#but i swear every morning for the past four days i’ve killed at least six & swept up more corpses during the day bc my parents & aunt

[wlwaerith]

i hate summer so much

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Visibility (Good Omens Fic)

Written for Lesbian Visibility Day, 2021

(26 April, 1972)

“What did you szzay?”

Beelzebub glared at the empty space before zir throne, listening to a pair of feet shuffle awkwardly.

“I just…woke up like this,” Crowley explained, in what was probably supposed to be a casual voice. “At first, I thought I was coming down with something. Flu. Hangover. Allergies. All very contagious this time of year. Really, if you haven’t been to Earth before, April is – just wait at least another month. But then I realized, s’not going away, and I thought: curse. Definitely a curse. Probably one of those angels, thwarting and all, you know how they are.”

“An angel.” The Prince of Hell tapped one finger on the arm of the throne, swarm of flies flitting around, trying to make sense of what zir own eyes weren’t telling zir. “Iszzn’t that hideouszz pieczze of real esztate you live in warded?”

“Probably. You know how it is. Get home late, really tired, swear you locked the door, but…” The footsteps – echoing as those ridiculous heeled boots struck the ground – began to circle the room. Beelzebub didn’t keep many possessions – at least, not the material sort – but Crowley seemed determined to touch them all. “Anyway, you know angels. Clever bastards.” An ornate dagger on the far table began to spin. “Or witches. Not quite as bastardly, but they cause trouble. Oh, or a cursed artifact.” Papers began rearranging themselves. “I just…I haven’t been thrift shopping in years, you know, not really my scene, not anyone’s scene anymore, but I saw this really spectacular jacket, I thought, what the Heaven? Might have some age-old horrific curse, or bedbugs, but it’s going to look stunning on the dance floor.”

Pinching zir nose, Beelzebub tried not to imagine the foolish way she was probably grinning. “And by complete coinczzidenzze,this angel, witch or…garment, juszzt happened to make you completely inviszzible on the day of your department budget review?”

“Yup.” A selection of goblets toppled to the floor with a clatter, bouncing and spinning across the floor. One rolled as if kicked, but not even Beelzebub’s cleverest flies could locate the blasted demon who had caused the mess. “I mean, not just a coincidence. Plenty of reasons. Er. The angel. Just last week, that – uh, that Aziraphale, I foiled one of her plans. Thoroughly. Foiled like…like leftover chicken. So. This could be revenge. Very unfortunately timed, but you know.”

“Indeed.” Beelzebub rose, stalking from zir throne across the floor to the spot that most strongly radiated incompetence. “And the curszze breakerszz haven’t been able to turn you back?”

“I mean, they tried.” More footsteps, hastier now, so that the echoes made them harder to track. “Course they tried. But,” she clicked her tongue, “couldn’t do it. Said they’d never seen anything like it before.” Ze would have to speak with them. No, too much trouble. Beelzebub would send the Hellhounds to take care of those idiots. “But, they did say it should wear off in…twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You know. With bed rest. Pity about the budgetary review.”

“How szzo?” Ze asked, lip curling. Every twenty-five years, like clockwork, like the courses of the blessed stars, the day of Crowley’s review, something – something highly improbably – tried to disrupt things.

“Well. I mean. Bed rest. Suggested by your curse breakers. And anyway. Can’t go like this, can I?” One of the goblets floated up from the floor, spinning in an unseen hand. “Might be disruptive.Wouldn’t want to draw attention away from Dagon – I heard, she has some fantastic charts this year. Pie graphs. One of those ones with the dots and the lines. Look at this!” From behind Beelzebub’s throne floated a ceramic pot filled with tall green plants, three dozen flies happily flitting around the attractively scented leaves. “Is this dill? Excellent choice. I’ve been doing some gardening lately, too, and let me tell you—”

“I cannot imagine anything” Beelzebub snapped, snatching the plant out of her invisible hands, “that could make you more diszzzruptive than you already are. But it appearszz you can szztill szzee, hear, and – unfortunately – szzpeak.”

“Just lucky I guess.” More pacing.

“Szzo. Dagon will be exzzpecting you in…four and a half minuteszz. I’m czzertain everyone iszz eagerly awaiting your planszz for the coming quarter-czzentury. Dagon, at leaszzt, could probably uszze the…amuszzement.”

“Course. Right. Perfect.” The footsteps began to lead towards the door. “I’ll just—”

“Szztop.” Beelzebub’s hand flew out, snapping tight around the demon’s wrist exactly as she walked past. “The otherszz will need to szzee where you are.”

“I could whistle,” she volunteered, launching into something that sounded like a tortured bird.

The Prince considered ripping her arm off and stuffing it down her throat, but the last time ze did that, the satisfaction hadn’t been worth the days of cleanup.

“Juszzt put on a hat or szzomething.”

A snap of fingers, and a band of glittering silver cloth appeared around where her waist should be. “Better? Can I go now? I’m…extremely eager to start my presentation. Ngk. Everyone is going to be impressed. This – this decade is going to put me on the map.”

“Go.”

The silver band of cloth sauntered out of the room, echoing the moronic way the demon walked. Checking the dill plant for damage, Beelzebub lowered zirself back onto the throne.

Which had, inexplicably, moved several inches back, causing zir to fall onto the floor, the potted plant shattering. “Crowley!”

--

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Crowley muttered, stalking down the hall towards the meeting room. She’d spent a week putting this curse together, combining ones from six of Aziraphale’s most obscure grimoires, and yet she still had to make her bloody presentation. “Next time, I’ll just give myself the plague.” That had almost worked in the fourteenth century. Just needed a more impressive plague.

