#been avoiding it because I need to clean up the tag menu too

[tirsden]

When you decide to be your own fairy godmother in Infinity Nikki.

[dxxdhood]

wait for me

pairing: waiter!dick grayson x gn!reader

summary: after getting stood up on a date, you notice the waiter who's been patiently watching you all evening.

tags: smut (18+), sub!dick grayson, dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, humiliation, name-calling, slapping, handjob

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hey, hope you guys like this one! if anyone has any requests/thoughts, please send them in. i want to write more, but i really struggle with ideas haha

It’s not that bad, all things considered. You must have the intuition of a god for choosing a restaurant that allows free refills, because if you’ve had to pay for drinks this whole night, you’d have gone completely broke. Still, you can’t help feeling pretty shitty. There’s no way your date is running two hours late.

The place is a casual diner, serving a host of soups, sandwiches, and pastries that had you salivating earlier on in the night, but right now, you’re not exactly in the mood to browse the menu again. The diner doesn’t close until twelve, but it’s been almost deserted for the past hour, probably because it’s a weeknight and the average person has plenty better to do than wait on a person who’s made it obvious they’re not coming

Just as you’re about to get up and leave – for real this time – the waiter comes around to refill your drink. It’s a quarter till twelve, and at this point you know he probably wants to start cleaning up, but still he tops up your drink without saying anything. It’s a kindness, but a part of you just wishes he would kick you out already.

He’s been the only waiter on staff since you got here – even the manager knew this place would be empty – and you’re so glad he was, because if you ever want to show your face here again, all you have to do is avoid one person. It’s a shame that you feel too embarrassed to interact with him, though. He’s been nothing but polite, only asking if you were ready to order at the very beginning before quickly picking up on the fact that you were waiting on your date– the one that wasn’t coming.

You take a sip from your full drink, but you can’t stomach any more. Standing up, you try to avoid eye contact with the waiter, who’s relaxing behind the counter, as you step towards the exit. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of your head, like you’ve skipped a step or forgotten an important task. It dawns on you as you’re facing the exit: you forgot to tip him!

Well, you didn’t order a meal and you paid for your drink up front, so you’re not exactly sure if you were meant to tip him. Hell, you didn’t know if this restaurant accepted tips at all. But this waiter just watched you sit through quiet torture and the second-hand embarrassment was probably like stepping on glass.

“Hey,” you turn around. “Do I… Should I tip you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering that, too,” he says lightly. He purses his lips and stares to the side, “I’ve turned it over a few times in my head, and decided that nope! You don’t need to tip me. You have no lawful or moral obligation, I resolve you.”

You feel your eyes getting watery, so you focus on the dust in the crease between the wall and the floor. Him saying that only makes you feel worse, but it’d be too awkward to hand him the money now. It feels like there should be something you could do, some way you could thank him for keeping you company.

“How many people are staffed right now?” you ask.

He looks caught off guard, like he expected the interaction to end there. “Oh, just me and one other guy in the kitchen.”

“Let me help you close.”

His eyes widen, and you try to meet his gaze. He’s puzzled, probably trying to figure out what you get out of helping him. Eventually, he shrugs his shoulders and gets up from behind the counter.

“Yeah, why not,” he says with a fond smirk, gesturing to you to follow him. 

He leads you to the supply closet, where the two of you grab cleaning spray, rags, and a broom. While you work on wiping down the tables and chairs, he counts the cash in the register.

“So, you always offer to clean up after yourself?” he starts, too focused on tallying up the earnings to notice you staring at him. The waiter, “Dick” according to his name tag, is very cute. You were trying to ignore him the best you could for the sake of your would-be date, but honestly, fuck that guy. Your waiter with the dashing smile and ruffled hair blows him out of the water, anyway.

“Just feeling extra polite tonight. You always accept help from customers?”

“You won’t believe this, but nobody’s offered,” he says with a snort. “Still, probably not the smartest idea on my part.”

You think about his words for a second as you wipe down a particularly stubborn stain. “I wouldn’t be able to rob you if I wanted to.”

It’s true, he looked well-muscled, even if on the leaner side. His eyes are playful as he narrows them at you. “Careful, they take security footage of this place, don't confess to any thoughts you may or may not have.”

You laugh, going back to cleaning before you start again. “Can’t believe you put off closing the diner just so you could watch me get stood up for an extra however many minutes.”

“Counterpoint: Can’t believe you let yourself get stood up for so long.” Dick finishes up at the register and grabs the broom. “You’re worth more than that.”

“Oh? And how do you know what I’m worth?” you say instinctively. 

You watch his eyes widen from your peripheral vision, like he didn’t mean to say his last comment out loud. “I wasn’t trying to overstep, but, like, obviously you’re attractive. You could get anyone you wanted and–”

“You’ve been watching me all night, haven't you?” Filled with newfound confidence, you leave your rag and spray bottle and walk over to where Dick is sweeping the entrance. 

Despite how friendly he’s been tonight, he deliberately avoids eye contact as he works. “Well, yeah, I needed to make sure you got your order once – if – you placed one–”

“No, no. I mean you were watching me,” you place a hand on his shoulder. “What, you wish you were the one I was going on a date with?”

And though you know you’re jumping to conclusions, he stiffens at your words and it’s clear you’ve caught him.

“I… I didn’t want to bother–” Dick starts, dropping the broom. You use the opening to push him against the wall, hearing the scratches of the brick against his button up shirt.

“That’s alright,” you whisper. “I don’t mind being bothered.”

You can feel his chest rise and fall as you press yourself closer to him. His eyes follow your every move, and you bring your face closer until it's only inches away from his. 

You can feel the puffs of his inhales and exhales on your skin, and you’re about to completely close the gap between you two, but Dick beats you to it. He kisses you, and you pull back for a moment in surprise before sinking into the kiss.

His lips are so warm, and as he brings up a hand to pull you closer by the jaw, you notice how surprisingly soft his hands are. You try to deepen the kiss, nipping his lip in the process, and he lets out a gasp. Biting at his lip a little more, he giggles as he realizes you’re playing with him.

“You’re starting to bother me,” he quips, trying to keep his composure as you nip at the underside of his jaw. Just when he starts getting comfortable and relaxing into your kisses, you switch to biting at him, and he jolts.

“Maybe you deserve it. You need to learn better manners, sitting there, watching me all night. Bet you wish I would’ve shoved you against this wall a whole lot sooner, huh?” you whisper into his ear before going back to kissing down his neck. He moans at your words, but tries to muffle himself by pushing his face into his shoulder. You bring a hand up to his hair and tug to get him to pay attention to you.

“Right in front of everyone, too,” you continue, sliding a hand down his stomach to work on his jeans. “Just mark you, make you moan like a bitch while everyone else is watching.”

Biting his lip, Dick tries to ignore the effect your words have on him, but he’s still rutting against your hand as you’re unzipping him. He gives a small thrust against the air, whimpering as you wrap your hand around his cock.

“Shit, this all for me?” you breathe. You swear Dick can hear you smirk, even as he pinches his eyes shut.

“Don’t– Ah!” he gets cut off as you start stroking him slowly. “Don’t let– let it go to your head.”

“No, I think I’ll be just fine,” you quicken your pace, not giving him a second to get ready. “If I remember right, some slut thinks he’s hot enough to get me to fuck him just by, what, batting his eyes at me? From all the way across the diner?”

“Well–” He groans, arching his back against the wall. The sweat shines against his cheeks, you feel so lucky to be the cause of it. “Well I was right, wasn’t I?”

You chuckle, caught off guard. “Guess you are.”

You briefly remove your hand, and Dick grunts, irritated, before you spit in it and go back to forcefully jerking him off. His moans grow louder, and you can see him start to get lost, eyes growing distant while chasing his orgasm.

“Are you going to come already?” you say, slowing your pace to be more deliberate, but still keeping the pressure the same. After a moment of silence, you slap his balls and he lets out a yelp that melts into a groan. 

“Answer me!” you shout, bringing your hand back up to pull at his hair.

“Ah– Yeah, y-yes!” he gasps. “You’re going to make me cum!”

“Good,” you say before you bite at his neck again, sucking a spot right under his jugular. The skin starts to deepen and you lick, tending to it before you nip at it again, just biting hard enough to draw a pinprick of blood. 

Dick screams as he cums, thrusting into your fist at an uncontrolled pace. You work him through it, matching his speed until he falls back against the wall, spent. As he slides down the wall until he sits on the ground, you walk back to one of the chairs.

“Damn, not ready for round two?” you say, propping up your head on the top rail. He huffs through his nose, looking at you for a moment like he’s checking to see if you’re real. He seems to find what he’s looking for, giggling and resting his head on his knees. 

“Oh my god, Dick, stop it. We need to go!” A tall, built man walks out of the kitchen, “Jason” according to his name tag. Looking sheepish, Dick is ready to defend himself, but Jason walks towards him, ignoring every word coming out of Dick’s mouth. 

Dick hands you a napkin, gesturing a phone and mouthing the words “call me” as he’s dragged out of the building by Jason. In shock, you open up the napkin to find his name and his number hastily scribbled in ballpoint pen. Smirking to yourself, you only wish you knew how early on in the night Dick prepared this napkin for you. You could’ve saved the both of you two hours of waiting.

[where-dreamers-go]

“A Declaration” Riley Poole x Reader

(A/N: Here’s some Riley Poole for the new year! A coffee shop AU for @girl-next-door-writes Bingo challenge! Me, my twin sister, and my mom got a bit too invested in this coffee shop that my sister had started making up a menu. That’s kinda new. This year didn’t start off on a significant high note for me, which leads to the feel of this insert reader. But you know I can’t leave this without cuteness! Bingo Card: Coffee Shop AU Warnings: Smidgen angst if you squint your eyes. Word Count: 1,179 words)

Overcast skies and a wind that nipped your nose held you onto the earth. An idea of movement, a spark of motivation had grasped your attention and lead you outdoors. The act of walking occupied most of your brain. Nature’s energies started neutralizing the emotional and mental slump you had been in. That state of mind was not destined to be your new comfort zone nor new normal.

Hands stuffed into your jacket pockets, you moseyed along the sidewalk until it morphed into aged brick. You sniffled, but hardly thought against the weather. Store and various businesses lined the street. All different and purposeful.

Your eyes peered up to your destination.

Gates Family Coffee And Tea Shoppe.

The shoppe had been family run and in business for over one hundred years. A unique opportunity with its tradition of providing old style brews to try and order. The added Internet access was a bonus. So was the added fun of their daily history trivia.

You had visited the shoppe more often in the past couple of years. The familiarity was a great comfort on days when you really didn’t know what to do with yourself. It was one of those days.

Your pace picked up until you had reached the door that welcomed you with a soft chime.

In waves of scents in every step, it felt as if you were traveling through the past. Antique chairs and tables decorated the main area as a long display counter showed off the delicious treats.

Food.

Glorious pastries, chocolates, breads, as well as bags of tea and coffee were in display for all to see. To consume. To look at.

“Hey (Y/N).” Ben Gates greeted from behind the counter. His name tag clean and pinned to his apron. “How are you today?”

“As well as I can be.” You shrugged.

The man nodded in understanding. “Anything I can get you?”

Two squeaks on the floor and a smiling brunette walked out from the back.

A glimmer of happiness seeped into your chest.

“Hi.”

“Hi Riley.”

The young man took another step closer to the counter. His apron had a couple of smudges and speckles of ingredients decorating its surface. Usually he spent his time in the front of the shop.

Are they short staffed today?

“There’s some fresh spice bread in the back if you want any?” Riley offered.

“Um…not today.”

“Declaration bar?”

“It’s actually on a special today.” Ben added in, gesturing to a part of the display case.

“Wow,” you eyed the price. “That’s a steal.”

Ben smirked.

“May I have one Declaration bar, please?”

“Sure.” Both men said in unison. A frown appeared for only a moment on Riley’s face.

“It’s…ahem…pretty cold outside, would you like some coffee?” Ben offered.

“One hot chocolate?” You asked. “For here.”

“Got it.” Riley spun off towards a beverage station.

You smiled.

In movements of someone who had years of experience, Ben had a fresh Declaration bar on a small ornate dessert plate on the counter in less than a minute.

After exchanging money for the treat, you made your way to a vacant table by a wall.

Better. You thought, today is better.

The past few days were not exactly days of full celebration. They weren’t all terrible either, but the other night was an exception. Not something you wanted to replay in your head again. You refused to go into that headspace.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up.

Riley stood beside your table, eyebrows pushing together. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” Your voice was quiet. It didn’t help that he was the one asking. Someone who was always candid about life.

He continued to look at you for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Thank you.” The words barely made it out without cracking. You immediately avoided his gaze. Only then did you notice the steaming mug atop of a coaster sitting beside your treat.

“You’re welcome.” He placed the Wi-Fi password card on the table. “Let me know if you need anything.” Taking too big of a step back, he bumped into an empty table. “Ah.” He steadied the table before retreating to the counter.

For Riley’s sake, you didn’t watch him. Not noticeably anyway.

A low murmur of voices bounced around the shoppe as customers occupied other tables.

After taking a calming breath, you started eating the Declaration bar. The treat was soft, warm, slightly chewy, and had a hint of lemon.

Oh, yeah. Needed this.

A calm, cozy atmosphere was exactly what could ease your mind. A simple change in scenery did wonders.

You could not help the amused smile forming on your lips as you picked up the mug of hot chocolate. The coaster provided for you read: Treasure.

Just as each time you had ordered a drink to stay in the shoppe, you had the same coaster. You knew for certain there were others with different words because of what you had overheard customers’ comments in the past.

It was a little thing, but it still had you smiling into your drink. A welcome feeling of happiness, that was certain. Especially knowing that kind Riley always got you a drink.

Reaching for the laminated card with their shoppe logo on it, you flipped it over to check the Wi-Fi password, and paused. You set the mug down.

Okay…A new daily clue setup. Maybe? You thought as you carefully removed the paper. It was a note.

May I buy you lunch some time? Riley

Staring at the paper, you read it over three more times and felt your skin grow warmer when your eyes passed over the phone number he added.

Okay. Okay. Okay. Wow. Not what I expected today—at all? Maybe.

The urge to glance over to the display counter was strong. What if Riley was looking? What if he was in the back room?

What do I say? You thought before drinking more hot chocolate for procrastination. It’s a seasonal drink here anyway. You took another sip. At the moment and as far as the day went, you did not fully trust your voice.

He did give his number, you reasoned to yourself.

Having another bite of the dessert, you pulled out your phone from a pocket.

Here we go.

In more time than it would normally take to type a text message, you finally hit send. A nice, short message sent to Riley’s phone. An affirmative answer that you did like to eat lunch with him.

That was when you noticed how warm it was indoors.

You started tapping your shoe distractingly.

CLASH CRASH clang

All heads turned to an empty table.

“Riley, are you alright?” Ben asked from behind the register.

Shoes surrounded by two scattered mugs, a chipped plate, a tray, and more of a mess, Riley stood holding his phone.

“I’m great.”

You smiled.

“Riley,” Ben said slowly. “Just….clean it up.”

“Yeah.”

“Now.”

“Right.” Riley pocketed his phone with a grin.

Picking up your hot chocolate, you smiled into the drink.

Gosh, he’s cute.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Riley Poole Tags: @darkenwolfy @wesleeporstudy 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar Ch. 7/ ?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (eventually, he he he) 

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined. 

WC: 2,276

Tags: gay panic, allusions to brother/brother incest, angst, Dean having graphic naughty thoughts 

Beta:  @daydream3r-xo - thank you for reading lovely 😘

A/N: To keep things realistic, as this chapter takes place one month on from the previous one, I figured I better make you guys wait that long too! JK, 🙃 I just suck spectacularly. So sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but I’m getting back into the swing of things, and promise the next chapter is already in progress and will be out next week 😊

Chapter 6

*

One month later

They’re out west working a vengeful spirit case and pretending, pretty effectively Dean thinks, that the events of nearly two months ago now have been forgotten. Sam doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t bring it up, that should be the end of that. Except it’s not. Inside, Dean’s head is a mass of tangled emotions and twisted thoughts and dark crevices broadcasting a siren’s song - like the allure of hearing a snippet of “Cherry Pie” seeping out into the dusty blackness of a desert parking lot illuminated by the warm neon outlines of poles and women - except the images hidden in those crevices aren’t mostly-naked women with too much makeup and not enough self respect. Hidden in the recesses of Dean’s mind are the images of Sam’s cock thrusting into a tight throat, and an echo of the words, “hey, if you ever need help figuring it out…”

Those words have haunted Dean more thoroughly than any ghost they’ve hunted, than any spectre they’ve burned. And Dean couldn’t manage to burn those words out of his memory. 

A knock on his shoulder draws Dean out of himself and back to the present, where the object of his fantasies sits blissfully unaware on the sticky black leather next to him. The desert is hot. 

“Are you listening to me man? Thought you said we were gonna pull over for the night, find some A/C?”

“Yeah, of -” Dean cleared his throat, dropping from the embarrassingly high octave his voice had come out in. “Of course, just uh, point me to the next exit I guess. There’s gotta be something coming up.” 

“Yeah, it looks like there’s a little resort town coming up just a coupl’a miles from here. If it’s a tourist spot they should at least have functioning air conditioning, maybe even a shower that isn’t broken,” Sam huffed. 

“Yeah, sounds good Sammy.”

*

To Sam’s relief they had a cool room and a clean shower about half an hour later, and he relished in the chance to stretch his legs and rinse off the dust that clung to him from driving with the windows down most of their way there. Towelling off his hair with a rough shake he lobbed the towel onto the bed and grabbed for a fresh t-shirt. 

“I’m going to grab some grub. You want to come or you gonna stay and read that nerd book you picked up in the last town?” 

“You mean Mythology of the Spirit in the American West?” Sam corrected Dean exasperatedly. 

“Yeah, like I said, nerd book. You coming with or not?” 

Sam huffed and considered his options. He was looking forward to sitting down with that book, but he’d also been cooped up in the impala for innumerable hours not too long ago, and it would feel good to walk around for a bit, even if his brother was being an ass. 

“Yeah, sure. I’m coming.” 

*

Dean picked out the first joint they walked by with bright lights and loud music. This was definitely a tourist town, because even on a weekday this place was packed, but Dean liked the noise and the buzz. It made a welcome change from the monotony of his thoughts broadcasting over a tinny radio all day. 

The place didn’t have much in the way of decor beyond the theme of ‘bar’. It was crowded with mostly guys - dressed a little more loudly than Dean would have expected but, hey, they were probably on vacation, cutting a little loose - and the occasional group of girlfriends had tables dotted around as well. It looked like your typical food and drink establishment. 

Sam slapped him on the arm and gestured to a free table on the other side of the room. Dean gave him a thumbs up and pointed to the bar, to indicate he’d grab the first round of drinks and hopefully find a menu while he was at it, he was starving. 

The bartender gave him a friendly smile when he asked for two draughts and pointed out the menus when Dean asked. Dean grabbed the first beer that was passed over to him and hung around at the bar while he looked through the menu and waited for Sam’s drink. That turned out to be a poor tactical decision, because standing alone at a bar and being as attractive as Dean is a combination that invited attention. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” 

Dean looked up, startled, into the face of the tanned, polo-shirt-wearing guy that had just spoken to him. He was giving Dean what was supposed to be an open, disarming smile, but which really just looked weirdly nervous. 

“Uh, hey,” Dean responded, leaving it open for the newcomer to pick up the conversation, but not really knowing what to say to him. 

“Nice night, huh?” 

“Um, yeah, sure-”

“Here’s your other drink, man,” the bartender cut across the exchange and dropped the second glass next to Dean’s first. 

“Thanks,” Dean grabbed quickly for the second drink and tucked the menu under his arm before grabbing his own. “Uh, nice to meet ‘ya,” he nodded awkwardly to polo-guy and hurried past to get back to Sam, who was playing on his phone at the table, leaving any thought of how weird that was back at the bar with the now deflated looking tourist. 

An hour later, suitably fed and two beers down, Sam suggested a game of pool. 

“You know I’m always up for beating your ass, Sammy.” 

Dean grinned and racked up the strangely coloured billiard balls in a bright pink frame. He’d never seen rainbow-coloured pool before but, whatever, people were weird. He gave Sam the break, and tried very hard to look anywhere but his baby brother’s ass as he bent stoically over the felt top and crashed the cue into the white ball, grinning smugly when he straightened up and rounded the table to pound a brightly striped ball into a corner pocket. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to avoid looking at Sam with his perv-o-vision on, but realised too late that the front-on view of Sam wasn’t any less enticing. 

The way his chestnut bangs curled over his brow and caught on his insanely long eyelashes - seriously was he wearing mascara or something? Dean yanked himself from his thoughts, only to be confronted with Sam’s eyes glancing up at him from behind those lashes and curls, like he wanted to check Dean was watching him while he took his shot. He holed another ball, and the clack and thunk of ball against porcelain and then wood shuddered through Dean and settled in his bones. The cocky smirk on Sam’s face took it one step further, and sent a shock of arousal through his chest and down. 

“I’m gonna go get us some refills,” Dean grunted and motioned to their mostly empty glasses. Sam shrugged and eyed his next shot, smirking to himself, under the assumption that Dean was bailing because he didn’t want to watch Sam slaughter him right out of the gate. He was partially right. At the rate he was going, Dean was going to be on the floor soon; and it had nothing to do with the pool or the alcohol, and everything to do with the thoughts Sam was stirring inside him. 

Up at the bar, Dean called for two more beers, and a double shot of something strong. The amber liquid was dropped in front of him quickly while the bartender waited for the taps to clear. Dean took a healthy gulp and let the burn in his throat ground him, reminding him of what he could control in this world. And maybe he couldn’t control his thoughts about Sammy, but he could control how mind-numbingly drunk he got to forget them. Taking the second and last gulp of the liquor, he nearly choked when he felt a tap on his shoulder. And he knew it wasn’t Sam, because he was watching Sam still bent over the pool table from across the room. 

“You drank that pretty damn quick,” the stranger chuckled deeply. “Good stuff?” 

“Strong stuff,” Dean grunted, and flagged the bartender for another, which was quickly poured out for him. 

“I know something else pretty strong that would feel good sliding down your throat.” This time Dean did choke on his liquor, prompting the stranger to thump him on the back, which Dean flinched away from violently. “Sorry hombre, didn’t mean to scare you like that,” the stranger had the decency to look slightly abashed, “it’s just… you got the best damn blowjob lips I’ve ever seen.” Dean almost swallowed wrong again. 

“I, uh…” Dean cleared his throat, grasping at straws for words that made any sense, and tried again. “That’s, um, that’s very flattering of you but I’m not… uh, ‘on your team’ amigo, sorry.” In a bid to hide his awkwardness, Dean went to down the rest of his drink. It stung on the way down, where the flesh of his throat was raw from choking. 

“Oh, sorry man, I thought uh- with your friend over there you two must be… well, among friends here.” He gestured vaguely around the room and Dean followed his motion, paying closer attention now than he had all night. And that’s when he noticed that a lot of the guys were sitting just a little closer than friends do, the groups of girlfriends dotted around all had pairs amongst them… His eyes darted back to Sam and the rainbow coloured billiard balls he hadn’t thought too hard about before. 

Dean’s stare hardened when he noticed that Sam, who had pocketed all his balls, effectively finishing the game while Dean was at the bar (and Dean did not let his heart strings tug proudly at that), was leaning casually against the side of the table, arms resting on his pool cue in a way that made him look carelessly sexy, eyes raking over a guy slightly shorter than him with spiky hair and a tight henley. His brain echoed with the sounds of shattering glass as he turned, wide-eyed, back to the incredibly forward man who had been hitting on him. 

“This is a gay bar?” Dean hoped he didn’t sound offensive, he was just confused. 

