deflated half in relief and half in exhaustion. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier?”

“I was going to, but then you looked very angry about the hair, and I thought you would ask me to get rid of it.” Biho picked up the kitten from his hair and carefully placed it in his arms, cradling it like it was a baby. In return, the kitten nuzzled its face against his hoodie.

“Where did you even get it from? Did you buy it?” Yooha asked, defensively raising a hand up in case Taehee tried to physically shut him up again.

“I found it by the road on the way home,” he replied. “It was in a box all alone and it was raining. It looked like it had been abandoned, and I couldn’t leave it there like that.” His eyes drooped, his gaze turning sad as he gently stroked the kitten in his arms.

MC cooed at the explanation, joining the coddling of the little animal.

Taehee admitted it was touching...and understandable knowing Biho’s story. Still, the fur sticking to the younger goblin’s sleeve was giving him a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Biho,” he began, making sure his voice was gentle lest he upset him with what he had to say. “What you did was good. You probably saved its life, but…”

“We can’t keep it,” Yooha interrupted bluntly, earning him a slap upside the head. And it wasn’t even from Taehee this time.

“Hey,” MC hissed, casting a worried glance towards Biho.

Thankfully, the redhead seemed to expect this. Slowly, he nodded, though he cradled the kitten a little closer to his chest. “I know,” he said. “But can we keep him until we find him a home?”

Taehee opened his mouth to protest but MC held her hand up, no doubt guessing his answer.

“Of course we can,” she said. “We can post it online. I’m sure we can find someone.”

Biho shot her a grateful smile. “Could you help me with that?”

“Sure!” MC jumped up with a grin, before pausing. “Give me ten minutes. I should brush my teeth and wash my face first.”

“Okay, I’ll be in my room.”

Then the both of them left, although MC made sure to elbow Taehee in the side. He didn’t have to look at her to know what she wanted him to do next.

An awkward silence settled once more, now that it was just him and Yooha left in the kitchen. Briefly, he made eye contact with the fox, and Taehee fought the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted they would be able to make up even after this.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?” Yooha asked with his chin up. Taehee wanted to wipe off that arrogant smirk from his face. But a wrong was a wrong, and he knew what he should do as the more mature one between them.

“Fine. The hair wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you shed. A lot.”

Silence. Presumably, Yooha was attempting to choose his words carefully, lest another argument broke out. He sighed heavily before speaking again. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

“I did apologise. But I also stated a fact. I clean your closet, you know. Your hairballs are disgusting.”

“I’ll have you know that my tails are amongst the most beautiful—”

“Just make sure you clean up after yourself from now on,” Taehee said, turning to leave. “Or I will personally shave you myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Yooha narrowed his eyes. “A mere goblin like you? Hah.”

“Hm. But a fox like you can’t disobey its master, right? All I need is to get MC to agree to it.”

Taehee felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw Yooha’s confident smile falter. Having said his piece, he turned and left for his room, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he heard his name echo angrily behind him.

[lyssismagical]

coffee, rainbow pins, and middle school gossip

Parkner Week Day Seven: “13-year-olds are the meanest people in the world” / middle school / jealousy

 Being a teacher hadn’t really been Peter’s plan for his career until he got to his senior year and he got his school-mandatory volunteer hours at the elementary public school and he loved how teaching made him feel.

He’s always loved kids. When he was twelve, he started babysitting for the other tenants in the building for much cheaper than any other babysitter, but enough to get the good pizza every couple weeks.

Later, he spent his summers as a Camp Counselor to make some money and to have something to do all summer, out of May’s hair and giving May a chance to save up money without having his mouth to feed.

He didn’t really think much about it until MJ asked him to start reading to children at the library with her. Apparently, she thinks she doesn’t have a soothing enough voice to read for hours on end, but he reads a lot out loud at school and during Academic Decathlon, and she says his voice is nice and he likes kids enough to hang out with them all day.

And now, as a twenty-four-year-old graduate, he’s got a job as a middle school substitute teacher. He wants to one day be a permanent teacher for a younger grade, but he’s happy being a teacher.

Until he finds out how cruel middle schoolers are.

He gets it, the Science teacher at the school is pretty good looking.

Mister Keener is a young, single guy who’s genuinely smart and passionate. He’s a few years older than Peter, and he’s objectively handsome, but Peter isn’t interested. (He’s totally interested, he can barely keep his eyes off the science teacher whenever he sees him in the Teacher’s Lounge, but that’s not anybody’s business.)

His students seem to have one goal in life. To get Peter and Mister Keener together.

“Have your kids been saying anything?” Peter asks. He watches Harley as he laughs, brewing a pot of coffee. “I was subbing for the phys-ed class and they wouldn’t stop.”

“Yeah, I hear about Mister Parker more than anything these days.”

Harley grabs two mugs from the cupboard above the coffee machine and pours them both a coffee, adding the number of creams and sugar to Peter’s that he likes which makes Peter feel incredibly warm and giddy, and then he sits down across from Peter, passing him his coffee.

“I know! Angela, you know her, I think she’s in your science class period two, she literally talked you up to me for the entire hour yesterday. I tried to tell her that it wasn’t appropriate to talk about it with me, but she wouldn’t listen.”

The science teacher laughs again, bright and warm. “Yeah, she went on and on about you. Apparently, you’re really smart when it comes to English.”

“That’s thanks to my friend, MJ, she was really good at English and reading, and she kinda got me into a lot of it. We still have biweekly book clubs.”

“I’m not super into reading, but my little sister is. I-”

The door to the Teacher’s Lounge is pushed open, with a few knocks. It’s not a teacher who stands there though.

“Harry!” Peter exclaims, shooting out of his chair. He races over to throw himself into Harry’s awaiting arms with a squeal. “I thought you weren’t coming to visit for another couple weeks!”

“I’ve got a long weekend off and figured I couldn’t wait to come see you,” Harry explains quickly, arms tight around Peter’s waist.

There’s an awkward cough from behind them that has Peter spinning around, pulling Harry with him back to his table.

“Harry, this is Harley Keener, the science teacher here. Harley, this is an old friend of mine, Harry Osborn. He’s getting his masters abroad so he can’t visit very often.”

The teacher stretches out a hand to shake Harry’s, offering a polite smile with a murmured nice to meet you before he’s draining the rest of his coffee and standing.

“I should be getting back to class early to set up for the lab. I’ll see you later,” Harley says, offering one last smile before he’s out of the teacher’s lounge.

As soon as he’s gone, Harry leans in closer. “Is he the guy you’ve been crushing on these past couple months?”

“He’s the guy who our students have been harassing me about for the last couple months,” Peter corrects before he admits, “Yeah, I’ve totally been crushing on him. He’s so nice and smart and hot. Can you blame me?”

“You should go for it.”

Peter rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table and gesturing for Harry to sit down with him. “I don’t even know if he’s into guys, or if he has a rule against dating coworkers, or if he’s taken.”

“One, I can’t believe you didn’t notice the rainbow pin on his bag. Two, this isn’t going to be your job much longer. You’re going to get that teaching position at the elementary school. And three, he wouldn’t be staring at you like that if he was taken.”

“Have you met me, Osborn? I don’t have the guts to ask him out.”

Harry rolls his eyes right back. “Have it your way and lose your chances with the greatest looking guy in all of Manhattan, second only to you.”

“Shut up,” Peter says with no heat to his words. “We’ll see.”

* Harley’s acting weird the next couple days.

He doesn’t say as much, and he’s downright pouty for most of their lunches together, frowning down at his food whenever Peter rambles about anything.

Harry starts picking him up from the school, so they no longer have that half hour window to chat while Peter waits for the bus. And Peter catches Harley practically glaring when Peter slides into Harry’s convertible.

After a week of these strange interactions, Peter finally caves and pulls one of his students aside after class.

“I know I really shouldn’t be asking you, but has Mister Keener said anything about me lately.”

Katie grins mischievously, beckoning a few of her friends over. “Why? You want him to be talking about you?”

Liam and Emily giggle, leaning into each other behind Katie.

“No!” Peter gasps, shaking his head quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“He was acting pretty weird last week,” Aryssa pipes up shyly from where she’s still sitting at her desk. “Quiet, graded our test pretty harshly. He gave a couple people detentions when they wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“Really? And he didn’t say why he was acting weird?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “No, why would he tell his students why he was acting weird? Most of the time, teachers don’t talk this candidly with their students.”

“Well, I’m not going to be teaching here much longer hopefully. And I’m a substitute.” It doesn’t entirely justify it, but the students seem more excited than annoyed by him talking about his private life. It’s what they’ve been asking him to do for months anyway.

The bell rings, making Peter jump. “Okay, dismissed, get to class. Don’t tell him I asked you about him.”

Katie and Emily snicker, looping their arms together before racing out the door.

Peter knows he won’t be able to trust them.

It still surprises him when Harley stops him in the hallway after the school’s cleared out at the end of the day.

“So, I heard some interesting gossip,” Harley starts.

“Did you?”

Harley laughs, bag swaying at his side. Peter takes note of the rainbow pin. “Katie, Liam, and Emily told me you were asking about me. Asked them if I’d been talking about you.”

“Thirteen-year-olds are the meanest people in the world, I swear… It’s just- you’ve been acting weird lately. Like I did something wrong. I was concerned.”

Harley sighs and he sinks to the floor, leaning against the lockers. Peter hesitates before sliding to the ground beside him, shoulders knocking.

“Can I be honest?” Harley asks, frowning down at his hands. “I really like you, but I get it, you’re taken, I’m not going to be upset about that, I just got a little bit jealous of him.”

“Of who? I’m not-” Peter blows out a breath. “Harry.”

Harley’s eyes go wide, sad. “I’m not mad at you and I really do want to stay friends, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better too-”

“I’m not with Harry!” His voice comes out shaky and too loud. “I mean, we did date once, like forever ago, back in high school, but we decided we were better off as friends, and that’s all we are now. I liked you, but I didn’t think you were into me, especially after last week.”

Harley lets out a laugh verging on hysterical. “I’m so sorry. I saw you with Harry, and I just jumped to conclusions. But if you haven’t been totally turned away by my jealousy, I’d love to take you out for coffee?”

“I’d love that, yeah. Harry’s picking me up if you wanna take up the offer of getting to know my best friend a little better? We could get coffee the three of us while he’s still in town, and then we could get dinner, just the two of us, on the weekend?”

“Sounds like a fantastic plan.”

Taglist:@littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[snowbellewells]

The Case of the Heart in Armor: Part Four

{I apologize again that this story keeps taking longer than I anticipate to update. This particular segment keep growing, and my inspiration and ideas for how to end this one keep ebbing and flowing unpredictably. Anyway, I’ll let you get to it rather than continuing to ramble. Enjoy!}

{This fic was eventually begun as part of the first @csrolereversal​ event back in the fall, and inspired by this lovely fanart by @courtorderedcake​.}

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…

Previous Chapters:  Part One   Part Two   Part Three

“The Case of the Heart in Armor”

by: @snowbellewells​

Part Four

It didn’t take long for Killian Jones and Emma Nolan to make their way back through the darkly clouded London streets to reach her home again. Not much was said, and Killian felt this perplexing young woman stealing glances over at him, anxious, ill at ease, and almost embarrassed, if he had to guess - though he couldn’t fathom why. True, they did not know each other well, but they were on the same side. If the older sibling whom she clearly looked up to trusted him, surely she knew she was safe with him, even on this strangely deserted nighttime street unchaperoned. For a second, Jones almost chuckled to himself at the mental image of how she might react to the idea of needing a chaperone at all.

Shaking his head, Killian refocused and stole a quick glance of his own. Though the still-obscuring fog made it hard to see clearly, Ms. Nolan was indeed blushing and fidgeting, wringing her hands together, even as she kept brisk pace with him easily. What had her so abashed? There was no need for her to feel foolish in the slightest; she had thought she was being pursued in a city where a violent killer was on the loose. That was enough to shake even the stoutest of constitutions. She was not made of stone - nor did he expect her to be.

“This is me,” Emma interrupted his inner musings abruptly. She had stopped at a set of steps up into a sturdy brick apartment building, gesturing to indicate they had reached her dwelling.

“Brilliant, Lass,” Jones nodded, acknowledging her words and turning to face her on the sidewalk.

As uncomfortable as she had appeared on their journey, he had fully expected her to blurt out a goodbye and flee up the stairs to the door, but instead Emma shuffled her feet as if reluctant to leave. As fractious as their previous encounters had been, sparking into fire that poked and prodded at his own hard exterior, mocking, infuriating, and then stirring his blood, Killian didn’t know what to expect from her hesitation, but found he wanted her to stay as well.

Finally, she raised those bright green eyes up to face him, piercing him with the strength of her gaze, and  spoke seriously. “There was something out there - before I ran into you, Mr. Jones. I gather you didn’t see it, but I was not imagining things. Nor was it some silly, flighty little fancy or whatever you might be assuming.” She squared her shoulders as she drew a quick breath, but she jutted her chin out with determination and pressed on before he could speak in reply. “You wouldn’t be the first to try to dismiss me as some irrational female, but I am not backing down. S-something was out there, and I - “

There Killian had to break in, reaching out to catch her forearm gently as she began to wave her hands wildly with her emphatic speech. “Wait, wait… hold on a second,” he tried, pulling back his hand once again when he realized after stilling her swinging gesticulations that though her voice was fierce and her stance undaunted, he could feel her slight frame trembling when he touched her. She’d had quite a fright and been plowing ahead ever since, trying not to appear as shaken as she must have been. “I didn’t doubt you at all. True, I did not see anything, but the fog was dense and I was coming from another direction, for one thing. For another, one does not work in unraveling mysteries for as long I have without realizing that things are not always as they appear.”

Emma didn’t back down, didn’t blink, yet she seemed to relax somehow. A measure of the tension between them released as she seemed to exhale at last - the tiniest bit of her guard retreating. “You...you believe me?” she finally asked, her voice much softer, almost dazed by his assertion; a definite shift from the sharp antagonism in her voice not long ago.

He nodded slightly, holding her gaze in an effort to broadcast his sincerity. “I promise you, Miss Nolan. I am not trying to discredit you.”

She gave a brief, curt nod, her adorably pert little chin bobbing sharply as she accepted his word without further argument. A tiny part of him wanted to celebrate - even laugh aloud - at the measuring way her eyes sparked, even narrowed in concentration as they were, but he held his reaction in, knowing that would undo whatever truce he had managed to reach with her. “Fine. I’ll choose to take you at your word,” she managed, holding out a hand to shake his before turning to climb the first step up to the door of her building. Then she swung around to face him again abruptly. “Oh, and Jones?” she added, with much less force. “Thank you… for showing up when you did.”

At that, Killian did have to let one corner of his mouth tick up into a pleased half-smile. Simply and definitely, he replied, “Anytime, Lass. Anytime.”

Once up the stairs and at the door in her own apartment, Emma swiftly crossed her small living room to peer out the window and down into the London street below. She didn’t want to admit why she was doing so, but it was dark and no one was going to know about it, so she let a smile of her own stretch across her lips as she got one last quick look at Killian ‘Holmes’ Jones’ lean, graceful figure before he disappeared around a corner and out of her sight. Shaking her head, Emma continued to gaze down on the foggy grey landscape below, the streetlamp lights with hazy halos around them drawing her eye once the antagonistic but attractive detective had left her field of vision. It wasn’t something she was ready to admit out loud, or to anyone else, but she had misread the maddening man. Judging from their first encounter when - yes, admittedly, she had picked his pocket; he just wasn’t meant to notice it - and their second when he’d deliberately provoked and accused her in David’s office, she had been sure he would mock her for seeing things and jumping at shadows.

Instead, he had shown up in the very moment she’d been sure she was about to be caught by some monstrous creature, steadying her, seeing her safely home, and even professing to believe her. It was pleasantly unexpected, and she wasn’t used to people surprising her positively, exceeding her expectations and first impressions. The enigmatic, dark and clever gentleman had stirred something warm and unfamiliar loose in her chest, and she had to admit as she finally closed her blinds and turned to ready herself for bed, that it was more than a little bit thrilling.

The previous fear and unease had almost evaporated from her thoughts after their conversation - and now that she was home and had some distance from the chase and panic she’d experienced. Letting her hair down and shimmying out of her skirt and blouse into her more comfortable silky shift, Emma sat on her bed to remove her buttoned and high-heeled ankle boots, letting out a deep breath to be free of her constricting clothes and the pins jabbing her scalp as they held her updo in place. Running a hand through the loosened waves of her hair, she already felt her eyelids growing heavy; sleep tugging at her after all that had gone on that day and her adrenaline flagging. 