Ahead on the right, a door with a piece of paper taped on it reading Temptation Department Budget Group Lambda. She hesitated, fingers hovering just short of pushing it the rest of the way open. Had Beelzebub warned everyone she was invisible? More often, ze expected demons to take care of such things themselves, on pain of pain. Two minutes to spare; might as well try.

Crowley dropped the silver belt on the floor outside and slipped through the partially-open door, transforming her extremely cool boots into a pair of quieter slippers. That, at least, she could do without being sensed; shifting the shape of her feet didn’t alert the other demons the way a real miracle would.

A dozen of them sat in chairs around the conference table, grumbling about their project proposals, miracle allotments, and soul quotas. An overhead projector sat at the front of the room. It was the one with the cracked glass, projecting a broken circle of light onto a white wall. Dagon stood beside it, shuffling papers.

Crowley could try writing dirty words on a couple of the pre-made transparencies, but that didn’t seem properly demonic. Scanning the room, she spotted the wheeled coffee cart tucked in the corner, laden with a coffee pot, Styrofoam cups, plate of pastries and various flavorings. Horrid stuff. All demons were required to drink three cups of it per meeting, and to eat one of the scones, which this time appeared to be…pickled herring flavored? With orange marmalade?

There wasn’t much she could do to make that worse. She grabbed a few anyway, tucking them down the front of her shirt, and dumped the marmalade into the molten coffee, turning the temperature up as high as it would go. She’d managed to grab a fistful of wet soil and some dill from Beelzebub’s plant. Most of that went into the coffee pot, a little into the sour creamer, and the rest into the alleged sugar – probably an artificial sweetener, those were all the rage lately.

What else? She stole all the spoons, then pulled off an earring and started poking holes in the bottom of the cups with it.

With the perfect sense of timing honed from millennia of avoiding one more second in the company of her coworkers than necessary, Crowley managed to slip out the door, put on the belt, and waltz back in exactly as Dagon demanded, “Where is the demon Crowley?”

“Sorry, sorry. Feeling a bit under the weather today.” Only about three demons glanced her way with some level of surprise; the rest just got up and headed over to get their first requisite cup of coffee. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. And the traffic! The roads just get worse every year. Anyway, here now. Ready and eager. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She snagged an empty seat and dropped into it, crossing her boots on the table with a heavy thud.

Dagon sighed. “Do I even want to know what happened this time?”

“Pissed off an angel. Utterly ruined her plans. Cursed me out in the most unbelievable language, and then, well, you see. Or don’t see.”

It was certainly true enough. Aziraphale had been very upset when the “fine dining establishment” Crowley had selected for their meet-up turned out to be the hottest disco in the city. And the way she managed to express her disappointment while technically not swearing certainly strained credulity.

“Did you kill her?” Ligur asked. So unimaginative.

“No, I did something much worse.” She’d dragged Aziraphale onto the dance floor and managed almost twenty-three seconds of enthusiastic disco next to her before the angel – now bright red and flustered – had stormed out entirely. “But, we’re not here to talk about me. Let’s have it. Numbers. Spreadsheets. I heard a rumor we might see that climate change graph.”

A general groan ran around the table.

“Shut up,” Dagon snapped. “Listen up, you lot – all you idiots, and Crowley in particular. Every one of you worthless wastes of matter needs to explain what you’re going to do in the next quarter-century, how that’s going to secure souls for our Master, and why we should waste any number of miracles on your pathetic hides. Until then—”

With an icy shiver, Crowley felt her miracles vanish.

“Now. Let’s start on the success rate of last quarter-century, and if I hear one word of complaint, you can scream it from the bottom of a sulfur pool. And don’t forget your blessed coffee.”

As Dagon started her presentation, Crowley watched the coffee cart. Someone had helpfully wheeled it next to the conference table, so the demons could more easily torture themselves. Seven managed to soak their shirts and trousers from leaking cups before the marmalade clogged the pot entirely. That, however, would never be enough to cancel the meeting. Heaven, a few of them even said it tasted better than usual. Should have seen that coming.

Still. It was a start.

Crowley played with her earring, then grinned, thinking of a possibility.

“Ow!” she shouted dramatically. “Something bit me!”

“Wasn’t me,” Hastur said sullenly.

“W—no, I mean. Some kind of insect.”

“Don’t see one,” grunted another demon called Krang, sitting right beside Crowley.

“It’s right there!” Silence. Oh, right, no one could see her pointing. “There! On the coffee pot!”

Eyes narrowing, Krang leaned forward, glaring across the table at the pot, which was rattling slightly. Crowley jabbed them in the back of the neck with her earring.

“Arg! It got me!” Krang slapped at the spot, leaping out of their chair. “Did you see where it went?”

“There! On Hastur’s head!”

“Where—?” Hastur managed before Ligur swatted him so hard he fell out of his chair.

“Ah, shit!” Crowley shouted. “It got me again! No, wait, I think it’s a different one.” The demons anxiously glanced at each other, but no one else stood up. Not enough. “Oh, no! My…my hand!” Crowley tried to think of something suitable “It’s burning! Like Holy Water!” She jabbed the earring into the arm of the demon on her other side.

“Bloody—It got me too!” He was on his feet in an instant. “I can feel it burning already!”

“And me!” That demon wasn’t even near Crowley. She grinned. It was working.

“What are these things?”

“I can feel it crawling on my leg.”

“My neck is swelling up!”

“Sit down!” Dagon snapped, baring her teeth. “I don’t want to hear another word about bloody insects. You’re demons. Act like it! Or I’ll make it four cups.”

The room froze – silent, apart from the now-continuous rattle of the coffee pot – as a dozen demons weighed the fear of some sort of terrifying unseen holy insect versus drinking more of the vile brew.