“Wow,” the stranger laughed, tucking a hand into his pocket, “you really are straight aren’t you?” 

He shook his head bemusedly and slapped a bill on the counter, gesturing for two of what Dean had just been downing. When they arrived, he clicked his drink against the glass he pushed in front of Dean. “Hope you forget whoever it is you’re drinking to forget about, and if you want some help with that, I don’t mind working with beginners.” The stranger left with a wink and made his way back to his group of buddies across the room, laughing off their sympathies at his strike out. 

Dean was left at the bar, puzzled, embarrassed, but vaguely flattered. Except then he remembered Sam was talking to someone, some jag-off who didn’t know how to buy clothes that fit him properly, and a feeling he wasn’t sure how to name writhed and burned in his chest. Eyeing his little brother over the drink he’d just been bought, Dean tried to do a little introspection for once. If he didn’t have a name for what he was feeling, then it was probably something new, right? It wasn’t his protective instincts kicking in, Sam could take this guy easily; could probably split him in half, Dean thought to himself ruefully. But then that thought conjured up an image Dean wasn’t mentally prepared for. 

Like he was watching it through the flickering of a candle, shadows jumping across the figures he was trying to focus on, Dean saw Sam grab the man’s hair and slam him over the pool table with his arm twisted behind his back, saw Sam pull down his too-skinny jeans and bury his face between the guy’s ass cheeks, saw Sam naked, slamming into him, splitting him in half, the muscles in his back flexing and glistening with sweat in the weird half light Dean was watching through. 

In a blink, Sam and his boy-toy had disappeared. Not just from Dean’s lecherous imaginings but also from Dean’s actual view. Panicked, he searched for Sam in the crowd, breath easing when he saw him further down the bar ordering drinks, but every muscle in his body clenched when he saw Sam’s hand land on his companion’s shoulder and squeeze. 

What the hell did Sam think he was doing? Picking some random guy up in a bar? That wasn’t like him at all, that was Dean’s thing. Except, when was the last time he’d gone home with someone? A few weeks? A month? With a gut-wrenching feeling, Dean realised that he hadn’t taken anyone home with him since Dani and Sam. So maybe picking people up in bars wasn’t his thing, if he hadn’t done it in so long. Maybe now it was Sam’s thing. 

But then what’s my thing? 

Dean scrambled in his head for a new identity, a new label. Something like ‘big brother’ that he could use to define himself, ground himself in the haze of confusion he felt himself slipping away in. Hunter? High-school dropout? Badass? Border-line alcoholic? He looked up from his empty glass and cast around his surroundings, frustrated and dazed and searching for an answer - and he locked eyes with Sam. 

You’re the guy who’s hopelessly in love with his little brother. 

Fuck.

***

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[dianaburnwood]

HITMAN 3: First Impressions

This post is full of SPOILERS. Also, it is LONG, so.... yeah. Be prepared lol 

HITMAN 3. Also known as: Diana’s Game. 

Dear GOD I am in love. 

I’m going to do my best to make this coherent. But. I am still freaking out. And I have SO much more to explore!!!! This won’t be very in-depth because I played each map exactly once so far. There’s so much left to see, conversations to overhear, opportunities to exploit - but, I DO have some first impressions, oh hell yes. 

Menu: 

That menu music!!! I was not expecting that at all. It was a mix of choral and classical with previous themes intertwined, and it reminded me of Blood Money. Speaking of Blood Money, this game is Blood Money. 

Dubai: 

Very, very beautiful. Kinda thought Grey made it all about himself lol of course he wanted to say “in your face” to the partners, but it was like 47 was just there to pull the trigger, like he’d not been hurt by them too. But, I really liked it. Trapping them in a room and watching them freak while Grey watched me kill them?? Helloo??? Popping off HARD from the start and I love it.

So - here’s the thing. I don’t get the timing. Diana tells them then that Edwards escaped. Did he escape just before the boys got to Dubai? Or were they unavailable to reach until then? It seems that the message Grey got at the end of HAVEN was after Olivia hacked the HAVEN servers, and then the boys were out of reach so after Diana discovered Edwards was gone, she couldn’t tell them until Dubai? And it was shown to us in a different order to leave us hanging? I dunno. Maybe? It seems weird. 

THE CUTSCENE here omg - once again establishing that 47 and Diana are ride or die. “Diana will make it right, she always does” - BABE. BABE. SWEET BOY. His little face when Grey doesn’t trust Diana. OMGGG.

Dartmoor: 

I went the murder mystery route, of course. I figured it was Emma from her conversation with her husband, but I got all the clues after just to be sure. Can’t believe Carlisle just handed 47 the file on Edwards and then went out alone on the balcony like I wasn’t gonna kill her??? Bitch????? do you forget who i am?????? Anyway, the murder mystery was SO much fun, but I can’t wait to infiltrate this manor in other ways. Lots of Beldingford vibes here.

THE CUTSCENE bdsfgafhlsjfah WAHT????? Ok so HOW did Edwards know where they were? And - ok, so it made for an amazing scene, but Grey is a badass. He is a mercenary genius that duped the ICA and brought Providence to its knees. How did he get himself surrounded in the woods by CICADA? But he did, and it was beautiful, and he literally only shot himself to save 47, and the LOOK in 47′s eyes on his balaclava face - I just bfjKSFasad. I can’t believe he died so early tho. I was very sure he’d die somehow, but SO early. WOW. 

Berlin:

fucking hell. Berlin. fuck. fucckkkk. 

I wanna shout out to Mini (not gonna tag you in case you’re avoiding spoilers) but hot damn girl if you’re reading you were BANG ON about 47 wearing Grey’s coat. I really didn’t think it was his. It was. It is such a beautiful way for 47 to express his emotions about this death without actually saying anything. Omg. It was perfection. I’m crying thinking about it.

BERLIN was where this game really upped its... game. Like WOW. 5 targets, and it’s the ICA. Clearly Edwards went to the ICA board at this stage and was like uhhhh so you need to take these ppl out. HOWEVER I am amazed that the ICA is like “oh, ok”. DO you not remember what happened in SOUTH DAKOTA. 

But going after the ICA is a fucking trip and I love it. I love how 47 says each agent’s name to himself. I love how he listens in and the team handler realises it. I love how she pulls the rest of her team out once you get 5. I love that the ICA agents use disguises too!!! This is truly APEX PREDATOR and I love that they named it that. Y’all think you have the balls to go up against 47??? bitch?????

But the fact that you have to find the targets and none of them are marked is so fantastic. I found 6, but I have no idea how many are actually available - but I’m gonna find out!!! The club is HUGE as well, and lots of throwbacks to Contracts, especially with the biker gang. Amazing. Amazing level. I’m so excited to replay it. 

Also they really addressed the elephant in the room with the ICA agents describing 47 as a caucasian male, bald, average height and ppl being like uh that’s every man here, and then he said yeah but he’s got this big tattoo lmao 

Chongqing

ok this is where I started to think this game was my fanfiction. Inside the ICA? Showing off how truly international it is, and high tech. Hidden in plain sight. Ready to dismantle in 12 hours if needed. SO perfect. This lore builds on Absolution and Blood Money ICA lore in wonderful ways. 

Also, I don’t know why the IOI and DK of the logo looked different in the trailer, they must have been just hard to make out. Cos in the game, the ICA logo is the same as all previous games. 

Also, analysts do client vetting? Intrigue. Always assumed that was part of the handlers’ job. I take it all back Diana, you have never done anything wrong in your life, ever 

I killed Royce by firing the ppl she recommended so she’d get trapped in the data core cleaning. I killed Hush (what a name I love it) as his patient. 

Working with Olivia is really fun. I missed Diana, but Olivia brought a whole fresh perspective. I also really like how neither Grey nor Olivia are as good as Diana - they both fucked up while guiding 47 at least once. 

47 saying “...I will leave you to prepare” to Olivia, I yelled fdagsfa

Also I love how 47 decided to expose the ICA exactly like Diana did in Absolution. Those two. One of a kind. My heart. And his desire to protect her. I love that the files showed their start together. Olivia saying “I can see why you...” and then she stopped herself. We all KNOW what she was gonna say. 

AND AND AND AND 

the cutscene - I screamed

“47 has one weakness. Me.” 

I swear to fucking GOD, IO has seen into my soul. I’ve said all along that Diana is 47′s weakness, and he is hers. But to hear it said, aloud, by my girl? WHAT???!!!!!

Mendoza

Ok. OK. OKKKKKK. OK. I can’t even write about this one. This was where I was pretty sure I was hallucinating the entire level. This is my Diana and 47 dreams come true. This is insane. This is EVERYTHING.

So we have OUR MOMENT IN THE SUN. She puts her HAND on HIS HAND and he looks in fucking wonderment at it. ahugarhiewEG;FEJGHEFlejlhsgfes;gjrsgt. I can’t. I can barely get through writing about this. 

Diana - the dress, the Jolie thigh slit, the jewellery, the hair (they finally fixed her fucking hair), SASS. “I have tango fever” omg. 

How do these ppl not have a pic of 47 by now lol 

I followed Diana and Vidal around cos I was entranced by my girl. Diana was fucking amazing each time. So much sass. Little did I know I interrupted them enough times for Vidal to say “ok son let’s talk”. I saw the tango and I was like omg imagine if I could dance with Diana. 

well.

WELL. 

Anyway, got to kill Vidal via her own setup for me, and that was amazing. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I snuck into the house to kill Yates, and overheard him calling Edwards’ voicemail. Also, it is April 2021?? So, yeah. My previous dates were way wrong lol. 

And then, ALL MY DREAMS CAME TRUE. Diana and 47 fucking dancing the tango? I was pissed that I was in a security guard outfit, next time I play he will be in his tuxedo baby. 

Diana’s comments to 47 when he’s in disguise tho, I was freaking. As security “you look like a true professional. I feel so much safer with you gentlemen around” aaahhhh

UH HE FELL TO THE GROUND COS OF POISON fngjfagfljgnsdfa

I am so glad I was right about my baby girl tho. She even told him “you didn’t have a choice” about her parents. Good. I’m so glad I was right about that. But omg it broke my heart to have 47 so, SO, SOOO sure of Diana all along, defending her to Grey and Olivia, knowing, KNOWING that she was on his side, and then, he eventually started to doubt it. 

I was screaming at my screen - this is BLOOD MONEY! SHe is doing what she did in BLOOD MONEY!!!!

But, for a second, 47 wasn’t sure anymore. And Diana played her part well. 

Carpathian Mountains

Ok, what I love most about Contracts was how it gave us an insight into 47′s psyche, and this game upped that tenfold. Him seeing all his targets surround him? Him imagining Diana and the Constant dancing together? Him imagining her say terrible things about him, things he’s thought about himself deep down, always, omg, but he finally snapped out of it. Ironic that thinking about Grey snapped him out of it, when in life Grey had not trusted Diana. But 47 came to the realisation on his own. Diana would never betray him. 

opening that door and finding out you’re on a fucking train?????? I screamed. 

I am a bit disappointed that it turned out Romania wasn’t significant, they just happened to be passing through. But omg the fact that you are “subject 47″ again. I freaked. This is 47′s worst nightmare. 

I love that you have a free pass to kill everyone in this level. I did it in stealth anyway, cos it felt wonderfully tense to sneak through that train. But wow. This is another BIG risk that IO took. The train was straight out of Uncharted, and crafting a silencer for your pistol??? Hello The Last of Us????? But I don’t care. They used those elements super well. 

I think some people will be angry at this game because parts of it (especially the last level) were a departure from how HITMAN and HITMAN 2 worked. But I love it. I love that they took risks to tell the story they wanted to tell, and those risks paid off. 

47′s undying loyalty to Diana, omg. Telling Edwards bye bitch, I’ll never forget who I am again, and Diana thinks you suck. <3<3<3<3<3

ENDING

OH MY GOD. ONE YEAR LATER????? 47 obviously took some time off cos he fucking needed a break. But he’s back, baby. Ending on “it’s good to be back” was wonderful. The game ended where the 2015 trailer for HITMAN started, and I’m crying. He’s ready to continue with Diana, and not because it’s what he was made to do, not because he doesn’t know what else to do, but finally, because he CHOOSES to do that. 

But one year later? What does that mean? Has Diana rebuilt the ICA like in Blood Money, or will she and 47 work together without anyone else? They’ll need the infrastructure that an organisation like the ICA has though. Diana said she would dismantle Providence from the top down once Edwards was gone, but how? Does that mean dismantling what’s left of the ICA? They were one and the same by the end of the game. All that didn’t just disappear. I’m left with so many questions. 

I was disappointed Diana wasn’t in the cabin when 47 got there. And I wonder why she wasn’t. She knew he was coming, but they are clearly still on good terms. Maybe she wasn’t sure what to expect. But does that mean they hadn’t spoken in a year since??? But she didn’t sound surprised to hear him, and he had coordinates that he was following, so I think they arranged to meet. But her phone was in there when he arrived, and she wasn’t. Maybe he was tracking her phone? Did she come back there to him after????? 

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT 

the game 

ended

with 47

smiling 

And for that I will be forever grateful. 

Ok bye, I need to play it again. RIP work tomorrow lol 

[abuskinswarrior]

find our way back... part 7

hey y’all! this has been a long time coming i know. i’ve been dealing with a lot of mental health issues and i’ve recently come back from being in patient at the hospital for it. But i’m feeling a little better and i’ve got part seven out for y’all! i hope you enjoy!

Tag-list: @pprettyboyreid @genuisgub @ataidyl @andiebeaword @dreatine @cncopmwhoore @sixx-sic-sixx @nanocoool @kookiescooky3 @fatefuldestinies

~~If you want to be tagged on this, let me know!~~

Warnings: illusion to sexual assault (nothing explicit, but implied) 

Summary: Dinner at the restaurant doesn’t go as anyone planned. 

Words: ~2764

part 6 | part 7

No one spoke. Heads buried in menus, tension that could be cut with glass filled the rectangular table they all sat at. Persephone sat at the head of the table, the rest of the team on the long sides, leaving the seat opposite of Persephone empty. Penelope eyed the menu, biting her lip. Everything was too expensive. She looked up, glancing at Emily who sat across from her. Emily was nibbling on the soft bread one waiter had brought out for them. Her eyes looked up to David’s who was sitting next to Penelope. David rolled his eyes at the two girls before letting out an appreciative hum.

“So, Persephone,” David started.

“Please, call me Seph. I think the only person that calls me Persephone anymore is Diana.” She let out an airy laugh, trying to diffuse some of the tension. The rest of the team laughed along.

“Seph,” David corrected. “Do you come here often? What would you recommend?”

“I haven’t been here since the owner’s son remodeled the place,” Persephone looked down at the menu. “But, considering they have the same cooks, I’ve always enjoyed their Baccalà alla vicentina. I’d also recommend the Penne all'arrabbiata if you’re a vegetarian.”

The team nodded, their heads returning back to the menu. Looking over at the two items she recommended (the two highest priced items), Persephone could see the apprehension in everyone’s faces.

“If the price is the reason for all the furrowed brows, I would like to iterate myself: this is my treat. I would never pick a place I couldn’t afford.” Persephone rose her hand, getting the attention of a waiter, who held his finger up.

A waiter walked up to her, a small pad of paper in one hand. “How may be of service?” He smiled, his eyes disappearing.

Persephone tilted her head at the man. His round face felt familiar. “Excuse me, do I know you from somewhere?”

The man let out a nervous laugh. “I work many jobs. You might have seen me from one of those.”

Persephone narrowed her eyes, but let it go. “Hmm, maybe… I would like for you to bring the best bottle of wine you have, please.” The waiter bowed, leaving the table. The silence was back. Persephone drummed her fingers against themselves, looking around at the table. Everyone’s eyes were darting around the table, silent arguments going around.

“So, JJ, Will, how long have you two been married?” Persephone asked as the waiter came back pouring the wine in everyone’s glass. JJ looked up clearing her throat.

“Oh, uh, about five years now.” She grabbed her glass, taking a sip. Persephone smiled at her.

“How long have you and Spencer known each other?” She asked back. JJ wanted to ask how long they’ve been married, but she was still in denial about it.

“Oh, man. It feels like forever. I was sixteen when we met.” Persephone took a sip from her drink. “He was eighteen, heading back to college.”

“Wait, you’ve known Spencer for twenty one years?” Penelope asked.

Persephone did the quick math in her head learning how old Spencer was to his friends. “Yeah, I suppose so. It feels so much longer than that.”

“So it’s true, are you two married?” Luke chimed in from the far end of the table.

“Mhmm, fifteen years on Friday.”

The entire table erupted in exclaims and gasps. “Now, wait a minute, Spencer joined the FBI when he was 22. He was working at the Bureau for two years before he married you?” Emily’s hands moved up and down, calming the table down.

“He wanted to make sure he had a steady income and was able to take care of us before he married me. We were engaged for two years.”

“Why?” Tara asked before realizing how insensitive she sounded. “I mean, why get married so young?”

“Sorry I’m late.” Spencer walked up to the table, a small gift in his hand. He looked over at Persephone, silently pleading her to not say anything else. Everyone looked over at the other end of the table, gawking at Spencer.

“I cannot believe you Spencer! Fifteen years?!” Penelope looked over at him, her hands placed on the table.

Spencer looked over at her, guilt written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything because our jobs are dangerous and if anybody found out about them… I couldn’t do that.” 

Spencer had been standing outside the restaurant for thirty minutes. He was listening, debating if he wanted to make an entrance or not. He really didn’t want to be here, but the fear of Persephone saying something and him not being able to stop her, made him move his feet.

“So why did you get married?” Spencer pulled the empty seat, the one directly across from Persephone on the small side of the table. They looked at each other, having a silent conversation. The team looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what they were telling each other.

“Why does anyone get married?” Spencer asked, still looking over at Persephone. “I love her.” Liar. Persephone’s eyes twitched.

“I was pregnant.” Persephone spoke, breaking eye contact with Spencer, looking at Tara, who had asked the question. Everyone looked at Spencer, not wanting to believe he had an entire secret family and no one knew about it.

“No one knew about this?” Matt asked, looking at the four people who had been on the team the longest. They all shook their heads, waiting for an answer from Spencer.

“Technically, Gideon knew about it.” Lie. Spencer told the team, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hold on,” Penelope waved her hands in front of her. “I need an explanation.” She looked over at Persephone. “Seph, please explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” Spencer started, but JJ held up her hand at him.

“Nope, people that hide an entire family from their friends, don’t get to speak.” JJ looked at Persephone. “Yes, please Seph, explain the story.

“There really isn’t much to it.” Persephone took a sip of her wine. “I was twenty years old, pregnant, I couldn’t tell my father. He would have disowned me, I went to Spencer for help and he offered to marry me.” Persephone shrugged her shoulders.

Flashback - Greece ~1515

Persephone ran back to her house. Her dress was tattered, her hair had fallen out of its usual tight bun. She avoided her father who was working out on the field and Spencious who was collecting eggs from the chickens. She closed her bedroom doors, running to her closet. She tore off her ruined dress, shoving it as far as she could in her dresser, pulling out clean new items. She wanted to take a bath, but she couldn’t. Her father would ask her why and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what had happened at the market. 

“Perse? You back?” There was a knock at the door as she was pulling the dress on. “I didn’t see you come in.” Her father was standing on the other side of the door.

“Oh, yes I just came back.” She wiped a few stray tears, smacking her face slightly, bringing some color into her cheeks. She opened the door.

“Are you alright?” He was concerned for her daughter. He could tell something was wrong, but he didn’t want to pry in fear she would shut him out all together.

“Oh, yes, I rushed to change, a drunkard spilled his beer all over me at the market and I rushed back to change.” Persephone smiled, hoping he would let it go.

“Alright, Spencious made dinner for tonight. It’s ready now.” 

Dinner was quiet. Persephone played with the food on her tray, moving it around, her long sleeves, getting dirty from touching the food. Her father kept glancing over at her, but didn’t say anything. Spencious just looked between the two, wondering what happened between them.

“Spencious, this meal is quite delicious. Who taught you how to cook?”

“Kore has been giving me lessons.” Persephone looked up from her name being called.

“Yes, it is good.” She mumbled.

“You haven’t even touched it.” Spencious laughed, stopping as Persephone glared at him.

“I’m not hungry. I’m going to clean up.” She left her plate on the table, heading to the kitchen where she started cleaning the pots Spencious used to make dinner.

Spencious looked over at her father. “Cleon, is everything alright with Kore?” He asked quietly, not wanting her to overhear.

“I’m not, sure, I’m going to head over to the market, see if anyone could tell me what happened. You watch over her?” 

Cleon over the past four years warmed up to Spencious. True he begrudgingly accepted him into the household, but Spencious was a hard worker and cared for his daughter in his absence. Cleon thought of Spencious as his own son (although he would never admit that).

Spencious nodded his head, bidding Cleon a goodbye. Spencious walked into the kitchen, watching over her as she washed the same pot twice, then again. He sighed, closing the water spout. She didn’t even notice. He took the pot from her hands, grabbing her wrist. She flinched away from him, pulling her arm back. Spencious looked at her. She kept her distance from him, looking down, her hair covering most of her face. Spencious gently took her hand in his, pulling up the sleeves of her dress. His mouth opened slightly, looking at the hand sized bruises that were beginning to form.

“Oh, Kore,” 

“It’s nothing.” She pulled her hand back, the sleeve dropping. Spencious took a few steps forward, wrapping his arms around her. She gasped at the gesture, but clung to his sides, letting out a sob. Spencious whispered in her ear, that everything will be alright.

“It won’t,” Persephone sobbed. “Father won’t look at me the same. He won’t be able to marry me off and I’ll end up on the streets!” She tightened her grip around his shirt. Spencious stroked her hair.

“That’s not true. I know at least one person that will still want to marry you.”

Persephone looked up at Spencious. The sun had started to set behind him. The reds and oranges of the sunlight had wrapped around his body. His eyes looked down on hers, a soft smile playing at his lips. His hair had grown out from the last time she cut it, falling slightly past his shoulders. When she first met him, she thought he was a shy, scrawny boy, but working on the farm, he started filling out a little, gaining more confidence. She grew to love him at first as a friend, but in this moment, she realized she had fallen in love with him.

“Who?” She asked softly. Spencious looked down at Persephone. Her eyes were shiny from her tears, her face flushed. Her nose was redder than it usually was and her hair was growing out. She hadn’t been cutting it, hoping the weight would pull her curls down, but they hadn’t. They were still prominent as ever and as he ran his fingers through it he couldn’t help but notice how soft it was. Spencious kept his distance from Persephone from the beginning. He wanted to hate her. After she led him back to her small village he knew wouldn’t ever be able to go back to his troop. He wanted to hate her for that, but watching as she danced while making breakfast, singing to the chickens as she grabbed eggs, and her excitement to try anything new, he just couldn’t. He fell in love with her within the first year of living with her, but never said anything. Maybe he was too scared, but in this moment, he spoke up.

“Me,” He looked her in the eyes, daring her to say he was lying. They stared at each other in silence. Persephone didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say that he was lying, just to make her feel better, but looking into his eyes, she knew he wasn’t. He had meant it. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of marrying him, but she didn’t know what to say.

“I guess,” Persephone swallowed the lump in her throat. “I guess, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Present Day

“I didn’t offer to marry you because you were pregnant.” Everyone’s head turned to Spencer, his eyes were narrowed and his fingers were clenched.

“Then you chose a real inopportune time to tell me.” Persephone spoke. 

The team glanced around the table, wondering if they should say something or not. The workers seemed to disappear, feeling the tension across the table. Emily looked over at JJ and Will, hoping they would say something, anything.

“So, you have a daughter?” Will cleared his throat.

Persephone hummed. “Yeah, strong willed, smart, witty.”

“I’d love to meet her.” Emily asked.