She was sleepy enough that she failed see creeping wisps of that same threatening fog slipping beneath the doorframe and around the cracks of the windowpane. Soundless, unnoticed, and gathering without her knowledge as Emma lay down, eyes still closed and lights turned out, leaving her surrounded and yet completely unaware. The smoky fingers slid across the floor, up the bedposts and nearer to her unguarded form as if possessing human purpose. The strange fog silently covered her and slid into her mouth and nose, assuring that her sleep was preternaturally sound. And lost to whatever else might sneak into the room with her, sinister intentions unimpeded.

~~~~~~~~~~***

Not knowing what to do with himself after he left the plucky waif who equally consternated and beguiled him, Killian had been too unsettled to simply head back to his own home and bed. He was troubled by the fact that he hadn’t seen whatever horror had been after Emma Nolan, and he didn’t understand how that could be possible when he staked his name on seeing what most others missed. Yet, he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she had dreamed up some pretend monster in an attention-seeking imagination or a nervous temperament. Clearly, she had been dismissed more than enough times to assume that was what he would do, but he already had enough of an impression of her character to know that Miss Nolan was sharp, brassy, and largely undaunted - unless what she faced was a genuine cause for concern.

He had delved in the darker crevices and corners of the city long enough in his job to know that not all things which did happen could be rationally explained. He was far too logical to claim magic, witches and fairies ran wild in the streets of London; yet, he had seen enough to know that there was not a solution to every cause which suited the laws of science and nature for a proper understanding. People did dabble in the occult at the risk of their own souls and others’ safety, and perhaps not all spirits retired peaceably from this world to the beyond immediately upon their physical passing. Whatever the case, as the great Bard himself had once written, “there were more things in Heaven and Earth”, and at the moment, one of those lesser known entities seemed more probable than dismissing out of hand the determined pickpocket for whom he had gained a grudging admiration. 

Why he didn’t know, but it seemed his mind had arrived at the resolution without his conscious consent. Therefore, perhaps it would be best to return to the Chief Inspector’s offices and make sure there was no hint of the more ethereal nature in any of those troubling crime scene photos or notes. If the older Nolan, or Graham, were still working at this hour, they might even have reports from the newest victim’s scene for him to study. Mind made up, he strode off in that direction, step brisk and swift. His conscience pricked that Miss Nolan’s brother could also well wish to know of the strange encounter she had weathered this evening, even as some other corner of his being shied away from revealing what he knew instinctively she would not wish to have shared, particularly with one as concerned and protective as an elder sibling. Shaking his head in a brief moment of amused understanding, he remembered Liam’s exasperation at many of his own scrapes and close calls as they were growing up. His elder brother had not meant to coddle him of course, but he had certainly hoped to instill more caution and decorum than a younger Killian had used on his own.

Of course, those thoughts led to the rash actions and wrenching loss that had taught him the deliberation, care, and control that he now had more than enough of to last him the rest of his days. If he had listened to Liam’s cautions to slow down, to think… If he had only taken a bit more time to learn who Milah had been and what she had been fleeing… she might still…

Thankfully, before that train of grim thought could derail much further, his steps led him to the imposing stone structure and tall surrounding fence of Scotland Yard. Without further adieu, Jones made his way across the front walk, through the cavernous entry hall, and back the rather dim hallway leading to the inspector’s office. Nolan wasn’t a man who stood on excessive ceremony, more concerned with doing his job and the necessary results than etiquette and protocol. He doubted the other man would begrudge his unexpected arrival to peruse any new findings and ensure his adopted sister’s safety and well-being.

Sure enough, upon nearing the correct door, Jones rapped on the wooden frame twice and was immediately welcomed forward with a curt “Come in!” in the inspector’s brusquely resonant voice. Entering, he found Nolan standing, leaning over his desk where stark photographs and notes were spread, hands braced on the edges of the sturdy surface - clearly still trying to make sense of the clues they possessed as well. The sleeves of his crisp dress shirt were rolled up nearly to his elbows, and his stumped frustration was clear in the way the muscles of his bared forearms flexed spasmodically. The furrow between his wide, usually clear and calm eyes was deep, his suit jacket discarded in the chair behind him, and Killian could tell he had been at this for hours - with nothing new to show for it.

“Ah, Holmes,” he greeted, a wry, half-smile gracing his face and making the man look much more his usual self. “Just the pair of fresh eyes I need! Come have a look at this.”

“Did the results come back from your most recent victim?” Killian asked as he moved around the desk to where Nolan already stood. Once at the Inspector’s side, he looked down at the scattered gathering strewn across the flat surface. Though they had already noted the troubling savagery and seeming needlessness of each previous murder, the scene now added to the collection seemed almost sedate. There was still more blood than anyone should be comfortable with, but there were far fewer slices and cuts, less outward carnage on display. In fact, the only truly large enough injury to account for the wash of blood beneath the body, the dark puddle in every crime scene photo, was the gaping hole in the chest cavity, open and empty with ripped and cut off valves and arteries - and only those - where the victim’s heart should have been. It looked as though someone - or some thing - had reached in and pulled the heart from the victim’s body.

Leaning in to squint at the image more closely, trying to understand the necessity of getting one’s hand quite so dirty, to commit that amount of overkill, Jones tried to look deeper. What were they missing? What could the killer need with an actual human heart?

“Have all of the bodies been missing the heart?” Killian asked, stunned that this hadn’t been obvious to him sooner. He had studied all the previous site information as carefully as always, but none had seemed so blatantly about obtaining the single, necessary organ.

David shook his head soberly, mouth a thin, compressed line across his weary face. Scrubbing a hand down his features before answering. “No. The first two were missing numerous major internal organs. Then, as the kills continued, the number of organs missing lessened. At first, I hoped that meant the killer was getting sloppy, careless, closer to our capturing him. Then, as no other leads were forthcoming, and this sick hunt continued...well…” He shrugged helplessly, reminding Killian with a sharp twinge of guilt and conscience that this was where he was meant to come in, with his ability to see and deduce things that mere dedication and simple, straightforward policing might miss. “I thought he’d possibly lost his lair, or been interrupted and had to hurry. It never struck me that this could be about a single organ in particular. And even if it is….our suspect must have several hearts by now. So why is he still butchering people right and left?”

Inspector Nolan’s frustration was palpable, and Jones couldn’t blame him for it in the slightest. It was baffling, and more than a bit depraved. The ‘why’ of this all suddenly seemed infinitely more important than the when, where and how - even if that was the way his factual, logical mind tended to process most cases. Letting out his own huff of thwarted tension, Holmes leaned over the pictures again, so close that the edges of the separate scenes began to blur together. Then, a detail struck him that had escaped notice until that moment. For the newest set of crime scene images, out of the gaping darkness of the victim’s empty chest, it seemed something even lighter than the grey hue of the broken skin surrounding the opening stood out. Yes! Maybe... he blinked, trying to sharpen his focus once again. There was an edge of something just peeking out from the wound.

With a sharp indrawn breath, Killian pointed the barest sliver of true white out to the inspector, hardly daring to hope that his eyes were not playing trick on him. “Do you see that, Nolan?  Is that… paper?”

A touch of urgency in his voice, Nolan already in motion, confirmed that he did see it and gestured impatiently for Jones to follow him. Their quick footsteps were out of the office, across the hive of the bullpen, and down the dark stairwell to the morgue in short order. “I hadn’t noticed that until you pointed it out, but the body should still be down here. We need to see just what it is.”

They barrelled around the corner at a near jog, Nolan rapping loudly on the door into the medical examiner’s domain, and nearly charging forward before the faint offer of admittance sounded from within. Jones stood slightly back, letting the man with authority and credentials make their request of his colleague. In fact, he found himself offering a half-hearted look of apology to the startled man when Nolan practically snarled that they needed to see the newest body once more and commanded they be shown to the shelf where the corpse had been stored.

Jones cannot be terribly perturbed by the results Nolan’s abruptnes grants them however, when not five minutes later they are looking down at the same view they’d had  in the photograph upstairs. And sure enough, barely visible because he knows where to look, is the white edge of what can only be a thick sheet of parchment. The M.E. is still hovering nervously nearby, and at the detective’s motion, moves in with gloved hand and proper instrument to extract the indicated item. In seconds, they have it, though much the worse for wear and thoroughly  stained with dried blood. Still, once the parchment had been laid on the table surface, and he and Nolan had donned gloves as well, Holmes found he could unfold the crinkled note and discern the words written in cramped, intense handwriting.

David Nolan still sported a dark scowl as his eyes scanned the strange missive and unusual text upon it. “Another dead end?!” He slammed his large hands down on the surface with a force that made the table rattle. “Why would he plant a paper full of gibberish in the body? Just to taunt us?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Killian cautioned. “It’s not gibberish. It’s Latin.” He could just make out the message showing through the vermillion stain: ‘Not just any heart will do. The only one to use is the heart in armor.’

“You speak Latin, Holmes?” the inspector asked disbelievingly.

Killian couldn’t help but smirk at the other man, waggling his eyebrow at bit despite the somber situation. “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy, mate.”

The inspector’s brow furrowed, looking both piqued and confused at Killian’s statement.  Jones meanwhile found himself glad for the other man’s distraction. As the cryptic message began to truly sink in, he was overwhelmed by self-blame.  His playful deflection had worked, Nolan had taken his knowledge at face value, and was now moving away to smooth things over with the flustered medical examiner. Thankful for the small mercy that he wasn’t having to explain just why he had closed himself off, why he never mentioned his naval service, and indeed why his own hard heart had felt cold and inadequate for so long, Killian could merely try to steady himself after the disturbing conclusion thrust upon him. Though the how and why were still largely a mystery, he could not overlook the fact that this monster had seemingly butchered all too many people in search of a heart like his.

Tagging a few who have been interested before: @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @hollyethecurious​ @cocohook38​  @resident-of-storybrooke​ @laschatzi​ @drowned-dreamer​ @thislassishooked​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @stahlop​ @lfh1226-linda​ @winterbaby89​ @gingerchangeling​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ 

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin And A Brewing Fire VIII

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

Warnings: This is a SLOW BURN FIC. I’m going at what I believe is a realistic place via my perception. I know y’all want some steam but this is SLOW BURN. Please checkout my Masterlist for other works if you’re looking for a little raunchiness.

A/N: To everyone I trolled yesterday, April Fools! (Except it’s not April) I’m definitely finishing this series, just had to make y’all sweat a little bit 😂😘 If you haven’t caught up on the previous chapters, check them out here via MY MASTERLIST.

Also I usually put this at the bottom of the Chapter but I don’t think people actually read that so I’m putting it here, if you want to be tagged, THIS POST will tell you how. Please don’t come to my inbox asking or leaving it on the chapters because I always forget to check and I feel so guilty leaving people out when they ask or accidentally ignoring them.

Anyway I’ve rambled long enough, love y’all and hope y’all enjoy this.

~*~

“Training Day again, Mr. Williams?” Nebraska’s students whined.

“It’s either that or run laps.” He grinned.

“It’s too cold to run laps. And it’s snowing outside. Aren’t there like... child labor laws or something?” One of his students asked.

“Could always make you guys run laps inside until 12:00. You all prefer that?” Nebraska grinned at the chorus of “No’s” coming from his class.

“Alright, Training Day it is,” Nebraska put on the film and retreated to his office. Today was the last day of school before Thanksgivings break. It was the Tuesday before the holiday and the students were only required to attend a “Half” day before being dismissed at noon.

You actually had the entire week off for the holiday and were planning on going to see your Aunt and Uncle this week. Nebraska has insisted you go on alone and enjoy your time with your family but you had refused.

“I’ll only go if you’re going. No one should be alone during the holidays.”

In these last couple of weeks Nebraska thought he’d been doing a pretty good job distancing himself from you. The two of you no longer slept in the same bed together, he was careful not to get too close to you when the two of you had to be around each other and even then he kept that to a minimal. The two of you rarely ever saw eachother and he was trying to keep it that way.

You, on the other hand, had a different idea. It seemed like the more he retreated, the more you would seek him out. You were determined not to let things get weird between the two of you. Nebraska wasn’t sure if it was out of pity that you were still being so nice to him after his screw up but he knew it only served to further his guilt.

Nebraska used the hour or so he had left to grade papers and before he knew it, the bell rang at noon and his students began filing out the classroom. He walked out his office to stop the movie and put up the equipment. That was one thing he actually did love about teaching the JROTC students, they were typically pretty well behaved. Nebraska was also sure it was because the other coach, Colonel McNeal, even in his old age, had put the fear of god in these kids.

Nebraska was almost through with his stack of papers he’d been grading and decided to finish it out before leaving so that was one less thing to grade during the break.

“Knock Knock,” Tonya peeped her head in through the door before coming in fully and taking a seat.

“Ah I thought you’d be halfway to St. Mary’s by now,” Nebraska chuckled. St. Mary’s was the elementary school her sons attended.

“Well the boys’ father have them today and tomorrow but Mama gets Thanksgiving,” she grinned, showing all thirty two of her nearly perfect teeth.

“Always good to get a little peace and quiet before the holidays,” Nebraska nodded.

“Amen to that. Which actually brings me to my next point. I know you’re new in town and single and I would hate for a nice guy such as yourself to be alone for Thanksgiving. What do you say to coming to my house for Thanksgiving? You could even stop by the night before, help me do a little Pre-dinner Turkey stuffing,” Tonya offered cheekily and Nebraska knew exactly where she was going with this. Again.

“Thanks for the... um... generous offer T, but I won’t be alone for the holidays, I have Y/N,” Nebraska said trying to let her down as gently as possible.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you two were so.... close,” Tonya said, her smile faltering.

“Yeah we’re driving down to see her Uncle. He was... actually still is... my Lieutenant. Anyway we’re just gonna stay with them for the holiday,” Nebraska smiled but the atmosphere was awkward. It was awkward every time he had to reject her but she was persistent to say the least.

“I see. Well I’ll get out of your hair. Gotta get going to the store before all of the good Turkeys are gone,” she laughed dryly before exiting his office.

“Enjoy your break, T,” he called as she made her hasty getaway.

~*~

Nebraska awoke with a start. He glanced over from his position in the passengers seat to see you, your eyes in deep concentration of the road ahead. He yawned and your face relaxed a bit from its focused contortion as you were made aware of his wakefulness.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you chuckled. Nebraska glanced at the clock in the car and it read 12:34.

“That late huh?” He said sitting up.

“Yeah but the plus side is we’ll be there in half an hour.”

“I was out for that long? Sheesh,” Nebraska scoffed.

“Well you had been at work all day. I was snoozing the whole time.” You said in that melodic voice of yours. How were you this chipper even in the dead of night?

~*~

The two of you continued on the road until finally making it to your Uncle and Aunt’s home. It was well after 1 a.m. so you and Nebraska did your best to sneak in quietly. You were grateful they still kept a spare key in a potted plant just in case someone ever got locked out.

You and Nebraska creeped upstairs and made it to your room, it seemed, without being detected.

“Sheesh, I’m exhausted,” you said stretching out on your bed. Nebraska came in afterwards, carrying your luggage and his because he was still ever the gentleman.

“There’s a-“ Nebraska’s sentence was cut off by your bedroom door swinging open to reveal your Uncle carrying a steel baseball bat, eyes alert.

“Uncle RayRay!!!” You squealed jumping up to hug the man.

“Do you all have any idea what time it is? We weren’t expecting you to get here until Wednesday,” he croaked. He had clearly just woken up.

“It is Wednesday. And we wanted to get ahead of the traffic,” you pointed out.

“Well you nearly gave Mabel a heart attack. Williams, good to see you, boy. Let me show you to your room,” He said indicating for Nebraska to follow him.

“You as well, sir” Nebraska said, following your Uncle, his luggage in hand.

You had never really thought about it but you’d always just assumed Nebraska would stay in the same room as you, just like at home. Then it dawned on you, your Uncle had no idea how bad Nebraska’s sleeping patterns were. You thought maybe you should mention it but there was no way he’d willingly allow you and Nebraska in the same bed without a marriage certificate between you two. He was old fashioned that way.

So you reluctantly just resigned to your bed alone, the exhaustion from driving sending you immediately into slumber before you even had a chance to unpack.

~*~

The next morning you came downstairs to none other than your Aunt’s amazing home cooked breakfast. She was hovering over the stove still making Breakfast while Nebraska and your Uncle were seated at the table, already eating.

“So nobody was gonna wake me up?” You yawned, taking your seat next to Nebraska.

“Figured you’d be out til dinner the way you sleep,” your Aunt said putting down your breakfast in front of you. French toast, sunny side up eggs and her special fried hash browns. Your mouth began to salivate just looking at it.

“Thank you MaeMae,” you said, digging in. Breakfast carried on peacibly but you kept glancing over at Nebraska. He seemed tired, and quiet. Well he was always quiet but a little more than usual. Maybe he was a little uncomfortable here. The last time he saw his General, he had put a bullet through his brain. He never told you the reason why because you two never talked about it but you’d bet Raynard knew. And that’s probably what made it so awkward.

“Alright now Y/N I got a list here for you of things I need done today. I need you to run by the store and pick up some...” Your Aunt Mabel began naming off the various ingredients she still needed for Thanksgiving tomorrow and the other chores she’d assigned you for today. Even though you were an adult, she still believed in putting you to work.

“There. That shouldn’t be too tough,” she said finishing the list of tasks and handing it to you, “Maybe you could take that quiet fella with you, he’s pretty big, he can help you carry some of that stuff.”

“Oh Nebraska probably doesn’t wanna be bothered running errands with me,” you said shrugging off the notion.

“Sure I do,” Nebraska was on the other side of the kitchen leaning against the counter. Both you and your Aunt jumped in surprise, neither of you having heard him even enter the room.

“Good lord boy, anybody ever told you about sneaking up on an old woman! About to give me a heart attack,” Mae said clutching her chest.

~*~

“Why do we need so many flowers, again?” Nebraska asked as he watched the florist load bundle after bundle of fresh cut flowers into your car.

“Mae takes any holiday when family comes over serious. One time she ordered over 20 preplanted trees for Arbor Day. Ended up giving them away as party favors as everyone left.” You said smiling at the memory.

“So it’ll be pretty packed tomorrow, huh?” Tre said watching the florist load the last bundle into the car.

“You have no idea.”

~*~

You couldn’t sleep. You’d tried everything from drinking tea to counting sheep but your body just couldn’t seem to fall into restful bliss without a certain burly figure wrapped around you.

You’d thought about going to see what he was doing, if he was still up but you refrained, not wanting to bother him.

He’d been... weird about things since the camping trip, even tried sleeping in his own bed again but you’d eventually broke him down by acting as if nothing had changed. That was a lie though, everything had changed. Where you merely acknowledged his attractiveness before, you now ached at the sight of him. The mere thought of his lips, so soft and inviting, was enough to send you into a frenzy. When his hand was on your stomach you could practically feel the strength beneath his fingers. You often thought of his strength and stamina. Fantasized about it actually. Fantasized about him getting rough with you, throwing you around before returning to his default sweet nature, making up for it in every possible way.

You were interrupted mid-daydream (or night dream since it was a little past 11p.m.) by a round of small knocks at the door followed by Nebraska peeking his head in.

“You still up?” He asked. You nodded and he came all the way in, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked and you felt that familiar shimmer in your stomach as your insides intertwined.

“Of course,” you said a bit breathlessly. He crawled in next you and it was actually a bit... awkward.

“I missed you,” you quipped, interrupting the silence. A goofy grin instantly broke out across Nebraska’s face, which he tried to hide via scratching the back of his head and looking away.

“I, uh, gotta admit I feel the same,” now it was your turn to be bashful.

“Why are we acting like we never see each? Like we didn’t just spend the last two whole days together?” You giggled and Nebraska smirked.

“I guess this is..... different, you know.... more... physical....” he was staring at your lips and you unconsciously bit your lip in response. That seemed to break his trance and he glanced up, a look of guilt marring his perfect features.

“I should probably-,” he said shifting away from you to stand up.

“Nebraska please, don’t...go,” your arm was now wrapped around his chest in an attempt to keep him from leaving. He was so warm, the curls of his chest hair tickling your fingers. His muscles were tense, you could feel them flex beneath you.

“I need you...” you whispered and that’s when the dam broke between the two of you. Nebraska pivoted in your arms, crashing his lips to your own. This wasn’t the same kind of kiss as in the woods. This was something completely different; something hungry and desperate. You could feel him still holding back so you decided to go all in, returning the smooch tenfold, both hands leaving their position at his torso to cup his face.

“Y/N...” he moaned, you felt like you might pass out. His hands latched themselves to your hips, pulling you into his lap. Your hands shifted from his jaw to his shoulders in order to steady yourself, pulling him even closer, meeting his eagerness with your own.

“Take thi- shit,” he moaned as you perched your full weight onto his lap, his already awakened member there to greet you.

“Too much? Am I too heavy?” You asked, beginning to rise from his lap only to have him pull you back down.

“No, you’re perfect babygirl. More than perfect,” he began kissing down your neck, his teeth grazing against the base of your neck hard enough to bruise.