So Crowley ripped a handful of scone out of her top and crumbled it. “What – my hair!” She tossed the crumbs across the table. “Are – are those larvae?”

Everyone shuffled back a few steps.

“I don’t think you heard me—” Dagon started, in a tone that suggested Crowley was about to lose the room. So she went all in.

“Oh, Satan!” She shouted, falling dramatically from her chair. “They’re – they’re crawling into my ears!” That earned a few nervous glances, so she took a deep breath and gave her best horror-movie scream. “That angel! She did something to me!”

“Crowley!” Dagon shouted. “Stop acting out right now,or I swear to Satan, I’ll—”

She never found out what Dagon wanted to do to her, though, because at that moment the coffee pot exploded, lid flying off, scalding brown liquid splashing in every direction, along with blobs of now-runny marmalade.

Never one to let an opportunity go by, no matter how unexpected, Crowley cried, “Eggs! They’re nesting in the coffee! Who drank that?”

A perfect panic set in, and there was nothing Dagon could do to stop all the demons – including Crowley – from evacuating the room.

--

In the confusion that followed, everyone lost track of a certain invisible demon. How sad. And totally unexpected, Crowley thought, climbing into the Bentley. Too bad I kept the radio off and didn’t go to the cinema. Otherwise, they could summon me back. If she were careful, she could have days to finish coming up with her proposal.

But first, a little fun. Grinning, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what kind of trouble she could get into next.

Well. One way to find out.

The London police were extremely disappointing that morning. It took nearly eight minutes of driving around at top speed, running red lights, and blaring her horn outside rich-looking homes before one finally started chasing her.

Slamming into top gear, she raced down the busiest streets, whipping around corners, weaving through traffic, making sure not to get too far ahead. The second patrol car joined in somewhere near Oxford Street, the third during a quick jaunt up towards Regent’s Park. When she’d collected four, sirens blaring as they struggled to keep up with her flawless driving, she spotted a side street and lurched into it with a complicated 270-degree-spin finished with the nose of the Bentley facing the approaching cars.

Then she settled back in her seat and waited.

--

The black monstrosity finally slid to a stop. Officer Mills kept her eyes on it while her partner slowed their own car to a stop.

“We sure he’s not just going to run?” She asked, trying to spot the driver. The glare off the windshield must be playing tricks on her eyes; she couldn’t see a thing.

“We surround it,” Harmon said. “Got to be enough of us, even if they try to make trouble.”

Six officers eased out of their cars, silently trying to decide who should approach the window. Mills won – or lost – and took the lead, Harmon close behind her. He was the only one armed; she felt a little better for that, in case the driver turned out to be dangerous, though most likely she figured he would try to plow through the police cars to get away. They couldn’t do much in that case apart from try to kick the tires in passing.

“Think it’s stolen?” Harmon asked as a few others moved to try and block the street beyond the idling nightmare. “Teenagers messing around?”

“Could be,” Mills said doubtfully. “It’s vintage, though. Really old. And whoever was driving knows what they’re doing.”

Anderson waved from the far side of the vehicle. Everyone was in position. Mills nodded and walked up to the window, prepared for a lunatic – or a drunk – or someone on an awful lot of drugs.

Instead, it was completely empty.

“What…” She glanced back at Harmon. “No one. Did he bail out?”

“We’d have seen. Check the back seat.”

“Nothing. Wait. There’s…a tin of biscuits. That’s all.”

Down the street, Anderson crouched, checking underneath. Nothing there, apparently. Slowly, the police approached, one by one relaxing as they confirmed that yes – the car was empty.

The driver side window was open. Mills stuck her head in, glancing up and down. Nothing. No sign of what had happened to the driver. The engine still gently rumbled, and the door was locked. She definitely would have noticed if someone had stayed there long enough to lock it through the window.

“I’ll call to have it towed,” Harmon said, stepping back. She could hear the confused frown in his voice. “Maybe we’ll find…something…when we search it.”

By this point, even the officers who had waited in the patrol cars had joined them, crowded along the sides of the black vintage monster, testing doors and peering through windows. Mills leaned in to unlock the driver side door. “But where could he have gone?”

“She,” a soft voice said near Mills’s ear, and something tapped against her nose. “And I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Mills stumbled back as the radio burst to life.

You know the day destroys the night Night divides the day…

Everyone spun in place, looking for the source of the music from a nearby window or door, shouting at shadows, so only Mills was watching as the pedals and gear stick moved themselves.

Tried to run Tried to hide Break on through to the other side Break on through to the other side…

The ghost car – what else could she be? – shot backwards up the street, faster than should have been possible, spun a full 360-degree turn, then straightened up and drove away, blending into traffic with a cheerful toot of the horn.

Mills finally blinked.

“Harmon?” She called. “You do the paperwork on this one. I need a drink.”

--

Crowley danced in her seat far more than she usually would, but for once no one could see her.

Made the scene Week to week Day to day Hour to – Crowley!

She nearly slammed on the brakes as Jim Morrison began to sound an awful lot like Dagon. Shit. Forgot about that.

“Ahhhh…speaking?”

“Who, exactly, gave you permission to leave?”

“Oh. Ahhh.” She glanced out the window at a row of businesses and pulled over in front of some kind of barber shop. “I thought, what with all the insects—”

“There were no insects!”

“There weren’t?” Crowley really needed to work on her innocent voice. “I must be hallucinating. Better go home and lie down until it passes.”

“Crowley. Your budget proposal is due by the end of the day. Do you want to be stranded up there without miracles? Do you know what we do to demons who fail to meet their quotas?”