“She’s actually in Italy,” Emily and Penelope shared a look. “Visiting her grandmother before starting college.”

“Really?” Penelope sipped her wine. “What’s her name?”

“Annette.” Spencer shot his head up.

“I didn’t realize Annette went to Italy.”

“Mhmm, mother had asked, and if you came around more often, you would have known.” Persephone raised her eyebrow, daring Spencer to contradict her.

“If you had called, I would have come.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t I had to call my husband for him to come home.” 

“So, why did your mom want your daughter to visit?” Emily asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

The couple stared at each other from across the table, a little longer, before Persephone looked away. “My mom wasn’t always around and even less when I moved here with my dad. I think she’s trying to get that relationship back.”

The waiter came back asking if people were ready to order.

“Do you want me to order for the table?” Persephone asked, noticing the look of hesitation around the table. Everyone nodded, Penelope holding back the urge to ask the million of questions she had. When the waiter walked away, Penelope talked before the tension could become too much. 

“That’s a really pretty dress.” Persephone looked down, smoothing it down. “Where is it from?”

“Oh, this was custom made for me. I’ve had it for years now.”

“Really? That’s amazing. Do you have a lot of custom made clothes?”

“Not as much as I used to. How the times have changed.” Spencer scrunched up his nose at the comment.

“Yeah, they have, haven’t they?” Spencer mumbled under his breath, unnoticeable to anyone but Persephone.

“What was that?” 

“I didn’t say anything?” Spencer eyed her. 

“Maybe not, but you’re thinking something I can see it all over your face, Spencer.” She said his name with venom.

“I was just agreeing with your statement.” He was trying not to start anything with her, but he had so many things he wanted to say and do it was hard. He hated how his first instinct was to be angry with her, but he wanted to try with her, but she was just so stubborn.

“You must have been very well off in Italy. What made you want to move?” Rossi asked, moving past the tension.

“Oh, you know the usual I suppose. Teenage rebellion, affairs, among other things.” She waved her hand.

“I don’t know of any teenage rebellion that results in having to leave your country.” Emily joked.

“It does when your family is very well known.” 

“How well known?”

“Royal blood known.” Spencer had started putting two together. Persephone looked over at him and nodded her head, confirming.

“So you’re like a princess?” Penelope’s eyes widened.

“Not anymore. I haven’t been for a long time now.”

“But you still reap the benefits.” Spencer was upset. He tried not using old money unless it was an emergency and to have Persephone use money from her past lives, rubbed him the wrong way.

“You could too.” Persephone’s voice was softer this time. “We are married.”

“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.” Spencer mumbled. Persephone’s eyes hardened. 

“Then here.” She pulled her ring off, tossing it across the table. He caught it quickly, looking down at the ring. “Since you’ve felt that this marriage hasn’t felt real, maybe I’ll find someone else that will.”

Persephone got up from the table, starting to walk towards the exit.

“You can’t leave. We’re still married.” Spencer got up to follow.

“That hasn’t stopped you from being an adulterer, why should it stop me?” She turned around, flicking him off and leaving the restaurant, leaving her card at the check out.  

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Eight

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 23rd, 2000

Emile looked at the surprise on Faith’s face with glee. “Do you like it?” he asked her.

“Emile...you set up this entire thing for me?” Faith asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah, of course!” Emile said. “You said that you couldn’t have a party because you broke your wrist and you wouldn’t be able to set one up in time when you were holed up in the hospital, so consider this a double party! A welcome home and a birthday party!”

Faith shook her head, grinning and crushing Emile in a hug. “Oh, Emile, I love you so much,” she laughed. “I’m going to miss you after this summer.”

Emile grinned and hugged her just as tight. “I’m going to miss you too. Never stop writing.”

“Never,” Faith promised.

  July 28th, 2002

Emile turned as he heard snickering behind him, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the big wave of water that was aggressively shoved into his face before he was promptly tackled by a very excited Remy. Emile laughed, even as he sputtered and spat out salt water. “Was that really necessary, Rem?” Emile asked.

“No,” Remy said with a shameless grin. “But it was really funny.”

Emile laughed and shook his head, just as a wave rose up behind them, easily as tall as Emile was, and both of them were rather unceremoniously shoved onto the shoreline. Emile laughed hard enough that the wave retreating was starting to pull him back into the water before Remy grabbed his hands and kept him lying on the sand. “We should have come to the beach ages ago,” Emile laughed.

“Agreed,” Remy said with a grin, sitting down next to Emile. “Especially because I get to see you in boardshorts.”

“You’ve seen me in less,” Emile said, frowning.

“Yeah, but there’s something about the beach that makes everything and everyone look good,” Remy said. “Especially this one guy in particular...”

“I agree, the beach does make you look good,” Emile said.

Remy squeaked and whacked Emile. “I was talking about you, doofus!”

Emile laughed and offered Remy a wink. “Oh, come on, you know you look good in swim trunks, don’t deny it!”

Remy was blushing furiously and crossed his arms. “This conversation was not supposed to be about me, mister!”

“Well, it is now,” Emile said with a huge grin. “And you look positively stunning when you’re all happy and giggly at the beach.”

“No. Not allowed. Illegal,” Remy said, shaking his head. “You cannot compliment me like that.”

“I can, and I will,” Emile threatened. “If you don’t acknowledge your beauty yourself, someone else has to do it for you.”

Remy huffed and stood with a stretch, and Emile got to his feet as well. “I’m not that pretty, Emile,” he huffed. “Besides, I’d rather look handsome today.”

“Descriptors aside, you’re attractive,” Emile said simply. “I will fight you on this.”

“Then fight me, loverboy!” Remy said, shoving Emile before running into the water.

Emile stood there in shock a moment, just registering what Remy had said, before he laughed and ran after Remy, shoving water into his face with a laugh. Remy sputtered and shoved water back at Emile, but Emile blocked most of the spray. He grinned, jumping through the water and clinging to Remy like an octopus. “Emile!” Remy exclaimed with a laugh. “Let me go!”

“Nope!” Emile exclaimed, laughing.

“Come on, Emile, let go!” Remy laughed, pushing and tugging at Emile’s various limbs, but Emile would not be moved.

They continued like this for a while, Emile giggling as Remy tried to break free of Emile’s grip, before Remy got a light in his eyes and he walked out of the deeper water, causing Emile’s legs to drop. “Hey! No fair!” Emile exclaimed, still laughing.

Remy walked out of the waves to the shore, and undid Emile’s grip on him. Emile groaned. “You just sucked all the fun out of that!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I need to reapply sunscreen, and so do you,” Remy said, walking back to their towels.

Emile sighed but followed Remy and sat down on his towel, fishing in their bag for the sunscreen. He passed it to Remy, who immediately started to apply it. “I am not getting sunburned on our day trip to the beach,” Remy said. “I don’t mind a tan, but I refuse to get sunburnt.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Emile said. “Sunburn sucks, especially if you have it where you normally wear clothing.”

Remy hummed his agreement, before asking, “Can you get my back?”

“Sure,” Emile said.

Remy knelt down and Emile rubbed a coat of sunscreen onto Remy’s back, about as thin as the layer Remy put everywhere else. Emile spoke idly as he rubbed in the sunscreen. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Agreed,” Remy said. “It’s nice.”

“Where do you think we should grab lunch?” Emile asked.

Remy hummed as Emile finished applying sunscreen. “I’m always a sucker for pizza by the beach,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Emile said.

“Put sunscreen on yourself, too,” Remy said, turning to look at Emile with a stern face.

Emile rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rem, I’m not going to burn!”

“You’re right, you’re not. Because you’re reapplying your sunscreen. I’ll do it myself if I have to,” Remy warned.

Sighing, Emile put on a thin cover of sunscreen himself. “You know, I’m pale, but I don’t burn easily.”

“Whatever you say,” Remy said. “You’re still reapplying it.”

“Because you threatened to treat me like a toddler and smear it on yourself,” Emile scoffed, passing the bottle back to Remy. “My back?”

Remy obliged and Emile looked around, noticing a family setting up nearby, with a little girl staring at them. Emile smiled and waved, and she waved back. She turned to the woman putting up an umbrella, asking something, and the woman glanced over to them before saying something Emile didn’t catch. The girl ran up to Emile and Remy and asked, “Are you two best friends?”

Emile and Remy looked at each other and laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” Emile said. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t usually see two men putting on sunscreen for each other,” the girl said with a shrug. “And I figured you must trust each other a lot.”

“You’re right that we trust each other a lot,” Remy spoke up. “We’ve known each other for almost two years now.”

“Has it really only been two years?” Emile asked. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Remy laughed and kissed Emile’s temple. “It’s really only been two years,” he said.

The girl looked shocked. “You just kissed him!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I can do that. We’re dating.”

The girl’s mother walked over and grabbed her by the hand, glaring at Emile and Remy. “Don’t go putting ideas in my daughter’s head!” she hissed.

Emile and Remy glanced at each other when the mother was gone, and they started to giggle. “Oh, boy, is she in for a surprise,” Emile said. “The next town over is a college town. The gays are everywhere, and they’re open about it.”

Remy snickered. “Not only the ones who have summer semesters, but the ones who come back from their studies and work as lifeguards or have jobs on the boardwalk, too.”

They continued to laugh for a minute before Remy sighed and Emile yawned. “Man, we’ve only been here a few hours but I’m exhausted,” he said.

“Well, maybe lunch would help with that?” Remy offered. “I think it’s about noon.”

Emile grabbed his glasses and watch from the bag and checked the time. “It’s closer to one-thirty, actually.”

“Oh, we’re definitely getting lunch, then,” Remy said, standing up and shaking the sand out of his towel. “Come on, babe, we’ve gotta eat before we pass out.”

Emile stood and folded up his towel and grabbed their bag, and together they went back to the parking lot to put away their beach stuff. They both pulled on shirts and headed to the pizza parlor they had eyed on the way over here.

When they walked in they were directed to seats and Emile looked around. It was a nice place, over all. But here was the perfect chance to get some more ideas for the project. “Hey, Rem.”

Remy looked up from his menu and groaned. “Come on, Emile. This, again? Why are you so insistent about following through with this game?”

Emile shrugged. “I just want your opinion on a couple things,” he said innocently. “What do you think of the layout of the restaurant? Compared to the shop that you have visualized in your head?”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have booths,” Remy said, looking around. “They’re usually difficult to move for cleaning, and so much dust and dirt and stuff gets stuck under them or really close to them because it’s hard to clean the nooks and crannies.”

“So, only tables with chairs?” Emile asked. “Would that be an accessibility issue?”

“I’d have different heights,” Remy said definitively. “Regular height tables around the edges, with some tables higher up for people who are able to stand and climb up onto seats. And this is gonna sound weird to you...”

Emile tilted his head to the side, silently asking Remy to continue.

“...But I would have rectangular tables at the edges and circular ones in the middle, if at all possible. Less space to take up, and more potential space for a line, which I doubt would go out the door, but it’s whatever, you know?”

“It’s forethought. I like it,” Emile said, nodding and making mental adjustments in his head.

Remy ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry for insisting we do this, like, every time we go out, but...you need a solid layout before you start a shop.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remy said with a weak smile. “I’m just very tired, and I don’t want to talk or think shop right now, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Emile said with a nod. “I’ll let it drop.”

A waitress came over and took their order, returning with their drinks and promising that their pizza would be out shortly. Remy was fiddling with the paper wrapper from his straw and he hummed. “Okay. I know I said I didn’t want to talk shop, but can I just...like, vent over something really quick?”

“Sure,” Emile said, faintly surprised. Remy never brought up this sort of stuff unless it was really bugging him, so it had to be important.

“I don’t get why so many people in so many coffee shops go out of their way to buy the expensive coffee grounds and advertise where from the world it came from. Like, ethically sourced? Yeah, of course, promote that. But a lot of the time they spring for expensive grounds and they just...don’t do anything different with them. And, sure, some grounds will taste better than others. But if you don’t do anything original with it to adjust the flavor, what’s the point? Most people won’t tell the difference between the different kinds of bitter, and you have to raise prices to boot because of the cost of the grounds going into the coffee.” Remy shook his head and took a long sip of his soda. “It...it doesn’t make sense to me.”

Emile nodded along. “That makes sense. So your shop, you’d use regular coffee grounds, whatever that means?”

“I’d use the basic stuff, probably, yeah. At least at first, because that’s what I’d be able to afford. And I’d want it to be ethically sourced, ideally. Which, I know is a bit more pricey, but not out of the price range entirely. But basic coffee grounds with other ingredients still make a mean mocha if you know what you’re doing,” Remy said.

“I don’t know the first thing about making coffee, so I’ll leave you to that part of the business,” Emile said with a laugh.

Remy offered a sly grin. “Yeah. I wouldn’t ask your opinion on that without doing extensive research first so I can simplify things for you. And because you don’t know the terminology.”

Emile laughed unapologetically. “Thank you for being aware of that,” he said with a grin. “Means a lot that you would at least try and get me to understand.”

“Well, of course. It’s nice to have someone to run your plans by,” Remy said simply. “And since Theo graduated and has started doing his own thing, my pool of options has gone down by one. And when you don’t have a lot of options to begin with, that’s a big hit.”

“Maybe so,” Emile allowed. “But I’m willing to bet that your network is bigger than you think it is.”

Remy shrugged. “Maybe,” he allowed. “Maybe.”

[ethelphantom]

Reuniting with the Angel that Didn’t Come from Heaven

Yeah, I’m here again. How else. It’s not like you’re getting rid of me at this point anymore anyway. This is my prompt fill for day 2, Blind Date. Hey by the way if anyone wants to be tagged to my Daminette December stuff, hit me up, but remember I’ll tag you to both the month’s writing and art.

By the way, the seafood plate Damian mentions here is actually faux smoked salmon, porkkala, made of carrots. Porkkala is a very stupid pun in at least Finnish, as carrot is “porkkana” and fish (which salmon just so happens to be) is “kala”. That is an actual thing, and it really does taste like cold-smoked salmon so yeah. The other stuff on the plate are wakame seaweed salad with fresh cucumber noodles and seaweed hummus. That’s a dish in an Estonian vegan restaurant, V.

This is a Maribat fanfiction, so if you don’t like, do not read it.

Ao3

______

“I do not need this date, leave me alone! I’m perfectly fine on my own!”, Damian yelled at Stephanie who simply laughed at his antics. She’d been trying to get him to go on blind dates for a few weeks now, with next to no success. Once she almost managed, but then his father needed him as backup and he was saved.

This time, he wasn’t as lucky.

Apparently, she’d convinced everyone (and by everyone, he really did mean everyone) to make sure they didn’t need him for the day, cleared up his calendar for the evening, found one of his many suits and gotten Alfred to clean it and then told whoever she was trying to set him up with that he was coming. Which, in turn, meant that he could either still not go and possibly offend the other person, or he could go and be irritated about it the entire evening and insult his date that way. He’d grown enough in the past years he’d lived with his family that he tried to avoid unnecessarily offending the people they knew and he didn’t.

Stephanie knew that and made sure to use it to her advantage.

“So, you wanna be rude and offend the nice girl I had such trouble finding you or are you gonna swallow your pride this one time and come? It’d be a shame if I had to tell her that you didn’t want to come because of your useless pride…” Stephanie said, a smirk growing on her lips towards the end of the sentence.

Damnit, she knew how to work her way around the issue a little too well. He was so getting back at her as soon as he got the chance. Damian sighed and glared at her before getting up and walking towards the door. “Alright, fine. As long as you won’t try to set me up with anyone ever again.”

“Great, that’s a deal. Now let’s go, we don’t want to be late!”

The drive to the restaurant was spent in silence — or, well, Damian spent it in silence and Stephanie kept singing along to the music. The only time Damian had said something was to ask if the restaurant had vegetarian foods, to which Stephanie had replied that the restaurant itself was a vegan restaurant. His date had chosen it, apparently.

He really didn’t want to go, but decided that maybe, for once, he could try to not be the ice prince Gotham had dubbed him and at the very least meet whomever Stephanie thought would suit him. He at least trusted her enough not to set him up with someone he wouldn’t get along with at all, so he might as well make the most of the night. It would, at the best, end with him gaining a new acquaintance, and it’s not like he had too many of them. His father and older brothers would probably be proud of him for actually talking with someone outside of business setting. Besides, there was vegan food and only vegan food at that, he wouldn't even need to be disgusted by the amount of people who ate meat in his immediate vicinity. And if his date had indeed been the one to choose it, well, that certainly ensured Damian wouldn't hate her.

(Even so, there had only ever been one person to truly taken an interest to in the past years was a girl with dark hair and the most enchanting blue eyes he’d ever seen that he met at the age of fifteen. Nothing had come out of that though, since she had left Gotham so soon and they never exchanged contact information, not having the time to do so. Damian had decided not to seek her out afterwards, thinking it wasn’t necessary.)

((It wasn’t like he regretted it. Much, anyway.))

Stephanie took her leave once they arrived to the restaurant, leaving Damian in front of the entrance. (“The reservation is under my name, so just go there and try not to say anything rude to anyone”, she’d told him before disappearing into the night like the bat she was.) He took a deep breath before he stepped in, trying not to pay any attention to the irritating bell that chimed softly above him.

“I have a reservation under Brown”, he told the hostess who smiled knowingly as she nodded and took him to his table. She gestured a waitress to the table before telling Damian to have a good night and left.

“Your date is checking her makeup right now, but will soon be back. Meanwhile, what would you like for starters? Your date has already ordered but asked for us to only bring her order once you’ve ordered as well”, the waitress said, smiling brightly at him. Damian looked through the menu before he found something he liked.

“I’d like to have the seafood plate, as well as a glass of pinot noir, please”, he told the waitress, who then wrote down his order and disappeared to the kitchen. Damian took out his calendar and started looking through the events of the next week, hoping to make some of his precious, wasted time useful.

He heard the sound of heels against the floor coming towards him but paid no mind to it until they stopped and the person started talking to him.

“I’m sorry it took me a while, it’s nice to meet y— Damian?”

Damian looked up, shocked to hear the surprise in the woman’s voice. The recognition in her voice, like she actually knew him instead of just knowing who he was. The way she used his first name instead of calling him a Wayne indicated that, anyway.

“Angel?”

The young woman in front of his eyes was clearly Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl he once met but then never saw again after she went back to Paris. The girl he might have actually liked in the romantic sense had they known each other longer.

The girl that had grown up to become a beautiful young woman.

“It’s really you! I’m so glad I got to meet you again”, she said as a smile graced her lips. She sounded relieved, for some reason. He decided not to think about it further than that for now. “The past years have been such a mess, I’m so happy that I got to meet you right away after moving here— Oh, I need to thank Chloé for this. She’s so going to use it against me for the next three months”, she continued, her smile only faltering when she mentioned her life before this.

He wanted to know what had happened but maybe it was better to leave that for later.

Now he could enjoy meeting Marinette again after such a long time.

⬷۵⤐

“Hey, Steph, move over, I need to see how my bug is doing. I didn’t spend weeks planning this only to be unable to make sure he’s treating her right. She’s had rough few years, he better treat her like the princess she is.”

“Why not a queen?”

“Because that’s me. Now shut up and move your ass.”

“Wow, to see the cold Chloé Bourgeois with a higher-but-not-necessarily-holier-than-thou attitude actually liking someone and mothering them.”

“Oh shut up. I just don’t want to have her disappointed in me after she gave me a chance. She was like, the only one that did so even though I had bullied her the most for years, there’s no way I’m gonna mess it up again. Even my own childhood friend turned his back on me, but never her.”

“Awe, that’s adorable, Chlo.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Oh shit I think she saw us.”

“She definitely saw us, she’s glaring daggers at us. If we don’t leave soon or at least find a better hiding place, your boy and my bug are gonna beat both our collective asses.”

“Hey Chloé, how lovely to see you here. I thought we agreed to let me be in peace with my date, didn’t we?”

“We messed up, didn’t we?”

“Oh yeah you did.”

___

@daminette-december2019

[soranihimawari]

the truth is...

“Kindness is free. Love is free,” I said triumphantly raising the bottle of sake in the air.  Today was one I didn’t see coming at all. As fate would have it, running into my high school crush was not particularly high on my to-do list when I left the cafe I worked in earlier in the afternoon. I was hired on as one of the patisseries which specialized in parfaits and seasonal tarts during my last year in culinary school. Tonight, I was drunk on celebrating this latest turn of events.

“Of course,” my company teases me right as he raises my hand to his lips. he lets go of my hand with a cheshire cat like grin. “How could I ever forget that. C’mon, let’s get some food in you before you suffer the worse hangover in your life. I know a great place not too far from here.”

I took another swig of the sake bottle before I nodded.

“Lead the way Atsumu-san.”

I swore those hazel eyes never looked so inviting as they did at that point in my life. I recalled my coworkers’ conversation earlier in the middle of our shift:

“Say, y/n-san,“ the interning barista, Haruna, began.

“Hmm?” I hummed my response. “What’s up Haru-chan?”

“I was, well we were all wondering about something,” she said.

I picked up a towel to dry another cappuccino mug beside her. The other members of our cafe were within earshot when their senior intern asked her question.

“How come your boyfriend only comes in after we leave? When are you gonna introduce us?”

“Boyfriend? Haruna, I hate to break to you, but I don’t have one.”

“No, you do,” she begins to state her case. Haruna nervously twiddled her thumbs while our other coworker, Senna, approached us. “Tell her Senna-senpai.”

“We didn’t want to say anything, but there’s this hot blond guy who looks eerily similar to Miya Atsumu, y’know. From the MSBY Black Jackals? Anyways, he stops in here every once in a while right at closing time when it’s Erina’s turn to lock up the cafe. And apparently there was one day he asked me if you worked here,” Senna confesses. “You went to Inarizaki too, right?”

“Yeah, so?” I asked. My small smile was caught by both of them before I picked up the next mug to dry.

“You should of seen the relief on his face when Senna told him that you did and now he hasn’t stopped coming by on random mornings, but you’re never here when he comes by,” Haruna says with a dreamy sigh.

“Listen,” I said. I placed the second mug upside down on the drying rack and folded the drying towel before continuing. “The next time that blonde pretty boy walks in here is the day I will need to buy a bottle of really strong orange flavored sake to get through any sort of time with him.”

“You liked him didn’t you?” Haruna giggled.

“I do not.” Oh fuck, they’re both going to pick up on that slip, I thought.

“You’re blushing really hard now, Senpai,” Senna teased. “You still find him really hot don’t you?”

***

A couple of days go by without Miya stopping by the cafe. I had reminded my fellow cafe employees the MSBY team had a few away practice matches while promoting a newly signed member of their team. Even with this knowledge, their collective curiosity got the better of them inquiring about my relationship, or lack thereof, with the good looking setter. 

It wasn’t until two weeks later Miya Atsumu stopped in for his usual. Apparently there were perks of his frequent visits one of them being on his social media account pages tagging our cafe location with the quote “she always makes the best parfaits”. Business actually had been steady since then. After all, it helps when your three coworkers all had conversed with him once or twice before.

One Saturday around four forty-five in the afternoon, I was in the middle of setting my fudge in a star mold when Erina, Haruna, and Senna texted me to come out of the kitchen saying that there was a regular who had a question about the menu. Judging by the messages I received, I rolled my eyes. 

“Unbelievable,” I muttered before patting my hands on the apron; I had a coy smile on my face when I opened Haruna’s photo message. Damn Atsumu, you still are as handsome as ever. I pushed through the swinging kitchen door walking toward where my former classmate was standing on the opposite side of the display counter.

“Miya-kun?” my voice maintained its curious tone.

The blonde professional athlete stood in the middle of the cafe reading the menu wearing a casual sponsored street attire that included a hoodie with his team’s logo stitched on (along with a pair of cotton jersey shorts and running shoes). Compared to me being dressed in a humbling combination of tapered royal blue jeans and a sunflower yellow blouse paired with nonslip ebony ballet flats, the setter looked like he was in athleisure campaign.