You were melting beneath his touch. He was so quiet and reserved in his daily life so to be succumbed to his passion in such a raw and unfiltered way made your head swim. You never thought a man of his beauty, candor, and strength would look twice at someone like you yet here he was, your touch alone powerful enough to leave him a moaning, whimpering figure of lust beneath you. It gave you a surge of confidence you’d never quite experienced in the bedroom before.

“Take this off,” Nebraska said tugging at your night shirt. That’s when you remembered you weren’t wearing a bra. Meaning you’d be completely exposed to him, pooch, rolls and all.

“Hey, it’s just us here, okay?” He said pecking your lips when he sensed your hesitation.

“O-okay. Can you get the light?” You nodded towards the lamp on you side desk next to your bed.

“As long as I’ve been dreaming about this moment? No way, I gotta see you,” Nebraska said biting his lips, his eyes gazing over you with pure karnal lust. Your stomach fluttered.

You took your shirt off and he was immediately in awe. He gently took one soft mound in his hand, plopping your already hardened nipple into his mouth. Your nails dug into his shoulders as his tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh. Nebraska smirked at your obvious arousal, the vision of his pristine white teeth against your brown areola was almost a work of art.

When he began to go for the other nipple you pushed him back gently, crawling off his lap but he swiftly pulled you back on.

“Where are you going?

“Shhh... just relax,” you said and he finally let you go, allowing you to maneuver yourself between his legs, pulling his boxers down. His swollen member sprang free of the fabric and for a second you thought you might be hallucinating. He was certainly bigger than any man you’d ever been with, and his girth definitely looked more delectable, the pigment from his shaft to his head all one even color that matched the ebony complexion of his skin.

“You were hiding... all this... this whole time?” Your eyes were fixated on his throbbing length.

“Didn’t think you would care either way,” Nebraska said in a breathy voice. You gazed into his brown eyes in utter disbelief before returning to the task at hand.

You kissed your way up his thighs slowly to tease him, dragging your nails lightly along the sensitive area. His dick jumped in excitement.

He was already leaking precum, the head glistening with his essence. You gripped his base and feathered kisses up his shaft, teasing his head with your tongue. The second you took his tip fully into your mouth, he shuddered, gripping the bedsheets for dear life.

“Relax, Braska, let me take care of you,” you said in what you hoped was a ‘sultry’ voice. It had been a while since you’d gave a man head and you were racking your brain, trying to make sure there wasn’t anything you forgot with the inexperience of time.

You slurped him from base to tip, taking your time to get it extremely wet so your hand could pump him easily. You made sure to spit on it just for extra measure and you swore you saw Nebraska’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

You took him into your mouth and immediately hollowed your cheeks, sucking his over sensitive tip while pumping his base. You alternated between this motions and deep throating him as far as you could take him, making quite the show of gagging on his incredible length. You traveled down further, making sure to not to forget his scrotum, sucking one half and then the other while your hands handled the main attraction.

Where Nebraska was tembling before, he was a blubbering mess now, moaning your name along with a string of curse words as he chased his own pleasure. He took one hand and brought it to the back of your head, guiding you back to his swollen tip. You knew he couldn’t keep his orgasm at bay for much longer so you switched into full concentration mode, paying close attention to what would get him over that edge. His hand on the back of your head was gripping you so tight, you thought he might snatch your headscarf off.

“Shit, Y/N, don’t stop. Please, baby, right there, right there,” he begged and you made sure to adhere to him. Right as he was about to explode in your mouth, he grabbed himself and took it out, opting instead to nut on your face. You graciously accepted his release , the warm essence coating your face. You couldn’t help but giggle as he smeared some of it across your lips with his head, tapping the semi-firm member against them.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Nebraska asked out of breath. You shrugged as you got up to go wash your face.

You’d were in the middle of wiping off his ‘gift’ when he followed right after you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Nebraska, I gotta wash my face and brush my teeth,” you cooed, grabbing a clean face towel and your night routine face wash. Nebraska turned your head to the side, capturing your lips in one of the slowest, sloppiest kisses you’d ever experienced, emphasizing his tongues presence in your mouth as a ‘Thank You’. When Nebraska finally let your lips go he continued clinging to you, only unwrapping himself once so that he could clean off his own member.

Once the two of you were clean, you took to bed. Nebraska, in a position much similar to earlier, engulfed you in himself, peppering you with kisses until he fell asleep. You fell asleep soon after, still not a hundred percent sure if what had just transpired was real or a dream.

~*~

You woke up noticeably cold. And alone. You glanced over to the other side of the bed to find it empty. That wouldn’t be that unusual any other morning but then the events of last night came flooding back to you. You couldn’t believe how brazen you’d been with him last night and the embarrassment immediately came crushing in.

Also why wasn’t he here? There wasn’t a single sign he’d ever been here. Even back home it was unusual for Nebraska to just silently wake up and creep out like a thief in the night. He probably came to his senses about you last night, which is why he’d ran for the hills.

What more could he possibly want anyway? You’ve already sucked him off. He doesn’t need to entertain you anymore. He got what he came for.

You tried to shake the negative thoughts from your head as you hopped in the shower but they were incessant.

What if he was in a relationship with Tonya. You were so desperate for him last night, you hadn’t even thought to ask. What if you made him a cheater because you couldn’t control yourself around him and just had to jump at the chance to show him you could be a slut. What would he want with one of those anyway when he has a woman like Tonya waiting for him back home.

As you walked down stairs you saw Nebraska moving tables with your Aunt supervising. You couldn’t bare to make eye contact with either of them. It didn’t matter because Mabel heard you anyway

“Y/N! About time you woke up girl, I need you to run down to Annie Sinclair’s- you remember Miss Sinclair don’t you? I need you to runs down to her place and pick up the four Pecan Pies she was supposed to have delivered yesterday,” Mabel said scribbling down the address. You nodded and grabbed your keys, leaving without a word. You didn’t notice Nebraska’s intense eyes longingly look after you as you left.

~*~

By the time you returned back home with your Aunt’s pies, there were cars filling up the driveway and parked on the street out front.

You carried them in but the kitchen was full of different dishes, along with her cooking and you had no where to put them. You sat them down on the dining table and hoped that would suffice for now.

You wandered around looking for her, speaking to various extended family members. Almost everyone here was from her side of the family but they didn’t treat you any different.

“So how’s that museum going baby? What is it you do there again?” You great Aunt Lettie asked.

“Well actually I-“

“Y/N! Girl I been looking for you everywhere! Come on in here and help ya Auntie in the kitchen,” Mabel said thundering down the stairs. You said your condolences to Lettie then followed your Aunt into the kitchen.

You looked around as she began stirring something in a pot, “So what exactly was it that you needed help with?”

“Oh child, nothing. I just know how Lettie gets and she’ll talk your head off all day if you let her,” she chuckled, throwing on her Apron. You sighed in relief, sinking down in a chair for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Tired?” Mabel quipped.

“You have no idea,” you rubbed the side of your temples trying to alleviate a potential headache in its tracks.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you actually slept at night,” you felt your heart drop as your eyes flew open.

“Save it. I went to fetch that boy this morning so he could move some furniture around for me. Imagine my surprise to see not only his room empty but that he’d some how stumbled into yours. Better be glad it was me who drug him out of there and not your uncle.” She turned her attention away from stirring the pot to... well... stir the pot.

“There’s nothing going on between us... we just sleep next to each other. But we’re not... like that,” you averted your eyes. Wait, did she say she drug him out of your room this morning?

“Sell that tale to some other simpleton, I’ve seen the way you been eyeing that man. And more importantly, how he looks at you. That’s love, honey, clear as day,” Was it that obvious that your heart ached for him every time you were in a five feet radius of the man?

“I... I.... I didn’t mean for this to happen...”

“For what to happen? To fall for him harder than a piano with a paper parachute?” She didn’t need an answer, your face said it all. “Look, I don’t know exactly what you two got going on rattling around in those big, pretty heads of yours but what I do know is if there were ever two people who needed a little love, deserved a little love in their life, I’m looking at them.”

You felt like you could cry. You’d been so in denial about everything you felt for this man for so long that now faced with your own feelings, they almost threatened to overpower you.

“I- if he doesn’t feel the same, if this is one sided- I- I’ve never really felt this way about anyone before. If he rejects me, it’ll tear me apart. I can’t risk the heartache,”

“Child the world is full of heartache the same way it’s full of rejection. That’s just the nature of life. But one things for sure, nothing will ever come of the two of you skirting around each other like a pair of mice. You need to clear things up even if it doesn’t go according to your plan, which knowing you, you probably don’t even have one. Go talk to the man.” And that was that on her lecture. She turned around and resumed stirring whatever she was cooking on the stoveto, only glancing over her shoulder when she noticed you hadn’t moved.

“I meant now.”

~*~

“And that’s when I told him, ‘look, I don’t care if the god damn Marshal himself rides up on a golden chariot and declares the sanction with feathers flying straight out his ass, I’m not moving my platoon for nobody!’” The table Nebraska was currently sitting at burst into laughter and he cracked a smile to be polite but he didn’t have the slightest clue what the conversation was about. Didn’t really care to be honest. His mind was on one thing and one thing only, that thing of course being you.

It all still felt like a dream to him, he’d almost believe it was if he hadn’t woke up in your bed. Correction, somebody woke him up and it wasn’t you. One look at your Aunt’s face and he knew the jig was up.

“Come help me move some tables, big fella,” she said closing your door behind her. He pulled on his sweatpants which had still been discarded on the floor and followed behind her. He stopped quickly in his own room to grab a shirt. Thank god you’d had the mind to cover up after last night’s escapade. That would only make the situation look worse.

Nebraska was sure he was in for a lecture but the older woman continued on as if she’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, giving out various orders to get ready for the day. Preparation that was much needed by the way. In only a matter of hours the house was filled to the brim with more people than Nebraska could have possibly anticipated. But that was hardly a problem because that gave him ample opportunity to avoid you.

He didn’t know what was going through his mind last night but he had embarrassed himself beyond belief. Looking back, he wished he’d done so many things differently. He wished he had been man enough not to ejaculate so early. He wished he had took care of your pleasure first before obtaining his own. He wished he had thrown all the foreplay out the window and been inside you. When you came downstairs this morning and wouldn’t even look at him, he knew you regretted it. Of course you’d expected more out of him. He had expected more out of himself, but he promised himself if he ever got the opportunity for such intimacies with you again, he’d ravish you the way you deserved.

And oh did you deserve it and then some. The way your mouth had worked Nebraska last night, he could have died a happy man right then, right there. You sucked him off in a way he’d never been before, leaving him completely putty on your well-versed hands. You obviously must have had quite the experience in this area because you knew exactly what to do at every turn, getting him to his release faster than he could himself. Just the thought alone made him crave you, want to seek you out. It had been easier for him to deny his sexual urges for you when he had no point of reference but last night had only served to intensify his need to bed you. A need he’d probably never satisfy after his embrassing performance last night.

Nebraska realized he was completely lost to the conversation with the oldhead army men around him, friends of the Lieutenant no doubt, so he respectfully excused himself then went to head upstairs. He needed a moment to himself to collect his thoughts and stop obsessing over you. But it looked as if luck wasn’t on his side today.

As he began his ascension up the stairs you were coming down and suddenly, your eyes locked. You looked just as beautiful as ever, your mauve skirt and Jean button down accentuating your tempting chubby figure. His mind immediately went to the feel of your curves molding against his own physique, the memory of your delicious weight on his lap igniting a fire in him. He really needed to calm down.

“Hey...” you said in a voice he almost couldn’t hear.

“Hey,”

“Can, um, can we talk?” You asked tugging at the bottom of your skirt.

“Course,” Shit, Nebraska knew where this was going.

“Okay, um..... in here,” she tugged his arm and pulled him into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“We need to talk about last night,” Nebraska’s blood went cold.

“I’m listening...”

“I didn’t mean to- That wasn’t my intention to- if you- I wasn’t trying to-“

“Save it, Y/N. Just forget it ever happened.” Nebraska couldn’t listen to this. He couldn’t hear how much you regret being with him. What easily was a night of utter perfection for him was nothing more than an impulsive mistake for you and that realization hurt too much to hear verbalized.

“Nebraska please just... let me talk. Even if you don’t care about what I have to say, at least let me say it. Please...,” your voice cracked and he could hear the tears you were fighting back in your voice. He thought about storming out to save himself from having to watch this breakdown but he knew him leaving would only cause you to burst into tears and he just couldn’t do that to you. So Nebraska resigned to leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, indicating to you that you had his full attention.

“Ok look. I- I don’t know the full nature of you and Tonya’s relationship but I’m not an idiot. I knew something was going on with you two but I still went after you anyway and I just want to apologize profusely for impeding on your relationship with her,” you took a breath, “but I feel I owe it to you, and to myself, to be honest about my... feelings the last few months. I- I’m not the most experienced with men. I often read into things way too much. I’m anxious to a fault. But either way, I somehow deluded myself into seeing your kindness and gentleman-like ways for something they weren’t. I- I began developing feeling for you when I shouldn’t have. And for that I apologize.... again.” You took another breath, swallowing this time.

“You’re a great guy. One of the best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Last night... I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not so aggressive, especially sexually, and I’m sorry for coming at you like some sort of deranged animal in heat. It wasn’t right and I promise you it’ll never happen again. I know all hope for the two of us being as close as we were is out the window. And I don’t blame you for that, by the way. It’s my fault and I take full responsibility. I just hope, that maybe, in time you’ll be able to forgive me and I can move on from feeling like this. I promise you I’ll get over it, I just need a little time but until then I was hoping we could at least remain friends. I know that’s a lot to ask but I don’t really think I could handle if things continued like this with you ignoring me completely. I know I’m probably being overly sensitive right now but it just... hurts....” you trailed off. Nebraska hadn’t said a word, his body frozen in that spot while his mind raced to process everything you’d just told him.

“Are you finished?” His voice was low, rugged.

“.... yeah, I guess I am,” he could hear the disappointment.

Nebraska walked up to you, cupping your jaw with hand as he captured your lips in his own. You eyes bulged out of your head in shock and for a second he though you were going to push him away.

“N-n-Nebraska I-“

“Shhhh. You got your chance to speak, now it’s my turn,” he returned to your lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you onto the bathroom counter. His hands traveled under your skirt, gripping your thighs, undoubtedly his new favorite part of you. You let out a squeak of surprise when he suddenly pulled you flush against him.

“I’ve been agonizing over you since I met you. You think any man could be in proximity to all of this-“ he smacked your ass “and not want to break you in half? If you’re delusional then I’m in this fantasy right with you because I’ve been enamored with you for months. But you just seemed so disinterested I.... I couldn’t... I didn’t know...”

“Hey, it’s alright.” You cooed, cupping his face. He rest his forehead against your own, grateful for the intimacy.

“I just need you to know this isn’t one sided. You have nothing to apologize to me for, not now, not ever.” Nebraska wished he could say more. Wished he could articulate more coherently exactly how deep his feelings went for you. Wished he could express how you made him feel like he wasn’t such a monster, like he was worthy of his own personhood, even if he doubted it himself most times.

Nebraska opened his eyes to see you staring at his lips, the wanton look in your eyes making his cock throb. Yes he wanted to proclaim his undying love and affection for you but he also wanted to fuck you so good your pussy would need crutches the next day.

“C’mere,” he growled lowly and you almost bounced off the counter wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him. He could appreciate his position of standing between your thighs however he knew realistically he couldn’t fuck you right here in the bathroom. Not with the house damn near filled to capacity. No, he’d have to show a little more restraint for your sake and his own.

“And, Y/N, about last night...,” Nebraska said breaking the kiss. You hummed in reply as you began trailing kisses down his neck.

“How did you expect to give head like that and not have a man fall in love with you?”

~*~

A/N: What y’all think? Told y’all I was gonna give y’all some action if you stuck with me 😘😘 I hope y’all liked this chapter because I actually worked harder on this one than any other chapter so far. As always please let me know what y’all think, it really helps me get ideas for the next chapter. 💕💕🥰

Everything Taglist:

@chaneajoyyy @queennanayaa @ultracrii @notsomellowmushroom@jesforpres @thehomierobbstark @thadelightfulone @amelatonin@quietstorm-73 @destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @wawakanda-btch@steampunkprincess147 @purple-apricots @macfizzle @caswinchester2000@marvelmaree @supersizemeplz @all-the-blog-names-were-gone @savagescorpion @ghostfacekill-monger @raysunshine78 @blessingz2x2@sydneebleu @erikaintdead @amazonian-strap-queen@acceptyourselfloveyourself @kenbieeereadss

Trevante Only Taglist:

@heavensangelxo @scoopdiwoooo @chillavesss @tionneec @l-auteuse@babygurlniah43 @whereistheblow

Old Masterlist: (Will Not Be Used After Completion Of This Series)

@chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy@killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots@blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73@sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles@bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks@blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88@labelletemps @wawakanda-btch @supersizemeplz @purple-apricots @musicloveand-pride

[aaetherius]

@lunaetis​  (Three Word Starter Call - freedom + stars + hope: Nessa)

    By now the typical hustle and bustle of the cafe has died down, and the only remaining customers are those who frequent the shop or the ones trickling in from the tournament that had concluded not too long ago. The cheery voices of up and coming trainers could be heard humming against the windows of his modest coffee shop as they passed by - gossip about the victors of the match and how they dream of one day being able to challenge the Champion himself. They remind him of the same talk that was popular back in his home region - which he was away from for the time being in order to get a new shop set up in another region after the popularity of his original skyrocketed back home, though, for as popular as battling was in Kalos, it was far different from the types of matches held here, in Galar. Though, this was all guesswork on his part. He had yet to actually witness a battle, and had little desire to watch them take part when all of his time was consumed by running the cafe and inviting various new flavors of coffee that could be served to trainers and Pokemon alike. Even so, the energy of the hopeful trainers was somewhat contagious, and he found himself humming a joyful melody with a soft smile stretched across his lips as he brewed a few extra cups for himself and his assistant - the small Eevee perched upon his shoulder with his fluffy tail swishing around behind his head as he watched the man work.           

      “Hmm, perhaps we should come up with a flavor that represents this city and its Gym Leader?” He muses quietly so as to not disturb the trainers sipping their cups in the far corner of the neat, but rather plain cafe. Tables and chairs a lovely auburn upon smooth tile floor of black and white while wide windows seemed to compose nearly every wall - allowing starlight from the night sky to seep in, and cast a silver glow over the interior. “I wonder what a fitting name for the drink would be? The sea seems to play a rather important part in this city, so it would only make sense for the flavor to remind patrons of the shore, wouldn’t you agree?” He absentmindedly works through the motions as he speaks - the art of making coffee so ingrained in his muscles by now that he would have whipped up a cup with his eyes closed. His chin tilting slightly to look up at the small creature who offers him a muffled trill in response that sounds nearly identical to the tune he had been humming a moment ago. A smile, and his hand reaches up to ruffle up the ivory fluff upon the creature’s neck as he carefully takes hold of a ceramic mug, and pours the creamy contents of the kettle into it. 

     “And yet, capturing such a flavor might prove difficult...” He seems lost in thought, infected by the cheer that bubbles just outside of the glass walls from what he can gather, is the direct result of the Gym Leader, he believes her name is Nessa, winning a rather difficult match tonight. Enough so that he carelessly lifts that piping hot cup to his lips to take a sip, much to the dismay of his campion who attempts to swat at his bandaged fingers from far too many unfortunate accidents with boiling water with his tiny paw but his efforts fail, and he the searing liquid burns his tongue as it slides down his now aching throat. Wince visible as he works through the pain with a muffled sigh as he sets the cup back down to cool before covering his mouth with his hand. It was far from the first time he had managed to burn his tongue, and he doubts it’ll be the last, though he does hope to differ. If his tongue could resemble the sorry state of his hands, well, he imagined it would. But his expression remains pleasant. It’s been some time since he’s had the freedom to come up with such ideas. 

       “What would do you believe the sea tastes like, Eliya?” His endless rambling earns him the tap of a paw against his cheek, and he’s forced to look up from his work as the Eevee mews into his ear, attention finally turning away from the coffee maker to the smooth countertop behind him. Surprise paints his features when he spots the woman waiting, but it lasts for only a moment before his expression softens in greeting, and he makes his way over to her. “Forgive me, it seems I allowed myself to get a bit too caught up in my own thoughts. What would you like?” How much of the conversation she had overheard he doesn’t know, but he imagines she had heard most of it. And, yet, he is blissfully unaware of the fact that the Gym Leader he had heard so much of throughout the night was the one standing before him right now. Still rather new to the region, he hasn’t had the time to properly become acquainted with anyway. “This one will be on me, and I would be more than happy to prepare anything you can think of.”     

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt #18: Secrets? I love secrets.” 