She knew that. She’d been told, several times, exactly what to expect. “Nnnnnh…I’ve got – it’s going to be a big project. Very big. More souls than…than wasps have larvae. Just need to work on my proposal in a secure, bug-free location.”

“Crowley! Do you think for one second—”

“Ah! They’re coming out of the radio!” Crowley cut the sound.

She sat in the Bentley, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

I just hung up on Dagon. They’re going to kill me. Worse, they’re going to send me down to file in the archives for a thousand years.

Then again, they’d have to find her first.

And, she was finding, her current state presented the kind of temptations even a demon couldn’t ignore…

--

Graham Palmer had been trying to get into the barber shop for twenty minutes.

The door was stuck fast. No matter how he rattled and pulled, it wouldn’t budge, as if something enormous had pinned it shut. And yet, every time he stepped back to let other patrons try, the door opened easily, but slammed as if pulled shut whenever he approached. He even tried slipping through behind another customer, but then it stayed shut until Graham stepped back. There was just no way in.

Now he hammered on the window, trying to get his barber’s attention. “Stuart! Stuart! What the hell are you trying to pull?”

The barber looked up from his current customer, blinking in confusion, and jerked his head towards the door.

“I tried that, it doesn’t bloody work!” A young man half his age walked past, giving Graham a funny look, and pulled open the shop door. Graham dove to follow him, but again it snapped shut, almost catching his nose. He pounded the door with his fist, glaring at the customers inside. “I’m going to be late!”

Across the shop, Stuart put down his scissors and shouted something. All Graham caught was “…break my glass…”

There was an idea.

He crossed the pavement to where an ancient black car was parked, removing his jacket. Wrapping it around his arm for protection, he charged forward, bracing himself for impact.

The door swung open in front of him and before he could stop himself, Graham tripped over – something – there didn’t appear to be anything – and sprawled on his face, sliding across the linoleum floor.

“Watch yourself, dearie,” a cheerful woman’s voice said, but when he looked up, no one was there.

--

Crowley strolled around the park, her new domain, another time.

Over there, at the edge of the path, was the Strange Chill area. Anyone who paused there, perhaps studying the slightly askew sign that seemed to indicate the exit was in the fountain, would feel a touch on their shoulder, a tickle on the back of their neck, or hear heavy breathing with no source.

Over here, near the ice cream cart, was the Creepy Bush. Originally just generic ghost noises, Crowley eventually discovered what really freaked humans out was a disembodied voice whispering their name, or something they’d said in private a few minutes before. She followed strolling couples around, listening in on anything good, and when one stopped to by the other ice cream, just really let loose on the one standing by the bushes. They usually started clinging much more closely to their partner after that, so really, Crowley was doing them a favor. Instant relationship counseling.

Across from the fountain sat the Haunted Bench. Crowley really went wild with that one. Children’s songs in a creepy voice. Branches shaking with no wind. Possessions floating away from wherever they’d been set down. Really, anything was allowed.

The narrow path leading through the tulips was the Asshole Road. Anyone Crowley caught being an asshole in her park was subtly sent that direction, pickpocketed, and then beset by bees, or at least a very convincing humming and a few pricks from an invisible earring.

The fountain itself was Rare Coins and Lost Items. Her third pickpocket victim had been carrying a tube of very powerful epoxy, and it turns out the coin-stuck-to-the-sidewalk trick was even better when you glued it underwater. A few pieces of jewelry at the bottom were also glued in place, but most of the valuables were simply tossed in or – if they weren’t waterproof – hung from the sculpture of frolicking animals in an amusing way. Crowley mostly just kept the cash, and even then only if the Assholes had been particularly cruel. So far, she’d accumulated almost five hundred pounds.

It was either the best park in London, or the worst.

She leaned against the clock – now set forty-eight and a half minutes slow – and surveyed the chaos. Two teenagers were frantically trying to get something out of the fountain, while the Asshole who’d sworn at that lovely gay couple was now soaked through, desperately trying to get his watch back from the ear of a sculpted rabbit seven feet high. That had been hard to get into place, but certainly worth it. The couple, meanwhile, were hand-in-hand, clutching ice creams and hurrying away from what had been for them the Creepy but Oddly Affirming Bush. The lady with the dog that had made a mess by the roses was trying to report the Haunted Bench to a cop, who tiredly insisted it was her lunch break and that the lady would not believe the morning she’d had.

Crowley grinned up at the sky. This – this was what it was all about. Forget budget meetings and presentations. Who did that make miserable, apart from the demons themselves? This park had everything: temptation, fear, frustration, justice, ice cream, and perfect weather.

“Hey. Hey you feathered wankers,” someone shouted, followed by the sound of rattling pebbles and angry quacking.

Tipping down her invisible shades, Crowley spotted some young idiot chucking handfuls of rocks at the ducks. Most were fleeing, but one flapped her wings, panicked and possessive, over a nest. One of the eggs had already been broken.

Looks like another volunteer for Asshole Road. Crowley was already eying their watch.

--

Every bakery has that one customer. Probably every place that sold food.

The one that demands impossible standards, not because of any particular love of fine cuisine, but just because they can.

The one that counts the blueberries in their muffin and lets you know if there aren’t enough.

The one who spends five minutes shouting, “No, not that one, that one,” while providing no other information, until their server had touched everything in the display case.

The one who complains that their brownie is too chocolatey.

The customer who somehow gets away with murder on account of being someone’s spouse, or sibling, or old school friend.

Victoria Lockwood was that customer, and as Riley watched her approach, they held their breath in trepidation.

“This scone,” she snapped, dropping her plate onto the counter, “is not right.” Then she glared at Bailey, waiting for a response.