“Hey there dollface. Long time no see.”

I folded my arms over my chest when he sat down in front of the short counter space near the espresso maker. I was skeptical of his presence here, but my brain kicked into fight or flight mode ever since I heard him poke fun at the odd shaped friendship chocolates I left for him on his desk when we were fifteen (to be fair, it was my second attempt at making sea salt chocolates at home, but apparently, the Miya twins were going through their high school jerk phase). I watched Atsumu from afar trash them without even tasting one in favor of his fangirls’ fancier box saying something about how he had to avoid excess sweets for a week because of some stupid bet he had going on with his twin.

Does he need to know he was the reason why I wanted to perfect my sweet making skills? No. Absolutely not. Because if he did, that ego of his would skyrocket and I’m actually ok with not letting that bit of info reach his ears. Damn it Miya, why are you still as good looking as I remembered you being? The fuck was I thinking when I was fifteen...Gods do I need a drink. I thought.

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off training or at practice or something?”

“Nope. I got the day off and thought I should come by to see what’s the newest parfait my favorite old classmate made for me.”

“Bold of you to assume it’s for you, ‘Tsumu.”

Me saying his nickname caused him to raise an eyebrow at me before he closed his eyes and I watched his lips draw back into a wider smile.

“Erina, Haruno, mind staying behind to help Senna clean and lock up tonight? It seems the owner of this cafe and I have dinner plans.”

“You’re not their boss Miya, so you can’t tell them what to do.” I pushed my finger against his shoulder which caused a chortle to come from him. I turned around to face my coworkers with an amused stare.

“Erina, Haruno, mind helping Senna out tonight? I’m leaving early. Apparently I have plans with the starting setter for the MSBY volleyball team.”

That was at five-thirty that afternoon...

---THE NEXT DAY, 9:56a.m.---

The soft chirping of an alarm located on the nightstand next to the plush king sized bed where I found myself waking up in. I am by no means a rich lady and for the life of me, I couldn’t even afford a place like this with a killer view of the neighborhood. Suddenly, as I hoisted myself up from the sheets, my memory came back in little flashes. Memories ranged from me getting drunk with Atsumu at the local pub next to his brother’s restaurant to Atsumu’s declaration on which onigiri his brother makes was the absolute best in town and how not one of his ex-girlfriends could ever replicate it properly.

I don’t recall much of what we talked about at Onigiri Miya when Osamu left us to ourselves for a little bit, but I could of sworn Atsumu tell me how he was searching for the cafe I worked at trying to formally apologize about dumping out the chocolates I had made when we were in high school:

“I heard you made them at home, right?” he asked, watching my nose twitch before I rested my head in my palm on the table. When I nodded, I didn’t notice he was pouting when he muttered an, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, hah. I did. It was my second batch too. I made them look like stars because those were the only molds I had. If I had known they’d wind up in the trash, I wouldn’t have tried to make you feel better after the results of the spring tournament that year,” I said exhaling a sigh. I leaned my head against Atsumu’s shoulder gently reassuring him I had long since forgiven him. “But it’s in the past. Don’t worry about it so much, ‘tsumu. C’mon, the night is still young and I need at least one more bottle of sake before the convenience store stops selling them.”

---

“Oh my god,” I groaned when I flung the blanket off my top exposed body. My bra was still on, which was a good sign I guess, but instead of wearing my sapphire slacks, I noticed they were replaced with an older pair of white with black striped sweatpants (the color combination of the sweatpants reminded me of my high school’s volleyball team). I snatched the closest shirt I could find, yet I didn’t have enough time to throw that over my shoulders since I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Good, you’re awake,” a disembodied voice called out from behind me. Give me a damned minute, I thought. I know that voice; it belonged to one of my classmates whom I recalled walking into my cafe yesterday asking me to spend the evening with him. Inhaling a sharp breath when I felt the mattress dip behind me, I barely remember him telling me to confess about something when I was sober in the morning and for some reason I had agreed.

“You’re really pretty, y’know.” Miya stretched his arm around my shoulder before he stood up to help me to my feet. I was a bit skeptical at his compliment, yet he squeezed my shoulder twice allowing me to know that he said was true.

“You flatter me, Miya. Why don’t you try complimenting me when I’m sober, yeah?” I tapped the left side of his cheek when I hopped off the stool. 

“Fine,” he chuckled. “You’re drunk enough as it is. Let’s go. Later ‘Samu.”

I shook my head right as I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, I let out a shaky laugh when he pulled me to lean back into him. I was quick to notice the soft fabric of his shirt when my head came into contact with it. There’s no way in hell we’d ever sleep together because I might have let it slip we should try to avoid a publicity scandal...

“How’re ya feeling dollface?” his voice whispers into my ear. A shiver ran up my spine when he did this, allowing me to focus on anything else besides the sun peeping through the blinds of the window.

“Better now that I’m here, ‘tsumu,” I replied in a groggy tone, my voice was barely above a whisper. Honestly, I’m not as hungover as I thought either, so he must have coerced me into eating some left over onigiri he had when he offered his place to me to crash, I thought. Then, I made a mental note to add a few extra half dozen macaroons for his brother when I see him next time. What Atsumu said next threw me for a loop:

“That’s good because I want you sober to remember this,” his voice taunted me right before I felt his lips press into the sides of my neck, down my back, and onto my shoulders.

“Mmm,” my voice hummed. “’Tsumu, you’re~aah~gonna leave a mark.”

My lips curled in amusement at the map his kisses left behind. He mentioned something like he wasn’t going to stop until I properly forgave him, to which I replied with a resounding, “If I didn’t did you think I’d have accepted your offer of spending the night out on the town with you?” I held onto his hands when he paused for a moment to think.

I raised my head up when he stopped, a smug smile tugged his lips upward. I felt my eyes blink a few times processing what he was trying to ask me to do. Thankfully my partner was a patiently affectionate person this morning because he didn’t leave out much for me to figure out when I twisted around his hold to plant my lips over his own. Yet although I claimed I was sober, I was already drunk off this warmth radiating from him.

You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Atsumu last night - watching him talk, laugh, and frown (and the same with the way I noticed his stolen glances for a few seconds when he wandered into the cafe I worked in)- that I would know all there was to know about his lips, but I hadn't figured how kind they would feel pressed up against my own just yet.

When I pulled away first, I watched the way Atsumu looked down at me, his face a little flushed from my kiss. He smirked before pressing his lips on mine again and this time, the kiss was just as invigorating as before; his calloused hands roaming every inch of my body and with one of his hands becoming lost in my hair. Eventually I crawled into his lap, using his shoulders to steady my balance when he hoisted me up prompting me to straddle his upper body. My arms looped around behind his neck, running my fingers through his hair in a coquettish manner. I blew short streams of air onto the side of his neck causing his breath to hitch in his throat right before I burrowed my face in his neck kissing the space under his ear, causing me to feel his chest rumble when I heard him chortle. I seized the opportunity to guide Atsumu’s lips back onto mine. 

We were both lost in a sea of bliss after that because from what we both could tell, this was the starting point of a hard-earned love that took it’s sweet time to develop and gods be damned was his love worth it.

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

A Hitchhiker’s Guide For Androids

Summary: Logan the Android goes to his interview with Dr. Picani. Afterwards he meets some familiar faces from the day before.

Warnings: Lying, food tw, eating tw, Logan tricks out his rad robot bod, and it seems like it might be gorey, but he’s a robot so it’s fine.

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides, Cartoon Therapy, TS Shorts

Characters: Logan/Logic Sanders, Patton/Morality Sanders, Roman/Creativity “Princey” Sanders, Virgil/Anxiety Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani, Remy/Sleep Sanders.

Pairings: Background Romantic Remile, Platonic LAMP/CALM

Word Count: 8,370

Chapter One Chapter Two Ao3 Link

Chapter Three: New Neighbors

The next morning Logan put on his blue button up shirt and solid color tie. He was preparing for his interview later that morning with Dr. Emile Picani, and he wanted to look presentable. He was also up unreasonably early. In part because he didn’t need to sleep, but also because he wanted to avoid his neighbors for the time being. Due to his actions saving Patton yesterday, they were sure to want to speak with him, and he’d rather avoid messy, complicated, emotional interactions for now. He slipped out of the café before they had the chance to approach him yesterday, and he would prefer to delay that interaction while he still could. He was unsure if his circuits could handle more than one person at a time. 

The application he filled out had the phone number of the Cartoon Café on it, and he had taken the liberty to text the number and ask when his interview had been scheduled. Dr. Picani had quickly texted back and informed him of the time, but also that the café was closed that day because of the attempted robbery the day before, and that he would be there personally to check up on the shop. He informed Logan that he was more than welcome to come by and conduct his interview though, that it wouldn’t be a problem at all.

Logan took that as permission to prepare himself for their meeting. Then, since he had some time, he ran through several scenarios focused on the interview. He figured if the typical interview questions were asked, assuming this job required few prerequisite skills, and if he maintained a pleasant demeanor, he had a decent chance of landing the job. A 82.6% chance to be more precise, but since certain things relied on the unpredictability of human behavior, he was willing to put some leeway on the odds depending on what came up.

Finally, he looked through the peephole of his apartment and did a thermal scan to locate the heat signatures of his new neighbors. He wanted to be certain they were not in the hallway when he left for his interview. From what he could tell, Patton seemed to be in his apartment, and Virgil and Roman did not appear to be in the building, so the two of them likely went to their respective workplaces while Logan was getting dressed.

Satisfied that he would not be seen, he set off to leave his apartment building. It would be close, but if he walked at the right pace, he’d only be an hour early to his interview instead of much much earlier. He walked very fast. However, he hoped that showing up early would ensure a good impression. Logan would say first impression if it weren’t for yesterday, and now that he thought of it, he’d rather avoid the possibility of the emotions that might come with them being in close quarters. Well, Patton said Dr. Picani had a PhD, Logan trusted he would remain professional.

*

“Wow, it’s really you!” the pink and brown clad psychologist practically squealed. “You saved Patton’s life yesterday, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I was going to find you to thank you yesterday after I checked on my husband, Remy, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. Then next thing I know Patton’s telling me you applied to work here! Whaaaaaaaaaat?! Like, what are the chances?”

“Actually quite high, given that was my intended reason to enter the establishment in the first place.” Logan interrupted, “And, deepest apologies, but would you mind relinquishing me from your embrace? I’m not a very, what is the phrase? Ah yes, ‘touchy-feely’ person.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Anything for our hero over here, ey!” Dr. Picani stepped back and stopped hugging Logan. “I just want you to know grateful I am that you saved the lives, not only of my employee, but of everyone else in the cafe, including my husband. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost any of them, and I have you to thank.” Emile pushed up his glasses and smiled warmly at Logan.

Ugh! These were the exact kind of emotional reactions Logan had been trying to avoid! Not that he didn’t appreciate the recognition, it was just something he didn’t understand that well, and thus, was unfamiliar dealing with, especially when such affections were directed towards himself. He had barely walked in the pink and blue building with the bell chiming over the door when Dr. Picani had stepped out of the back room and immediately came up to embrace him. How did humans deal with this attention?

“Urm, well, you are, uh, very kind. But if I may interject, I came here to interview for the open position?” Logan stumbled out awkwardly. He wished he could have more tact, but this was becoming a bit too much.

“Oh! Yeah, let’s go on ahead to the back room, I’ve already read over your application so you can come right in here.” Dr. Picani responded jubilantly.

After the introductions, they conducted the interview mostly professionally, though Dr. Picani kept making pop culture and cartoon references that Logan only barely got because of his general knowledge of human culture. It went fairly smoothly though. The position required no prerequisite skills, and the skills it did require, Logan could easily be taught. It was a sort of catch-all position because of how short-staffed Dr. Picani and Patton were. They were the only two employees, though they were occasionally helped out by Dr. Picani’s husband, Remy, who Logan gathered was the hipster-esque person in sunglasses from yesterday, if the photos of him and Dr. Picani on the desk in the back room were anything to go by. The back room appeared to be more of an office than anything else, though it did have doors to the food storage and break rooms, so ‘back room’ was the most accurate description from what Logan could tell.

Anyway, for the job, Logan would need to learn how to man the register, cook up the items on the menu, and clean the store. It seemed simple enough, though the job would require him to occasionally step outside his comfort zone. He understood he would have to acquire a “customer service” demeanor, which he figured he could manage. He was already lying to people as it was, what’s a little more? The thing he was looking forward to most was taking inventory and counting the money at the end of the day, most people’s least favorite parts of customer service jobs. It would really give Logan the opportunity to show his prowess with numbers, and, regardless, it was easier than dealing with large swarms of people.

At the end of the interview, Dr. Picani told Logan he did an excellent job and that he’d be happy to see him by the next work day. The general dress code seemed to be just a polo shirt (of which Logan already owned) and a name tag, which Dr. Picani said he would have made for Logan shortly, that he was so happy to have a new member on the team, especially someone who saved Patton’s life. It occurred to Logan that that incident might have helped his prospects of getting the job, but he wasn’t one to complain about fortunate circumstances.

He shook Dr. Picani’s hand at the end of the interview, “Thank you, Dr. Picani, I look forward to working with you.”

“Oh please, call me Emile, it’s the least I could do to conduct this interview after yesterday. Thank you again, truly.” Emile said, unable to keep the bright smile off his face. Logan smiled softly in return as a sign of gratitude.

“Yesterday was no problem, I was just trying to help how I could.” Logan responded. “I’ll see you at work.”

“You sure will!” Emile said warmly, “You’re gonna do great.”

*

Logan’s journey back to his apartment was pleasant. The sun was out and the buildings looked even more charming than the day before. It was if the world was rejoicing his new found income security. Now with a job position guaranteed, Logan felt he had become truly independent and separated from his previous terms of existence. He could exist for himself now, and do with his abilities what he wanted. It was...refreshing. Quite a relief from the idiotic frustrations of the scientists. For once, he was perfectly happy to go slow and enjoy his walk home.

*

Walking up the stairs to his apartment, and feeling quite relaxed from how positive the day was turning, Logan failed to run a diagnostic the potential threat of his neighbors being home. And this was brought to his attention by him turning the corner on the stairwell and running straight into Patton.

“Oof!” Patton exclaimed as they collided, his glasses getting knocked off his face and items he was holding now being strewn on the floor (some papers, an envelope, and a ceramic mug with paw-prints that thankfully didn’t break).

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Patton said as he squinted at the floor. “...If I could just find my glasses,” he muttered, “then I’d be a real sight for sore eyes, because of my sore eye-sight, heyo!”. He laughed as he crouched to the ground searching for his glasses and the other dropped items. Logan stood incredibly still, torn between slipping up to his room while Patton couldn’t see his face, and bending down to help Patton with his things. It was a fight with his programming to evaluate the more pressing need. If he helped Patton, then the person he saved would know he was living in the same building as him. On the other hand, he desired to be helpful to humans, and Patton would likely discover his living situation eventually anyway. Deciding it was better to figuratively rip that band aid off sooner rather than later, Logan bent down and handed Patton his glasses from off the floor.

“Oh, thanks kiddo! Don’t know what I would have done if these had broken. Really sorry about running into- WOAH! Hey! It’s you!” Patton exclaimed as he placed his glasses on his face, beaming up at him. “What’re you doing here, Logan?”

“Ah, of course. Well, you should know that I live here now. I moved in yesterday, though I was unaware of the complex’s current inhabitants when I rented the apartment,” Logan explained in a monotonous tone, “I apologise for disrupting your stairway travel, I will get out of your way.”

“Woah, hey there kiddo. I wasn’t watching where I was going, so if anything, the blame is on me. And secondly, you live here now? My savior, in this apartment? Wow,” Patton said with an astonished half chuckle, “I can’t believe you live here! That’s awesome! Which apartment?”

“That would be apartment 4A on the fourth floor,” Logan answered. Patton gasped excitedly.

“Oh my goodness! That’s the same floor I live on! What a coincidence!” Oh, didn’t Logan know it. Patton inhaled sharply, “Do you know what this means?!” Logan resisted the urge to either roll his eyes or detail exactly what it did indeed mean in literal terms and settled for thinking: I can certainly guess.

“We’re Apartment Buddies! Yay!” Patton practically shouted as he jumped up excitedly, nearly knocking his glasses off yet again.

“Otherwise known as neighbors, I presume. But yes, we will be living on the same floor and in close proximity, though whether we become ‘buddies’ as you phrased it, will depend on the advancement of a mutual bond over time that some might call friendship. However, that has yet to be seen and will take time.” Logan rambled off.

As Logan was speaking, Patton slowly brought up his hands up in loose fists lightly squishing the sides of his face while his eyes squinted behind his glasses and seemed to sparkle with excitement in an almost universal ‘Aww’ gesture, before saying, “Dawww, Logan...Are you implying you want to be my friend?” One hand flew down to his chest and clutched his heart, “That is so sweet, aww..Logan. First you save my life, then you save my heart.”

Oh no, emotions, yet again, Logan thought. He just couldn’t seem to escape them today.

“You know what,” Patton continued, “Why don’t you come over to dinner tonight. It’ll be like a ‘thank you’ and a welcome party all rolled into one! And! I can introduce you to my best friends Virgil and Roman. They’re also our neighbors and they were at the café yesterday too!”

Oh I am all too familiar, Logan thought, and fantastic, more people expressing their emotions at me, this is utterly exhausting.

However, it would be incredibly rude to refuse a gesture of kindness such as this, and he would be living next to these people for who knew how long, so it was impractical to try to avoid interacting with them forever. Besides, this is what humans did. They interacted with other humans. How was Logan supposed to be a convincing human if he intentionally avoided interacting with them?

“That would be...lovely, Patton. I look forward to getting to know who I live next to. Though, I must tell you, I am not the best at dealing with multiple people. I...sometimes struggle to react appropriately to emotional...things, so I apologise in advance.” His only references for dealing with multiple people at once were the scientists after all, and they weren’t the best example despite his programming.

“Oh kiddo, that’s okay. Virgil and Roman are really great and super understanding of all sorts of things. And heck, yesterday, before we got home, Roman couldn’t stop talking about how impressed he was with your maneuvers and bravery. I even think he was a little starstruck, because he kept cursing himself for not saying anything to you after you pinned the guy on the floor. And while Virgil did say you were being a liiiiiittle bit stupid for putting yourself in danger, he did complement you on your quick thinking, and it’s tough for Virgil to complement strangers, so that really means something! I really think they’re grateful for you saving me kiddo, so I know they’ll be super nice about any sensitivities you have about being around them.”  Patton concluded.

“Well that is a relief to hear, Patton. I certainly do not want to leave a bad impression. I feel that would be unbecoming of a new neighbor, so it’s comforting to know I have your support.”

“Aw shucks Logan, after what you did for me, the least I can give is my support,” Patton said bashfully while adjusting his glasses.

“Ah, well in that case, I look forward to dinner. At what time would it be appropriate to come over?” Logan inquired.

“Oh! Well I’ll text Roman and Virgil and tell them we’re having a guest over for dinner, then..hmm, is five o’clock okay? I know they’ll both be home from work by then, so it’ll be the perfect time to introduce you,” Patton said thoughtfully.

“That sounds adequate, I will be at your apartment at five. Which apartment number is yours?”

“4C! And Roman’s is 4D and Virgil’s is 4B, just in case you wanted to know!” he said brightly, then he gasped, “I have to get everything ready!”

Logan looked on at him and determined that Patton’s heart rate spiked along with a touch of adrenaline being released into his veins as well as an influx in dopamine levels. He could tell Patton was genuinely excited about him coming over. Logan hoped it would go well given he had never actually eaten food before. It was within his capabilities to pass as a convincing human, but he had never done a trial run to see how he would actually react to having food in his false stomach. Could he even taste? He wasn’t sure. He escaped before they could troubleshoot that part of his programming. He knows that he’d be able to identify the exact components of whatever he was ingesting, but all he could assume he would be able to get out of eating food at his current level of advancement, would be the texture of it in his mouth, and the mess he’d to clean out of his chest cavity later. The thought of the uncleanliness made him internally cringe a bit, but he stayed in check on the outside, keeping his face impassive at his thoughts.

Patton was no longer paying much attention to him either way, instead mumbling excitedly under his breath all he would have to do to prepare while shuffling his picked-up items in his arms.

“Ah, uh, see you later Logan! Got to drop this paperwork off to Sandra, the landlady, then I have to prepare for guests! Ooooo this is going to be so fun! Buh-bye!” Patton said he stepped by Logan, turning to give him a half-wave with the hand holding the mug.

“Be careful going down the stairs, Patton. And I’m sure whatever you prepare will be adequate, see you then.” Logan called out as Patton turned the corner going down the stairs. He sighed to himself as he climbed the last few flights to his floor and entered apartment 4A. What had he gotten himself into?

Now, not only would he be interacting with multiple humans at once, he would also be expected to eat. He had never eaten before, not even in practice. He knew humans needed to do it to survive, but the thought of taking something and having to mash it into little slimy bits in his mouth, then swallow it? Not to mention, his experience with eating would be different than a normal human’s because he had to manually clean up whatever ended up in his false stomach tonight, and the experience couldn’t be made more enjoyable because he was pretty sure he didn’t have a sense of taste as of yet.

Wait, was he getting worked up? Is this what performance anxiety felt like? Regular lying was fine, but this felt like an entirely different ordeal. Snap out of it Logan! He was an android, he didn’t have feelings. So stop acting illogically and prepare for the dinner. He would get through it, further integrate and adapt to human customs, and survive. This was fine. Everything is fine.

Realizing he had just been standing in the entrance of his apartment while leaning against the closed door, Logan walked further into his apartment. This shouldn’t be bothering him. He was a highly advanced, incredibly valuable, and state of the art espionage machine, so something so trivial shouldn’t be bothering him. However, it was bothering him, and he couldn’t seem to get it to stop. So...he was a state of the art, highly advanced, incredibly valuable espionage machine, how could he change the situation so it was less bothersome to him so he could be at his optimum level of performance?

Well, the problem was his concern over the sensation of eating, and that it will be uncomfortable or disturbing to him. He would have to eat regardless, because he could not see a way out of that situation without being incredibly rude. So if he had to do it regardless, how could he make the instance more enjoyable, or at least bearable, to himself? The obvious answer would be to taste the food so he would at least get the same level of enjoyment out of it that the humans did, but that was unrealistic.

...Or was it?

Logan suddenly got an idea, and walked into the bathroom where he knew there was a mirror. Then he rolled up the sleeve on his left arm and peeled back some of the false skin again. Unlike his right arm that had a combination printer and data transferrer for forging necessary documentation and identification, his left arm had some minor tools and resources meant for repairs, as well as access to his wiring when feature updates and small performance tweaks needed to be done. Logan also rolled up his pant leg and opened the panel where his extension cord was, pulling it out and plugging it into the outlet by the sink so he would have a constant supply of power while he did this, should he accidentally make a mistake.

Then Logan reached with two fingers under his jawline and pressed three very particular spots while grasping one of the tools from his left arm, something slender and metal, and lightly pressing it to his temple. The next thing that occurred was a slight hissing noise of pressure being released as his jaw slowly popped open, causing as widening gap between the flesh of his lower face and upper face, revealing, besides his false teeth and cheeks and tongue, a mass of wiring and blinking lights now visible below the line of his top lip. Now with ample room, he slowly reached behind his jaw and grasped an exposed wire connected to his tongue, then reaching up with his tool, gently disconnecting it. He then lowered it to the wiring exposed on his left arm, and inserted it in a place where coding and tweaking that particular piece of hardware would be easier. Taste was simply the body analyzing different chemical compounds, something Logan could do via data analysis anyway, so changing some of his coding to associate a physical sensation along with that wasn’t too far of a reach, at least by his standards. Logan checked the time. Seven hours, seven hours until the dinner party. He would have to be quick, but it was doable. He’d better get to work.