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: AgentReign (Alex x Sam)

Warnings: None

The birthday card is sitting on her nightstand when she wakes up that morning. Sam says nightstand because it’s sitting beside her bed, but it’s more of a table and her bed is more of a cot. The DEO has been lovely and accommodating but Sam desperately misses home. She misses cooking, Ruby, and having a daily routine that doesn’t revolve around her learning how to pick up things without breaking them. Kara has been a wonderful teacher. Thoughtful and caring as Sam had always known her to be, but it’s Alex who surprises her the most. Helping out with Ruby, attempting to cook meals and bringing them for Sam to try, and - best of all - being the first and only person who has hugged her in the past month. 

The card is big and the only thing it says on the front is "Happy Birthday to My Favorite Bitch". Sam laughs, thinking it’s some kind of prank, but when she opens it, she sees that everyone in the DEO has signed it with little comments like "we love you, Danvers" and "thanks for having my back" in the field and that’s when Sam realizes that it’s a card for Alex. 

Sam stares at it for a long time. She thinks about just how much Alex means to her. How much those feelings have grown and changed into something that Sam isn’t certain she recognizes. Signing a card doesn’t seem like enough but Sam doesn’t think she knows how to explain everything to Alex’s face. Stuck at an impasse and wasting far too much time, Sam drowns in inaction as she watches Kara enter the room and pick up the card. 

“Thirty, can you believe how elderly Alex is?”

“Kara, I’m thirty-one,” Sam deadpans earning a rightful look of embarrassment on Kara’s face. “I didn’t know it was Alex’s birthday. I wish someone had told me.”

“Oh, duh.” Kara shakes her head. “Alex wouldn’t say anything. She hates celebrating them anyway.” That doesn’t make Sam feel any better about the situation. She feels left out like always. “Can I tell you a secret?’

“Sure.”

“Lena rented out Alex’s favorite restaurant for tonight. She’s going to love it! Food, family, friends…” Kara trails off, realizing the implications. “But seriously, she's very chill about all of this.” 

Kara leaves soon after, lying about needing to go to work, and Sam does what she always does on quiet mornings like this. She puts on clothes, which are basically nurses scrubs, and goes in search of coffee. She’s learned that the coffee they make in the break room is garbage and she’s much better off going to Winn or Vasquez’s desk for something better. On her way to find them, she sees that Vasquez has a box of doughnuts on her desk and immediately beelines it to her. “Heyyyy-.”

“Yes, you can have one,” Vasquez tells Sam without even looking up from her computer. “It’s Danvers’ birthday today. Did you know?” 

“Yeah.” Sam looks around as she takes a giant bite out of her doughnut. “Where is she?”

“Conference room, upstairs. I think she’s hiding away from all the birthday wishes. J’onn sang; you should’ve seen how red she got.” Sam would’ve paid to see that but for now, she walks down the long hallway that leads to the conference rooms. Alex isn’t hard to find. She’s tucked away in the corner, with her laptop sitting in her lap, and a mug sitting at a table nearby. She’s watching something intently. Sam nearly turns around and jogs away, but Alex catches her eye through the glass.

“Hey,” Alex presses a few buttons on her laptop, closes it, and waves Sam into the room. Sam immediately notices that Alex is wearing joggers, tennis shoes, and a purple hoodie with the strings unevenly dangling around her chest. Alex notices Sam noticing her and she laughs. “I get to dress down, it’s my special day.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Sam tries not to sound too disappointed, instead, she takes a few steps closer to Alex. “Your…” Sam motions for Alex to stand up. “This is bothering the hell out of me,” Sam says as she tugs at the strings on Alex’s hoodie to even them out. While Sam is busy trying to restore balance in the world, she can feel Alex’s eyes on her. “What?”

“Nothing, I…” Alex blushes and walks over to her backpack. She unzips it and pulls out a wrapped gift. “I got you something.”

“I don’t think you understand how birthdays work.”

“I do, trust me.” Alex hands the gift to Sam. “Open it.” Sam does, slowly, like it’s a bomb. She doesn’t know what it could be but it doesn’t feel right. Being trapped in the DEO, missing out on celebrating her friend's birthday, getting a gift from said friend out of the blue. 

A mug. 

Like one you’d get at an art fair. It’s richly purple with specks of turquoise on the handle. Sam looks up at Alex hoping she’ll say something. “Eliza took me to this pottery class as a pre-birthday thing. I made that. For you.” Alex rubs the back of her neck. “Well, you said your favorite color was purple and I…”

“Alex.” Sam wraps her arms around the agent to stall the rambling. “Thank you.” Those are the words Sam says but what she really wants to say is: you are the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Because that’s the truth and those are the words that Sam has been holding onto for weeks now. A mug might seem like a small gesture but it makes Sam want to cry. “Happy birthday, by the way.” Sam mumbles, pressed cheek to cheek to Alex. “You should’ve told me.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Alex insists. She goes over to the fancy pour-over coffee set up they have in this room and begins the brewing process. 

Sam takes a seat at the large and very cold table. “It is a big deal. I would’ve gotten you something. Like...some free toilet paper. Or...Winn’s Tupperware.” Alex snorts out a laugh. Sam considers the possibility that she might be in love. “What were you doing up here all alone anyway?” 

“Oh.” Alex leaves the coffee to brew, grabs her laptop, and sits down next to Sam. “My mom sent me this.” Alex opens the laptop and clicks on a video file. What Sam sees nearly gives her a heart attack. It’s a video of Alex, no more than ten years old, surfing with a man - who Sam can only assume is her father. “This is at the beach near my house in Midvale. That’s my dad,” Alex explains. 

“You’re good,” Sam remarks honestly. 

“One of my many talents.”

“You sure you’ll still be able to surf, now that you’re certified geriatric?” 

“We’ll have to see when we go.” Sam turns to Alex. Now she’s worried. Had they talked about going surfing before? If they had, then Sam doesn’t remember, and if she doesn’t remember then she might not be fixed. “Ruby and I have been plotting.”

“I wonder what else you two have in store for me.”

“How about a new water filter in your fridge and a new ladder?” 

“What happened to the ladder?” Sam asks.

“I broke it. It’s wooden. Who gets a wooden ladder?” Sam ignores that and tries her best not to think about how much time Alex is spending with Ruby. Ruby talks about Alex a lot. Usually, if it’s just the two of them sitting in Sam’s ‘room’, Ruby perches on the end of her bed going on and on about how great Alex is. If Lena’s there, Ruby will try and sneak in some curse words and put the blame on Lena for being a bad influence. Sam always wants to ask: are you safe, are you happy? But she never can. “We’ll get you home soon.”

“I’m still learning how to turn on lights without breaking the entire wall. It’ll be a while.” 

“Sooner than you think. Though…” Alex tugs at the sleeve of Sam’s scrubs. “You look pretty cute in these.” Sam's heart warms in a way that can only be described as juvenile. “Shit. The coffee.” 

Alex grabs Sam’s new mug and fills it, putting in one creamer and two packs of sugar, which only makes Sam more enamored. She remembered what she likes in her coffee, the last person Sam dated barely remembered Ruby’s name. 

“You shouldn’t even be at work today. You should be enjoying your birthday out in the real world.”

“This is the real world too.” Alex pours herself a cup of coffee in a much less exciting white mug. “You’re here and you seem very real to me.” 

“I’m an alien.”

“You’re Sam,” Alex reminds her. “Don’t forget that.” It is easy to forget who she is sometimes. She’s been trapped in this place for so long. Not trapped. Rehabbing. The problem is that Sam doesn’t recognize herself anymore. Without her power suits and ‘normal’ routine, who is she? Barely a mother anymore. Barely even a person. The day flutters by in a blink of an eye and Sam has to watch everyone leave and pretend like she doesn’t know that they’re all going to celebrate Alex’s birthday. She finds that it’s surprisingly easy to squeal and laugh along with Kara while also staring at Alex across the room. She’s longing, genuinely, and it scares her. 

“Well…” Alex says with her bag slung over her shoulder. She’s standing at the threshold of Sam’s door. From what Sam remembers, Alex has never actually stepped foot into the room. I want you to feel like you have your own space, Alex had told her on day one at the DEO. “I should get going. I bet Kara has some kind of thing planned for tonight.” 

“Goodnight, Alex.” 

“Yeah…um…” Alex doesn’t leave the door. “Goodnight, and if...if you need anything, you can call me.”

“I should let you have your fun, birthday girl.” Alex smiles and toys with the strings of her hoodie. She starts to leave but then turns around. Her eyes find Sam’s. Alex doesn’t say anything but her nails digging into the frame make Sam think that she’s certainly laboring over something. “I’ll be fine here.” 

Alex nods and goes on her way. Sam spends the next hour racking her brain and trying to figure out if she’s ever felt like this before. Is this a crush? Is it because she’s been stuck here? If that’s the case, then surely she’d have crushes on Vasquez, Winn, and Kara too. Sam is determined to come to some kind of conclusion about her emotions and she’s also is determined to ignore it all. Alex is her friend. That’s all. 

So when she’s sweeping the floor, for the second time that day, and trying to kill time, she nearly jumps out of her skin when she spots Alex standing at her door. Alex has changed out of her casual outfit and gone for something nicer - dark jeans, a button-down, and a blue blazer. In Alex’s hand is a plate covered in foil. “I didn’t know if you’d still be up.”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at your party.”

“You knew?” Alex, finally, steps into the room. She sets the plate down on an empty table. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s called a surprise party for a reason.” Sam peaks under the foil and sees that it’s cake. Red velvet, Sam’s favorite. 

“Can I tell you something?” Alex asks suddenly. “It’s kinda something that’s been on my mind a lot recently. But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Oooh, a secret? I love secrets.” Alex gently places her blazer on the back of a chair and leans against Sam’s makeshift desk. Sam is not about to sit around and wait until it’s appropriate to eat cake, she digs right in and plans on blaming her Kryptonian genes if Alex says something about it. “What’s up?”

“There’s this girl. Woman.” Alex clears her throat and starts again. “Over the past few months, I’ve started to realize that I might have a crush on someone. She’s gorgeous and so funny. But every time I try and admit my feelings to her, I...clam up.” Alex looks at her feet. “I don’t know if she’s just not interested or maybe hasn’t noticed how much I always want to be around her.”

“She sounds like a dummy. Right up your alley,” Sam jokes. Alex looks more confused than ever. 

“Yeah, well...I don’t think she’d even notice if I left an important event just to come talk to her.” Sam tries not to feel jealous. If Alex is interested in someone else then surely that’s good. Sam can let this crush die before it builds into something she can’t control. 

“You should kiss her. Honestly. Sometimes words are just...blah.” Alex looks at Sam the same way she did earlier. Instead of lingering and leaving, Alex approaches Sam, who - at this point - has red velvet crumbs on her face. 

Alex kisses her so softly that she thinks it’s a dream. Sam keeps her eyes closed, too frightened of waking up. “Did I break you?”

“No.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No.” Sam opens her eyes. “You...thank you.” 

“For?”“Trusting me not to hurt you.” Sam hands her fork to Alex. “Join me?”

“Yeah.” Alex eats a bite of cake and smiles at Sam. 

“Good birthday?” 

“Good birthday.” 

[bewitchedfeathers]

Blessings Part 2

(Part 1 - https://bewitchedfeathers.tumblr.com/post/186570695909/blessings-part-1 )

(DO NOT REBLOG TO NON KINK BLOGS PLEASE AND THANK YOU)

Aziraphale rejoins him with tea for them both and Crowley sniffles over the steaming cup picking up conversation with the angel. They banter and Azriphale rambles about his most recent book acquisitions. 

While Aziraphale is thoroughly distracted with a story of an unfortunately determined and rude customer, Crowley reaches into his pocket slipping a single finger into the baggie just brushing through the powdery incense. He pulls out his hand and gives his nose a quick rub and then settles into wait.

“Can you believe it?” Aziraphale finishes his story outraged. But Crowley holds up a finger as the tickle in his nose rises to a burn, “Heh-Hh-hold -HEHtsh..Hh--heghshht hktSHuh..” He stifles as best he can against his wrist. 

“‘Scuse me.” He mutters sniffling wetly, returning his eyes to the angel across from him, “What were you saying?”

Aziraphale’s mouth opens and closes for a moment, before clearing his throat, “Oh um...I was just saying that it was quite um-unbelievable how that man behaved…”

“Hnnn…” He rubs at his nose a bit as it prickles, “Yeah sounds like a right prick.” He agrees trying not to let on how much he’s enjoying seeing Aziraphale slowly losing his careful composure in the face of Crowley’s suffering.

“Yes, indeed he was.” Aziraphale says taking a moment to sip from his tea and collect himself. “But enough about me, what have you been up to?”

“Managed to get up to some trouble using….” He trails off rubbing at his nose again but lightly in such a way as to stir the tickle instead of calm it. His nostrils flared briefly in irritation and his breath hitches just once before he sighs. “Hnnn...sorry.” He looks up at Aziraphale from under his lashes and finds him looking like he’s trying to drown his feelings in tea as he takes several large swallows, cheeks flushed again.

“Anyway, as I was saying got up to some trouble using the main company that you can receive internet through ‘round here, and...a-hah-nd….Hh…” He presses his index finger knuckle hard up against his nose, wanting to draw this out a little longer before the fit he feels brewing truly hit, his breath hitches two more times but he manages to hold it off.

Aziraphale was gripping the mug in his hand tight enough that his knuckles were white, his cheeks having darkened to a deeper red color, eyes focused entirely on Crowley. Crowley sniffles against his finger before lowering his hand and continuing as if nothing had happened, “..and set things in motion to make the internet load things halfway and then stop indefinitely. People will go mad trying to reload things over and over.”

“Very wicked, my dear boy,” He says with barely there disapproval, obviously distracted.

“Other than th-hh-that it’s been...Hh---heh Heh….” Oh he isn’t going to be able to stop this time but maybe just one he thought. With his breath hitching sharp and desperate he raises his elbow tucking his face into it, “Heh...HEKT-chussshh Hh-HKTcht..Hehtchoo….” He pinches his nose, massaging it between two fingers as he blinks blearily making sure he could stave off anymore for the moment.

Aziraphale licks his lips unconsciously, clearing his throat which felt suddenly dry, “Crowley are you sure you’re alright, you’ve been….quite...ehm quite bothered this evening?” He says avoiding even saying the word sneeze.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just a tickle. Been bothering me on and off, nothing to worry about, Angel.” He says trying to shut down any further questions about his health.

Aziraphale doesn’t look convinced in the least but waves him on to continue nonetheless.

However before Crowley can even start talking again the tickle in the back of his nose sparks with a vengeance at the back of his nose and he finds his face falling helplessly as his breath begins to hitch again. He turns his face towards his elbow but is too caught up in the overwhelming urge to sneeze to get his elbow all the way up to his face.

“Hh-Heh...Heeehh..HEH--HEASHOO HEPChushoo HETCHSSSH HEPTSSSH heh….,” He pauses long enough to snap a handkerchief into being and bury his nose into it before the fit takes him again, “Hh...HeH...HiieeeeHTCHUH..HExchst--Hkshxt..Hekxsht..Heh-heh-Heeeh HEEEAAAASSSSHHH..hhnnnnggghhh…” He blows his nose into the kerchief with a little groan of relief. 

Aziraphale stares wide eyed and red faced as Crowley is overcome with sneeze after sneeze, he can’t contain a shiver as he buries his face into a handkerchief completely helpless against the tickle in his nose.

 When Crowley finally stops he can’t help but exclaim, “MY GOODNESS Crowley, Bless you!”

Crowley’s face immediately crumples at the blessing sneezing harshly into the kerchief still clutched in his hand. “HA-ESHUH!”

“Oh lord--um-sorry dear…. “ He apologizes flustered, nearly fumbling his tea as he goes to set it aside. “But Crowley I’ve never seen you react this way unless near holy objects. I don’t know what it could be but it must be something in the shop….I just don’t know what it could….”

Crowley sniffles looking distinctly….shifty. Aziraphale frowns “You know what’s bothering you don’t you?” He accuses, “Then why…?” He looks completely bewildered.

Crowley finally calls him out “I’ve just noticed something recently and wanted to see if I was correct. It seems like you get especially flustered when I...sneeze.” He says pausing for dramatic effects.

Aziraphale immediately looks defensive, if his wings were out they would have been puffed up and fluttering, with a mix of embarrassment and protective display. “I-What? Crowley that--is-just-...That’s preposterous...I don’t--”

Whoops apparently Aziraphale was a bit more uncomfortable with this than he thought. He immediately goes to his side, reaching out a gentle to hand to settle on the angel’s shoulder. “Angel, it’s alright. No need to be embarrassed, I was just curious was all.” He says gently, trying to calm him. 

He turns to sneeze abruptly into his shoulder. “Ugh, sorry.” He rubs his nose again, now was maybe not the time to keep teasing his poor angel even unintentionally.

“Look, I just thought….” he rubs the back of his head showing a bit of his own shyness, “well I like to indulge you sometimes (all the time). And I thought that maybe this was something I could indulge you in too sometimes, if I could get you to admit it…at least that was the plan...”

Aziraphale looks like he’s been hit over the head, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly, “Indulge me?...” He speaks hesitantly. 

“Well yeah, I mean I got some church incense and that was all it took---”

“You got some what?! Crowley! You could have hurt yourself.” Aziraphale stands, hands fluttering as if he wants to pat Crowley down for injury, his face a judgemental frown. 

“I’m fine, angel. It won’t hurt me, just i-hih-itches something fierce.” He rubs at his nose trying to stave off the sneeze so they can talk without distraction but itch doesn’t fade in the least, “Suh-huh-sorry I’m gonna….huh...gotta…” He turns away from Aziraphale “Haa-AAESSHH!” 

“Ugh sorry…” He said turning back to Aziraphale, sniffling against his knuckle. 

Aziraphale was blushing and biting at his lip, eyes rapt on Crowley’s face. 

“Like what you see?” He says with a sniffle and a grin, unable to resist his angel looking so gloriously flustered and entranced.

“I, oh um….y-yes. I do.” He ends soft and shy, hands twisting in front of him, finally admitting it aloud.

Crowley brushes his hand across Azirphale’s pink cheek and can’t contain the soft smile at how cute his angel looks. “Will you let me then?” He says warmly, leaning in to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s opposite cheek.

“Let you…” Aziraphale trails off swaying towards Crowley.

“Indulge you?” He whispers letting a hand trail down to Aziraphale’s hip petting it softly as he meets Azirphale halfway in a sweet kiss, pulling away slowly as he waited for his answer.

“I...are you s-sure? I don’t want you to be...uncomfortable or-or feel unwell.”

“It’s just some sneezes, Zira. I promise I don’t mind.” He pauses his voice getting a little huskier, “I like how it gets you all aflutter. Like how you can’t look away.”

Aziraphale turns even redder as Crowley leans in to offer warm assurances and praise. “You’ll tell me if it makes you uncomfortable though? Or if it hurts you in anyway?”

Crowley wants to tease him over how worried he is about Crowley but he can see how anxious Aziraphale is about it so he refrains. “I promise, Angel. If it truly bothers me, I’ll tell you.” 

He presses another soft kiss to Aziraphale’s mouth, but then abruptly pulls away, Aziraphale chasing his lips for a moment before he sees why Crowley pulled away. His body turns as much as possible from Aziraphale as he lets out a sudden loud sneeze towards the floor.

He blinks blearily for a moment, uncertain if that’s all but after a moment he sniffles and turns back towards Aziraphale. “Excuse me…” He mutters.

Aziraphale swallows heavily and then after licking his lips, “Bless you…”

Crowley’s breath hitches and he barely manages to get his arm up in time to sneeze loosely into his elbow, “Heh-Hept-chUSHOO….” He sniffles wetly and then smirks wickedly at his angel, taking on a chastising tone, “Hnn- you know what that does to me, Angel….”

“Yes….is that...alright…?” Aziraphale says voice still uncertain but with a hungry look in his eyes that delights Crowley.

“If that’s how you’d like me to indulge you then I’m more than happy to oblige.” He says warmly swooping in for another kiss.

(The End?? - might write another short bit. Please feel free to leave comments and requests!)

[pointy-hat-witch]

daisuga 29

29 - Kiss as a promise

ahh my two lovebirds!! thank you so much!!

you can ask for another prompt from this list!

---

„Excuse me, could you look at this photo for a second?“ Suga handed the nth passerby a flyer with a photo of a tabby cat, grinning at the camera. “She is missing for a few days, have you seen her?”

Suga tried to not sound as desperate as he felt, but in all honesty, he didn’t believe his polite smile for a second either. The young couple shook their head after they didn’t even glance at the flyer for a second, bowing politely and shuffling away.

“Thank you for your time.” Suga swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat. His cat, officially named Princess Fey but was called by way too many other names, had seen her chance when Suga opened the window after almost burning his cookies. Fey sprung from the windowsill outside, graciously fell down the metal ledge and landed on the balcony of their downstairs neighbor.

Suga dashed down in a panic, knocking on their door frantically but by the time they were on the balcony, Fey was gone. Suga had asked his other neighbors, searched in the garden, tried to lure her with her favorite food, toys, pillows but to no avail.

Sleeping was almost impossible, his thoughts swirling around where his cat could be if she was safe if she had enough to eat. Work barely distracted him, rather making him clumsier and earning a rare scolding. Sure enough, just working at the counter on a small café wasn’t rocket science but for some customers, it made a difference if the coffee brewed for 4 minutes and 30 seconds or 4 minutes and 45 seconds.

Suga huffed, pressing his lips into a thin line before collecting himself and handing out the next flyer to someone else.

After 2 hours of walking and asking around, Suga ran out of flyers to give out but with no clue whatsoever. He bit his lips, furiously rubbing at his eyes which filled with tears the nth time in the last few days.

“Uhm”, a person cleared their throat and Suga snapped his head up.

“Yes?” Suga stared into the deep brown eyes of a man his age who held up one of Suga’s flyers.

“Are you the one looking for this cat?” The man scratched the back of his head in uncertainty, a faint blush on his cheeks. Suga’s throat dried out but he managed to nod, nonetheless.

“Yeah?” From the start, Suga promised himself not to have too much hope but the warmth that spread through his chest betrayed that promise.

“I have her.” The man bit his lip. “I mean, she stood in front of my door two days ago and it was raining, and I couldn’t just let her stay outside, so I took her in. I had a lot of work to do the past few days, so I had no time to bring her to a shelter or anything to look for a chip or anything. I don’t exactly know what you do with stray animals, sorry.”  

He took a deep breath after rambling on and on, Suga’s eyes never leaving his face.

“You have her?” Was all Suga could whisper before tears spilled over, a relieved sob breaking through.

“Y-yeah, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should have co-“

“N-no, it’s fine, thank you so mu-much.” Suga hiccupped. “I’m happy she’s fine.” He rubbed over his face, ignoring the mess he most definitely made.

“C-can I-“

“Of course!” The man was already rummaging through his pocket for a handkerchief, giving Suga a small smile. “I don’t live far from here, just down the street.” He pointed into the opposite direction Suga was searching this day. Inwardly Suga scolded himself, but he knew, ultimately, he couldn’t have done anything differently.

“I’m Daichi, by the way.” The man suddenly said when they started walking toward his home, Suga blowing his nose discreetly. “Sawamura Daichi. But Daichi is fine.”

Suga smiled. His heart pounded in anticipation in his chest, but also, because this stranger was illegally handsome, which was a problem for Suga’s poor gay heart.

“Sugawara Koushi, but everyone calls me Suga.”

“Suga.” Daichi confirmed with a nod. “Nice to meet you.” He put out his hand that Suga eyed curiously before taking it.