“Is it…” Bailey’s mind raced, trying to work out what might be wrong. “The wrong flavor?” Victoria’s face only darkened. “Um. Is – is it dry?” But most of that batch had sold without a single complaint. “Did you want…more lemon curd? Or—”

“It is not hot enough.”

“Ah.” Of course. They’d taken that batch out nearly an hour ago; the next was ready to go in. “If you’re willing to wait, um…twenty minutes? I can give you the first—”

“Twenty minutes? What kind of service is that? I want my scone now.” She glanced at the tray coming out of the oven. “Why are you making me wait? What are those?”

Bailey glanced back and relaxed for a moment. “Oh – yes, I can get you one right now. They’re Raspberry Almond Butterm—”

“Disgusting!” Victoria rapped her hand against the counter. “That is not what I ordered! I demand you warm this one up, immediately.”

“I…” Bailey glanced at their coworkers, but everyone was avoiding eye contact. “That’s…I can put it back in the oven but that would probably dry—”

“Fine.” She shoved the plate towards them. “Be quick about it, young lady, I don’t like to wait.” She clearly noticed the way Bailey flinched. “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a girl, I suggest you get a proper haircut. And not that hideous shade of pink.”

“Y’s ma’am,” Bailey muttered, because some arguments would never be worth it. They took back the scone and put it on a baking tray. Maybe if it was only in the oven for a minute or two—

“Victoria Lockwood!” Bailey spun around, searching for who had called out. Not anyone else behind the counter, they all had their heads ducked, concentrating on some other tasks. But there – on the counter – a scone sat on Victoria’s plate.

She looked up from her makeup compact, smiled triumphantly, and took a bite out of it.

Her face immediately went green, and she dropped plate and pastry, running out of the bakery faster than Bailey had ever seen anyone move. They rushed forward, ready to call after her, but very much not wanting to, and picked up the discarded scone – it smelled awful, like vinegar and fish.

There was also an enormous wad of banknotes on the counter, wrapped up in a scrap of paper with a note: Kid – Don’t take that shit from anyone. Flip off your boss when you quit. <3 C

The bakery door opened and shut on its own.

--

Well, there was an entire day’s pickpocketing gone in a moment, but it wasn’t like Crowley had a better use for it. She still had a few rare coins, but after the fountain, sticking them to the ground seemed an anticlimax. She’d had some fun modifying the haunting routine for the bus or Underground, but both would be filled with commuters now a ghost that swears when you elbow her in the ribs on a crowded train is…not as impressive.

Still. Not a bad day overall. The most expensive foods in the corner marked had all been re-priced, several examples of hostile architecture had been mysteriously destroyed, enough people would be sharing stories of “hauntings” that the whole city would need to be exorcised, and – just for the Heaven of it – she’d followed a particularly annoying human for almost an hour, up and down the streets, buzzing in his ear.

Really, it was the simple pleasures that made the world so enjoyable.

And speaking of simple pleasures, Crowley had left one particular part of the city for last.

Strolling down the streets of Soho, which was just waking up while more respectable – but far less fun – parts of the city were winding down, she kept her eyes open for anyone who might make a good target. A few possibilities presented themselves, but in the end her destination proved the stronger draw.

A. Z. Fell’s Bookshop.

It was just the right time of day, when the customers would still be bothering Aziraphale, and she would be running short of patient ways to refuse them and start turning to biting sarcasm and, on occasion, outright threats. She’d probably appreciate a little haunting to help chase them off, once Crowley had finished stealing her cocoa, moving her bookmarks, and changing the record in the gramophone.

But, glancing in the window, Crowley saw something that poured cold water all over her brilliant day.

Gabriel.

Michael and Uriel, too. Probably Sandalphon lurking around.

Aziraphale stood before her bosses, hands clutched anxiously, that eager, ready-to-please face that made Crowley’s chest ache. Some, when faced with the beings who had hurt them so many times, became afraid, or angry, or distressed. But Aziraphale…just wanted approval. A kind word.

Crowley glared at Gabriel. The Heaven are you up to this time?

For once, she would be able to find out.

--

“And, I really think,” Aziraphale said, hands twisting like captured rodents as she rambled, “that this past decade in particular,I’ve – I’ve accomplished many things. Um. I – I prepared a list…somewhere…” her eyes darted to the disaster she called a desk, and she started shifting material objects around, smiling nervously. Guiltily.

“Is this going to take long?” Gabriel asked with a pointed sigh.

“No! I just…one moment…”

“We’re already running late,” Uriel commented. “We’d expected you to be better prepared.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale snatched up a book and began flipping through it frantically, as if it might contain the answers she needed. “Only, ah, you didn’t actually say when you would be coming…”

“We did say between the 3rd of January and 28th of October,” Michael pointed out reasonably.

“Oh. Um. I…”

“Something doesn’t seem…right,” Sandalphon said, stepping close to Aziraphale, putting a hand on her shoulder. The book she held tumbled from her fingers. “This whole place has a…smell about it.”

The door slammed behind them. Gabriel glanced back, but couldn’t see it from where he stood. Sandalphon gave Aziraphale’s shoulder another squeeze, then headed over to check on it.

“I thought,” Gabriel said slowly, making sure the slow-witted Principality heard every word, “I told you to lock the door.”

“It was.” Aziraphale’s eyes had gone wide. “I – I mean I did.”

Gabriel pursed his lips and shook his head. This had been a particularly disappointing review. Disappointing in the sense that their agent had once again conclusively failed to present evidence of meaningful victories towards Heaven’s cause. Less disappointing in that, whether she knew it or not, Aziraphale had already given him what he needed to take the arrogant fool down a few pegs.