*

At 4:48 P.M., Logan was finishing putting all of his parts back into place. His tongue felt strange and a little tingly, but he still didn’t know for sure if his tinkering had worked. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, sticking out his tongue and rolling it into a tube like a child might. Everything seemed to be functional and his motor skills seemed to be fine. He unplugged himself from the outlet, actually feeling somewhat rejuvenated from the extra power, and rolled down his pant leg. He assumed what he was wearing would be fine for the dinner, he would just brush some of the wrinkles out of his shirt sleeves and pants. He hoped tonight would go well, and even if his attempt to give himself the ability to taste did not work, it alleviated most of his anxieties and gave him something to do while he waited for the inevitable.

Looking over himself in the mirror one last time, he decided he looked suitable for however this dinner went. Checking the time, he had about 3 minutes until five o’clock, so it would be wise to head over to apartment 4C already.

*

Logan crossed the hall to Patton’s apartment and knocked on the door.

“Just a minute!” He heard from inside. He only had to wait a moment before the door was flung open and Patton was there grinning brightly up at him.

“Logan, you came! I’m so glad you made it. Virgil and Roman will be here in a sec, I haven’t told them it was you who was coming, only that we were entertaining a guest. They’re going to be so surprised! Come in! Come in!” Patton rambled off as he ushered Logan inside.

The walls of Patton’s apartment were a pleasant shade of light blue, though they could hardly be seen through the litany of photographs and crayon pictures both framed and taped to them. Apartment 4C was larger than 4A and had a small kitchen area that was visible from every angle of the main foyer. It had bar-style seating that separated it from the rest of the apartment and helped cement it in people’s minds as a separate space. The kitchen seemed well stocked for an apartment of its size, even if it was slightly larger than Logan’s, because it had an oven and stove-top combo, a dishwasher, a refrigerator, a toaster, and a countertop microwave. On the counter tops were several covered dishes wafting food-smells from underneath glass containers and aluminum foil, and in the sink were several gray, cat-themed silicone utensils covered in food stains—presumably what Patton had used to cook tonight’s dinner with.

Across from the kitchen area there was an L-shaped couch with the shorter side pushed against a wall and facing a small coffee table and T.V., both of which looked second hand but attributed to the cozy atmosphere. Next to the T.V. was a shelf stocked with DVD cases holding a variety of different shows and movies. And behind the couch and diagonal from the kitchen there was a round dining table already set out with plates, napkins, and silverware arranged in line with the four chairs about the table. And behind the table on the wall were two closed doors. One Logan assumed lead to the bedroom, and the other he assumed lead to the bathroom. Overall, it was a very friendly-looking, if a bit crowded, apartment.

“Welcome to my home! Make yourself comfortable, or should I say at home, wink,” Did he seriously just say ‘wink’ out loud? “And feel free to look at whatever you like! Me casa es su casa.” Patton said with an excited gesture, as if to point at the entire apartment.

“Thank you Patton, that is much appreciated. However, it does seem strange that you want me to ‘make myself at home’ when your home does not have adequate resources to make one such as me.” Patton stared at Logan for a second and blinked before his face split into a delighted grin.

“Oh my goodness Logan! You didn’t tell me you liked dad jokes?” he said with a half laugh.

“What? That wasn’t a joke, and I would hardly make a ‘dad joke’, as you called it, intentionally. I was simply bringing up the impracticality of trying to collect and then assemble all the components that make up my body in your apartment.” Perhaps if he conveyed a confused look his point would be understood. Patton held his mouth and tried to keep himself from snickering.

“Oh yeah, that would mean bringing a whole bunch of body parts here, but you don’t need me to ex-spleen it to you, get it?” Logan sighed deeply. Oh.

“What, you didn’t find that humerus?”

“Humorous? Oh goodness, do you mean the arm bone connected to the radius and ulna?”

“Sorry, am I getting ulna nerves? You might want to say ‘are ya kidney-ing me’. Ha ha!” Logan brought his hand up to his face and rubbed underneath his glasses.

“In fact Patton, the temptation right now is very strong to exclaim ‘are you kidding me’, but it’s fine. I would just prefer we kept the puns to a minimum, thank you.”

“Aw, sorry for teasing, Logan, but I start punning and I can’t stop punning, I was fed to the rules and I hit the ground running.” He laughed at the look Logan gave him before looking down more bashfully and slightly embarrassed, “But, uh, I’ll stop now. I do want to be a good host after all!” Logan adjusted his body language to express relief so his gratitude would be understood.

“I appreciate your considerate nature Patton, and thank you again for hosting me.”

“Aw, you’re welcome. Now you can sit down while I set the food out, Virgil and Roman should be here any second.” Patton said while grabbing a couple of the covered trays. “Roman likes to take his time getting ready and show up ‘fashionably late’, but Virgil is always anxious to be early, so with the two of them scrambling to get ready at a combined pace, they show up more or less on time.”

Logan pulled out a chair while he was listening and took a seat at the dining table.

“That’s very interesting, Patton.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh, that’ll be them now! Just a second guys!” Patton shouted as he put down the dishes he was holding on the table. He brushed off his hands on his pants and went to open the door.

Patton opened the door just enough for his head to poke through so that neither side could see beyond the doorway before speaking.

“Hey guys! So glad you showed up!”

“You know we wouldn’t miss your dinners for the world, Padre!” A dramatic voice proclaimed.

“Yeah, if Cinderella here didn’t spend so much time getting spend so much time getting ready.” A snide voice replied.

“Well if I had a fairy godmother, it wouldn’t take so long would it? We can’t all just ‘poof’ and look beautiful, it takes work to look this good!”

Patton interjected, “Kiddos, come on now. The important thing is that you’re here and we’re going to have a lovely dinner. And don’t forget! We have a guest! I think you’re really gonna be surprised.”

“Uh, yeah Pat, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. You know I’m not the best with meeting new people,” the softer voice said.

“Hey, it’s okay Virge, our guest has told me he doesn’t have the best people skills either, so I think you two will get along just fine.” Patton replied with a sympathetic smile. “Now it’s time to introduce all of you! Oh I’m so excited!”

With that Patton opened the door fully to let in the other two residents on the fourth floor, at the same time revealing Logan to be their mystery guest.

“Roman and Virgil meet—”

“It’s you!” the man wearing a white leather jacket and red T-shirt said, while the man with dyed purple hair just stared wide-eyed, looking at Logan with a shocked expression.

Logan stood up from his chair and walked toward the doorway.

“Hello, I am Logan, it’s nice to meet you.” He was nothing if not one for decorum.

“You’re the nerd who saved Patton yesterday!” the one he assumed to be Roman said delightedly before he was sharply elbowed in the side by the one he assumed was Virgil.

“Ow! Hey! What was that for?”

Virgil glared at Roman for a second before addressing Logan, “Would you excuse us for a second?” and without waiting for a reply, he dragged Roman into the hallway.

Patton laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry about that…”

“It’s quite alright Patton.”

As Logan said that, he turned up his sound sensitivity so he could hear what the other two were whispering in the hallway. He heard Roman speak first.

“What the heck, Dark and Gloomy? What was that for?”

“You dumbass, you saw what this guy did yesterday. He could beat the hell out of you! Not saying that he would but-. And the first thing you do to the guy who saved Pat is insult him!? He could fold you like a lawn chair, God you’re an idiot.” Virgil hissed under his breath. Roman made an offended scoffing sound.

“Hey! I- well, I- Ugh! I am not an idiot. He caught me by surprise! You have to admit he does look like a nerd though, just a bit?” There was another noise of Roman being elbowed in the gut. “Oof! Would you quit that?!”

“Maybe when you don’t try to piss off the guy who took down someone waving a knife in Patton’s face?” Virgil said, pushing the last words through his teeth. It was quiet for a moment before Roman spoke up again.

“...It was really amazing how he took that guy down. Gah! I wish I could have been of more use yesterday. He was just so swift and composed, I was shocked silent--which is a first for me!”

“You can say that again.”

“Anyway, the point is I am grateful he saved our little ball of sunshine in there. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Well you can start by apologising and then...I don’t know, tell him how impressed you were with him or something. Look, I’m about as emotionally constipated as you are, so I’m not really great at advice on this.”

“Ugh! I will have you know I am great at expressing my emotions, I am an Actor after all.” Virgil sighed upon hearing this.

“Whatever, let’s just go back in there, and be nice, okay?” there was a rasp to his voice that made his suggestion more akin to a threat.

With that the door opened back up, Virgil being the first to speak.

“Sorry about this idiot, won’t happen again.” Roman shot Virgil a glare before speaking up and addressing Logan.

“My sincerest apologies, Logan, was it? I regret my rude behavior in calling you a nerd, (even though you kinda look like one), and would like to introduce myself. I am the one, the only, Roman Prince, at your service,” he said with a deep bow and a wink while Virgil facepalmed, “I hope you humbly accept my gratitude for saving our dearest Patton, without you he would surely be lost to us yet. Truly, your combat skills are unmatched, and you showed great valor and poise. It is an honor to be in your presence.” he finished with a dramatic flourish and a tinge of pride in his voice from his performance. Logan didn’t even need to run any scans on Roman’s vitals to tell he was being overly dramatic, no spike in heart rate could top that. Still, a first impression was a first impression, so he extended his hand to shake as a greeting.

“...You’re welcome...It’s nice to meet you. As I said previously, my name is Logan Smith, and I am the new resident of apartment 4A.” Logan spoke as he and Roman grasped hands and he gave a firm shake. However, at this point Virgil spoke up.

“Woah wait, you’re gonna be living here? On the same floor as us? Right next to me?” Virgil looked a little shaken for a moment.

“Yes..? Is there a problem? I’m not following.” Logan could tell he seemed on edge but he couldn’t tell why.

“No..It’s cool…” Virgil replied as the tiniest bit of blush crept on his face in embarrassment. Patton piped up.

“Don’t worry about it too much Logan, Virgil just takes time adjusting to change.” he glanced at Virgil as he spoke and gave him a sympathetic look. Virgil looked off to the side, cheeks growing even darker with blush.

“Yeah! Charlie Frown over here just doesn’t realise how frickin’ cool it’ll be to live next to a personal bodyguard, though,” Roman interjected, “he does already have a knight in shining armor protecting him from harm’s way (me of course), but I suppose I could learn a thing or two from Mister Jedi Master over here, what with the stunt you pulled yesterday.” Logan gave Roman a confused look.

“Bodyguard? My knowledge of self defense does not make me a bodyguard. But, I suppose I could teach you how I performed that maneuver yesterday at some point, as long as it didn’t harm anything.” Logan conceded with some trepidation, at the possible offer of spending more time with them, which was a risky move. And based on the shocked but delighted look on Roman’s face, apparently offering to teach self defence, in any small way, was the wrong move if he didn’t want more interaction.

“Also, why would Virgil even need a bodyguard? He seems perfectly capable of taking care of himself.” Logan decided to shift the topic back onto the other, much to Virgil’s chagrin if the spike in adrenaline was any indicator.

“...Can we please sit down and eat? I’m kinda hungry.” Virgil pulled up the hood of his patched hoodie and buried his face in it, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Though Logan could see his face growing dark from embarrassment underneath the hood.

“Oh yeah guys! I made lasagna, with a little surprise for dessert, you’re going to love it!” Patton said, coming to Virgil’s rescue.

“Ooo! I love lasagna! You know just what to make Padre!” Roman exclaimed as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining table, Logan and Virgil soon following suit.

Patton leaned over the table where he sat down the dish earlier and removed the aluminum foil he had placed over the top. A burst of smell escaped its confinement and filled the apartment, steam coming off the cheese and sauce in whispy ribbons. He cut the meal into squares and put a piece on each of the four plates at the table.

Roman immediately began digging in despite Patton’s warning that it was hot, and as anticipated, he soon began fanning his mouth and saying, “Ah!hothothot!”, then ran over to the sink and filled a glass with water before downing it in a few gulps. Virgil smacked his hand into his face while saying “idiot”, but nonetheless could still be seen smiling under his hood at Roman’s shenanigans.

Logan picked up his fork and twirled it between his fingers for a second, a bit apprehensively, before plunging it into the corner of the lasagna, tearing a bit off of the stubborn pasta and cheese. Then, as naturally as he could muster, while everyone else was distracted and giggling about Roman’s mishap, he slipped the piece of food into his mouth, pulling back the fork clean.

The first thing he noted was the temperature, the lasagna being approximately 151*F, indeed a little too hot for comfort on the human tongue. He felt Roman should have been more cautious. The next thing was the texture, the cheese being stringy and slightly chewy, while the sauce was liquidy and a little chunky from the tomatoes, and finally the pasta was soft and a little stubbornly chewy. Logan felt apathetic to these textures, more focused on how thoroughly he was going to have to clean his mouth from the red sauce now coating his insides. Finally after a tingling sensation on his tongue that felt similar to numbing mouthwash, he experienced the taste.

It...was far more underwhelming than he expected. It didn’t taste bad, but he just didn’t experience a particularly strong way one way or the other. It tasted like food. Like the chemical compositions that made up cheese and sauce and pasta. Though it could be said that it was a miracle that he was able to experience taste at all, he did feel a bit proud of himself for that.

This analysis happened in a matter of seconds after taking his first bite and he chose to release a gentle ‘hmm’ to indicate to Patton he was enjoying the meal. It was polite after all.

A comfortable chatter started to buzz around the table as the other three settled into eating their meals. As Logan continued to take small bites, he noticed the three had a distinct chemistry. He wasn’t sure how this sentiment could be expressed except for the idea that they played off one another well. Each had something that added to the interactions of the others, and Logan found himself occasionally weighing in on the conversation whenever he was addressed, feeling like he added to that chemistry. The atmosphere began to loosen some and he could tell they were becoming less tense, Virgil especially. It seemed the more he talked and interacted with him at the table, the less awkward he seemed when addressing the others, even Logan.

Eventually, over the clatter of forks and light chewing, the conversation topic cycled onto himself.

“So, Logan,” Patton said with a soft cheesy grin, propping his face up with one arm, “tell us about yourself.” Logan cocked an eyebrow.

“What would you like to know?”

Roman cut in, “What brings you to Cardinal Valley? It’s not exactly a well-known locale.”

“Yeah, it’s basically No-where City, nothing happens here.” Virgil added, eyeing Logan a bit suspiciously now that he considered it.

“I disagree, it is far more populated than where I used to live.”

“Where did you used to live?” Patton asked, curious.

“The middle of nowhere.” Logan deadpanned.

“Ha ha, we made that joke already, Courage the Cowardly Dog.” Roman snided. Logan rolled his eyes.

“I don’t make jokes. I lived out in the woods, south of here.”

“Wow, all alone?” Patton said with sympathy in his eyes.

“That sounds like a crazy horror cabin scenario to me,” said Virgil, stabbing the remainder of his lasagna with his fork, “kinda metal though.”

“No, I didn’t live alone, it used to be my...parent’s house, I...don’t interact with them anymore,” Logan said, looking down and fiddling with his fork.

“Oh, I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” Patton said with a frown and reached for Logan’s hand to console him, patting it gently where it rested on the table.

“That’s quite alright Patton, you didn’t mean to. And the past is the past, it does little good to dwell on it.”

“Oh, right.” Patton finished lamely, looking down. There was a bit of an awkward lull in the conversation before Roman perked up.

“Hey, Padre, you said there was something special after lasagna?”

“Oh yeah, kiddo, how silly of me, I almost forgot. Now who’s ready for desert?” Patton asked cheerfully, getting up from the table. There was a general consensus of agreement as Roman and Virgil said various “I am’s” excitedly while Logan just nodded slightly.

Patton went behind the kitchen area and opened the freezer, pulling out a large sealed container. Roman gasped before exclaiming, “Patton, does this mean what I think it means?”

Patton gave a singular nod at him before Roman squealed excitedly and bolted to the door. Logan gave a dumbfounded look to Patton and Virgil, confused as to what was going on. To his surprise, even Virgil was giving a mischievous smirk, flicking his eyes to the doorway that Roman left swung open and listening to the jostling and rustling that could be heard next door from Roman’s apartment. As this was happening Patton was unscrewing the lid of the container to reveal a tub full of ice cream.

“Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream! Bone-Apple-Teeth kiddos!”

Roman then rushed back into the room at that moment.

“Got it!” he said panting, a little out of breath, holding up a small jar.

“You know what to do Ro!”

Roman grinned, popping off the lid of the jar and sticking it in the microwave. None of this cleared up Logan’s confusion in any way whatsoever.

Patton pulled out a clean ice cream scoop and some bowls before delicately scooping out a portion for everyone. Meanwhile the microwave beeped signifying whatever was in the jar was done being heated. Roman pulled the jar out, then, taking a spoon, doled out generous helpings of what looked like liquefied, warm, strawberry jelly on top of each scoop.

“Crofter’s, the berry best jelly around!” Roman declared.

“Yeah, it’s my jam.” Virgil chimed in.

Logan groaned at the apparently infectious use of puns, but he had to admit that he was intrigued about all the fuss. Roman and Patton helped pass out the bowls and handed Virgil and Logan spoons to enjoy their ice cream with.

“Have you ever had Crofter’s jelly before Logan?” Roman asked.

“I don’t believe I have.” Before tonight he had never had any food in general, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

“Well you are going to love it. I convinced Patton and Virgil to try it a few years back, and now it’s our thing to basically top every desert with it any time we all have dinner together.”

Logan was skeptical about his potential ‘love’ for this fruit spread product given how disappointing the lasagna experience was, but again, politeness. And, at the very least, he was curious.

“Alright kiddos, dig in!” Patton announced, plunging his spoon into the ice cream and taking a bite, humming in pleasure when he pulled the spoon from his lips. Roman and Virgil followed suit, though Virgil was much quieter when eating than Roman, who kept making ‘Mmmm’ sounds a bit obnoxiously.

Logan spun his spoon between a couple of fingers before dipping it into the ice cream and jelly. Well, it can’t be any more disappointing than the lasagna he thought.

He brought the spoon up to his lips, placing it in his mouth and...and...it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. His eyes went wide in shock as the sweet chemicals washed over his now sensitized tongue. It was...it was...invigorating. He began taking more spoonfuls and putting them in his mouth. Who knew jelly could be so good?

Logan didn’t notice the others were staring at him. Patton was covering his mouth trying to keep himself from giggling, while Roman had a proud look about himself and kept glancing between Virgil and Patton while he ate. Virgil on the other hand kept looking down and pursing his lip to keep himself from smiling.

Logan didn’t look up until his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl and the last of the ice cream and jelly was in his mouth. He sucked off the remainder of the jelly from the spoon and smacked his lips, only then realizing he was being watched.

Oh no, his lips were sticky and covered in jelly and vanilla ice cream, and there was some dribbling down his chin. He didn’t have any blood to cause a blush, but he did feel his face begin the heat. He put down the spoon and covered his mouth with his hand to hide the mess.

The three others were grinning at him with varying degrees of humor.

“Wow Specs, you had been kind of stiff all night, who knew you just needed some Crofter’s to loosen you up?”

Logan averted his gaze from Roman, instead choosing to stare at the woodgrain on the table.

“I apologise, that was berry- I mean very unprofessional of me.” What was wrong with him? Did the sugar cross some wires or something?

Patton gasped delightedly.

“Oh my goodness Logan, you punned! You did an almost-on-purpose dad joke!”

Logan felt like disconnecting his head from his body and burying it under a pile of rubble, but he settled for taking his napkin and wiping his mouth clean from the food stains.

“I did not pun, not on purpose, so it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, I think it counts,” Roman said.

“Anyway,” Logan cut him off, “you were right Roman, that fruit spread was enjoyable. ...More so than I expected, apparently. I might go so far as to say it was the best thing I have ever tasted, which would not be an exaggeration.”

Roman looked as if he had just gotten praise from Gordon Ramsey himself, before getting a slight jab in the arm from Virgil’s elbow.

“Don’t look so surprised Princey, everyone loves that stuff.”

Roman made an offended noise.

“Well, it was still a good idea on my part, and Logan seems to like it so I say that was a 100% success.” He stuck out his tongue to Virgil, and in response Virgil flicked him on the forehead.

“Ow! Hey! Have at ye, foul fiend!” Roman yelped as he grabbed his spoon and started making sword fighting gestures at Virgil, who grabbed his spoon as well, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“You’re on.” before inevitably,

“Kiddos,” Patton said giving them a look, “we do not fight at the dinner table, it’s rude!” Roman crossed his arms, muttering under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like ‘whatever dad’, before he and Virgil sheepishly put down their spoons. Logan spoke up.

“Well, Patton this dinner has been lovely. Thank you for having me. And you two,” he addressed Roman and Virgil, “It was wonderful to meet you officially, thank you for trying to make me feel welcome.”

“Woah, leaving so soon Specs?” Roman said. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“We live on the same floor as him now, we’ll probably see him all the time.”

Patton beamed at the compliment he’d been given and piped up,

“Aw, thanks Logan. I love getting to know new people, and I sure do hope I’ll be seeing more of you soon.”

“You will Patton. Before we ran into one another earlier, I had just gotten back from my interview with Dr. Picani, and he said I’d been accepted into the vacant position.”

“You got the job?!” Patton squealed excitedly, “That’s awesome Logan! That means we get to work together!” He jumped up and hugged Logan, who stiffened, but softly pat his now co-worker’s arm in gratitude.

“Congratulations man,” Virgil said, waving a small salute.

“Erm, yes, I got the job. I assume you’ll figuratively ‘show me the ropes’ (if that’s the correct phrase) on my first day?”

“‘Course Logan, anything! Just ask,” Patton answered with a smile, releasing Logan from their hug.

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer Patton,” he said looking him in the eye, before turning to all three of them.

“Farewell, I will see you all again soon.” Logan said, walking up to the door and opening it before turning slightly to administer a brief wave. Patton and Virgil waved back, Patton very enthusiastically. Roman, meanwhile, gave a deep bow as Logan opened the door and replied, “‘Till we meet again,” with a wink.

Logan rolled his eyes, smiling slightly, and closed the door, walking over to his apartment. He had a lot of cleaning to do on his insides, which would not be fun, but, he had to admit, the night had not been awful. It was actually pleasant, if somewhat entertaining. Logan was looking forward to recharging, though. It had been a long day. However, he was reassured by the fact that he might actually come to like his new neighbors after all.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Something New - Part 1

Paring: Stucky x Black!OFC (Chidema “Chi”)

Words: 3164

Rating: 18+ 

Summary: They expected Bucky to be hungry, they didn’t see him devouring two-thirds of the menu.

Warning: Talk of implied torture. Read at your own risk!

A/N: This is my second story. It will most likely be in five parts with a few drabbles. Tell me what you think. Haters will be blocked! Constructive criticism only! Please comment if you want to be tagged! Gif not mine!

Bucharest, Romania

Steve looked at his watch. It’s precisely noon and they were following a lead from a kind plum stand owning lady from the market. The target was pretty nonchalant in his movement typical for a civilian. To the outside world, Steve was cool and collected, but Chidema knew better. Steve was getting antsy.

—————————————

It’s been eight months since the aftermath of Utron. Thor returned two months later with four alien ladies and an incredible story.

Not only did Thor have an older sister that Odin never bothered to tell him that was imprisoned in Helheim, but a whole other family in a realm far, far, away called Cykuuans. Well, the family decided to come and collect an admission and apology from Odin.

The aftermath was as follows: Odin was forced to admit that he hid another family from everyone including Frigga and that he imprisoned Hela after he did a brutal colonization of the nine realms (he wasn’t going to admit he more realms). He was forced to abdicate the throne in favor of Thor (Loki was still in prison and Baldur kind of wanted it but not really (Baldur is a thing in my stories)), and left on a self-imposed exile.