“Nice to meet you, too, Daichi.” They smiled at each other, a somewhat awkward but comfortable silence forming between them.

“This is it.” Daichi said after about 5 minutes. It wasn’t really far from Suga’s home, either. Daichi opened the front door and motioned over to the stairs. “The elevator … let’s just say, I wouldn’t trust it.” It sounded way to conspicuous as if Daichi had made a bad experience first hand with the elevator, but Suga didn’t dare ask yet. Maybe the next time they see each other. If they saw each other again.

Suga nodded wordlessly, following Daichi upstairs. After the second floor, Suga made a mental note to start working out again. On the fourth floor, Daichi bend down to seemingly tie his shoelace but Suga knew he did that, so he could catch his breath and he was never more grateful for anything in his life.

Daichi lived on the 7th floor, which explained his thighs (that Suga totally did not check out as he walked right behind Daichi), with two other tenants. Daichi led them to the door in the middle, fumbling with his keys for a second before he found the right one.

Suga had half the mind to entertain the thought that Daichi could be trying to kidnap him or anything, but all rational thinking were out the window when the door opened and Suga heard the distinctive meowing of Fey.

“Price tag!” Suga exclaimed before rushing past Daichi inside the apartment, his tabby cat running toward him. Fey made a huge jump and landed right into Suga’s outstretched arms, snuggling up under his chin, purring like a lawnmower.

“Oh, I missed you!” Suga cooed, blinking the happy tears away as he scratched Fey all over, pressing her against his chest.

“Price tag?” Daichi chuckled behind him, toeing off his shoes. Suga didn’t stop administrating Fey but his ears tinged a rosy color.

“Long story.” He shook his head with a smile. “Well, not that long. Her name is Fey and she only eats the most expensive food wherever I go to shop as if she has a sixth sense what’s the priciest.” He shrugged. “So, it’s just…” Suga bit his lip, pressing a kiss on Fey’s head. “She is a little pricy but worth every cent.”

Daichi walked up to them, patted Fey on her back, nodding knowingly. “And here I thought she was just missing her owner or something, turns out she’s just a little spoiled.”

“A little? Daichi, she is the most spoiled cat in the world.” Suga giggled, Fey meowing almost offended.

“Yes, we’re talking about your decadent palate, Missy.” Every word dripped with affection though. Snapping out of his almost trance, Suga jerked his head up.

“I owe you so much, Daichi. What can I get you? Do you want a reward? I pay for all the cat food you bought, any laundry you had to do extra! Did she made a huge mess?”

“Slow down, Suga”, Daichi held up his hands, “everything’s fine. I don’t need a reward. Fey was a really pleasant roommate.”

They stared at each other, Suga cocking an eyebrow. “We both know that’s not true.”

Daichi cleared his throat, rubbing his head. “Okay, well, yeah, she … she has sharp claws and a- a healthy appetite.”

“Oh my god, did she ruin your couch?”

“No!” Daichi yelled out a little too loud. “Sorry. I mean, no, she didn’t. Just a pillow I was about to throw out anyway, so no worries.”

Suga furrowed his eyebrows, scanning Daichi’s face for any hint of lying but found nothing. Huffing out a sigh, Suga pressed his face into Fey’s fur.

“I need to get you something, I would feel so bad if I got you nothing in return. You brought back the light of my life. That is worth so much.”

“Your…?” Stopping himself, Daichi’s lips twitched and he covered his mouth with a hand. “Alright. I know something.”

Blinking through his eyelashes, Suga looked up. “Yes?”

“How about coffee? The two of us?”

Staring at each other for a few seconds, Daichi’s cheeks turned red. He averted his eyes, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

“I’m sorry, that was- you don’t- I me-“

“I’d love to.” Suga chuckled, pressing his face back into Fey’s fur, certain that his ears were a deep red.

“Good.” Daichi sighed in relief. “Good”, he repeated a little firmer.

They exchanged numbers, both of them wearing a faint blush on their cheeks as they bumped elbows, not being able to hold eye contact for more than a second.

“Is there any chance”, Daichi leaned against the door frame as Suga walked outside, “spending time with you will not end this eventful?”

Suga let out a hearty laugh, chest rumbling against Fay who purred in comfort.

“No promises, Daichi.”

--

Their first date ended in a thunderstorm, both of them drenched as they ran home and Suga falling into a puddle he tried to jump over.

Their second date, they decided to go watch a movie, they went for the last screening and were locked in the movie hall because the staff forgot someone was inside actually watching a movie on a weekday at 1 am.

Their third date, they went out for a fancy dinner, everything went well. They arrived on time, had the most delicious food, had a good time, the staff was exceptionally polite. Just, on their way home, Daichi’s car broke down. They had to wait for over an hour to be towed away since it was the weekend and apparently a lot of people had car problems.

Even though each and every date, even the dates to come, somehow always ended not as expected, Daichi and Suga enjoyed their exciting adventures. It was fun or at least they made it fun which was all they needed.

After a few months of dating, they kind of avoided talking about where this was going for the time being and just enjoying each other’s company, they spent more and more time at each other’s places. Mostly at Suga’s so Fey wouldn’t be home alone too often and for too long. And, well, because Suga always missed his little PawPaw whenever they were separated.

Daichi sat on the couch, feet perched up on the coffee table and Suga lying with his head in his lap. Daichi carded through his silky hair, slowly scraping over his scalp. Sighing every now and then, Suga had difficulty holding his eyes open. The show that was running was long forgotten for him, rather paying attention to the big hand in his hair and the woody fragrance of Daichi’s perfume.

“Hey, Suga”, Daichi’s low voice dragged him out of his drowsiness, making him turn his head upward to meet Daichi’s eyes.

“Huh?” Suga slurred, voice thick with sleepiness.

“I like you.”

Suga’s eyes snapped wide open, all sleepiness was forgotten.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

Breath hitching in his throat, Suga had to lick his dry lips.

“Didn’t we already go out?” He rasped.

Now it was Daichi’s turn to blink rapidly at Suga, mouth opening and closing. “Well, yeah”, he cleared his throat, his cheeks blushing deeper and making Suga smirk ever so little, “but, you know, I mean. Officially. Being together.”

“Oh, that’s what you mean.” Suga hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, lips pulled down in a frown.

“I don’t know, Daichi, did I give you any hint that I would want something from you?”

“You…” Daichi shook his head in disbelief, barely suppressing a smile. He sneaked his arms around Suga waist, holding him in place before starting to tickle Suga’s sides. Suga burst out laughing, wriggling in Daichi’s iron grip.

“I don’t know, Suga”, Daichi said mockingly, “did you?”

“D-D-Daichi!” Suga laughed, cheeks deep red from laughing and his eyes glassy with tears. “Please! I surrender!”

Stopping his attack, Daichi raised an eyebrow, watching Suga still giggling and whipping away the tears from the corner of his eyes.

“Please never change.” Daichi whispered way more affectionate than intended, bringing Suga’s attention back to him. They stared at each other for a few seconds before a wide smile split Suga’s face from ear to ear. That was confirmation enough that they wanted the same. Suga grabbed Daichi’s collar, pulling him down.

“I promise.”

He breathed warmly against Daichi’s lips right before he closed the remaining distance between them.

[perfectassumptions-ff]

2

"Harper Smith" echoed in Isis' head as she stood in front of the man she shared a dance with just two nights ago. As she smiled and shook his hand, small panic started to work its way up her spine. Ignoring the tingling in her spine, she recited the speech she prepared while she was en-route to campus.

"Well, Mr. Smith, it is great to finally meet you. Again, I'm sorry that I'm late. Morning traffic was a little heavier than usual. It looks like you've gotten yourself settled in." Isis said as she looked around him and at his bag and books that were already set up on the table.

"Have you already gotten your usernames for the computer systems and Coursework?" Isis trailed on as Harper examined her facial features and was almost lost for words at how beautiful she was. The dark didn't do her justice, he thought to himself. His eyes searched her eyes to see if there was a sense of familiarity but she was hard to read.  Isis could tell he wasn't listening to her, so she politely waved her hand in front of his to get his attention.

"Oh...umm. Yes ma'am" Harper responded as he scratched his head.

"I read over the class schedule and you’ll be teaching two classes this semester. I hope that isn’t too much for you starting off.” 

“No ma’am not at all. I’m actually excited about teaching here. It’s always been my dream to teach at Columbia University.” 

“Well when you have a minute after you have gotten through your first day of classes, stop by my office. Until then, I’ll leave you to it." Isis said as the first couple of students started to trickle in. As Isis started her way back up the stairs she came down, the few early students greeted her with warm hellos, she politely waved back but her mind was somewhere else. As she took the last step, she quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure what just happened actually did. Seeing that Harper was still standing in the same place with a devilish smile on his face, she knew that it was real.

As Isis exited the classroom her mind continued to play the last five minutes over in her head. She moved through the now chaotic hallways almost in slow motion. Students waved as she passed and Isis absentmindedly waved back. Walking into her office she was met with the smell of brown sugar which meant her student assistant was here before she was. “͞Great͟” Isis murmured as she rid herself of her overcoat and briefcase. She walked over to her Keurig to make herself a much needed cup of coffee. As she debated over what flavor she wanted, her office door came swinging open and in walked her overzealous student assistant. 

“͞Dean DuBois! I’ve been looking all over for you. I even tried to call you but your phone is off. Well I wanted you to know that the new professor was here and let me tell you he doesn’t look like a professor. He is actually too cute to be one. Did anybody check his credentials? I mean all the girls are talking about it….” Zoey was rambling and Isis wasn’t caffeinated enough for it and she was still unsure if her recent encounter was real or not. 

Isis started to rub her temples as Zoey continued to rant on. “͞Zoey, you’re rambling and I haven’t even had my coffee yet.͟ And yes I know the new professor is here we just had a brief introduction.” Isis turned her attention back to her decision of what coffee to quick brew and just opted for a generic Dunkin Donuts’ pod. Popping it in the machine she pressed brew and turned to face Zoey.

Isis was ready to walk in to her office when the door opened and a few students entered. They came in to check to see if she needed any extra TA’s for the semester and before she could answer Zoey said a quick no. Isis chuckled internally because she now knows why people think she plays favorites. Even though Zoey can be long winded she is a hard worker and an overall great TA. Isis doesn’t have to ask much of her overzealous assistant and that works perfectly for her. The now disappointed students muttered an “oh okay maybe next semester” and exited her office. 

“So Zoey, how was your break?” Isis’ back was now towards her again as she picked up her cup of hot coffee.

“It was cool! I didn’t do much. But I think I found the perfect seminar project for your class this semester. It is so awesome! I’m telling you, you’re going to love it!” 

“I thought the point of a break was to take a break. This is your last semester with me Zoey, I want you to enjoy it.” Isis gave her a warm smile. “So what is this project you came up with?” Isis motioned her head toward her office door and Zoey followed her ready to present her idea. As Isis sat at her mahogany desk her office phone started ringing. Before she was able to react to it, Zoey answered it.

“Dean Dubois’s Office how can I help you?” Isis shook her head. She knew deep down inside that Zoey always means well but sometimes she forgets that this was in fact her office and this big office came with a secretary and she often walked the line of being more of a secretary then her TA. 

“Hi President Stevens! Yes, Dean Dubois is here. Yes, please hold” Zoey handed the phone to Isis and then made herself comfortable on the high back leather chair that was opposite of Isis. Isis stared blankly at Zoey and waited for her to leave her office. Zoey finally looked up and caught the vibe that she was sending. “I have class anyway.” She muttered as she collected her stuff and left. 

“Hello President Stevens. Welcome back!” Isis tried her hardest to sound upbeat but at the moment she just wanted to slide out of her shoes drink her coffee and catch up on emails before going to her first class. Isis blew into her coffee before taking a sip. She hissed when the scolding caffeinated drink burned the tip of her tongue.

“I came by your office today and I was surprised to see your TA and not you. Did you forget you had to meet the new member of your faculty?” Isis immediately rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“No, I did not forget. I spoke with him and we are meeting after classes today. And don’t you mean your new faculty member? This is your pick not mine. I don’t even know if he is qualified to handle this position. He doesn’t even look like a real professor.” Isis knew she sounded like a spoiled child but she was protective over her department and didn’t like anyone messing with it. The Dean and Isis went back and forth for a few minutes until she decided she was finished with the conversation and politely excused herself because a make believe student was at her door.

“Isis, do not run this professor off. He is a great addition to your department. Play nice!” And with that the phone went dead. Isis was left with a puzzled look on her face. “Did that man just tell me to play nice?” Isis scoffed. “Asshole” she said out loud.

Scoffing to herself, she realized it was time for her morning class, grabbing her still hot coffee and her laptop bag she exited her office and headed to her classroom. As she walked down the hall she made a pit stop by Harper’s class and popped her head in. He was in the midst of discussing gender roles and how they’ve changed over the last 20 years. Isis was slightly impressed with what he was saying and was getting ready to walk out when one of the students raised their hand.

“So, Professor Harper, what role does your wife or girlfriend play?” Isis studied the young students body language and it oozed sex. Isis rolled her eyes and let out a small scuff. She didn’t stay to hear Harper’s response because she knew that he would play right into that young students fantasies. She left the spot she was in and finished her walk to her classroom. Her thoughts were still all over the place. Dismissing them, she entered the classroom and set her stuff up. 

The door flew open and in walked her first students, they all said hello and found a seat. Isis unpacked her laptop and phone, and placed both on silent. Just as she was about to take a seat, she overheard one of the students say “Girl, have you seen the new professor? Whew, I would love for him to teach me some roles…… in the bedroom” the group of women gave each other high-fives and giggled. Isis was appalled at the lewd comments that the group of students were making. 

“Dean DuBois! Have you seen the new professor? I want to thank you for giving us some eye candy! Isn’t he fiiinnnneee?!” Another member of the girl group was now the one giving everyone a high-five.

“Yea he is something, alright” was all that Isis could mumbled. This man was giving her a headache and she didn’t even know him.

[celestialvinyl]

like real people do -- part two. [brian may]

read part one here. 

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE! sorry it’s taken soooo long to add on to this, but i didn’t really know where to go for a little while and i love brian so much and just didn’t want to make anyone unhappy??? anyways, here it is! please enjoy it -- but only if you want to. okay, i’m gonna stop rambling now. 

word count: 4.1k, i think?

warnings: some swearing, a poop joke?, thoughts of wax throwing themselves into a fire, and general sleepiness. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

A scoff came somewhere from the direction where Elton stood. Brian was pretty sure it was him, but Freddie held the same expression nearby, so he couldn’t be sure. Sharon and Melina were in agreement so often, Brian wasn’t sure where one of them stopped and the other started. “I thought you said this wasn’t a joking manner.” He sighed while pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead. A migraine was quickly coming on from this discussion, and he didn’t know how long he could take everyone going against him. Then there was the question of where the headache was coming from, too. “If we’re going to be serious, then let’s be serious, alright?”

“Fine, you want to be serious?” Roger shot back. As he leaned against one of the many pillars from the museum, he stared at his friend with something between pity and a real anger. This discussion had been going on for too long now, simply put. It should have been a cut and dry sort of thing, but the languid looks Brian was giving when you were brought up was too much for anyone to take. Especially considering this was a conversation about you. “Tell her you like her.”

Brian stood still for a moment; he could see everyone waiting for him to respond — but there wasn’t much to say. “I can’t.”

“And why not?” Roger wanted to scream. He was sure his friend had a good reason to stay quiet — and no one would be upset that he did so. However, holding these sort of conversations on the nights you were away were getting to be too much. Brian needed to stop being so indecisive and say something before Roger threw himself into a fire and let himself melt away. Brian’s lonely pining and desperate attachment to some girl that knew he existed in this particular form was uninteresting, to say the least. However, this discussion seemed to believe differently as it always veered towards you and Brian’s feelings towards you. As Roger met Brian’s state, he responded.  

“Because I don’t want to scare her off.”

“Your feelings for her definitely won’t scare her off,” John piped up. He couldn’t outright say anything because he promised you he wouldn’t. (Keeping promises was about all the man had in terms of morality, since he wasn’t quite sure where he stood on that plane, but he was destined to keep them.) John figured he would assure Brian anyways.

“But he’s got a pretty reasonable point.” Paul puts in. From his spot balancing on a glass case, he’s tuned in and out of the conversation. “When it comes to scaring her off.” Partially selfish (and selfless in the same regard), he didn’t want to imagine nights without your presence. Nights like these, when you chose to get some rest instead of running around with everyone, were often so boring.

“He won’t.” Roger fought. “She definitely likes him.”

“You should have seen her when she decided she was going to ring Bri out when he kept trying to leave her alone.” Freddie rolled his eyes. “She was practically rabid.”

Brian thought back to the night and just how much he felt the guilt as he watched you come into the astronomy, wing with pain written all over your face. You felt betrayed, he knew that much in the moment. But he hadn’t known how badly you would feel about him leaving you alone until you said it. And then he felt like a horrible person. He had felt like a horrible person for weeks now. “Because she was upset at me.” Brian tried to explained. He’d be upset if a friend just abandoned him like he had done. “I was a bad friend, and she knew.”

“He’s hopeless,” George mused. The feather in his hat sagged as he set his face into his hands. The bright color of his salmon suit did nothing to brighten the mood of the group. “He’s got about as much sense in him as a bird with a little brain.”

“You have to tell her, just to out us out of our misery.” Roger tried, one last time.  

“And it’s not like you don’t want to.” Ringo chimed in.

The subway was slow — it had to be. You were always on the platform by 7:30, and the train car would arrive a little while afterwords. It was a pattern you could depend upon in the world you were working with, where seemingly non-sensical things came out at you when you weren’t expecting. This pattern never failed — until this morning. You were looking down at your watch to find that the 7:40 had already passed. You did you best to calm a raising heartbeat, but all you could think about was how of course this would happen.

Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed so late last night? It had been a lot of work with Freddie and Roger about something for today, and you probably should have left before 3 — but with everything happening today, what were you supposed to do?

When the car finally arrived at 7:46, you hopped on and found a seat as you waited for the doors to close. They shut at 7:49, and opened once more at the destination at 7:59. You rushed out and up the stairs to the “fresh” air London brought — the light nearly blinding you in the process. You had to squint and keep moving if you were going to get to work within ten minutes. (Calling the Curator seemed pointless, since it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than give an excuse). Eventually, your feet scurried up the steps of the museum’s huge stone staircase and you could hear a bell tower sounding it’s ‘fifteen minutes past’ marker. Every pang of the bell sent a little more dread through your body. You did your best to scramble through the door before the last gong sounded.

The Curator watched you run past her office — of which the door was always open. Her eyes followed your rushing by with a little bit of an interested gaze as you headed to the offices underneath the museum. They tended to be a little stuffy, but at least they had those windows near the ceiling. Providing a little view to the few inches above the ground was nice to look at when the days dredged on sometimes. Although, you had to make sure to keep the windows closed when it rained, — far too worried about your work to take any risks. That meant you kept them closed a lot.

As you set down your things and checked your watch one last time — you noted it was only eleven minutes past 8. You could let out a sigh of relief. Your first meeting wasn’t for another few hours. The most important part of your day was only a couple of hours away, and you weren’t sure if you were even going to be able to keep yourself awake that long. Caffeine was the first thing you needed to do for the day, quickly followed by organizing the presentation — for the new addition to the contemporary artists section.  

While the coffee brewed on the other end of the hallway, you smiled to yourself. Knowing everything came to life at night presented you with an odd opportunity, to say the least. To say you felt a little like God would be sacrilegious — but true all the same. Investors wanted more of the musicians; you couldn’t say no. It was half excitement for picking out who would be next, and half understanding that the investors knew that’s what brought people in — surprisingly. The meeting was just to narrow down the options of what would rope people in, which included the likes of the Stones and The Police. There was only room for one new spot to add on though, and you didn’t know if you’d be able to pick. Then again, that’s what the investors were for.

A knock at the door left you turning your head to find the Curator. She took a step in, always so kind and gentle. You weren’t sure why — it was hard to get to where she was without fighting a little bit. As you offered her a cup of coffee, which she denied, you started talking to fill the empty space. “I’m sorry I was late. The tube train took off a few seconds too soon. I’ll be better about it next time.”

She waved it off. “Oh, it’s alright. I came down to make sure you were ready for meeting.”

You nodded. Of course you were.

Roger and Freddie had been kind enough to help you generate a list a few nights previously, while Brian sat close to you and provided some support — which included physical when you got too tired to keep yourself upright. His shoulder had been soft while you fought Roger on whether or not to include Sid Vicious on the shortlist. (“Nobody considers him the pinnacle of British music,” you had reminded him.)  

“Alright, good.” She didn’t need much more than a confirmation, and you watched her gracefully move back upstairs towards her office. Conversations with her were always this way — concise and to the point. There were probably more important things for her to do than to hover over you. Actually, it wasn’t even a probably. You knew there were more important places and things for her, just like yourself. You steeled yourself, reminding to focus on your few tasks at hand. Even as fatigue was starting to wash over you after the adrenaline rush of the morning, you pushed yourself and got to work…after a quick sip of coffee.