In six thousand years, she’d barely managed to do a single thing right, yet somehow always came to him simpering and smiling like she deserved all the accolades of Heaven. Well, he’d been patient, as suited an Archangel, as patient as he could. But once per century, he had the opportunity to make his opinion perfectly clear.

Take away her miracles for a start, he thought. Though that didn’t seem to work nearly as well as it had a few centuries ago. Maybe recall her to Heaven for a year or two, re-educate her on the basics of her duty. There might be enough for a period of isolation. With restraints. They’d done that once, about three thousand years before, after a particularly poor review. Seven years chained up in an empty corner of Heaven, and Aziraphale had been wonderfully pliable for centuries after. Perhaps it was time to revisit.

“Look – look here, I have a list of…oh.” Aziraphale held out her book again, which seemed to be filled with irregular scrawl instead of the usual neatly printed words. “I started a list of accomplishments, but ah…I became busy the last few years. Um. Quite a lot has happened since…”

Uriel took the book and studied it, face impressively calm. “Interesting,” they said, not giving anything away as they turned the pages over. Gabriel trusted them to spot anything useful.

As the Archangels waited in pointed silence, Michael walked her fingers across a table. She pressed a thumb against a book, sliding it to the edge. Aziraphale stared as it teetered, then found its balance again. Michael watched it, disinterested, then moved on to another book, sliding that forward as well.

Sandalphon stepped back beside Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. No sign of anything. Well. More questions for later.

Uriel reached the final page.

“What happened in 1967?”

“Nothing!” At the panic in Aziraphale’s tone, all four Archangels raised their eyebrows. “I – I – I mean, yes, lots, many – many—” One of the books beside Michael fell to the floor with a slap. The Principality winced. “I – I’m terribly sorry, could you be more specific?”

“Your final entry,” Uriel held the book out to Aziraphale, “says 1967 – Prevented… Prevented what?”

“Ahhhhhh.” Aziraphale squirmed. “Well, I…I…there was…ummm…”

“As I recall,” Michael said slowly, “you briefly visited Heaven that year, but didn’t officially report to any of us. And then didn’t return for at least…six months? Very unusual.”

“You haven’t been hiding something, have you?” Gabriel smiled, his heart rising. More than isolation. He could probably take away this shop, for a start, give it to a more trustworthy angel.

“Nnnnno.” Aziraphale gave that particular smile, the one that meant she thought she was about to get away with something. The one she thought Gabriel didn’t know about. “But, ahhh, if you could, um, quite a lot happened in the world in the…the last ten years or so.”

Something crashed on the other side of the building. No, he’d have the place demolished. It was falling apart already. Aziraphale could watch. Maybe he could order her to help. An eminently suitable punishment for wasting his time. “As I understand it,” he said, taking a step forward, “the last decade saw…war, riots, assassinations…”

“Well, well, yes, I…but, if you look at progress with, um, civil rights, ahh…anticolonialism…”

More made-up human terms. Gabriel and Michael shared a pained glance. “Look. Aziraphale.” Gabriel pressed his hands together. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate you taking the initiative, but…what does any of this have to do with your orders?”

“Or, for that matter, with your visit to Heaven?” Michael moved her fingers across the table again, coming to rest on one of those stupid little figurines Aziraphale had accumulated. Like a packrat. A human depiction of an angel, as some kind of soft, happy baby with wings. Not a warrior at all. Michael’s finger tapped against it. “What were you trying to prevent?”

“Did it have something to do with…Holy Water?” Sandalphon suddenly asked.

“That’s right,” Gabriel said. Something clicking in his mind. “There was that storage jar that went missing.” Did Aziraphale look more guilty than usual? “What year was that?”

“1967,” Uriel said.

He couldn’t hold back the smile. If he could prove Aziraphale had taken Holy Water for some sort of personal use, well.

He’d pretty much be justified whatever he decided to do.

“I – I – I can explain.” The Principality tried to back away, but was stopped by her own desk. “There – there was this demon, an – an especially, ah, wily, cunning, um, crafty demon—”

“Was there?” Michael’s finger twitched, sending the false angel off the table. It fell—

Then hovered, halfway to the floor.

Slowly, it lifted, rightening itself in the air before them. There was no trace of a miracle, no power of any kind. It simply…floated. Drifting through the air to land on the desk beside Aziraphale.

“Clever,” said Gabriel, watching the Principality’s face for any sign of deception. “How did you do that?”

“I…”

The pages of a book, laid out on the stand behind her, began to turn, flipping faster and faster, slamming shut.

“This…isn’t me.” Aziraphale said.

Behind her, books began to float off their shelves. One rocketed across the room towards Gabriel. He dodged it easily, but it was followed by another, and another. The lights flickered overhead.

“If it isn’t you,” Gabriel began, but a small table by the door to the next room began to rattle. Atop it lay a black-and-white board covered with formless carvings, which lifted into the air, then exploded, pieces flying at the Archangels. Gabriel easily batted them aside, but now one of the armchairs began to shift.

Without a word, the four prepared for battle, Gabriel stepping back, Michael and Sandalphon moving to the front. At least, that was the plan – the moment he tried to move, Gabriel fell, his feet somehow tightly bound together. The same happened to Sandalphon and Uriel, and even Michael stumbled, knocking over a table in her haste to stay upright.

Glass rattled in the back of the shop.

“It’s…” Aziraphale cleared her throat. “It’s that same demon again! I thought I’d banished her!”

“What?” Banishing wasn’t exactly something angels did.

“The – the Holy Water!” A bottle of something hovered out from the back room, moving slowly but threateningly. “Did you bring any? It’s the only thing that can stop her.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael’s sword manifested in her hand. “What demon?”