The leader of the Cykuuan delegation asked Chidema and twelve others to stay behind while they got the first draft of the treaty ready. She was a bit apprehensive, but she agreed to stay.

Chidema quickly say Frigga as a grandmother figure saying that Frigga and her actual grandmother would get along swimmingly.

Chidema and the other delegates had to ‘make nice’ with Thor, Baldur, and Loki at Frigga behest because of what he’s going through. It went okay for most of the remaining members, but Chidema got along more with Loki than Thor and Baldur. It was mostly because she was aware of Loki not being Odin’s biological son. They discussed various forms of magic, history, literature, and how horrible a father Odin was (the last being to Frigga’s dismay).

Sif was finally able to spar with other women who grew up fighting. The results were a mixed bag but all in good fun.

This all came in handy when Malekeith tried to destroy Asgard in search of the Ether which was inside Jane Foster (Chidema didn’t particularly care for her). They were able to thwart his plans without any major casualties (Frigga doesn’t get the fridge treatment) .

A few weeks after making repairs, Thor asked Chidema, Amaka, Nkolika, and Ozioma to investigate infinity stone sightings and lend a hand in helping avoid climate catastrophe. They agreed to both on the condition that they were able to address the UN first.

The team loved them for different reasons. Tony remarked that it’s good that he got with Pepper much to Thor’s and Pepper’s annoyance. Nat asked if they knew of any interrogation and fighting techniques that incorporated their tails and they hit if off. Wanda liked that they had emotional magic like she did and she loved their singing voices (they put the best singers to shame). Vision liked that they were also curious about what Earth had to offer. Clint liked that they were great with the kids and treaded tips on marksmanship. Sam and the girls traded lighthearted military and demon slayer corps stories. Bruce liked that they were interested in Earth’s advancements in science and their offer to assist both him and Tony in the lab.

The other girls remarked that Steve would be great for their grandmothers to date, not their granddaughters, them.

Chidema saw him differently. She saw the pain in his eyes, the sadness of losing a life of what could’ve been. Her heart ached for his pain, but was moved by his never-ending drive to fight for others despite his own demons.

She soon fell in love with him. And everyone knew it…except Steve.

Well, Natasha and Amaka weren’t going to have any of it.

So, they said fuck it and set the two lovebirds on a blind date.

At first, Chidema and Steve wanted to bolt, but after a few ‘encouraging’ texts from the matchmakers, they stay and talk about happier times in their childhood. After that, the date went off without a hitch. A few dates later and they were officially a couple.

Tony owed Natasha $2,000 which she split with Amaka.

A few months later, Steve got a lead on Bucky possibly being in Romania and Chidema went with him.

—————————————

Steve and Chidema were following the target down an alley when they got spooked and made a run for it. The couple raced after him with Chidema creating a portal cut him off before they could turn into the crowd.

The target landed chained on top of a building. Two seconds later they saw two figures come out of what seemed to be thin air walking towards them.

“Where is the Asset?” Steve asked/demanded.

“Nu vă spun niciodată, nici curva ta!” They responded.

Steve’s lips made a thin line and Chidema just smiled and replied with, “Într-adevăr? Deci, ai vrea să-ți pierzi limba și pula pentru HYDRA?”

“Nu ai vrea!” They shouted.

Chidema pulled out a rusty carving knife from a portal and said, “Vrei să iei acel pariu?”

They looked shocked for a minute and then put their head in defeat. “Amenda. Este într-o cabină chiar în afara orașului.”

“Mulțumesc foarte mult” Chidema thanked the target and in a span of blink both she and Steve vanished leaving the target alone and chained on the rooftop.

—————————————

“Don’t worry. I contacted the authorities about them. They won’t be on that rooftop indefinitely.” Chidema reassured Steve as they stepped outside of the portal in front of their fourth cabin.

Steve was able to make quick work of the guards around the cabin. “Well at least this one isn’t a dud.” Steve stated as he took out the last guard.

“Look baby, I said I was sorry” Chidema replied with a pout.

Steve chuckled, “I’m just teasing you, Chi.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go get your best pal!”

—————————————

The cabin’s interior was a little too clean. There was no dust, but nothing to suggest that it was lived in. The only thing that seemed out of place was the door at the opposite end of the cabin next to the kitchen. The doorknob was well worn with marks on the wood.

So yeah, they were going to go through that door.

They opened the door and went down the stairs. It led to another door which opened up to a room that was lit like it was an asylum in a horror movie. On the far side of the room was a bed laid-

“Buck!”

—————————————

First thing he registered were loud steady beeps of a heart monitor. Slowly Bucky realized that he was in a different setting and he panicked.

“Shit, he’s trying to move!” Amaka yelled as she used her targeted Narcoleptic Pheromone Magic to get him to back to sleep.

Amaka was near the waiting room while Steve and Chidema got some rest. They were by Bucky’s side for past ten days. Well, Chidema was by Bucky’s side for the past eight days. Steve was constantly being called away for meeting with the team, so Chidema stayed to reassure him until Amaka badgered her to get some rest.

—————————————

“Okay…so I just shot your boyfriend’s lover boy with some sleep pheromones to keep him from going on a rampage. You need to get here stat!” Amaka rasped over the phone as to make sure that Bucky didn’t wake up.

“Alright I’ll be on my way,” Chidema said as she rushed out of bed.

Chidema knew of Steve’s feelings towards Bucky for some time now. It was cruel that they couldn’t be together in the world that they lost, and she was glad that time changed for the better.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to lose Steve. She knew that in the end, it would be up to Steve. It’s just that Steve was first person to get through her defenses and make her truly feel wanted.

You could call her selfish, but she didn’t want to lose that feeling.

—————————————

The first thing that Bucky saw when he woke up was seemed to be a woman smiling at her, but she was so much more.

Her black hair cascaded past her shoulders and her back in long, thick, smooth and defined curls that framed her face perfectly. Her eyes were (a little wider than a human’s) filled with gold and blues as if she held the stars in her eyes. Her ears were delicately shaped like the top parts of faerie wings. Her lips were full and pouty in a way the actresses in his time would’ve killed for. Her rich brown skin was radiant even in the shitty lighting of the medical bay. Her body seemed to be made for sin with her full toned curves that would’ve been heralded in his day. Her tail was wagging languidly hypnotically behind her–a TAIL?!

Bucky shot up with a wince while the vision put a hand on his shoulder as if to calm him, but it had the opposite effect. Because what kind of beauty would want to be near a monster like him?

—————————————

Steve raced to the medical bay as soon as he got the text from Amaka about Bucky.

He loved his best pal and for awhile and he was ashamed that he couldn’t protect him on that train. It haunted him ever since he got out of the ice. Sure, he was saddened that he missed his dance with Peggy, but Bucky hit him in a deeper way. He didn’t know when he first started loving Bucky, but once he did, he knew that he couldn’t live without him.

It seemed that he got a second chance when Bucky reappeared as the Winter Soldier. He just had to save him…again.

Chi (Chidema will be referred to as Chi from now on) came in at a good time for Steve. She was the piece that was missing for him, and one day Bucky as well.

She made him feel whole again.

Now it was time to see to the missing piece of his puzzle.

—————————————

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you, James.” Chi soothed. Big mistake. Really what is her deal?

Bucky was both enraptured and annoyed by her voice. Enraptured by how she sounded, annoyed by her words. Seriously, does she not know who she’s talking to?!

She chuckled at his reaction and said, “I supposed I should try a change of approach. My name is Chidema.”

Chidema…beautiful. It suited her.

“Well, Steve should be here soon. It took awhile to find you. Do you want some water?” She asked.

Bucky nodded his head and she grabbed a cup and slowly brought it to to his lips. The water was cool and soothing as it went down his lips.

Right as the last of the water went down his throat, the door swung opened to reveal Steve.

—————————————

Steve almost stumbled into the room in anticipation in seeing Bucky again.  Instead, he saw his two missing pieces together, one taking care of the other.

It made Steve’s heart swell.

“So what do we have here? A punk and a troublesome dame acting all caring as to not rouse suspicion.” Steve said as he sauntered up to Bucky’s bedside opposite of Chi.

“Could be better.”

“I gave him some water after my failed attempts to calm him down.” Chi explained

“I’ll give you some time to talk.”Chi said as she exited the room.

—————————————

“So, how long have I’ve been out since you found me?”

“Ten days which surprised everyone because the doctors said that you should’ve been out for weeks. Are you hungry?”

Bucky’s stomach chose that exact moment to loudly grumble in agreement.

“Yeah, they said that HYDRA took your metabolism for a ride. I’ll see if Chi is still outside and get you some food.”

“Was that the dame that gave me water? She’s…” Bucky started but stopped as if he didn’t want to start something with Steve just yet.

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him and said, “Yes. She’s my girl. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you get out of this joint.”

Steve then exited the room leaving a slightly perplexed Bucky alone with his thoughts.

—————————————

Steve spotted Chi talking with Amaka near the corner of the hallway. They were talking about something in their native language, so he decided to give him some space but not before overhearing some of their conversation. It did help that Chi taught him some of their language while they were alone.

“You need to talk to him Chi. This will not end well for you if you don’t.”

“I know, but…Steve!”Chi exclaimed as she hugged and pecked his cheek.

“Hey babe! Would it be possible for you to get Bucky some food? He’s famished but I don’t want to leave him alone for so long.” Steve asked as he returned the hug and peck.

“Of course. I’ll be back soon.” Chi said as she departed with one last kiss and swivel of her hips that drove Steve crazy.

Steve turned to Amaka and inquired, “What did Chi want to tell me?”

Amaka sighed and replied with, “That’s something she needs to tell you.”

Steve just stared at Chi retreating form and pressed his lips into a thin line.

—————————————

It took another five days until Bruce and the rest of the Wakandan medical team (After the UN speech, Chi and the girls convinced T’Chaka and the rest of the Wakandan royal family to participate in the international community on their terms in exchange for the girls’ knowledge on tech, science, and some non-Earth metals. They shared more with them than with Stark.) said that Bucky was good to go.

Since then, it was a hodgepodge 21st century Earth terms and tech all of which was fascinating and a bit overwhelming to Bucky.

Steve commented how it was hard for him to adjust. Sam kept trying to give Bucky some grief, but it almost never landed due to Bucky giving it right back and more.

It seemed that the 1940s Bucky was finally making a comeback. The only areas that he had yet to conquer was his nightmare and lack of eating.

—————————————

One night, Chi was making herself some Maharaja Chai Oolong & Samurai Chai Mate tea when she heard a scream coming from Bucky’s room.

Steve nearly sprinted out of his room to Bucky’s, but Chi stopped him.

“Let me handle this. Go back to bed, love.” She gently coaxed her boyfriend as she glided into Bucky’s room with a serene smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Tea?”

“No thanks.”

“May I sit down?” Chi asked as Bucky nodded and she sat at the edge of his bed.

“It seems that ghost of HYDRA has yet to finish its haunt. I know it well.” Chi lamented.

“What do you mean?” Bucky nearly demanded.

Chi sighed and continued, “I was not always with my family. I was taken from them and turned into a killing machine when I was but a babe. I spent my first nine years in an organization not unlike HYDRA. An organization that thought that they were the only ones to peace and order but instead they wrought chaos and called it love for the people.”

Bucky’s eyes started to fall in sadness and pensiveness. He never thought someone this close to him went through similar circumstances and so young.

Chi noticed the shift in Bucky demeanor, and went on, “When I was six, they turned me into this, ” Chi paused and her blood out and watched it turn into the unnaturally hard and sharp substance that she was known for. “The procedure required them to do a near complete dissection. I remember that cursed day. I screamed for hours. It wasn’t until my great-grandmother received a tip from a friend when I was nine that my nightmare got a shred of light.” Chi added with a small smile and a tear.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you know that it will get better and it will always be a struggle. I’m not perfect or what could be construed as well-adjusted, but I’m still here.” Chi then pulled Bucky into a hug and started rubbing his back,“I want to know that you’re not alone in this. You never are.”

They stayed like that for what felt like hours until they fell asleep, both wearing small smiles. Chi’s from finally being able to get through to Bucky and Bucky’s from not feeling like he was alone and maybe something else deep in his heart.

—————————————

The next day, Steve decided that it was time that Bucky finally eat real food and not just soups and protein shakes. So decided to take his best friend and girlfriend to a diner that somehow survived the 1940s.

—————————————

“I thought this place got demolished right before the war!” Bucky exclaimed.

“It almost was, but the owner decided to let one of his workers carry the mantel. Now, it’s in its third generation with some modern touches, but it’s still the same at it’s heart.”  Steve reassured.

Chi just looked around with a content smile happy to see something reminiscent of her boys’ childhood.

Wait, her boys? Hmm…

Their waiter gushed a little too much and too closely at the super soldier duo for Chi’s liking, but she let it slide. It wasn’t the first time she had to deal with this and vice versa for Steve. She was quite popular for giving the planet another chance in avoiding climate catastrophe. Also, she was easy on the eyes as Tony and various modeling agencies (Chi was 5’9”) have mentioned…much to Chi’s and Steve’s annoyance.

They led the trio to a booth in the corner and gave them a few menus and left with a wink. Really? I’m right here!

Granted, both men didn’t register the wink, but still.

Bucky looked at his menu with a renewed exhilaration as he reviewed the items. He hadn’t been this hungry in who knows how long.

“Don’t be shy Bucky” Chi said with an encouraging smile.

“Yeah Buck, order whatever you want. I’m paying.”

They expected him to be hungry, but they didn’t see him ordering two-thirds of the menu.

When the food arrived, he practically inhaled it with gusto. By the time he was done, the waiter and a few other patrons stared at him in shock.

“What? I was hungry.” Bucky uttered while rubbing his stomach and suppressing a burp. Well, trying to. A pointedly loud one escaped his mouth and spooked an old woman.

“Alright Buck, let’s get on out of here.” Steve suggested while ignoring the heat in his lower abdomen.

—————————————

—————————————

Nu vă spun niciodată, nici curva ta! => I’ll never tell you or your whore!

Într-adevăr? Deci, ai vrea să-ți pierzi limba și pula pentru HYDRA? => Really? So you would like to lose your dick and your tongue to HYDRA?

Nu ai vrea! => You wouldn’t!

Vrei să iei acel pariu? => You want to take that bet?

Amenda. Este într-o cabină chiar în afara orașului. => Fine. He’s in a cabin outside the city.

Mulțumesc foarte mult => Thank you very much!

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Taglist: 

@chixkencxrry​ @cherienymphe​ @sherrybaby14​ @drawandread​ @victoriastefanie04​ @fuelforcreativity​ @justamezz​ @run-you-clever-boys​ @life-of-yn​ @aalyshia​ @opheliadawnwalker3​

[indiaalphawhiskey]

SD Drabble #1

Note: Another prompt I thought of long ago, that I’m still so in love with. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the time to write it, but here it is anyway. Posting under the tag “Sugar Daddy AU”. Please excuse my self-indulgence. xx ---

“Have you got that?” the woman asked. The tone of her voice, coupled with the patronizing pinch of her newly ‘refreshed’ lips, screamed condescension.

Harry offered her a soft, subdued smile. “I have, ma’am,” he said, calmly.

She sniffed and her nose, already two and a half inches in the air to begin with, titled higher in doubt. “Repeat it, then.”

Harry let out a slow exhale through his teeth.

“Of course.” His smile never left his face as he ran through the list in his head. “For the table’s appetizers, the Rockefeller oyster platter, baked garlic lemon butter scallops, lemon butter sauce separated into individual sauce dishes, garlic to the side, and a Caesar salad, with no dressing, no bacon, no chicken, and no croutons, to be served twenty minutes before the main dishes. For his entree,” Harry said, turning to offer the gentleman – who had been scanning him from head-to-toe with a rather lascivious smirk – a quick nod. “Sir will have the cherry-glazed rack of lamb, with marble potatoes instead of garlic rice pilaf, potatoes pre-cut into quarters, and a whiskey double.” He turned back to the woman, a challenge in his tone. “Madam will have the Chilean sea bass and braised asparagus, asparagus to the side and blanched instead of braised, with the pesto and lemon sauce on a separate dish, and a glass of Semillon. Dessert will be two pieces of the dairy and gluten-free chocolate truffle cake, and two glasses of our best sherry.”

The woman’s gaze remained unimpressed.

“Fine,” she breathed. She flicked her fingers away once, the sheen of her opulent diamond ring reflected on the white tablecloth – a dismissal.

Harry bowed politely, face impeccably calm as he gathered the menus from the table and began to walk away.

Oyster platter and scallops baked in nothing, he recited in his head as he weaved his way around the tables. Plain lettuce masquerading as Caesar salad. Lamb with an entirely different side dish than the one on the menu – Chef will be pleased as fuck, by the way––

Snap! Harry startled at the sound. What the f–– Snap! Snap! Snap!

He leaned back reflexively to avoid the hand aggressively snapping right in front of his nose, before turning to find it was attached to a portly man in his mid-fifties. His face was tinged red with impatience, his breath laboured as he heaved himself back onto his chair now that he had Harry’s attention.

Harry took a deep breath before facing the table.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Sir,” he began politely. “But my colleague will be with you in just a mo –”

“Oh, you’ll do, sweetheart,” the man crooned, licking his lips as he surveyed Harry. “You’ll do just fine.”

His impatience had faded completely, Harry noticed, though Harry much preferred irritation to… whatever this new expression was. Having only had this job for three days, it took all of Harry’s willpower to swallow the cutting remark that was already resting on his tongue. He managed, but unfortunately, the way his skin was crawling with discomfort was not as easily dealt with.

He exhaled slowly, reminding himself why he needed this job. Unbidden, the events of the last week flashed before his eyes.

Finding unrecognizable lingerie under his pillow. Being told by his fiance that he was being left for a nineteen-year-old pilates instructor slash aspiring male model. Discovering three months’ worth of unpaid rent bills hidden in their (now his, he supposed) bread box, and a discarded bill for a ‘12-carat gold-plated necklace with ‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive’ (Gross.) in his trash (already paid, thank God for small favours). Combing coffee shop bulletin boards for part-time jobs that fit his tedious grad school schedule. Chicken-flavored ramen for the three straight dinners.

He tried not to sigh.

Relax, he told himself. Be professional, get your check, and get out of here.

“How may I help you, Sir?” Harry said, miraculously polite.

“Well, handsome,” Lecherous Restaurant Patron purred, drawing out the pregnant pause as Harry quelled a rising gag.

“Come off it, George,” his companion cut in. He tacked on a chuckle at the end like an afterthought, though it couldn’t mask the slight edge embedded in the words. It made Harry think of the way a cheeky thief smiles as he runs his finger back and forth against a switchblade – just a hint of a threat. “Just order, mate. The kid’s busy.”

It was hardly a white knight stepping in to defend his honour, but after the week Harry had, it was close. He had barely glanced in his saviour’s direcion before George spoke again.

“I own the place, Tomlinson. He can spare a couple more minutes, can’t you, darling?” He punctuated the question with two hefty slaps to Harry’s arse cheek. The first made Harry freeze in shock. The second made his vision go red.

Lingerie.

‘He’s… amazing, Harry. I love him.’

Rent.

‘MY BABY’ engraving, cursive.

Wanted: Part-time Wait Staff.

‘Repeat it, then.’

Slap! Slap!

The punch flew out of Harry, the crisp sound of knuckles against cheekbone ringing satisfyingly in his ears, loud and clear over the scuffle, over the yelling, over the firing. It was all Harry could hear until the harsh slam of the restaurant’s back door, and the biting whip of the winter wind.

Cheated on, left, in debt, harassed, fired, tossed out on my arse, Harry thought to himself, raising his fist in a sarcastic cheer. B-I-N-G-fucking-O. What he wouldn’t do for a joint right now.

He let out a deep, bone-tired sigh, winter’s icy fingers creeping around his open coat and up his too-thin undershirt (they had taken his uniform straight off his back, the bastards), before making his way out of the tiny back alley. He hunched his shoulders automatically, the wind somehow stronger out on the dimly lit main street, and began his long trudge to the tube stop, large hands stuffed awkwardly into his coat’s faux pockets because he had also lost his favorite gloves to bloody Neverwhere this morning.

“Mind the gap, indeed,” he mumbled to himself sadly, taking a little solace in the fact that he had remembered to bring his earphones with him today. He was convinced the morose opening chords of Landslide would manage soothe his broken heart, if he played it enough times. (Hey, if Stevie made it through, so could Harry.)

Lost in thought (and in the gargantuan task of untangling the aforementioned earphones), the barely audible crunch of gravel next to him didn’t register at all.

“ – genuinely feel like you’re ignoring me on purpose now but, once more, with feeling – Do. You. Need. A. Ride?”

Harry jumped, clutching at his heart and dropping his earphones in surprise. “What the bloody –”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. He offered Harry a sheepish smile, his elbow resting on the window of his cheesily predictable top down. “But I’d been here for like seven minutes –”

“You’ve been stalking me for seven minutes,” Harry deadpanned, so done with these absolute shits. “Yeah, not a great line to lead with.”

“Not stalking,” he tried to chuckle confidently, but the tone came out slightly uncertain. “But like, offering you a ride. You know, to make up for…” He tipped his head backward, motioning to the restaurant. “My partner. Business partner,” he clarified seriously, and ––

Oh, Harry thought. The other guy. Tomlinson, he remembered. No wonder his voice was familiar.

“No, thank you,” Harry said curtly as he began to walk again, his face resolutely blank, eyes trained stubbornly on his destination.

A huff of disbelief weaved itself between the sound of slow-rolling wheels.

“C’mon, kid,” Tomlinson tried. “It’s cold as shit.”

“Then maybe get a car with a roof,” Harry said, quietly.

Tomlinson chuckled in answer, wheels still painfully in time with Harry’s steps.

“Fair point. C’mon,” he repeated. “You’ve had a shit night. You’re cold and tired. Let me give you a ride.” When Harry stayed silent, he continued. “You’ll be home quicker. Home, and clean,” he needled. “And warm.”

At that, Harry let himself steal a glance, and was greeted with Tomlinson’s smirking profile, his eyes on the road. High cheekbones, a sharp jaw, the lovely peak of a small nose – everything was slim and pointed. Pixie-like, Harry caught himself thinking, though the delicate quality of his face was offset by just a hint of handsome stubble. A healthy amount of silver decorated his temples, but the hair on his head was still a touch more pepper than salt. Not quite a silver fox just yet.

Fifty, Harry guessed. Fifty-five at most.

“Is this your M.O., or something?” Harry asked, trying to keep the raking irritation from bleeding into his voice. The calmer he was, the less Tomlinson would think he was getting somewhere. “Is that how this works? You go to a restaurant, find a target, get your wingman to act like an arsehole, and then swoop in for the kill?”

A startled laugh broke through the hush of the street.

“Just a wee bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Tomlinson teased.

“Evasive, aren’t you?” Harry shot back.

“Okay, calm down, Sherlock.” Harry could still hear the amusement in his voice. “I do have killer flirting skills, but not serial killer flirting skills.”

Harry sighed then, so, so exhausted. “Right. Well again, no thank you on the ride. In case my little demonstration at the restaurant was somehow unclear, I don’t date men who are old enough to be my father.”

He tipped his chin up higher, because while Harry may not have any money (or a job, or a fiance), he still had his dignity.

Or at least part of it, he corrected, pushing away the curdle of humiliation as he remembered finding those awful panties.

“So you only date cheap men,” Tomlinson said, decisively.

“God,” Harry whispered under his breath, his annoyance now too hard to ignore. Louder he said, “Fuck off.”