The day had passed by quicker than you imagined, and you didn’t really know what happened sometime around five. The meeting had gone well, and you guessed you dozed off when the work day was over. You did remeber there being a light breeze as you awoke; when your eyes fluttered open and you discovered the window above your desk still open, you could let out a sigh. With a gentle push off the desk, your arms reached out to close the damned thing. It felt nice stretching them from a postion other than holding your head off the desk.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were cold.”

A yelp came from you as your eyes darted over to where the voice had come from. Brian sat, a couple of your files from work dangling out of his hand as he watched you; you were pretty sure they were the files from the meeting. How long had he been there? You wondered. Hopefully, not long; you couldn’t bare to think of him hearing you snore.

“It’s alright.” Your hands came up to your lips, which were slightly chapped and a little cold — or maybe that was your hand. Actually, your whole body felt cold since you had decided to leave the window open so many hours ago. As you searched for your watch somewhere among the pile of things on your desk, Brian watched with a silent serenity that you could feel radiating from him. How the hell was he always like this? You could practically feel yourself buzzing as you tried to wake up, but he seemed like a rock against the waves you made.

Where was the damn thing? “Are you looking for something?” He still seemed to be skimming through your papers while he watched you rush around your desk. You thought he looked a little amused, with the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.  

“Just my watch,” you said.

He chuckled a little, lifting his hand to point to your wrist. As you followed his point, you quickly realized you had never even taken it off. Again, what the hell was wrong with you? First the subway this morning, then the snooze-fest in the afternoon, and now this? At least the meeting hadn’t gone this bad. As you checked the time and found it a little after seven, you forced yourself to take a breath and calm down a little. You still had all night to spend with everyone if you wanted. “Thanks,” you supplemented.

“The meeting went well?” Brian could tell from the smile on your face alone that it had gone better than you had hoped, and he figured you’d tell him all about it within time. He hugged your papers a little tighter, before setting them down, putting them in a neat pile on your desk. “Did you sleep well?”

“The nap? Yeah, it was alright.”

“Actually — last night? Did you get any sleep?”

You tried to remember what last night had even brought in your post-nap haze, but instead found that the only thing that came to mind was your head hitting the pillow beneath you sometime after 3. The alarm rang what seemed like a few seconds later. A shrug would have to suffice instead of a long-winded answer about how you thought you were surviving well on little sleep, with the occasional off-night. Maybe you should have a conversation with him instead about getting more sleep sometime. It wasn’t something for right now. “I got enough.” In an effort to aid any of Brian’s worry, you added, “I feel fine — if that’s what you’re asking.”

“As long as you’re feeling okay.”

He moved his line of sight towards the door, and you followed it. Right. There were things to do for the night, and you could start to feel the anticipation growing in your chest. You wondered if you were ever going to get used to all of this? Seeing someone like Freddie or McCartney nightly was too much to really think about, and to have someone as brilliant as Brian by your side? You still wondered if you were dreaming. Then you thought about how cliche the thought was, and banished it from your head. The climb upstairs and out of what you called the dungeons was quiet, aided only by yours and Brian’s light footsteps. There wasn’t much of a need to talk between the two of you; you’d figured out weeks ago that just having him by your side was enough. As the two of you walked into the main corridor, you spotted a head of curls much shorter than your companion’s and a sort of blossoming happened somewhere in your chest from admiration.

The security guard, Joe, greeted you with a big smile. “So, you have an excuse for tonight?” His voice boomed through the main lobby, bouncing off the walls made of beautiful marble and stone. You grinned, and felt your feet moving a little faster to get to the familiar face — the other human of the group.

“Not really,” you admitted. “But you know what’s going on now, so I don’t need one.”

“True. True. Hey — will you give this to Bowie?” He handed over a small book, nothing more than a light read.

“Did he ask for this?” You countered, taking the book from his hand and feeling your hand brush over his. Joe’s cheeks blushed a light shade of pink, but it wasn’t as though you noticed. Your eyes were trained on the little book, before stuffing it in your bag and making sure you’d find him later that night. “I’ll remind him to ask me instead.”

Joe was a funny character, who would much rather have found a passive place in the background — strolling through the halls all evening or in the control room watching from afar.  He wasn’t as fond of interacting with the legends, and you figured it had something to do with the fact this wasn’t exactly the most natural of circumstances. However, he was anything but rude. He was kind and considerate, especially to those he worked with (including yourself), and you were happy to call him a friend. Ever since the night when he walked in on you having an arm wrestling match with George Michael, and the subsequent hours spent walking him around and explaining everything, you two had been close. Shared trauma, you guessed. There was always a little ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ when you saw him, and he alway found time to chat you up when you were slipping into one of the exhibits after hours. You’d be waiting for someone, and he’d ask kindly what the guys were all like. How could you not give him an answer?

Joe nodded as a sign of greeting to Brian before heading off to his post for the night. Once he was out of sight and ear-range, your tall companion turned to you.

“I didn’t know you were close with the night guard.” Brian mused. You smiled up at him.

“Yeah, it’s nice having someone else who goes through the same process as you do — when you discover all this.”

“It’s a bit of a shock, I’m sure.” The two of you were headed down one of the quieter hallways, towards the astronomy exhibit and the Egyptian art. Everyone else normally congregated on the west wing of the museum, where you’d greet them each evening if they hadn’t already split up. You guessed Brian didn’t want to be around everyone else just quite yet.  

“Probably one for you, too!” You giggled as a response. “Suddenly you’re alive and you don’t have to go through all the years of pooping in your own diaper.”

He chuckled so softly, you swore your heart melted. Brian had a habit of laughing and letting his eyes flutter slightly, you had noticed. The act made him exude the softest of personalties, which worked so well with everything else about him — a juxtaposition to his job. How did a well mannered man become so synonymous with rock and roll? (Well, pop-rock in the later years.) Then there were nights when you would walk in him having a row with Deaky and you’d remember exactly why he worked so well with the title. There were the little smiles when he heard one of Queen’s songs on the radio station as you tried to finish a little work some nights, too. A man who prided himself on his work so much couldn’t be anything other than a rockstar, you guessed.

“Aren’t we all glad I didn’t have to go through any diapers?” He joked, bringing you back to the present.

“That would be such a hefty job — and a gross one too.” Your nose wrinkled up at the thought, and his followed suit. When you locked eyes, the both of you couldn’t help but chuckle a little it. You added in an after thought, “I would change them for you — but only if you asked.”

“Do you do that for all your good friends?”  

“Who said you were a good friend?”

Brian knew it was a joke, and he did his best to continue on with it. “Oh, am I not? Does Joe outrank me?” Maybe that wasn’t the right way to continue it, though. He always did his best to hide whatever he felt towards the night guard — something between an admiration for the effortlessness that he exuded when he spoke you you, and a hint of jealousy when Brian’s eyes would land on your amused expression.

“Some days.”

That definitely didn’t help whatever he was feeling, and he couldn’t help himself as he blurted out: “Do you like Joe?”

The two of you paused outside of the Egyptian art. He was joking, right? The quick blink of your mind that had you wondering why he would be asking that question so seriously left you as a flash of something red hot went through your whole body. “What if I did?” Altogether, not your best response — you needed to know the answer regardless.

The worst part was that he seemed so genuine in his statement, blinking at you with those eyes that just made you melt, when he replied. “Well, then — you should ask him out?” The heat coursing through your body was replaced almost instantly with something icier, like a dagger slicing through you. Why would he say such a thing? Did he know the feelings you did so well to hide away?

“Yeah, you think so?” He knew, he had to. Brian knew that you two would never work out, so here he was trying to push you onto someone else. You weren’t sure when your desolation turned into a sick vengeance; your emotions were so out of wack that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to pinpoint it.  

“Only if you like him.” Brian was quick to snap back. If there was any blood to run to his cheeks, he’d be blushing as he tried to hold everything down. Why were you so stubborn about this? Why couldn’t you just accept or deny what the two of you had, and just put Brian out of his misery. He was already forced to stay inside this damn building every night, and now he had to watch the one person he liked walk off with some other breathing person? “You don’t have to go out with anyone you don’t want to.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” You shot back, and Brian’s features scrunched up.

“Alright.” He was far from the normally calm man you enjoyed spending time with. Instead replaced with an agitated and annoyed man, Brian had his arms crossed over his chest and an expression you couldn’t quite piece together with how fast your head was whirling. Weren’t you just joking about poop a minute ago? A question about a guy you didn’t even like shouldn’t have set you off — because as nice as Joe was….he wasn’t Brian.

“I want to go out with you.”

Silence.

You weren’t sure why it slipped out, or why you felt as though you needed a moment of honesty in the middle of a fight. Was this a fight? You could remember your parents telling you honesty was always the best policy, but then you did stupid things like this and you had to wonder how well they thought through their logic.

“‘m sorry?”  Brian felt as though he was short circuiting. His head tiled in a questioning sort of manner. He would have to check and make sure that there was no part of him that was an animatronic like those silly things from Disneyland — the Pirates. (Sometimes he wondered. Being made out of wax in the 21st century had to have come with some kind of gimmick.) His choice of words weren’t the best, but he didn’t know how to act gentlemanly when you had gone on and said that.

Your shoulders sunk. So, this all for naught, huh? “Nevermind.” You waved him off, looking anywhere but at the man in front of you. Maybe you were looking for an exit; you weren’t quite sure. “Forget I said it.”

“No,” he struggled. His hands reached out for you, grabbing your wrist gently. He wasn’t going to let you get away so easily as though he could see your frantic eyes looking for somewhere else to be. “I don’t want to.”

“Brian—”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to ask you out?” He gave up. A humorless laugh fell from his lips. “God, it seems like forever.”

“Really?” The disbelief was beginning to settle, and you in turn could feel your heart soaring. The end of whatever this was was in sight, and a bright light seemed to be shining towards you. Brian guided you there with his words.

“Of course.”

In the thick silence that followed, you weren’t sure how to continue or get to that light completely. How could you just spill out the words that had tumbled out, and then expect everything to continue on like normal? “I don’t know how long I’ve liked you,” you admitted. “It just sort of happened somewhere along the way.” Maybe it was the night in the stars exhibit — or maybe it was something more mundane in moments that followed?

“I think I’ve always kind of liked you.” He admitted back.

Maybe honesty was the best policy.

Your smile blossomed like the flowers in spring, bright and vibrant and easy to adore. Brian’s smile was better though; his was like a whole field of flowers waiting to have others admire them. The way his lips parted to reveal those pearly whites left your stomach doing flips. “Oh, really?”

“Probably.” His hands went to find your own, fingers lacing together. There was that quiet again, effortless in it’s tranquility — aided by the smile adorning Brian’s face. It didn’t last long, however, because soon Brian was in a little fit of quiet giggles. It was effortless to follow, and you soon descended into the same giddiness he felt. He moved closer, and his forehead rested against your own. “I guess there’s really only one thing left to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Ask you on a date, of course.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Better Days

Summary:  Some days are better than others. Edge would know.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Notes: Been missing some of the side characters, seemed like a good time to pay them a visit!

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

At the exact time Edge always got up in the morning, his alarm went off. It barely sounded before he turned it off, scrubbing a gloved hand over his face as he sat up.

Next to him, Stretch stirred, his sockets barely opening. He caught sight of Edge and offered a sleepy smile before drifting back off, snuggling deeper in the warmth of the comforter. Edge’s soul cramped pleasantly at the sweet affection in that brief glance and he rested a hand lightly on Stretch’s back overtop the blanket, a silent return of that caring, before getting up.

By the time he stepped outside in his running clothes, the horizon was starting to lighten with burgeoning sunlight. The roads and sidewalks were clear for all that the temperature was below freezing, his route taking him past the school and the shops that were still closed. To him the cold was more bracing than uncomfortable, and he was sweating by the time he got back to their home.

Before he could go inside, he heard his name called behind him. Edge turned to see Jeff walking up the sidewalk. He was bundled up against the cold in an absurdly fluffy coat and mittens, only his eyes visible over the top of his scarf.

“Good morning,” Edge said, a touch warily, as he approached. “You’re here in town bright and early.”

“Yeah, Sans actually asked me to stop by,” Jeff’s breath froze in a cloud even through the scarf. “Said since his normal lab partner was taking a few days off, he needed a hand. I caught an early bus, though, so I thought I’d see if Stretch was awake.”

“Not in the slightest,” Edge assured him.

“Figured it was a long shot.” His grin was audible even as his teeth started chattering. He was visibly shivering even as bundled up as he was. Edge was better equipped to handle the low temperature with his HP. He didn’t doubt Stretch would shortcut directly into the chicken coop to feed their brood rather than step one foot out in it.

“That being said, you don’t need to spend the morning roaming the streets in this weather,” Edge told him crisply. “Come inside for coffee.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

In the time it took Jeff to strip off all his outdoor gear, Edge had a pot of coffee already brewing. Along with the cups, he set a plate of freshly made muffins on the table. Jeff plucked one up eagerly, tearing off the top and eating it with enough enthusiasm that Edge forgave him his messy habits.

“These are great,” Jeff said enthusiastically, hesitating as he reached for another, his fingers hovering uncertainly. Impatiently, Edge nudged the plate towards him, sipping his own coffee while Jeff liberated another muffin.

“I’m glad you like them,” Edge said. He grimaced as he watched Jeff pour cream and sugar into his own cup. No wonder he and Stretch got along so well, they probably had the same level of sucrose and caffeine in their bloodstreams. “What is it that Sans is going to have you working on?”

Jeff shrugged. “Beats me, but I thought it would be cool.”

Last week, that scenario wouldn’t have seemed ominous. But now…“I don’t believe I have to tell you to be careful and follow his direction?”

“Nope, but since you already did, I promise I will.” Jeff glanced at the ceiling, tilting his head towards the upstairs. “How is Stretch doing anyway?”

Edge didn’t care to discuss him with others, particularly his friend, despite knowing Jeff was coming from a place of concern. Instead, he said, “I believe he’d enjoy a visit from a friend, if you’re available after your finished with whatever Sans is subjecting you to.”

“I can probably manage that.” His enthusiastic tone belied the careless words.

A quick glance at the clock made Edge grimace. “I need to get going. You can stay here where it’s warm until you need to meet Sans, if you like.”

When they’d first met, if Edge had offered such a thing, he had no doubt Jeff would have awkwardly refused, perhaps even walked around outside shivering his way to illness until the allotted time.

Now he only hummed in agreement, reaching for another muffin. It gave Edge a feeling of satisfaction, to know Jeff was comfortable in his home. With a nod, he left Jeff to his coffee and went upstairs to quickly shower and change.

He had a stop to make before he went in to work.

~~*~~

The front walkway of his brother’s house was not shoveled, the snow damping Edge’s trouser legs as he waded through it. Not entirely a surprise; Red hardly needed to use the sidewalk and he was about as likely to make arrangements for someone to clear the snow as he was to do it himself.

The porch itself was swept mostly clear, the remaining snow tamped down, and Edge knocked firmly on the door, already making plans to contact one of the local teenagers about shoveling while Red was at work. He made another mental note to warn them not to step on the deceptively innocent porch. Not that his brother would set any fatal traps, but still…

When his brother didn’t answer the door, Edge knocked harder, impatiently, and he was about to try for a third when it finally opened, red eye lights peering at him through a narrow crack.

“boss?” Red asked, warily. He opened the door another bare inch, enough for Edge to discreetly push his foot through the opening.

“Not in a long time,” Edge corrected, and when his brother only stared at him, “Are you going to let me in?”

“think we can talk at work,” Red yawned, hugely and irritatingly fake.

“I am here now, and we will talk now.” He didn’t flinch as Red attempted to close the door on his foot, not even when he pushed harder, the bones threatening to crack. He only waiting patiently until Red gave in and opened the door, muttering vulgarities under his breath.

Edge pointedly ignored that there were two pairs of shoes on the mat, both distinct to their owners.

“all right, you’re in,” Red said impatiently. He was fidgeting oddly, picking at his gold tooth for a second before he caught himself, visibly forcing his hand down. That was a rare tell of nervousness; Red normally kept himself well under control.

“Sans…” Edge began, and he could only blink, nonplussed, as his brother abruptly let out what could only be called a verbal explosion.

“i’m not fucking talking to you about sans!” he snarled. “i don’t know what your pretty little goddamn liability has been telling you or what fucking business it is of his anyway, but he can wire his trap shut before i do it for him because—

Tempting as it was to let Red ramble on, if only to see what he would reveal in his careless anger, Edge was on a schedule. He was going to ignore the implied threat to his husband. This time.

“Brother,” Edge interrupted patiently. “I was referring to YOU. You may recall that I did call you Sans for most of my lifetime?”

To see his swaggering, overconfident brother deflate like a punctured birthday balloon was bordering on comical. Even his eye lights flickered, dimming as his temper cooled. “oh.”

“Oh, indeed. I only came over to return this.” He held out the e-cigarette he’d switched out yesterday. It hung in the air between them, Red staring at it with wide-eyed confusion that was no more convincing that his earlier yawn.

“what? why?” Red protested. “that was a gift! you can’t be pissy he’s vaping, it’s better than cigarettes. tell him to do it outside if it’s bugging you.”

He didn’t know whether it was more irritating that his brother was lying to him or that he wasn’t bothering to do it well.

“It’s not a matter of the vaping disturbing me. Your gifts come with strings. Or more likely wires,” Edge said dryly.

Red didn’t have the grace to bother with a sham of embarrassment. He only grinned as he finally took back the juul. “how’d you even know i gave it to him?”

“Simple. You just admitted it.”

“ah, fuck,” Red snickered. “never could fool you on everything.”

“You fool me on enough,” Edge shook his head. “I need to get to work. I suppose it would be useless to ask for a promise that you’ll stop trying to run surveillance on my husband?”

Red shrugged. “you can ask.”

“I’ll save my breath.” He debated on calling upstairs to Sans to let him know Jeff was waiting and decided against it. It was glaringly obviously Red didn’t want to talk about it with him and Edge wasn’t going to force the issue. Red was an adult, he could make his own choices, self-destructive as they probably were.

When he got back to his car, Edge took the time to knock any snow or wetness from his shoes and trouser legs before he climbed in. On the last harried drive to the hospital, they’d all tracked in dirty slush to stain the mats and upholstery. It hadn’t been a concern at the time, but he’d taken his car in to have it detailed over the weekend.

Normally he preferred to do his own cleaning, for their house and his office both. With a car, he’d deemed it best left to the professionals. The inside was like new, a cheery tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror.

He turned the radio station to an NPR station and drove to work.

~~*~~

The sense of relief that came over him to see Janice at her desk was indescribable. She looked a touch thinner and he could see the slight bulk beneath her jacket where he knew there was a bandage covering her stitches. But she gave him her normal smile when she looked up, professional and welcoming.

“Good morning,” Edge nodded at her.

“Good morning. I see you missed me,” Janice said wryly, gesturing to the neat but tall piles of folders and paperwork lined up on the end of her desk.

“Desperately,” he said honestly.

She looked startled but pleased. It turned into good-natured dismay when he set a paper bag on her desk and she groaned, “Did you bring in more muffins? I’ve already put on five pounds from what you’ve been sending to the house, you know.”

“Cranberry orange,” Edge told her and what was obviously only a thin hold on her control promptly broke.

“I’m going to ask for a raise for a new wardrobe,” she warned, fishing one out of the bag.

“You’d deserve a raise for your hard work.” He left her with that, her mouthful of muffin preventing any retort as he went into his office.

On his desk were neat stacks of papers, to sign, to review, to reject. Before he could do more than pull a stack towards him, his phone pinged and Edge picked it up with a frown, checking the message.

so if i come 2 meet u 4 lunch, can i borrow a kiss from u?

Amused, Edge sent back, You want to borrow a kiss?

yeah. promise 2 give it back

It was followed by a clutter of emoticons in various stages of kissing and heart eyes.

Edge could only shake his head, texting him back a time, then turned his attention to the stack of papers and got to work with an intensity, relaxing into the rhythm of it all.

Today was definitely a better day.

-finis-

[jarienn972]

The Inbetween - Chapter Four

Got this update for @cssns​ finished a little later than planned due to some nasty storms here in FL that knocked our internet for a while, but at last, it’s ready to go!  This chapter is a little shorter than the previous ones as I had to find a place to break without spoiling the action.  

Thanks again to @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ for the incredible artwork and to all of the event organizers including @kmomof4​ for enabling all of us with this outside the box event!

AO3 FF.net  Tumblr: One Two Three

After the troublesome spirit agreed to stop interfering with her magic, Emma assumed that they might be left in peace for a while, but it didn't take long to realize just how wrong that assumption had been. She'd sat on the chilly marble tile of the vestibule for nearly fifteen minutes after her father had left to take the three meddling teens home, all the while cradling Killian's head on her lap. She was becoming increasingly concerned the longer he remained unconscious, but while she understood the effect a concussion might have had, she had no gauge to measure damage that spirit possession could have inflicted.

The shadows flitting about them were unnerving, maybe even more disconcerting than her run in with Charlotte, the giant tarantula. This mansion was a free-standing reservoir of both light and dark magic and it was increasingly evident that the ghosts haunting the place knew how to manipulate it. The spirits were already creating physical barriers and manifesting their presence around her in multiple ways. Now that she knew these entities were surrounding her, she could connect the smoky odor in the dining hall to their attention seeking, but what else might they be capable of? What if there was no way to free them from this realm? Halloween was only a little over a week away and if it was true that their power would grow stronger as All Hallows' Eve approached, the entire town might be at risk. Storybrooke had more than enough magic so they'd have no reason to remain cloistered in the mansion.