“Crowley! She – she seems to have grown even more powerful!”

“Crowley?” Not that worthless snake again. How many times had he been assured – through Michael’s secret back-channel sources – that Crowley was the most useless, incompetent, lazy demon in Hell? And yet somehow, not a single angel had ever successfully dealt with her – except Aziraphale.

“I thought I smelled a demon,” Sandalphon said, pulling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “But I can’t sense demonic power.”

“Obviously not!” Aziraphale’s wings burst from her back, and she held out a hand towards the hovering bottle. It slowly lowered itself to the ground. “Why do you think she’s so difficult to defeat? The power she uses – it’s not of Heaven or Hell! I – I can barely counter it!”

“Let me, then,” Michael said, predatory gleam in her eyes. Like Sandalphon, she’d removed her shoes; Gabriel was working on his own, but somehow the laces had become wound together like snakes, something sticky sealing the knot shut.

Sandalphon and Michael stepped forward, swords at the ready. “No!” Aziraphale turned to block them, and immediately the rattling started up again – this time from the metal stairs to the upper floor. “You – you don’t understand! Wh – when she gets like this – the fires would only make her stronger.”

Something – horrible, screeching noises – began emanating from the back room, like some animal being torn apart.

“That’s – that’s why I need the Holy Water! In the proper ritual, it – it – it’s too complicated to explain!”

A cupboard burst open, revealing a display of holy items – consecrated Bibles, holy symbols, sticks of incense and jars of oil. “No!” Aziraphale shouted, genuine panic in her voice.

The largest, heaviest of the Bibles lifted and shot across the room. It didn’t reach the Archangels, but Gabriel could see smoke rising from its cover.

Next came a crucifix, spinning end over end, which Michael caught out of the air. The wood was burned all along one side.

“Don’t you see?” Aziraphale said, eyes round. “Nothing I have in there can stop her! What could a flaming sword even do? I need more Holy Water.” A jar of oil fell to the ground and immediately began to boil, bubbling and steaming. “I’ll try to hold her back as long as I can.” Aziraphale’s face furrowed in concentration as she walked across the shop. “Please, it – it’s far too dangerous for you here…”

“Right.” Gabriel glanced at the other Archangels. Something wasn’t right. But they couldn’t risk themselves against an unknown force. “We’ll…we’ll get some Holy Water. You do what you can.”

With a thought, the ascended to Heaven.

Gabriel quickly stood up, brushing down his clothing and trying to school his expression. “Well. I think the best course of action is to wait a day or two, then go see what the damage is.”

“And Aziraphale’s review?” Uriel asked, face somehow still calm, despite everything that had happened.

“I just hope we don’t have to give her a damn commendation again.”

--

The Arch-Wankers vanished in a shimmer of blue light.

“Ow, ow, fuck that hurts!” Crowley gasped, stumbling away from the spilled oil and shaking her hands. “What kind of stuff do you keep in there?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale started to rush forward, then froze. “Where are you? Can’t you – reveal yourself, or whatever?”

“Nnnnnnnnope. Rrrrrgh, how does this hurt more than walking in a church?”

“I…I’m sorry, my dear girl,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been worried lately that if – if your side realized what was happening…I thought it best to have a little insurance of my own.”

“Well it works.” Crowley managed to reach one of the shop chairs and sank into it. “Over here…no, here! Where’s…” She nudged the rug with her least-burnt toe, folding a bit of it up. Aziraphale immediately ran over.

“That was – well, that was clever, Crowley, but highly unnecessary. I – I was only having my performance review. I thought I was doing quite well.” Her soft hands found one of Crowley’s and picked it up, fingers tracing across the palm.

“I…” Crowley had seen the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Holy Water, while she was on the ground gluing his shoelaces together, and she counted it among the most terrifying things she’d ever seen. “I’m sure you were, but vanquishing some super-powerful demon? Saving the Archangels? Well, that’s only going to help, right?”

“Hmmm.” Another brush of her fingers, and the sting started to go out of Crowley’s palms. “And, I’m sure, spark a few rumors that might help you?”

“Oh.” Crowley grimaced, looking out the windows. “Unless those rumors spread really fast, I doubt I’m going to get much benefit.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale sank to the ground, patting around until she found one of Crowley’s feet. She gently lifted it, stroking from ankle to toe and giving it the same healing treatment. “And why are you like this?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Crowley.”

“Right. Um. I…may have…borrowed a few of your books and…designed a curse to get out of my quarter-century budget review. But in my defense – it’s so boring.”

Aziraphale sighed – or possibly blew a healing breath across Crowley’s feet. No, probably the sigh, but at least they felt a bit better. “My dear, it’s only a meeting. There’s no need for these – these histrionics.”

“Histri—Angel, that is – I am not – can you grab a dictionary? I need to know how upset I should be.”

“Extremely.”

“Right. I am. And…I thought it would only last a few hours. Have a bit of fun. But…I need my miracles for, you know, ambient healing, and…look, they cut off our miracles during the review, and only give them back once you’ve wowed them with your project idea.”

“And you don’t have one, do you?”

“Not…as such.” Crowley hung her head. “I…I thought I could get an extension. Just long enough to think of something.”

“So you cursed yourself.” That pained look, the I-hate-to-tell-you-how-much-you-failed-but-also-I-love-it look. Only slightly ruined by the fact that it was aimed somewhere over the demon’s left shoulder. “Crowley, did it never occur to you that in the time it took you create such a thing, you could just as easily have come up with a project?”

“Nh.”

“And did you come up with your brilliant idea during your delay?”

“Nnnh.”

“Well. At least you’re sorry now, I assume?”