“Cheap,” he continued confidently over Harry’s insult. “Young, handsome bastards who get one big paycheck and think that makes them Drake or whoever the fuck –” The cool-dad rap reference, plus the well-timed dig at his stupid, necklace-engraving ex, made Harry’s lip twitch upward against his will. “ – and then fuck off with some barely-legal twit who sucks dick like a champ but can’t name a single city outside of London.”

Harry snorted.

“Know him, or something?” he asked sarcastically, eyes trained on the tiny Underground sign that was still about three blocks away.

“Know him? Oh love,” The way he said it – ‘Luhv’ – made Harry finally turn to him. It was a mistake. His eyes were sharp – a searing blue even in the orange cast of the street lamps – and his smile devastating. “I am him,” he admitted freely, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his smirk widened. “Only, you know,” he shrugged. “With a few more checks, and slightly higher standards. I mean,” he blinked, almost sweetly. “You can name at least three cities outside London... can’t you?”

Harry could feel a gentle heat settle at the tops of his cheeks, the insinuation about his blowjob skills decidedly not lost on him. He felt his stomach do a sudden somersault. He pushed it away, convincing himself it was just the rush of attention, the electricity of an unexpected ego boost and that quick, first moment of feeling pretty again after getting horribly, horribly dumped.

His brief silence must’ve signaled a chink in his armour, because Tomlinson then took it as an opportunity to say, “I’m Louis.”

“I didn’t ask,” Harry said, tongue fast, though the fact that he hadn’t yet ducked into a not-suitable-for-sports-cars-sized alleyway probably softened the blow.

Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous.  “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”

“Closer to twenty-six,” Harry corrected stubbornly. “Which is an entire fully grown adult between us. You could have kids as old – nay, older – than our age gap.” Did he just say ‘nay?’

“Did you just say ‘nay’, Shakespeare?” Louis teased. “So definitely at least three cities outside London, then.” Harry didn’t smile but it was a close thing. “And I promise you,” Louis continued. “I haven’t put myself in the position to bear children since you were – nay, before you were born. Been in a lot of other positions since then, though.”

He had the audacity to punctuate it with a wink. It was annoyingly charming, and Harry had never been angrier at himself.

“Besides,” Louis said, with the kind of smile that knew victory was close. “It’s just a ride, love, no strings attached. Unless of course, getting tied up is what you’re into,” he added, so incredibly pleased with himself. Harry wanted to smack him. But he could also feel the blessedly comfortable heat radiating from the car’s vents.

“Fine.”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

White Knight Syndrome: Two

When Bucky opens his eyes the next morning, he has an urge to get breakfast. He loves breakfast. Greasy diners always feel like a weird sort of home. The food was the same. The gravy and toast were the same no matter where he went. It didn’t matter the time of day, the neighborhood, or the state. 

He needs his quota of grease and syrup met. His stomach growls in agreement and he pulls himself upright and picks up his phone. 

Hey!, he texts you, glad that he coaxed you into trading numbers with him.

Good morning, you answer.

Bucky knows he could ask Sam and Steve. Or Barton and his family. Or Nat. Or Tony. He could ask any of them but in the back of his mind, he knows what he wants. He wants breakfast with a girl. Arguably, Natasha is very much a girl. But Natasha could kill him. With a spoon. He wanted to have breakfast with someone soft. If anyone he knew fit that description, you did. 

Do you like breakfast food?

uh... sometimes?

Well is today one of those times?

possibly

Possibly?

depends on why you’re asking.

I wanna know if you want to get something to eat with me. Dork.

Oh. Then yeah. I’ll put on pants.

Bucky chuckled to himself and hauled himself out of bed to find jeans and a reasonably clean shirt that didn’t have a grease stain on it. It might not be a real date but if you were putting on pants the least he could do was put on a decent shirt. He threw his jacket on and headed out the door to go across the street. He knocked on the door and waited. 

There were some soft thuds and muffled cursing before the door swung open. You stood there, poised with one foot behind the other and your hair still down, a riot of curls that fall over your back and shoulders like a cape. “Hey,” you say breathlessly, “Gimme just a second. Come in out of the cold,” you say, opening the door for him. He chuckles and lets himself in, sprawling comfortably on the couch to wait. You’re about half-dressed a sports bra and joggers. He watches as you go back to the bedroom and close the door to finish getting dressed properly. Bucky doesn’t have long to wait for you really. When you come back a few minutes later, dressed in joggers and a hoodie with your hair up, he smiles, “Finally,” he teases, “God, couldn’t decide which sweats to wear?” When your cheeks color and you look away he feels like an asshole. What was teasing to him probably didn’t sound that way to you. Not coming from a man. He stands slowly and crosses the floor to grip your shoulders gently, “Y/N,” he said gently, “It’s okay. Sweats are fine. Be comfortable. It’s just breakfast at a greasy diner.” It takes a moment but you nod and Bucky hugs you. It’s not the first time he wanted to hug you but it’s the first time you’ve been in arms reach. 

He hugs you and you hug him back, resting your head on his chest. Your arms slid inside his jacket easily to wrap around him and Bucky feels himself blush. He’s missed that feeling. A pretty girl snuggling close. He lets his cheek rest against your head for just a moment before you pull away and reach for your purse. “Okay,” you say softly. “You ready?” he says. You nod, “Am I driving? Pretty sure it’s a little too cold for a motorcycle.” Bucky snorted, “Whimp.” You nod, “That too, yes.” 

You pick up your car keys and Bucky chuckles, “One day, we will get you on a motorcycle.” You shake your head, “No. No, you will not. Watched too many guys die in my ER after they wreck their whole self tryna be Billy Badass without a helmet on.” Bucky felt his nose wrinkle, “Ew,” he said reflectively. “Yeah. Roadrash isn’t fucking pretty. Especially not when I can see your skull.” Bucky gagged and opened the door to the passenger side, “Fuck you,” he said, “Now I can’t not see that.”

“Whimp,” you shoot back mildly. 

Bucky rolls his eyes but chuckles as he buckles his seatbelt. He could see your point. Stuff like that probably did stick in your head. “Okay,” you say, “Where am I headed?” Bucky pointed you down the street, happy to direct you to his favorite spot. In the parking lot, you found a nice little spot and Bucky walked around the car to open your door for you. You smiled a little and let him help you down. “Thank you,” you say, grabbing your bag. He grunts. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed. But he is. He opens the door to the diner for you and lets you slide into a booth. He’s happy you’re a booth person. The tables are stupid. He doesn’t trust table people. 

He also respects that you don’t even need to look at the menu before deciding that you want Biscuits and Gravy, hashbrows, and coffee. A creature of habit. One that can trust their favorites to be consistent and uses them as a metric to decide whether or not a place is worthy of your continued business. That makes him smile a little. He has a similar policy with pancakes. If a diner can’t do pancakes he’s a little hesitant to go back. There isn’t much talking. You’re both enjoying the quiet company of another person while you scroll through your social media feeds. It’s nice. 

Just having a person nearby that can understand and respect comfortable, companionable silence while they sip coffee. You take yours black. Black as night and sip it without needing to add ice. Bucky makes his as light and sweet as possible before adding ice from his glass of water. Steve and Sam both ride his ass for it. They drink their coffee black. A holdover from the army. But now that Bucky doesn’t have to drink it that way, he doesn’t. He hated it black before the army. He hated it black in the army. And now that he’s out, he’ll never drink it that way again if he can avoid it. He wonders if you like it black or if you drink it that way out of habit. Probably a bit of both. Being a nurse on a long shift probably necessitates black coffee. He’s never done it but he’s seen the aftermath. The 1,000-yard stare and your brain is so done that it’s a struggle to get keys in a lock to get into your house. 

When the waitress sets down plates you thank her prettily and smile. Bucky’s known Gracie for years and never once has the grey-haired steel spined woman smiled. At anyone. But she smiles at you. “You’re welcome baby,” she said, “You need anything else?” You smile, “No, I’m good. Thank you.” Bucky looks up at Gracie, “You goin’ soft on me Gracie?” The woman looks back at him and quirks her eyebrow, “You got a problem, Barnes?” He grins and takes a sip of his coffee, “No, ma’am.” She bustles off and he settles into his pancakes, happily coating them in syrup and butter until they’re drowning. He has a sweet tooth. A big one. You glance at his plate and smile over your coffee cup, “You want some pancakes with your syrup?” you ask. “Shut up, they’re good like this,” he said defensively. “If you’re five,” you tease fondly. “I’m gonna let that go because you worked some witchery on Gracie just now,” he said.

You quirk an eyebrow, confused. “She smiled at you,” he clarified, “5 fucking years I been coming in here for chow and not once has that old battle-ax smiled back at me.” You snort, “I speak diner girl pretty well. I’m a third-generation waitress and a 4th generation bartender... it’s how I paid my way through College and kept Rick in law school. I used to work nights at the bar in town and days at the county hospital.” Bucky smiled a little, “I bet you were mouthy.” You shake your head and Gracie refills your coffee, “Were? Hell. I bet she still has the mouth.” You nod, “Gets me in trouble at the hospital sometimes but... I’m too good at finding veins and doing stitches for them to get rid of me.” Gracie snorts and refills Bucky’s coffee, “You be nice to her, hear me? Don’t be bringing no other bimbos in here. I like her and I like the redhead. You boys better not chase ‘em off.” Bucky gives her a mocking salute and a grin, “No ma’am. We’re keeping ‘em.”

You blush and it makes Bucky happy in a way he can’t quite put words to. They all liked you. Hell. Sam had done your last oil change and Steve had helped you take a desk upstate for delivery with his pick up for a pint and grilled cheese. Natasha was a little more guarded around you but she really liked it when you dropped by the garage for a minute after you got cleaned up after work. Said you reminded her that not all women shilled nail polish and diet pills. You’d never been on a motorcycle and knew nothing about engines but it was fine. You were cute and funny and it wasn’t uncommon for you to bring them food. Cupcakes, chili, enchiladas, anything you had leftover after you parceled up whatever you needed for the week. They knew it was how you showed appreciation. How you showed affection. It was wholesome, having you turn up with a plate of pretty cookies and a shy smile. It was like being fed by the stray and somehow it worked. 

Bucky wouldn’t let you pay for breakfast. He told you anyone that earned Gracie’s stamp of approval earned a meal on him. You rolled your eyes but smiled, blushing a little. He opened your car door for you and swung himself easily into the passenger seat. It was a good morning. And for the first time in a long time, the nagging loneliness in the back of his mind was blessedly quiet.

Tags: @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt, @mistressoftorture @thorfanficwriter, @ctinadiva, @innerpaperexpertcloud @amalthea9, @livingoffsavvyillusions

[eddiesasspbrak]

When I’m With You Ch. 7

Eddie can’t stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won’t let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he’s not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together. 

Ch. 1

Ch. 8

Read on AO3

3k+ words

When Saturday rolled around, Eddie could no longer put off going to the grocery store. He rarely ate at home thanks to the money coming in from his mom. Where she got it, he didn’t care as long as it kept him fed and she wasn’t putting herself in danger. Still, he needed to keep some food in his house for when eating healthier actually mattered to him or he had the rare urge to cook. He dragged himself to the shower, still groggy from napping the day before and then hardly sleeping through the night again. Once clean and dressed, a winter hat pulled down over his still drying hair, he was ready to make the trek in the cold to the small grocery store a few blocks away.

He was about to step into the hall, checking for his keys, phone and wallet, when he hesitated. There were voices out in the hall and the realization that it could be Richie was horrifying. He hadn’t seen him yet since he’d bailed from the laser tag place on Thursday. He’d spent the last two nights thinking about him and his face and his lips and hating himself because of it. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking either. He hadn’t sent a single text or dumb meme since the kiss happened, and he’d been sending those constantly since he’d gotten Eddie’s number.

Looking out through the peephole, he couldn’t see anyone. Richie’s apartment was too far away to see, even if he pressed his cheek to the door and looked as far to the left as he could. Very carefully, he opened his door just enough to poke his head out and look. Sure enough, down the hall he saw Richie outside his door, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder and arms full of bags. He’d dropped his keys and was trying to pick them up without dropping anything else. Eddie watched, hoping he wouldn’t turn his head that way and see him spying on him. And he definitely wasn’t looking at his butt as he bent down to get his keys.

“I already told you that I would meet you tonight, why do you keep asking?” He was saying into the phone, sounding frustrated.

Eddie obviously couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but he didn’t figure it would be any of their friends based on his tone of voice. He’d never seen him angry. Sure, he’d gotten into some kind of argument with Bill the other day, but he’d just seemed slightly annoyed, not angry.

“Can’t we just talk about this later when I see you?” He sighed, trying to fit his key into the lock without dropping his bags. He finally succeeded and disappeared into the apartment, pulling his keys from the door and shutting it behind him.

Eddie waited for another minute to make sure he wasn’t heading back out before rushing to lock his door and practically sprinting to the stairwell. He didn’t want to risk waiting for the elevator and having Richie come back out into the hall. Stairs weren’t so bad either. When going down at least. Hopefully he could take the elevator when he got back with groceries. It was still cold out, but the snow had started to melt a bit on the sidewalks, splashing up onto his shoes and pants leg with each step. He walked faster than he intended to, leaving him slightly winded by the time he got to the grocery store. He just wanted to put as much distance between him and the building as possible as quickly as he could.

Grabbing a hand basket, he ventured into the aisles to grab a few things to tide him over for at least a week. One day he’d remember to make a shopping list to make sure he didn’t forget anything he actually needed. Today was not that day. Weaving his way through the aisles, he grabbed soymilk, eggs, a loaf of bread, some lunch meat and cheese, a mix of greens for salad and some cucumber and tomato. He was perusing the jars of tomato sauce when his phone began to ring. It was Bev’s name on the screen along with a picture of the two of them with their faces squished together.

“Hey.” He said, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Good morning, sunshine.” She said with a yawn. “What are you up to?”

“Grocery shopping.”

“On a Saturday? Wow, you’re really a wild one, huh?”

“Hey, it gets crazy here on Saturday morning with all the middle-aged women and their coupons.”

Bev laughed into the phone. “So…have you talked to Ben?”

“Not since Thursday. Why?”

“Oh…no reason. I was just wondering if he told you the good news.”

Eddie’s attention was officially off the jars of pasta sauce. “What good news?”

“It’s nothing really. He made sure I got home safe on Thursday night and then we maybe made out on my couch for a while.”

“For real?” Eddie was smiling.

“Yep! He slept on my couch and the next morning he brought me pain killers and water for my hangover, and we talked about us and…”

“And?”

“We might be kind of dating now?” He could hear the smile in her voice and the excitement she seemed to be holding back.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me after all the times I had to listen to him talk about you.”

“I thought he would have told you by now. We’re going out to dinner tonight and I want you to come.”

“Why? Isn’t it a date?”

“No, it was planned after you left on Thursday. I meant to text you about it yesterday, but I was a little…distracted.”

“Understandable. Yea, I’ll come if it’s really not a date.”

“Awesome! I think we’re going to walk so maybe we can just meet at yours? The diner isn’t far from there.”

“Sure.”

“Also, Richie is coming.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s…no, it’s fine.”

“K. See you tonight. Kisses!”

Eddie said his goodbyes and hung up. Well, that was all his friends then. He was the only single one. Aside from Richie. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if Richie actually was single. He’d never talked about having a partner but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. His mind drifted back to the half of a conversation he heard in the hall. It could have easily been a girlfriend or boyfriend he was talking to. Would he have kissed him if he had a partner? Eddie still didn’t know if it was just a part of the Romeo and Juliet bit or if he’d meant anything by it. Now he had to see him and have dinner with him with the kiss in his thoughts and the conversation he’d accidentally eavesdropped on.

Pushing that from his mind, he grabbed a jar of pasta sauce and a box of spaghetti noodles and headed to the register.

*

When Ben and Bev arrived at his door, Eddie had been expecting to see Richie with them as well. He felt the anxious nerves dissipate and a feeling of disappointment settle in. He immediately felt stupid because his apartment was closer to the elevator, so they’d probably all go to Richie’s door next. He also felt stupid for being disappointed. He didn’t really want to see him anyway. He already had his things, and when he turned from locking his door, he saw them walking back toward the elevator.

“What about Richie?” He asked, looking down the hall in the opposite direction.

“He said he had something to do so he’s meeting us there.” Bev said, pushing the down button beside the doors.

The feeling of disappointment only grew as they boarded the elevator and rode it down to the first floor. He didn’t even know what he’d say to him when he actually saw him. It was better this way. Avoiding the awkward walk to the diner with him. By the time he arrived they’d be settled in and could avoid the conversation. Walking behind Bev and Ben as they held hands made Eddie feel like a third wheel. Even though they’d assured him it wasn’t a date, at the moment that’s what it felt like and he was the lonely single friend invading their time together. By the time they arrived at the diner, he felt ridiculous. When they walked to the counter, an older woman in an apron approached with a smile.

“Table for two?” She asked, looking at the obvious couple.

“Three actually.” Ben said, looking back at Eddie. “Can we get a booth actually?”

Her smile faltered as she nodded and grabbed three menus from the little slot on the side of the counter. They followed her to the table and Eddie slid into one side by himself while they took the other. The longer he sat there with them, the more he felt like he shouldn’t be there. They’d only been together for roughly two days and they were clearly already in their honeymoon stage. Both had pined over the other for so long, it was like they were ready to go all in already. It was disgusting and beautiful and Eddie hated them. If there were others with them, he would feel less awkward. Or, he thought anyway. When Bill, Mike and Stan walked in and greeted them, Eddie felt relief of a second before realizing he was now stuck with two couples. Their arrival effectively made him the sixth wheel, which until recently, he didn’t even know was possible.

“Hey, sorry we’re late.” Mike said.

“Wait, you invited them?” Eddie asked. “I thought it was just supposed to be four of us.”

“Good to see you too Eddie.” Stan quipped.

“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it.”

“I texted them after I talked to you. Sorry, forgot to mention it.” Bev said.

Eddie stood from his seat and slid in next to Beverly instead so the three could sit together on the other side. This was pathetic and miserable and where the fuck was Richie?

“Where the fuck is Richie?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know. Let me check.” Bev pulled out her phone and presumably sent him a text.

Their waitress came over and took drink orders, bringing three more menus to them. Eddie kept glancing at Bev’s phone, which she’d set on the table. He listened to the conversations around him, but they were talking about how Ben and Bev had gotten together and just generally being couple-y so he zoned out instead. Ben and Beverly hadn’t let go of the others hand since they’d left the apartment. Stan was actually leaning against Bill very obviously while Mike had his arm draped around the both of them. God, his arms were long. The longer he sat there with no stupid Trashmouth to distract him, the more bitter he became. Fuck couples and their nerve to be cute in front of their single and lonely friends.

It was when Ben tenderly kissed Bev beside him and the other three let out a chorus of “aww” that Eddie had had enough. He knew that Richie still hadn’t texted her back and whatever he was doing must have been more important than saving Eddie from being a sixth wheel. Part of him worried that Richie was avoiding him since the kiss on Thursday and how dare he if he was. It was Eddie that was supposed to be avoiding him. Still, since he’d decided not to grace them with his presence, he thought it best to just go.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” Eddie said, standing and sliding his coat back over his arms.

“What? Why?” Ben asked, looking up at him.

“Why? Richie clearly isn’t going to show, and I don’t want to be the only single person here. It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird. You’re our friend.” Bev said.

“You’re a jealous bitch.” Stan chimed in.

“Go fuck yourself, Stanley.” Eddie said, flipping him off.

“He’s r-right. It would be awkward to be the only single p-p-person hanging out with couples.” Bill said, pushing Stan’s hand down when he returned the gesture.

“Look, I love you guys but I’m just not feeling it tonight, ok?” Eddie said, zipping his coat and tying his scarf around his neck. “Also, I hate you all.” With that he left them, heading out into the cold night air waiting for him.

Hopefully Mike and Bill wouldn’t take him too seriously and if they did, the other three would probably let them know he didn’t mean to offend. Bill already seemed to think that him and Stan going at each other was something to worry about when they’d been like that since high school. They’d be insulting each other one second and cuddled up reading comics the next. It was just the way they interacted, a testament to how close they were. Who else could you insult and flip off and have them know you weren’t serious? Surely he’d understand since he seemed to be the same way with Richie.

Eddie now had to walk home in the cold all alone and figure out what he was going to do for dinner. Being single when all your friends were dating really sucked. He paused just outside the diner, in front of the building beside it, and pulled out his phone. Fingers already going numb from the cold, he began typing out a message to Richie.

Eddie: Just so we’re clear, you suck for not showing up and leaving me with the couples. I’m bailing. Again, you suck.

He hit send and pocketed his phone, starting up the street toward home. His mind drifted to what could have held Richie up. The café was closed this time of night and wouldn’t be open Sunday, so he wouldn’t be there working. As far as he knew, all his friends were back at the diner. The conversation he’d overheard that morning came back to him then.

“I already told you I’d meet you tonight.” He’d said. So, it was a person he was with. Eddie missed his chance to ask the others if Richie was seeing anyone. For all he knew, he was with a boyfriend or girlfriend not even thinking about Eddie. If he thought about Eddie at all. Realizing he had developed feelings for Richie was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“Eddie!” He wasn’t far from the diner yet, walking slowly on icy pavement, when he heard his name being called. Figuring it was one of his friends trying to lure him back, he turned and instead saw Richie, carefully speed walking toward him. When he caught up to him, he stopped briefly to catch his breath, each puff a visible cloud of fog in front of him.

“I’m glad I caught you. I just got your text.” He said, smiling.

“Oh, so you know that you suck then?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I got caught up doing something and I…I’m here now. Want to head back in?”

“No. I already made a scene when I left. I can’t go back.”

“What kind of scene?”

“I told Stan to fuck himself and said I hated them all. I may have called them disgusting too but that might have been in my head.”

Richie’s smile grew as he chuckled softly. “Well, shit, I guess we better run before they come out with pitch forks.”

Despite his best efforts, Eddie smiled. “I’ll push you down and leave you while I make my get away.”

“Cruel, but I’m taller than you. I don’t think you’ll win that one.”

“The taller they are, the harder they fall.”

Richie laughed again, the noise like bells to Eddie’s ears. When did that change? He used to think his laugh was irritating and at his expense. Now he loved it.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m not actually going to push you down in the middle of the street.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right. Because you can’t.”

“I can.”

“Then do it.”

“You really want to be on your ass in the ice and snow, don’t you?”

“I’m not worried about it.”

Eddie felt a flutter go through his chest when he saw Richie’s smirk and realized exactly what they were doing. This was flirting. Stupid, ridiculous flirting but also perfect. They were both smiling, and Eddie wanted to chase that feeling before it slipped away. Pressing his hands against Richie’s chest, he began to push. Richie planted his feet, leaning against Eddie’s hands and lightly grabbing his arms with his large hands.

“That’s cheating.” Eddie grunted with effort.

“You never gave any rules.”

“Fall you giant motherfucker.” Eddie laughed.

Eddie felt giddy and lightheaded, happy for the first time in a long time. He joked with his friends, laughed with them and played around. But this was different. The knowledge that they had kissed just two days before was in their heads as they laughed and bantered. In that moment Eddie didn’t think anything could go wrong…until it did.

“Richie! What the fuck!” The voice cut through their laughter and caused Richie to tense up, looking back over his shoulder.

Eddie stopped pushing, letting his hands drop, only held up by Richie’s gentle hold on his arms. There was a woman walking toward them with purpose. She looked angry as her eyes drifted from Richie to Eddie, sizing him up.

“What are you doing here?” Richie asked, his voice no longer joking.

“You left before we were done talking.” She said, finally reaching them.

“I told you I didn’t have anything left to say to you.”

“I’ve said I was sorry like a thousand times. Can’t you just get over it?”

Eddie suddenly felt like he shouldn’t be hearing this, but Richie was still holding his arms and didn’t seem to want to let go. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he had a hunch that this girl was his ex.