The encounter with Jeremiah had left Emma so jumpy that when Killian did finally wake, she quite nearly bounced his skull off of the floor with her sudden jolt. At least he hadn't seemed bothered by her skittishness as his eyes opened wide and he sucked in a deep breath, exhaling very slowly while adjusting to the flickering candles. After a few brief seconds, he recognized his wife's features hovering above him.

"Killian?" she asked, hesitantly, not sure who she might be dealing with this time.

"Aye," he moaned as he raised his throbbing head off of her thigh, fighting through a swell of nausea as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"It's really you this time?" She wasn't entirely convinced.

"Really me? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he retorted, her question making little sense to his cloudy mind until the memory of falling down these same stairs he was sitting next to came flooding back. He remembered striking his head and hallucinating a conversation with some sort of glowing light beings - a conversation that apparently wasn't an injury-driven hallucination after all. His gaze drew back to Emma's face as it now dawned on him that she wasn't sure who she was speaking to - who was in control. That realization came with the terrifying recollection that one of those spirits had invaded his incapacitated body to deliver a message from the inbetween realm to Emma and the others on this side. "Yes, Swan, it's really me."

"I'm so sorry, Killian," she sobbed lightly as she embraced him. "I shouldn't have brought you here. Those ghosts could have killed you…"

"I'm fine, Love," he assured her, although he doubted that she was any more convinced of it than he was. His thoughts kept reminding him of the torture the Crocodile had put him through, controlling him like a hapless puppet while clutching his heart and threatening to crush it. Having this spectre take over his physical body for even those few, short minutes had been equally invasive, and even though it had departed his body for now, Killian could still hear its voice and feared it may attempt to possess him again at any time. "The spirit departed - so to speak. You're just left with your dashingly handsome, pirate husband in your company."

"Okay, you're fine," she chuckled, relieved that he was well enough to crack a lame joke. "Suggestion though - how about we move off of this ice cold marble and into that parlor instead?"

"Sounds lovely," he laughed as Emma stood up then extended her hand toward him to help pull him to his feet. He accepted her gesture and while she gripped his hook, he pushed himself upward slowly to appease his still aching head, but as soon as he put weight on his left ankle, he received a very painful reminder. "Damn…," he hissed, biting back a yelp at the searing discomfort and nearly collapsing back to the floor. Emma shifted her grip from his hook to his upper arm to steady her suddenly wobbly husband.

"You alright?" she asked, worried this might be a nasty side-effect of Jeremiah's doing.

"Sorry, this may take me a tad longer as I fear that I may have buggered my ankle a bit…"

"Oh - I never thought about your ankle! I'm so sorry... I could feel the bump on your head and the dislocated shoulder, but I didn't think about injuries to your legs…Here, let me fix it…"

Killian held up his hand to quash her rambling. "'Tis fine," he said with an almost-genuine smile. "I'll manage. We've far worse to worry about than my ankle, but I could use a bit of assistance…"

"Of course," she replied, wrapping her arm around his waist as she tugged his hooked arm around her neck so he could lean into her while they hobbled into the parlor. "Hang on, we're going to need some light…" With a swish of her wrist, one of the candelabras lifted off the staircase, eerily floating ahead of them through mid-air as Emma's magic used it to guide their way into the next room where she deposited Killian onto a sofa draped with a dingy sheet. Once he was settled, she guided the candle holder onto a console table that hugged the wall behind them, then casually flopped down onto the sofa beside Killian, careful not to jostle his ankle which he'd propped on a footstool he'd located nearby.

"How long do you figure it will take for Regina to reverse the spell?" he asked after a brief, awkward silence.

"Assuming she actually agrees to help, hopefully not too long," Emma replied with an unintended sigh as she thought about potential consequences. "Of course, I don't have any idea what sort of spell keeps those hearts enchanted so there may not even be a way to reverse it…"

"Remember, the walls do have ears, Love," Killian whispered. " For our sakes, I hope there is a solution as it appears our ghostly hosts are growing restless. Rather impatient for those with eternity before them…"

"So, you really are still able to hear them?" Emma asked. "The ghost, Jeremiah, he said you'd been able to hear their voices, but we couldn't exactly be sure he was telling the truth."

"I can hear them. Apparently as a side-effect of my return from the dead, I possess the ability to hear the disembodied voices of these spirits. It would also be the reason they chose me to deliver their message."

"Yeah, Jeremiah told us that too, but what are they saying?"

"At the moment, it seems their loyalties are divided. Some don't believe that Regina will be inclined help them cross over - and rightfully so. They remember her as a very different woman."

"I can understand that, but it still was not an excuse to hurt you. How's the head anyway? I'm never quite sure about healing head injuries - especially since you seem so prone to them…"

Killian threw back a bemused smirk, unconsciously raising his hand to massage the spot on the back of his skull where the previously swollen bruise had been healed. "Hurts a little - like a dull headache, but it's my ankle that's barking at me at the present."

"Sure you don't want me to heal it?" she offered.

"Well, if the lady insists…," he grinned, knowing it would be pointless to argue. He also conceded that not being mobility-impaired could prove rather beneficial should they find it necessary to run later. So, with a brilliant flash of light and an ever-so-slight wave of her hand, her magic rendered the injury fully healed and Killian quite grateful to be mostly pain-free. "Thank you."

"Anytime. It probably won't be long before they start drawing from my magic again so we should take advantage of it while we still can." Emma started to push herself up from the sofa, but Killian stopped her, his fingers gently encircling her wrist as her eyes took in his confused expression. "What?"

"Where are you going?"

"I was just going to look out the window to see if my dad was back," she assured him. "Not venturing out alone again…"

"I'm quite certain Dave will contact us by radio when he returns. For now, it may be best if we stay put."

"Okay, agreed. But if we're going to be stuck here for a while, I need coffee…" Emma flicked her wrist and a thermos of steaming hot coffee materialized in her open hand.

"Would have preferred rum," Killian grumbled.

"Don't you have your ever-present flask with you?"

"If I had been given more warning, I would have brought it, but someone impatiently roused me from our bed with little provocation…"

"Well, since you probably have a concussion, you don't need rum anyway." She unscrewed the thermos lid then poured a generous amount of the dark brew into the lid, using it as a cup. "I'll share though…" She placed the thermos on the floor next to her feet as as conjured up another treat - a bag of the tiny chocolate bars exactly like the one she'd purchased to pass out to trick-or-treaters on Halloween. Killian cocked a curious eyebrow at her as she tore through the plastic with her free hand and extracted one of the brightly wrapped candies. "What? I'm hungry too." His laugh came out almost as a snort as he shook his head - then snatched a couple of chocolates for himself. This pirate wasn't going to pass up a treat, especially while stuck sitting in a haunted, abandoned mansion awaiting his father-in-law's return with what they hoped would be good news.

Mercifully, it was only a few brief minutes until they heard the crackle of the radio coming to life with the sound of David's voice asking if they could hear him. Emma grabbed the radio from her belt clip and depressed the button to reply.

"Yes, we hear you," she replied.

"Good. I was a little worried that the ghosts might block everything again," David said, relieved that their best line of communication hadn't been severed.

"So far, they've kept their end of the bargain," Emma told him. "Have any news for us? Did you talk to Regina?"

"Yes. She's on her way to the vault. She thinks she might be able to find a spell that will lift the enchantment," David stated, but then he added another comment. "Just don't know how long this might take…"

"Okay, thanks," she responded, fully expecting to settle in for a long night.

"Do you want me to come back inside?" David asked. "Anything you need? More flashlights? Do you need me to wake up Whale and ask him about Hook's injury?" Emma chuckled at her worry-wart of a father, but despite his concern, both she and Killian agreed that he should stay outside.

"Appreciate it, Mate," Killian replied this time, intending to put his father-in-law's mind at ease. "All's well - for the moment at least, so we'd much rather have you out there."

"Acknowledged," David responded without commentary. He understood.

"Let us know as soon as you hear anything from Regina," Emma insisted.

"Will do. Be safe in there," was David's last statement before the radio and the room fell silent once again.

For the next hour, they waited impatiently - Emma and Killian inside the mansion's parlor and David parked out front. As the nighttime temperatures continued to drop, they were all struggling to stay warm. David tugged his jacket tighter around his torso, tempted to turn the engine back on so he could run the heater but he really preferred not to, fearing if he got the pickup's cab nice and toasty, he might also get drowsy. Inside the only slightly warmer confines of the mansion, Emma and Killian sat huddled together on the sofa, finishing off the last of the now lukewarm coffee, and she was doing her best to keep her husband talking. She was leary of allowing him to drift off to sleep until she was certain he was no longer fighting effects of the concussion.

For the moment, she felt relatively safe remaining in the parlor. At least there weren't any stairs around here and the overhead chandelier was smaller than many of the ones found in other rooms. Of course, how exactly did you remain safe from spirits like Jeremiah and his ghostly companions? Would her magic even have the slightest effect on them should they attack or would they entirely renege on their agreement and start draining her powers again?

"What's going on inside that pretty blonde head of yours, Love?" Killian broke the silence after noticing that she'd been staring into the inky, chilled liquid remaining in the bottom of the thermos lid for far too long.

"Just thinking about our ghostly companions here," she replied as she caught sight of a glowing orb off to her right which floated upward and vanished through the ceiling while her eyes followed it. "It's really disturbing to know you're being watched - especially when you can't see what's watching you."

Killian leaned closer to her, nuzzling her ear as he whispered "We could always give them a little show…" She didn't need to see the smirk on his face to know it was there, but instead of indulging him, she gave him a playful smack across his knee.

"Really?" she scowled as he pressed his lips to her neck. "You're impossible…"

"And you love me for it," he grinned as he repeated the words she'd spoken to him after rescuing him from Hades' torture in the Underworld, but any further amorous behavior was stifled by the crackle of static from the radio.

"You two awake in there?" David's voice asked over the static.

Emma reached for the radio that was resting on the arm of the sofa, nearly spilling the rest of the coffee in her haste. "Yes, we're awake," she replied to David's query. "Got news?"

"I do," David stated. "Regina just called and said that she thinks she found a spell that will work, but she's not sure she'll have any way to know if it actually worked on her end. She said the enchantment should fade away from any of the deceased hearts which should then free the spirits, but with all of the hearts in her possession, she isn't able to check every single one."

"Of course not...," Emma muttered sarcastically, but at least, this was some semblance of progress. "Okay… We know the ghosts have been watching us and probably listening to us all night so if anything happens to change, we'll hopefully be able to tell…" She took her thumb off of the Talk button as she turned to face her husband, her brow scrunched in thought. "What exactly do you think we should be looking or listening for?"

"Well, the spirits heard David," Killian informed her. "Their chatter started back up as soon as he gave us the news, but I can't make out precisely what they're saying… They're all just talking at once…" Killian squeezed his eyes shut while he simultaneously drew his arms up over his head, pressing them tightly against the side of his head to cover his ears as if trying to block out the cacophony of voices.

"Hey - are you okay?" Emma asked, growing concerned that the ghosts were preparing to attack should Regina's spell fail.

"I hear them… All of them… It's too much…" In all of their time together, she'd never seen Killian react with such a strong aversion to any sounds - nothing like this and especially not to anything she couldn't hear herself. Would it be considered impolite to tell ghosts to shut up?

But she didn't need to ask after all because before she could open her mouth, a blinding light flashed and lit up the room almost like a bolt of lightning, but without the accompanying thunder. It came and went within a split-second, followed by a gust of wind that came out of nowhere, extinguishing the candles and plunging the room into darkness.

[dailydoseofbuckybarnes]

The Third Party 2

SERIES; Bucky’s been gone for too long and he’s been missing out the most beautiful moments in life he could have had and now that he’s back, revelations started to happen.

read Chapter 1 here

word count: 3k

warnings: noneeee

author’s note: sorry if it took awhile, anyways enjoy reading and don’t forget to leave a feedback!!!

Bucky was pacing back and forth in front of you, erratic about all these shenanigans going on between you and Steve. On the other hand, you studied his behavior and noticed that he was dead furious with the fact that you were feeding your son with tons of lies.

"How could you?" he finally spoke for what felt like hours. The tone of his voice has a hint of blaming the entire fault in you.

Scoffing back, you narrowed your eyes towards him. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." he glared to you as if looks could kill.

You then emit a low groan. "Not this again, Bucky."

He sat on the other side of the couch with his fists balled up tightly and knuckles soon turning white from the tight grip. He didn't want to shout at you because in the first place he didn't have the rights but an urge tells him to do so. He did restrain his self with control though and he had to remind his self that he’s there after all to get his family back.

Bucky sighed as well then clasps his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude but then again, why do you have to lie to our son?"

"Comes from the person who tell my son that he has an uncle, isn't that considered lying as well?" you backfired nonchalantly.

"What was I suppose to say to him? He's too young; he'll never understand the fact that his mother's been sugar coating shit for him-"

"That's it. Shut up and get out," you intervened.

You knew it. You couldn't handle him, everything about him was just wrong from the very start and now, you need to fix the problem you caused for dragging him back to your life.

Bucky's expression turned calm after realizing the words that slipped off out of his mouth. "Y/N, I didn't know what came to m-me,"

"I think I've heard enough. Get out now before I call Steve over to bring your ass outside my house."

Bucky frowned then nodded weakly. "Just so you know, wanting me gone won't keep the truth away from our son."

No reply returned as you watch him walk away from your front door. There was hesitation with every step that he took as you bit your lips hardly, enough to create a metallic taste of blood. You despised him still but some part of you says that he should stay for a little while but unfortunately, you can't take it back.

Probably the reason why was because of your heavy pride and lack of compassion for him.

He deserves it in all honesty, like how could he manage to waltz back into your life and act as if nothing even happened? Newsflash, it was all on him and you won't ever stop pointing fingers with the sheer fact that all of it is true.

He is danger.

A danger you couldn't risk to put your life in with especially that you have your son with you and as long as you're still alive, you won't let any harm come to him.

The door clicked open only to see Steve and your son in his arms. Steve's gaze only fixates on you as he puts your son down.

"Rogers," you brought back the formality again with him that he really wasn't fond of hearing.

"What happened?" that was all he could manage to say.

"Mommy, where will Uncle Bucky go??" your son barged in with a lollipop in his mouth.

You let out a small smile then caressed his hair. "He left to do something important,"

"But he promised me that he will take us somewhere nice," your son pouted, a small frown plastered on his face.

"Don't be sad now baby, we can go out with Daddy Steve instead,"

"But Daddy's always busy with work. No one wants to play with me," your son responded as you felt your heart clench with the thought that you were trying to do your best to give him everything you got.

"Well I'm here." you offered with a reassuring smile.

Your son could only nod back. "But Uncle Bucky still promised."

You wanted to mentally slap Bucky for what he has been saying to your son the moment you left him some lone time.

"Don't worry, I'll call him over again when he has time," you lied off then exchanged glances with Steve who seems to understand what you're trying to imply.

"Alright, bud. Let's go to your room and do your homework?" Steve suggested back as he held your son's hand. In return, your son gladly returned the favor.

And now you were left with your train of thoughts rambling over and over.

"What have I done?" you said to yourself as you slumped back to the couch, exhausted with the heated argument you dealt with Bucky.

-

Bucky didn't know what to say anymore. He's quite aware that his short temper won't lead him to anything good and believe him when he says that it doesn't end up with a good fight. Devastated he was, he could only recall bits of fragile memories with his son.

"Call me Uncle Bucky,"he introduced his self to his mini version.

He surely can state the obviousness of the same color of the eyes from the skin to the hair. He couldn't believe what he witnessed; he didn't expect to be a father of this kid and knowing that he was one deadly person to avoid with.

And he understands you, yes.

It was a motherly instinct to protect your young but what he doesn't understands is why you have to lie over to your son with everything that he deserves to know.

Bucky stopped onto his tracks then thought about his actions twice, thrice, heck he lost count to it.

He didn't want to waste any moment now, all the precious time he can cherish with his son and spend with and realizing the promise that he broke off to him.

For sure the kid will be broken hearted.

Bucky stood frozen from his spot, a flashback interrupting him once more.

"If you want, we can go somewhere nice like a park or mall."Bucky trailed off, face to face with his own son.

Your son nodded in enthusiasm. "Can I bring Mommy and Daddy over?"

"Sure bud."Bucky replied and wiped away the pain inside him when he hears the word daddy comes out from his son's mouth.

His best friend still has a lot of explaining to do.

Bucky felt like it was just the tip of the iceberg he mentioned to him. Lots of secrets have yet to revealed, he believes.

He then decided to come back for you and most especially for his son.

He lets his rage be over in control again that he didn't realize that he's losing the last chance he have and letting someone else come into your life again willingly.

This time, he needs to get his mind straight into one thing - having the people back in his life forever even if it’s risky, he'll take up the chance.

Before he knew it, he was knocking at your door again with eagerness of wanting to see both of your presence.

"Open up, Y/N!"

Bucky didn't stop his numerous times of knocking until you gave up then turned the knob open and peeked in slightly outside. “What?" you dead panned; tired of dealing with another argument with him because bottom line, he just doesn’t listen.

"I'm an asshole," Bucky admits.

"How many times will I have to say-"

"Let me work this out one more time please. I won't mess it up, I promise. Please Y/N..." he begged and was already down on his knees as he looked back at you with guilt and full of apologies.

You hate how much he affects you still. You thought you were doing fine without seeing him but it was going to be harder than you thought.

Gulping in return, you shook your head. "I can't, Bucky-"

"Please," he repeated over then added, "-for sure our son has mentioned about something going to a nice place,"

Damn it.

Like a fool you were, you followed what your heart told you. You opened the door widely and gestured him to go back inside. "I'm doing this for my son," you hissed in a low tone.

"Again, our son." he corrected.

You groaned then rolled your eyes in exaggeration. Here he goes again.

"Will you at least stop being so cocky?"

"You’ll get used to it."

You puff out a heavy sigh then stomped your feet back to the living room. "Don't you dare do a dumb move or else it's really over for you, Barnes."

"Bucky." he corrected once more.

"I'll call you whatever I want." you retorted in annoyance then added subsequently. "One last chance, don't screw it up."

He nods in agreement, glad that you have given him another opportunity. "I promise, doll."

You felt chills ran down through your spine after hearing that nickname again. It's been awhile since he's call you that but that time was long gone already and you moved on.

You promised to yourself as well that you won't get attached with this man again.

You're just doing what's best at least for your son. Besides, this was the only thing you could think of.

“So where is he?” Bucky bombarded first thing off when he started to apprehend that your son was nowhere to be found.

“He’s with Steve.”

Bucky could feel his insides fuming again in irritation. “Really now?” his jaw clenched a bit, in hopes that he could calm his nerves down upon hearing his best friend’s name again.

“—Where are they?” he added.

“In his room,” you answered back, somehow the awkwardness brewing in between the two of you. Bucky cleared his throat then rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know how he will explain everything to you. “You know-“he was about to continue when a voice interjects.

“Oh hey there, Buck.” Steve’s smile turned upside down upon seeing him but he shrugs off the anomalous feeling before turning his attention towards you. “Your son needs help with something,”

You nodded as you ushered your way upstairs, not wanting to make the conversation with Bucky last longer.

Steve was then yet left again alone with his pal. “You came back earlier than I thought.” he didn’t intend to sound to crude but the tone of his voice summarizes it all.

Bucky sneered. “Are you trying to provoke me?”

“Depends on how you fathom what I meant by it,” Steve has now had his arms crossed over his chest as if he was acting so overprotective with the ones he didn’t have the right to anyway.

“Look, I’ll take it easy on you since we’re like brothers already. You can back out anytime you want.” Bucky proposed imperturbably.

“It’s not as easy as you thought.”

“C’mon Steve,”

“I’m serious,”

“—well I’m serious too!” Bucky’s voice rose off unexpectedly.

Steve lets out a deep sigh before responding, “You know… if you really care for them, you will understand why I’m acting this way.”

Bucky did understand alright.

Steve was clearly stealing away the people that Bucky has been missing out to the most and he can’t believe that his best friend’s being too selfish for it.

“I thought you’re my friend,” that was only the thing that Bucky could think of right now.

“I am, Buck! What are you trying to say?” Steve was bewildered on how peculiar Bucky’s been acting lately. He just seems to not recognize the threat that’s ahead once his enemies knows that he has a family already.

Basically, they will use you and your son to take advantage of his weakness. That’s what Bucky’s not figuring out yet and Steve’s doing the best that he can in his power to protect you both.

“I don’t even want to talk to you anymore,” Bucky trailed off as Steve rolls off his eyes.

“Stop acting so juvenile, Buck. You know I’m doing what’s best.”

And Bucky hears the word again. “Do you really hate me both that much, huh?” he spat in return, unable to resist the annoyance of you and Steve continually pushing him away. “—you should have just kept it to yourself while you still can, Steve. You shouldn’t have let me know in the first place when in the end, I’m just going to be treated like this.”