“You broke up with me months ago for someone else. I got over you and I’ve moved on. I don’t know how many more ways I can explain that to you.”

“I made a mistake and I’m sorry, Richie.”

“Maybe I should…go…” Eddie said, twisting his wrist and trying to gently pry free from his hold.

“No, you stay. She can leave.”

“Why won’t you at least consider it?” She asked, ignoring them both.

“I told you. I’ve moved on.”

“With who?”

Richie dropped one of Eddie’s arms and held the other one up in the air. “Who do you think?” He asked.

She looked Eddie up and down again like she had when she’d first approached. “Him?”

Eddie felt like a switch was just flipped, shutting off his brain as he no longer understood anything. He and Richie were practically holding hands at this point, but he didn’t notice. Didn’t seem to be able to hear anything they were saying. Was this confirmation that Richie felt the same way Eddie did? He found himself looking up as Richie argued with this girl about something. About him maybe. He wasn’t sure. His eyes were on his mouth, remembering the way it felt against his. The warmth of his hand, their fingers now laced, radiated through his whole body.

“Fuck you!” The girl yelled, turning and marching away.

Eddie snapped out of it and turned to watch her go. Richie sighed loudly next to him and let go of his hand to run both his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up to his hairline. Eddie could feel how warm his cheeks were despite the cold and figured he must be blushing, and he hated that. Richie had just had a very public argument with his ex and all Eddie could focus on was that he’d been flirting and held his hand.

“Sorry about that.” Richie said, looking back at Eddie with a forced smile.

“You ok?” Eddie asked.

“Yea, I’m good. She called me because she wanted to get back together but I’m over that. Thanks for not denying it, by the way. If she thinks I’m with someone else she should leave me alone.”

“Oh…yea. No problem.” And Eddie felt stupid again. He spoke quickly, before his face gave him away. “If you hadn’t been holding onto me, I would have booked it out of here the second she showed up.”

Richie chuckled. “If we’re not going back to the others where should we go?”

“I was just going to go home.”

Had he asked before his ex showed up, he would have suggested going somewhere else and eating together. All the thoughts of avoiding him had vanished as soon as she showed up, but they were back again, and all Eddie wanted was to be alone. He couldn’t imagine sitting across from him, remembering kissing him and the feel of his chest beneath his hands. All while knowing he’d just used him to get rid of his ex and didn’t seem to actually like him.

“Oh…well, mind if I walk with you then? We’re going to the same place after all.” Richie said with that same forced smile.

“Sure.” Eddie wanted to say no, but, how could he?

They were silent as they walked. It wasn’t far to their building from there, the walk going a bit slower since the temperatures had dropped, and the previously melted snow had refrozen. They shuffled carefully, trying not to slip on the ice. The last thing Eddie needed now was to embarrass himself in front of Richie. As it was, he had this annoying urge to cry that he was fighting against.

When their building came into view, Richie rushed forward a bit to open the main door for Eddie. He mumbled a thanks and thought for a second about taking the stairs so he wouldn’t be trapped in the elevator for him. He hesitated a moment too long and was stuck when Richie pushed the up button and the door slid open. If he took the stairs now, it would be too obvious that he was trying to get away from him. They didn’t live that far up so it was a short ride at least. Eddie pulled his keys out of his pocket as the door slid open again on their floor.

“Thanks again for saving me back there.” Richie said as they reached Eddie’s door.

“Like I said, if you hadn’t been holding my arm, I would have run for it.”

Richie gave a smile, a real one this time. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll see you later.”

Eddie had his key in the lock, his other hand on the doorknob as he turned to say goodbye. Before he could get the words out, Richie’s lips were on his. It wasn’t the same as the first but was just as effective at taking Eddie’s breath away. Before he could even think of reciprocating, it was over, and Richie was heading down the hall to his own apartment. Eddie pushed the door open and stumbled in, letting it close behind him and leaning his back against it. Every time he thought he had their relationship figured out, something would happen that would throw him off completely. The simplest way to find out what was going on was to ask Richie, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to do it. The only logical thing to do was to wait for Richie to come to him, right?

[blueyesandleatherjacket]

A Taste Of Christmas, 5/6

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 5/6.

Pairings: Metacrisis Nine x Rose.

A/N: Sequel for The Summertime Of Our Lives. Written for doctorroseprompts' ficmas challenge. Ficmas challenge: Ornaments, Wreath, Ribbon, Stockings, Rooftop, Earmuffs, Bright. Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“Christmas is a time when you get homesick - even when you're home.” - Carol Nelson.

CHAPTER 5:

The table was covered with papers of different colours, glue sticks, bits of cut papers, cutting shapes, scissors, stickers, paint, Posca and a mix of silver and red flakes. In the middle of this mess, there were ranks of homemade invitation, cards, name tags and menus elegantly ornamented with Christmas themed elements like snowmen made with buttons of different sizes and colours, Christmas trees made with pine needles, pine cones made with bits of cardboards, candy canes made with paper straws. Those were things Tony had never seen in his entire life and he had been more than happy to help his sister crafting these little pieces of art. For him, it meant nothing because he never celebrated Christmas and because it was all new and secret – Pete must never know! – it was an exciting mission for the seven years-old boy. In the middle of this mess, the Doctor found the blonde head of his wife. She had collapsed on her table of work after working really hard on the last details for their upcoming Christmas party. She wanted it all to be perfect and she was pushing herself to exhaustion. The Doctor had already cleaned Tony up and put him to bed. Now it was time for his lovely wife to follow the same path. She was working hard, too hard, for their celebration to be perfect. They could have chosen the emblematic date of December 25 for this because it was in the middle of the week and everyone was working. Instead, they had chosen December 21 and 22. It was in two weeks time so it was important for the invitation cards to be sent as soon as possible or no one would be available. They didn’t have many friends around here, just a handful, but it was more than enough. The Doctor delicately picked Rose up. She protested, opened her eyes but ended up wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling closer to his chest. He took her to the bedroom and lay her down. He carefully removed all leftovers of her artistic activities from her face and hair. He had always seen Rose as a young woman who was mature and clever for her age. More than other nineteen years old kiddos of her kiddos of her generation. With all the traveling they did and all the dangers they faced, she had grown up faster than she should have. This universe had completed her transformation into a grown-up woman. This was the first time in ages that he was seeing the child in her. Participating in this impossible Christmas revival was making her innocence and childish behaviour resurfacing. He congratulated himself for this idea. He was falling more and more in love with her. As he needed less sleep than a normal human being, he was often pacing around the house and resolving grids of crosswords to keep busy until finally sleep came to him. Tonight, though, he had other projects. As soon as Rose was tucked in bed, he left a note on his pillow and used the wrist device that was formerly Jack’s. He profoundly disliked this device: it was having too nasty effects on the user. However the TARDIS wasn’t ready to travel yet. She still needed to mature. Better give her all the time she needed to be at the best. He was one careless driver and an insatiable traveller. She would see the universe. She would see his family, help with raising his children. That was how he had dreamt his life with Rose once. The house, the human friends, the ‘ordinary’ life were just good bonuses. He was sprawled out on the bed when Rose woke up. All dressed in his signature outfit – jumper, leather jacket, black pants and boots – he had fallen asleep as soon as he had reached the bed. Strangely, he was wearing more colours than usual. These clothes were dark, reflecting the darkness of his soul when they had met and bringing a sort of protection to their owner. They were an homage to all the lost ones he was carrying on his shoulders with the damages of the war he was the only Time Lord to have survived to. Today, they were covered in an elegant mix of pastel and bright colours. On his head was resting a wreath of flowers Rose had only seen once in her life. The device around the Doctor’s wrist confirmed that he had been travelling while she was asleep. But what had he been up to in the galaxy? Why was he covered with flowers? Like he had done for her the night before, she delicately took off his shoes and jacket. She left the flowers on him just for the pleasure of having him waking up later with them and gently mocking him. It was breaking his bad boy appearance, making him look like a soft warrior. The Doctor could have been one of the French soldiers who left fresh and joyful for the first World War had he not already lived the horrors a war could cause to a person, to a population, to a whole planet. He was a warrior recovering from this war that had happened long before they met, a war that would haunt his mind for as long as he would be alive. Flowers were a meagre comfort for the broken man who had a hard time pulling himself back together. Where would he be without her? Who would hold his hand during the dark times? It was a question she still was asking herself. Less now than in the first days of her new life here, but sometimes she caught herself wondering who was holding the hand of the Doctor who was still running for his life. A thought she was keeping for herself not to sadden her Doctor. At least, he had her hand to hold; he had the woman he had always desired. And the Time Lord could make friends with anyone, as annoying as he could get when he was babbling relentlessly and considering the persons, humans or not, facing him like they were completely stupid. But if you were asking for help, he never refused and that made him a great friend. Being friend with such a person wasn’t without risk. You have to be prepared for the worst at any time. This life wasn’t for everyone. Some just couldn’t handle it. Rose had adjusted to this life for the man she had fallen in love with. She went downstairs and cooked breakfast for the two men of the house who weren’t up yet. She had no idea when the Doctor had fallen asleep but Tony was sleeping in. She had never seen him sleep this late on mornings. The sound of his steps on the ground above her proved her wrong. The boy was up and he was coming her way for breakfast. She had put everything down on the table and was making pancakes by the time he joined her in the kitchen with dishevelled hair and a sleepy face. He mumbled a hello and settled down at the table to eat his breakfast and drink his hot chocolate. Rose smiled, ruffled his hair and kissed his head before dropping a couple pancakes in the empty plate beside him and covered them with honey. It was his favourite meal to have on morning. Something the Doctor loved too… if she added bananas that tasted like bananas. “What is it, Rosie?” “Hm?” Rose sat down on the chair next to him for her morning tea. She had sugar and stirred the brewage for a perfect mix of the flavours. Tony was pointing to her tattoo. She was used to it now and didn’t notice it as much as she did before but to Tony, this was new. He hadn’t remarked it sooner. The lines were going from a wrist to the other in elegant lines forming long loops and drawing tight knots. The Doctor was wearing the same tattoos. He had had a harder time to get used to them. Maybe that was why he was wearing the leather jacket again: to avoid people’s looks on him now that he was vulnerable. Just like them all. “That’s a tattoo.” “Cool!” “Mum didn’t find it cool when she has seen,” chuckled Rose. “Dad has one too. That’s a number. He said that the day he met mum but she told me it was bollocks.” It was. Pete had had that tattoo long before their mother came in this universe. He had revealed the meaning of it when she was her prisoner in one of his labs in Torchwood. It was connected to his activities in this huge institution of researches. The Cybermen and Daleks, the Void, they hadn’t been caused only by her original universe. Pete had helped with it and played dumb when everything happened. They all had been fooled by him and she was the only one to see the truth behind his mask. The numbers on his arm indeed were a date. The date of his entry in Torchwood which matched the date he had met Jackie in the other world. “The Doctor and I are married,” explained Rose. “We did a hand-fastening marriage this summer and instead of wearing wedding rings, we chose to have the ribbons of love tattooed on our arms.” “The Doctor has them too?” “Yep,” replied the hoarse sleepy voice of the concerned man. He had swapped his jumper for a T-shirt and I kept his pants and socks. His short sleeves revealed the lines tattooed on his arms. The exact same lines as Rose. He stuck his arms together for the pattern to be complete and Tony was amazed by the complexity and beauty of the arabesques forming the ribbons. He could have had them off in some planet in the far future but he had chosen to keep them. They were the symbol of his love and marriage with Rose and he was growing quite fond of them. “We can get married with tattoos?” “Not really. There’s a ceremony called hand-fastening. The engaged couple brings ribbons made with fabric that have a special meaning to the both of them. A qualified and close person to you tells the story of the hand-fastening and what it means to the engaged couple. You face your loved one, gather the ribbons and take the hands of their hands. Your right hand takes their left on and your left takes their right one so your arms are forming a sort of eight or an infinite sign. The person you’ve chosen to marry you fastens the ribbons around your joined hands and tie them with a nice knot. You say your vows and the ceremony is over.” “But the tattoos?” “There are married couples that feel the need to exchange gifts that were very personal and dear to them to symbolise their love and trust. Others choose to have bond tattooed for everyone to see their love. Or simply as a reminder of their bond. Rose loved the tattoo idea so we’ve picked it and it’s fantastic to see that our marriage wasn’t just a dream.” The Doctor walked over to Rose and dropped a kiss on her lips. Tony had a wide smile. It made him so happy to be surrounded by so much warm love. He giggled when the Doctor ruffled his hair and tickled him. But he was so intrigued by what he whispered in his ear that he finished his breakfast and ran in the living room. Rose raised an eyebrow, the Doctor shrugged innocently and Tony squealed happily. Rose was intrigued so she went in the living room and there, she understood: in the night, the Doctor had built a fake chimney and had hung Christmas stockings on the mantel. There were one for each one of them and one for their friends. who were invited to their party. Every stockings was filled with chocolate and crackers and candy canes. Everything to make this first Christmas here even better. She threw herself in the Doctor’s arms. He really was fantastic. “Oh, Rosie, it’s snowing!” Tony put the stockings back on the chimney and ran to the closest window to watch the white flakes fall from the sky. Snow for Christmas, long time it hadn’t happened in their original universe. Thankfully global warming didn’t exist in this world. Somehow, they had managed to protect it for the future generations. As if anyone wanted to conceive and raise children in this full scary world. And since they were in a small quiet town, away from the big cities, the skies were as clear as they could be, offering them an impressive cover of shining stars to observe.an activity that the Doctor loved doing when was sitting in front of the patio door. When the night came, he chose to watch the stars with his little family: his wife and brother-in-law. But changing a habit had a certain price and he hadn’t seen it coming. The stars were brighter than usual that night and watching them from inside the house was lessening this beautiful brightness. The Doctor wanted to climb in the rooftop but Rose firmly refused. It was too dangerous. She allowed him to watch them from outside on the condition that he was dressing up to face the cold. He ended up muffled up in a warm coat and scarf and gloves but also a pair of earmuffs he was sulking about. Rose had insisting on the fact she loved his big ears the way they were and didn’t want them to suffer from the cold. She won the battle obviously and he soon forgot the argument-that-wasn’t-really-an-argument. Standing in the snow and holding the hand of his wife while speaking about the stars he knew to Tony was better than sulking about stupid earmuffs that indeed were keeping his ears warm for Rose to sexily nibble them later…

To be continued...

A Taste Of Christmas © | 2019 | Tous droits réservés.

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[peachymhaechan]

“You know, you have pretty good taste.”

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst I suppose, travel!au

Pairing: Hyuck x reader

Warnings: language, my guy

A/N: i’m uploading this after junior year is finished, hell yeah!! also, happy birthday my full sun, we all love you so much!! unrelated but im trying something other than bullet point scenarios for once?? who IS she

   It was four in the morning, the sun wasn’t out and the birds were not chirping. Instead, the sun was in the process of rising and all that could be heard was shitty airport music and the overpowering sound of airplanes taking off. The people passing by you were an odd mix: some passing layover time by getting drunk off their asses, some hustling to the next gate, some excited to go on vacations (Example that everyone has seen before: that middle class family of four headed to Disney World with matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse T-shirts with their names on the back) or see their families. You, however, happened to be in the group of people who had just finished vacation and were now back home, and dreadfully so. Who would want to go back to the boring and mundane after being at the beach with a group of friends for two weeks? 

   Taking your time to pick up your luggage, you stopped in the bathroom to pass time, as you wanted to avoid the initial rush to at the baggage claim. The first ten to fifteen minutes at the baggage claim were the worst because you had to deal with cranky tourists, crying babies, and overly loud people talking on the phone. After it felt like enough time had passed, you went to the baggage claim for your flight and waited to pick up your suitcase. It was black, with a hard exterior and no really notable qualities other than a yellow tag with your personal information written on it. 

   The bags all went around the conveyor belt a few times and you finally spotted your bag. Well, what you assumed to be yours; it was the exact same suitcase with a yellow tag, so there was no real need to be suspicious of anything or doublecheck the tag. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a boy who appeared to be your age grabbing a suitcase that matched yours to a T. He looked tired, like he had been running nonstop and was extremely exhausted, so you thought of complimenting his choice of travelling bags but stopped yourself. Just as you were about to leave, you felt a pair of eyes on you so you turned and found the boy with the same suitcase staring at you. He blushed at being caught but still gave you a small smile and bowing his head in a sleepy greeting. You did the same to him, giving him a small wave and saying, “You know, you have pretty good taste,” and gesturing to the bag. 

   He chuckled cutely, the noise making you blush immediately, and said, “You too.” With that, you both went on your merry ways, not thinking anything of the encounter or the fact that neither of you checked the damn tags to see if you took the other’s bag. Plot twist: you grabbed the wrong bag. 

   About one hour later you closed your apartment door behind you, slipping off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch. You threw your phone onto the charger and placed it onto the coffee table and as soon as your head hit your pillow, your eyes shut and you fell into a deep slumber, your body trying to get rid of the major jet lag. 

   The sun shining through the window and warming your skin woke you in the middle of the afternoon. Deciding that the amount of sleep you had gotten after getting home would be substantial enough for the time being, you got up and started to unpack. Laying the suitcase on your bed, you opened it up and it took you a second to realize it, but boy oh boy were you shocked. 

   That was not your suitcase. 

   How did you know? Well, because the last time you checked, you didn’t wear boxer briefs, especially not ones with lipstick kisses all over them. 

   “Fuck. Shit. Ass. Piss,” was all you could say as you closed it back up and went to check the tag tied around the handle. Lee Donghyuck, the name read, with a phone number scribbled next to it. You went into the living room to go and text the ever mysterious Lee Donghyuck, when the screen was illuminated with a text message from an unsaved number. 

   Hey Y/N, this is Lee Donghyuck from the airport. We had the same bag, remember? Well, I think you’ll find out pretty soon if you haven’t already that we have each other’s bags. Let me know when you’re free so we can swap, please!

   Sighing a breath of relief at the fact that at least the boy was polite and respectful about this awful situation, your fingers started moving over the keyboard to send a message back. 

   Hi Donghyuck, this is Y/N! I’m free all day, where would you like to meet up? We can go to a coffee shop by my house if that is okay with you. If it’s too far, no worries! We can just find somewhere else to go :)

   Not even seconds after you sent the message, Donghyuck sent a response asking which coffee shop you had in mind, and to send him the address. You happily obliged, wanting nothing more than to sort out this mess and get your stuff back. 

   Alright sounds good, I’ll see you there in about an hour !!

   It had almost been time to meet up when you started to head to the coffee shop you guys planned on. It was a little hole in the wall, mom and pop place that had stolen your heart (and money) ever since you moved to that little neighborhood. The best drink on the menu was their caramel macchiatos, the warmth from the beverage warming you to the core on the coldest winter days, and the ice in the cold version cooling you on the hottest summer afternoons. 

   The little bell above the door rang when you walked in, and the barista at the counter gave you a warm hello. “Y/N, how was your trip?” Jaehyun, the fulltime sweetheart and halftime barista, asked you, immediately making you your usual. Taking a seat at your normal spot by the window, you flashed him a grin and said, “Amazing. It felt so good to get away and worry about nothing other than putting on more sunscreen.” The tall boy handed you a steaming cup and before he could say anything else, the bell rang again. 

   Your eyes drifted to the door and you found yourself staring into the same eyes you had stared into earlier. Donghyuck stood in the doorway, not as recognizable, having changed from that morning. Rather than wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, he donned ripped jeans, a loose sweater, and clean sneakers. Rolling your suitcase right behind him, his eyes scanned the room for you, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he saw you. 

   “Y/N?” he hesitantly called, walking towards you. Jaehyun retreated to behind the counter, leaving you two to it. “Yes, hi, hello!” you confirmed, waving hello to the boy and finding yourself in shock when your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him running a hand through his faux golden locks. 

   “Ah, I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” he sheepishly told you, rubbing the back of his neck. He took a seat across from you, changing the view you normally got in your spot. Never in all your experiences at the shop had something or someone changed the view you had: the window to the outside, showing the little alleyway and any locals walking to some of the other shops. It came to you, then, that maybe you didn’t mind a bit of change if it was that cute. 

   “Oh, I don’t mind, really. I’m glad it happened with someone as respectful as you, though. You never know how people can be nowadays,” you said, taking a sip from your drink. “Would you like something to drink? Jaehyun is really good at what he does,” you said, nodding over to the barista who stood behind the bar, seeming bored out of his mind. 

   “Hmmmm…. what would you recommend?” he asked, stealing a glance at the bit of froth that gathered above your lip. 

   “The caramel macchiato is what I normally get. Both iced and warm, its great,” you said, gesturing to the beverage in your cup, a small smile on your face. 

   “Alright, then. I trust you. I’ll take a large caramel macchiato...” 

   Once Jaehyun had made the drink and refused any payment (and gave you a wink from behind Donghyuck, thank God he couldn’t see that), you two chatted for hours. The sun was starting to set before it dawned on you that you had been there for almost three hours, stomach sore from laughter and cheeks burning from smiling. Talking to Donghyuck felt like talking to an old friend, despite knowing him for less than twenty-four hours. In the short time you had spent together, you gathered that he was a sweet and caring boy, as he took care of his younger friends and his younger siblings, but that didn’t stop his whip-like tongue from throwing out witty remarks any time an opportunity arose. His sense of humor was very similar to yours, and his interests were the same as yours, so you two had endless topics to discuss. 

   “Oh my God, what time is it?” you asked, falling out of your stupor and dragging your gaze away from the boy’s beautiful curled lashes and the way they rested upon his cheekbones. You heard Jaehyun dramatically yawn behind the counter, causing you to roll your eyes as Donghyuck checked his watch and said, “It’s almost nine o’clock, I’m about to miss the next bus to get back to my house.” 

   “Well, I guess we should be leaving, then. Good night, Jaehyun, thank you for everything! The macchiato was great, as always.” You both stood up and gathered your things, switching suitcases and checking the tags this time just to be safe. You both shuffled out of the shop, sending a smile and a wave over your shoulder to the barista before standing in the middle of the doorway. 

   Standing there, you weren’t sure what to do or say, but then Donghyuck spoke up. “Thank you for agreeing to meet up with me, I appreciate it. A lot of people nowadays would have just mailed it to me or something, so I’m pretty grateful that you met up with me right away. Oh, and you’re pretty nice, too, so, um... maybe we can meet here again? If that’s okay with you, of course.” There was a crimson tint to his cheeks and you found it outright adorable that the boy blushed at the thought of seeing you again. 

   “I’d love that, Donghyuck! Thank you for not being a serial killer or something and recommending your house instead,” you told him, trying to lighten the atmosphere around you two and succeeding when you heard a little giggle escape his lips. “You really should be going now if you don’t want to miss that bus,” you said, giving him a smile. 

   “Yeah, you’re right... text me when you get home safe, okay? I feel terrible that I can’t walk you home.” He kicked at a rock on the ground, a small pout forming on his cherry red lips. 

   “I will, don’t feel bad! Have a nice night!” you exclaimed and, feeling particularly bold, leaned up to place a feather-light kiss on his already dusted cheeks. The seemingly outgoing boy froze on the spot, skin heating up and eyes widening and watching you pivot and wheel your suitcase away with energy in your step. 

   As soon as you got home, you flung yourself down on the bed and let your actions sink in finally. The memory of kissing his cheek made you all giddy and start giggling, before inevitably squealing into your pillow. Remembering what he told you before you were ever so adventurous, you pulled out your phone and sent him a quick text. 

   Okay, I’m glad you made it home safely! :)

   A few seconds later, you received another text, not giving you any time to recover form the first one.  

   Would you like to hangout tomorrow? If you’re available, that is! 

   Fingers flying over the keyboard and heart leaping out of your chest, you sent a reply right away. 

   I’d like that a lot, Hyuck