“I said it because you deserve to know but it doesn’t mean you get to decide what to do or not. Can’t you realize the risk you’re doing for your family? Seriously Buck?” Steve was now the one who backfired.

“What are you trying to say?” Bucky’s mind has now been fogged up with pessimism.

“It’s inevitable. With you, there’s always a chance that someone might get hurt and I can’t let that happen.”

“You sound just like her,” Bucky thought of you as he lets out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You know we’re right.” Steve added.

Bucky didn’t know what to say anymore until he hears someone running down the stairs with anticipation.

“Uncle Bucky!” your son greeted off with a warm smile as he ran towards his direction then hugged his leg.

Then all of a sudden, Bucky felt all the gloom faded away upon seeing his son again. “Hi there, bud!” he grinned then ruffles his hair softly.

“I thought you weren’t going to come back!” your son was tugging onto Bucky’s pants with a small pout.

“Why wouldn't I? I can't leave out this handsome face behind,"

His son was smiling to him likewise, thrilled. “When are we going to the park?”

“You don’t want to go to the mall?”

“There are no pigeons in the mall!” he beamed as Bucky’s smile couldn’t be wiped from his face. All the torment he had inside was gone. He found his treasure. The happiness he’s been looking out for years.

You stood beside Steve with a worried look. The two of you both know that it wasn’t safe for your son to be with Bucky.

Steve held your hand a little longer than what you expected then gives you off an uplifting smile. “We got this.”

On the other hand, Bucky immediately notices how Steve soothes your hand to calm you down. He tried to obliterate the feeling off inside of him then focused his attention to his son for the meantime.

And with that, you talked one on one with Steve on the kitchen and making sure that your son couldn’t hear it. “What are we going to do?”

Steve bit his lower lip in anxiety then decided. “I’ll tell Bucky to wear a disguise,”

“You’re agreeing to let him get out there with my son?”

“Your son’s the one requesting it.”

“I can’t let that happen.”

“Then what are we suppose to say to him?” Steve was pointing out to your son who’ll be devastated once he knows that you wouldn’t let him go with Bucky.

“Why is he so into Bucky anyways? They just both met!” you groaned.

“I guess you can’t stop it when instinct starts to kick in.”

“You’re not helping, Rogers.”

Steve sighs. “Well, do you have other options then?”

It took you awhile to reply back as you tapped your foot onto the ground, hesitating whether to do it or not. “This is so wrong,”

“I’ll be there.” Steve guarantees you but it wasn’t enough.

“Still.” You kept your voice faint and continue to exchange glances to your son then back to Bucky. They seemed so immersed with talking to one another.

“Am I being egocentric if I disagreed?”

Steve didn’t reply.

“Rogers, tell me.”

“I don’t know as well but give him a chance even though we’re aware that danger’s just around.”

“Exactly.” you pointed off.

Steve held your tensed shoulders in place then said, “—Calm down and think about it, okay? Just know that I’ll be there to look out for the both of you,”

“How can you still be nice to me at times like this?”

“Like I said, I care for you and your son.” And you know what he meant by that, he loves you still and were aware with the fact that it was tearing up his friendship apart slowly with Bucky.

Yes, it did make your heart flutter but it was wrong.

“Think about it.” Steve added.

For what felt like hours, you were now the one pacing back and forth on the kitchen. You lost count with the thought of letting your son go out with Bucky on the park.

You were eyeing them both on the living room as they were now occupied with playing toys. You never have come to the point to realize that Bucky was doing a great job in being a friendly figure but that still doesn’t change your mind.

You still hate him.

And you won’t forget the things he did to hurt you.

Steve was just there standing in the corner and patiently waiting for you to say something.

“Fine.” You finally uttered, letting out a deep breath after.

You were so going to regret this afterwards.

Steve arched a brow back to you. “You’re agreeing?”

“For my son.”

He nodded then asks. “Shall we?”

“Alright. Let’s do this and tell Bucky to wear that disguise you’re saying,”

“Don’t worry too much; I’ll be there when you need me,”

You couldn’t be more grateful to have Steve by your side as years passed. All he did was nothing but to be so nice to you and sometimes you’re starting to doubt that you don’t deserve the affection he’s giving you and your son.

It was too much.

You followed Steve from behind when he ushered Bucky to follow him upstairs.

Bucky took a quick glance at you before following his best friend’s command.

Your son seemed to be having so much fun until you bombarded in the scene. “Someone looks happy,” you said to your son with a smile.

“Uncle Bucky’s really funny,”

“Indeed.” You nodded and just decided to go with the flow. “How about you go change?”

“Why, mommy?”

“I thought you said you wanted to go to the park?”

“Really?” his eyes shone in sheer joy as he jumped up and down. “Is Uncle Bucky coming?”

You nodded again.

“Thank you!” your son hugged you then repeated the same words in excitement. “I can’t wait to feed the pigeons!”

[techno-sorcerer]

Adjusting to the Dark: Chapter 7 Unappetizing Truths

Story summary: After recovering from an attack, Kaiba attempts to return to work. The problem: it was a vampire attack, and he didn’t recover so much as turn. Meanwhile, demons lurk ready to strike and take Kaiba Corp at the first sign of weakness

Chapter summary: Preparing Mokuba’s parfait and a cup of coffee gives Kaiba a moment to look both forward and back. 

Words: 3,519

Chapter content Warnings: Referenced past misgendering (and as always tell me if you think I should add more)

“I’d offer to pull out the board and play a game of capsule monsters and hang out that way, but with all the work you have to do, we can save that for later,” Mokuba rambled as he practically bounced down the stairs. “So, what do you want to work on first?”

Kaiba shrugged. He had already made the mental checklist of what needed accomplishing, but that didn’t entirely answer where to start since it all had to get done anyway. “I will need you to get me caught up on what’s been happening at the company and if there has been anything suspicious. But...” As much as the Big Five needed containing, dealing with that now wasn’t entirely satisfying, not when there were other concerns on the table. Moreover, Isono hadn’t mentioned anything himself on the subject, and while he trusted Mokuba’s judgment, Isono was certainly more experienced in maters of internal politics. Kaiba’s lip curled. “You said you wanted to get a few licks in on whoever did this to me?”

Mokuba landed on the penultimate step and turned to look up at Kaiba with a mixture of excitement and determination. “Yeah?”

“Then, help me track down information on whoever did this. I have a few leads, and after talking to the person in charge of the investigation, we’ll likely have to get peace of mind on our own.”

The threat the boy posed to his safety and his ability to protect his brother was Kaiba’s first priority. Yet, even if Shadi was right and the boy was being kept on a leash unable to harm him again, it wouldn’t be enough. Not after what he had been through. Plus, Kaiba found the idea laughable that anything as simple as a leash- literal or not- could hold the boy back.

Mokuba titled his head. “Shadi? He was a bit weird, but he seemed to take it seriously enough. Seemed better than the other detectives anyway. I liked him.”

“He is certainly odd, and he seemed competent enough, at least at first.” Kaiba looked down at his brother, who was now walking again at his side, and wondered how much to say. That Shadi believed in bullshit such as vampires. That Shadi claimed to have a family who would kill him without a second thought. How about that Shadi had managed to commandeer his holographic system for his own uses, something that suggested power of some form whether social or technological. Or better yet, that Shadi had blatantly told him he was planning to interfere with a police investigation. Even after that there were a million other details making the man suspicious. In the end, Kaiba decided on the simplest and most direct answer. “He implied he knew who did this when we talked alone, but other detectives I talked to didn’t have a clue. We can’t rely on any of them.”

“Huh...” Mokuba considered this for a bit, his face scrunching up in confusion, before realization and anger dawned. “Wait! Shadi was the one who said you were probably dead. He said it with such certainty and sincerity. Like he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news but he thought I deserved to know. And, you’re saying he didn’t think I deserved to know who hurt you, or that he was lying and knew you were alive?” Mokuba let out an exasperated sigh. “Why are adults- no, why are people like this?”

Kaiba immediately responded, “Because people are horrible.” They had already now entered the over-sized dining room, making their way to the kitchen behind.

“I mean I knew that,” Mokuba chuckled, “I didn’t even really believe him anyway. Just didn’t realize I had gotten my hopes up that somebody actually gave a shit.”

Kaiba considered his brother’s words. He didn’t want to defend Shadi at all, since the man was incredibly suspicious. But, there was a chance that they would have to talk with him again, either in dealing with the conclusion of his missing person’s case or while Shadi tried to get the murder under wraps, and one should always correctly identify the threat a potential enemy posed.

So, he clarified as they entered the kitchen, “Shadi is dangerous- don’t mistake that- but he did believe I had died. It seems he lies more through omission than direct statement, which means people are less likely to notice when he does. He knows how to be discrete, so the other detectives just think he’s weird without guessing the full amount of bullshit swimming in his brain. I’m just one of the unlucky bastards he tried to indoctrinate the moment he got me alone. Fortunately, I wasn’t so easily convinced. Unfortunately, same could not be said of the doctor who examined me, who should have known better. If he ever approaches you turn him away and don’t listen. He has a way of including just enough truth to make his ridiculous words worm their way into your skull.” He finished with a grimace remembering the incident in the bedroom. The words had gotten far deeper into Kaiba’s brain than he had hoped. He already regretted listening to Shadi for as long as he did, though he supposed it was useful to know that there were a bunch of occult nuts ready to kill him.

Mokuba shook his head, “As if I’d let him through the door after pulling that.”

“Good.” Kaiba opened the refrigerator. “Do you want whipped cream with it? Fruit? Cookies?” He didn’t know how to cook and had barely touched a stove in his life, deciding to leave most of that work to the mansion’s staff, but he would have been damned if he didn’t know how to put together his brother’s favorite treat, especially since it was so simple.

Mokuba took a moment to answer, and when Kaiba turned to look at his brother, an impish grin had spread across Mokuba’s face. “The works. And, you are going to have some too, right?”

Kaiba shrugged as he pulled the milk and butter from the fridge before in another trip getting a handful of berries and the cream. “Not hungry.” He then out of habit set some coffee to brew while he got the rest of the ingredients ready.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that? ‘Cause most of the time, you’re just saying that. Plus, even if you actually for real weren’t hungry, that wouldn’t prevent you from having a treat.”

Mokuba wasn’t lying. There had been plenty of times when he had brushed off Isono’s and Mokuba’s prodding only for them to discover later that he hadn’t eaten in the past day. It wasn’t that he was trying to starve himself, but food was simply a necessity that wasn’t even near the top of the long list of necessities in his life. Plus, after years of having to complete assignments on an empty stomach, ignoring his body’s cries for food had become habit even when now that the threat was gone. It made the sense of starvation that had crawled to the front of his mind in the dumpster and had shaken him to the core all the more disconcerting.

“I did eat… something earlier. Haven’t felt this full in a while.”

“You hesitated.”

Kaiba glanced back at Mokuba and snorted rather than give a proper response. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he didn’t know what he had eaten. Nor did he want to admit to his brother that even as he was preparing the parfait it sounded completely unappealing.

Fortunately, Mokuba didn’t press further and changed the topic of conversation. “So… what leads do you have? What will the vice president be doing for Kaiba Corporation today?”

“I’ll be sifting through public and private online records to see if I can find a trace of my attacker. He looked around my age and did seem to have a connection to Yugi, so I’ll check schools records in the area first. That connection does give an opportunity to help the investigation.” Kaiba started measuring the ingredients for the pudding portion. “My attacker seemed to fancy himself a guardian angel of sort; he knew that I had won the white dragon necklace from Yugi’s grandfather and thought to get it back while passing a bit of extra judgment on the way. My techniques were a bit unusual, but...”

And, he supposed looking back a bit heavy handed.

He hadn’t forced the old man to play the chess game against him, and the old man had been confident enough he was going to teach Kaiba a lesson that he had almost done so willingly, but being escorted to the facility by Kaiba’s security detail hadn’t given the old man much of a choice either. Furthermore, while there was no point in doing things without at least a little bit of flare, he had also known going in that holograms could cause psychosomatic problems, especially for those with preexisting health problems. If your senses believed you were under attack, it sometimes didn’t matter whether you actually were or not; your body reacted. Kaiba hadn’t known that Sugoroku would be sent to the hospital, but knowing the older man’s age and the hyper-realistic setting he had used, he hadn’t been entirely surprised either.

That isn’t to say he wouldn’t have pressed Sugoroku Mutou in order to get the necklace. The necklaces in the set were beautiful sure and he had a fondness for the fierce beasts depicted, but he also had known from the moment he had first laid eyes on one that they were important.

Seven years ago, back at the orphanage, one of the necklaces had rested on Gozaburo’s fingers as he chided Kisara for talking to Seto. At that point Seto had little idea who this man was other than he was very powerful and visiting the orphanage for the good press. The second fact had meant little to him, but the first had already caught his attention.

While Gozaburo was talking with the orphanage’s director, Kisara had caught Seto trailing behind and had stepped back to warn him in a whisper that despite the visit Gozaburo was not interested in interacting with the children outside of scheduled photo shoots. Seto had replied that that was expected; he was just here to observe. The answer had amused Kisara, and she had asked some more questions, while keeping her eyes on Gozaburo and occasionally scanning the area.

And, who may I ask is observing Gozaburo Kaiba?

Seto. The staff might tell you a different name or say that I am not a boy, but they think a piece of paper says who you are. It doesn’t.

That’s an interesting name, Seto. Not exactly common. Where did you find it?

Came to me. Sounds more like me than the other name. And, point is I chose it. It’s mine. It doesn’t mean much, but it’s something they can’t take. Who are you and why do you care anyways?

My name is Kisara. It is my job to protect Kaiba. The name reminded me of something, but you are right names and paper don’t mean much. Decisions and people do. And, I would like to know about the boy who decided to observe my boss.

Last names can matter.

Seto, do you honestly think Kaiba would adopt?

He doesn’t look like he’d be easy to convince. I’d have to do my research first.

I doubt Kaiba would be the nicest of parents.

I am not looking for a nice parent. There are plenty of supposedly nice parents who just want a smart kid to brag about, but don’t care about that kid’s younger brother or say they can’t afford him. There are plenty of nice parents who stop even caring about the older brother because they think a piece of paper says who you are. Unfortunately, paper matters because people believe in it. Otherwise it's just paper.

Then, why care about Kaiba?

Because people believe in money.

Seto usually would have been annoyed by such idle chatter and by revealing so much, but she was also using his actual name and taking his words seriously. Perhaps as Mokuba had mentioned with Shadi, he hadn’t even realized his hopes had risen.

However, even if Seto had not been annoyed, Gozaburo had been furious after he finished his conversation with the director and turned to find Kisara making chatter with an orphan,  had taken the necklace out of his pocket while commanding Kisara to do her job. The necklace and the small dragon pendant at its end had immediately caught his attention, but more so had Kisara’s reaction. Kisara’s voice was firm when she reminded Gozaburo that she was able both talk and keep an eye on his safety and that this boy was certainly not a threat to it; she was certainly not weak. But, she had also flinched as his fingers had tightened around the pearls.

Seto had realized then that the necklaces had power, power that Gozaburo did not deserve. Kaiba realized- or was it remembered since it seemed like the thought had been with him the whole time, just unable to come to the surface- that though he had been the one collecting the necklaces, Kisara had the real claim.

So no, he would have made sure to get the necklace one way or another. But he could have worn the man down before making his move to make him more pliable; he could have adjusted the realism settings on the hologram so only necklaces rather than lives were at stake. Instead, his impatience at the man’s sentimentality had made his blood burn and had gotten the better of him.

He hadn’t realized his mind had drifted until Mokuba chimed in a tone Kaiba couldn’t quite catch, “You do always do things your own way.”

“True. But, the point is that Yugi is bully bait. I doubt I was the first to cause Yugi grief nor receive my attacker’s wrath. There likely have been other incidents, particularly involving other students. See if there are any suspicious reports surrounding Yugi or the high school more generally. We don’t even need a direct trace to Yugi yet, since that could have just not gotten reported. Just notify me if you find anything interesting, especially if you find a pattern.”

“Okay,” Mokuba nodded. “Look up reports around the school to see if there has been any other weird shit going on. Got it.” He started out the kitchen door before returning a couple moments later. “Going to get my laptop and head to the living room. Want me to bring yours down?”

“That would be helpful,” Kaiba replied, getting back to making the parfait and considering how he would accomplish his own task.

The first point of order would be to slip into the school’s network check through registration lists especially if the school kept the ID photos on hand to compare against his memory. A direct identification would be easiest. If that didn’t pan out, he could always check the surrounding schools as well. A frown started to crease Kaiba’s features. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Kaiba may not have paid too much attention to social life at school, but he swore he would have noticed if there was a confident dark-skinned Yugi with even wilder hair running around Domino High. The boy had certainly looked… distinctive. Even if the boy went to another school, wouldn’t he have turned up in the police investigation?

Unless, of course, he did and for whatever unfortunate reason Shadi had decided not to include that in the file Detectives Wasseem and Ito had read.

While he was poking around the school files, he might as well see if Yugi, or for that manner any of the gaggle that had started following him, were mentioned in any disciplinary reports, especially as a victim. It would give Mokuba more to work with, since even Kaiba had to admit that ‘anything suspicious that happened to anybody at the school or in contact with Yugi’ was a bit broad, and barring outright identification, getting even just one other instance would help significantly, give them more leads and threads to pull on.

It wasn’t long before the pudding had cooked and the cream was whipped. Kaiba retrieved a large glass and layered the pudding, whipped cream, and other snacks inside, then put the pots in the sink and poured himself a mug of the now finished coffee. He breathed in and noted that it didn’t exactly smell appetizing, though he couldn’t put a finger on why. Then again, even if he wasn’t tired yet, it wasn’t like he drank the stuff just for the taste, and he probably would need it later anyway. As much as he had tried to convince Mokuba that him being awake was reasonable, he had no idea how long his current alertness would last.

Plus, coffee had never failed him before, and if he was going to drink it, he might as well drink it while it was still warm. He put the mug to his lips and took a gulp.

Or at least he tried to.

His mouth immediately reacted, spraying the dark brown liquid onto the counter and wall in front of him. Bad. Horrible. The taste wasn’t remarkably different from usual, though it lacked a certain sharpness or punch to the flavor. Yet, for some reason his mouth failed to recognize it as edible. He could have taken a shot of pure cooking oil or even gasoline for a similar effect, and as what little liquid remained started to each the back of his mouth, his gag reflex activated.

Kaiba’s body reacted so viscerally to the coffee that he forgot what he was doing, forgot to think. His whole body tensed, and he flailed for a moment. The mug accidentally slammed onto the countertop. The ceramic shattered and the rest of the coffee spilled onto the floor.

Kaiba stared at the mess for a moment, before his mouth’s protests convinced him to move. Dashing to the sink, he turned the nearest handle to the faucet and ran the water through his mouth, occasionally spitting to get as much of the taste out of his mouth as possible. The cold cleansing water bubbled around his teeth and swirled over his tongue. After a few seconds, the terrible taste seemed to finally disappear. he turned the faucet off and stared blankly at the sink.

It shouldn’t have tasted that bad; he’d forced plenty of disgusting food down his throat with barely a complaint at Gozaburo’s dinner table. Plus, his first cup hadn’t even tasted that bad. It didn’t make sense. He continued to stare at the sink.

Perhaps it had been simply a bad batch of beans.

Kaiba grabbed several wads of paper towels and cleaned up the mess, annoyed that this had to happen when the cleaning staff had already gone home, and then grabbed the parfait to head into the living room across the manor. There, Mokuba was perched on the couch, shoes on the fabric and legs contorted to hold his laptop. Kaiba considered reminding him to put his feet on the floor, but Mokuba looked comfortable. And, if Mokuba was comfortable, he would be able to focus easier as well.

His own laptop was on the coffee table, neatly set in front of the spot next to Mokuba and already plugged into the wall. Mokuba’s power cord was nowhere to be seen.

Kaiba set the parfait down on the table, sliding onto the seat next to Mokuba and tapping Mokuba’s shoulder to get his attention. Mokuba blinked and looked over, a smile spreading from ear to ear as his eyes landed on the heaps of pudding and cream. “Thank you so much!” He snatched the treat off the table and shoveled several scoops down his throat before looking at the table in front of Kaiba. “You already finished your coffee?”

“Swallow before speaking, and I threw it out. Something was off with the taste.”

Mokuba stared at him a moment before laughing. “Maybe four days cold turkey was what you needed. You do need to rest anyway.” He paused for a moment. “I mean I’d trade it in a heartbeat for you safe, but silver linings and all.”

Kaiba grimaced. Perhaps, though that shouldn’t have changed the taste. Regardless, if he got tired before work was through, he would brew another pot, rest be damned.

Still, he would rather bet on the fantasy that even in this state- recovering from shock with an already screwy brain addled further by other’s delusions- he could make it through the night unaided than pray that the next batch turns out better.  Kaiba pushed his limits and routinely ignored them, but he still knew they existed, however inconvenient that might be. Though if Mokuba was right and he had lost his coffee reliance, then at least he wouldn’t be dealing with withdraw symptoms which increased his chances significantly. Silver linings and all.

Author’s note: I might go back and write more of an author’s note later, but right now my brain is a bit fried. There are some interesting things going on here, my favorite of which is probably that small flashback with Kisara. Not only do we finally get to see her more directly, but I had had this scene seperately in my head before but hadn’t realized it would come up so soon. It was a little weird referencing Gozaburo just as Kaiba, but at the same time, before Seto and Mokuba were adpted let alone took control of the company, it wouldn’t make that much sense to make much sense to refer to Gozaburo by his given name, especially in a work setting.