“Nope.” If she hadn’t skipped out, Crowley wouldn’t have been here to help Aziraphale. She’d saved her friend countless times over six thousand years, but sometimes…she was quite happy the angel didn’t notice. “No, demons don’t get sorry. We get…” she grunted. “We get annoyed at ourselves for…ngk…for hanginupndagonnpissinheroff.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“For hanging up on Dagon and pissing her off.” Crowley rubbed her face. “Unless I can think of the greatest project any demon ever came up with…” Her stomach dropped as the reality of it hit. A thousand years in filing meant a thousand years without Aziraphale’s bastard looks and gentle touches. “I’m…probably going to be gone for a while.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stroked her fingers across Crowley’s foot one more time. “No, that won’t do at all.” She looked up with that icy, determined look. The let-me-speak-to-your-manager expression that made Crowley go completely light-headed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something about all this.”

“Like what?”

“How are your feet?”

“F—hmm? Oh, fine.” They were – Aziraphale seemed to have removed all the pain. Or at least, she’d removed some of the pain, and the fluttery feeling in Crowley’s chest allowed her to ignore the rest. “So. Um. What did you have in mind? Oh!” A grin stretched across her face. “Dagon and Beelzebub already think you cursed me. Maybe we can stage a second fight where they see it. I’ll definitely get an extension that way.”

“Or.” Aziraphale found Crowley’s hands again and laced their fingers together, pulling her to her feet. “We can go for a drive in that beastly car of yours and actually come up with a proper idea. Something convoluted, demonic, and with that…Crowley style.”

“I have a style now?”

“Hmmm. Yes. Not as refined as mine, but I think we can make it work.” Her right hand squeezed Crowley’s, and her left slid up the demon’s arm to her shoulder. “You know, I had a little over a century apart from you. And I have absolutely no desire to repeat that. In fact I…I rather think I prefer your company to, well. Anyone’s.”

“Nnnnh.” Crowley shuffled her feet and clutched Aziraphale’s hand back, guiding the angel to stand just a little closer. Needing to say something. Afraid to say too much. “Ssssss. Mmmm. Yeah. I, uh. I like it better up here, too. Y’know. Where you are.”

“Yes, I know.” Aziraphale’s left hand slid further up, coming to rest on the back of her neck. “I can see right through you. My dear Crowley.” With the lightest pressure, she tipped the demon’s head down.

And kissed her, soft lips covering Crowley’s shocked mouth.

“Oh…” Aziraphale gasped, pulling back slightly, hardly at all. “I, ah…I meant to…” Her breath still tickled Crowley’s lips. “I…forehead…”

“Nrrh.” Crowley’s free hand drifted forward, finding Aziraphale’s hip, resting on it, barely a touch. It was all she dared. “Ah…?”

Neither of them moved. Or both did. Or they stood still and the world around them shifted. Whichever way it was, their lips touched again, and held this time. Slowly, they drifted closer, caught in each other’s gravity, a decaying orbit. Crowley would surely burn up on approach, but it was worth every moment.

Eventually they parted, once more just enough to breathe, to speak, to remember that they were two beings and not a single, burning soul.

“Not…” Crowley swallowed. “Not too fast?”

“I…” Aziraphale bit her lip. “I don’t know. But…Crowley…I know…where I want to go. Eventually.”

Their foreheads pressed together. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Aziraphale nodded, dropping left hand falling away, right thumb rubbing the back of Crowley’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. “Oh, my word!”

“What?” Crowley glanced at herself, black cloth trousers flared wide at the legs, tight red sleeveless shirt cut scandalously low in the front and back, boots with heels that made her even taller than usual—

She was visible again.

“I…I suppose I was still healing you when we…oh…oh, Crowley…what are you wearing?”

“Angel, it’s – I look fashionable, you look – have you changed anything in the last century?”

“I…a few things! Were you honestly planning to give a presentation like that?”

“I was going to be invisible, yeah!”

“You…are…” Aziraphale pressed her eyes shut. “I am going to get my jacket. And then I’m going to get you a jacket, because it’s cold at night, and you are cold-blooded.”

“M’not,” Crowley muttered.

“And then we will go for our ride and determine what evil, dastardly plan I will spend the next twenty-five years thwarting. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” After a moment, Crowley said, “Ah, Aziraphale?”

“What is it now?”

“At some point, are you going to let go of my hand?”

Aziraphale glanced down. “Oh. Hmm. I suppose we’ll find out.”

--

(Fifty Years Later)

Crowley sat beneath the apple tree, her hand clutched tightly in Aziraphale’s, leaning back against her angel’s chest. “And that,” she concluded, “is why we call the 26th of April Lesbian Visibility Day.”

The Them stared at the two supernatural beings, mouths slightly open.

“You…” Pepper started, “are full of so much shit.”

“Oi!”

“Actually,” Wensley said, “that’s…one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard. How are you supposed to budget miracles?”

“If they could cut you off that easy,” Brian jumped in, “why didn’t they do it when you left Hell?”

“Oh, ummm,” she glanced up at Aziraphale.

“Tactics,” the angel said enigmatically.

Pepper didn’t even seem to be listening. “How did you know what all those people were thinking?”

“That’s right,” Wensley nodded. “Particularly Gabriel.”

“He…he has a very expressive face,” Crowley argued.

“How’d you actually move around like that, without anyone hearing you? The whole day?”

“Shouldn’t you’ve been, you know, way more worried about getting killed?”

“At least one of those bookshop attacks wasn’t even possible, unless you were in two places at once.”

“And how d’you accidentally leave your healing on?”

“How could you possibly mistake her lips for her forehead?”

“This was rubbish.”

“What do you think, Adam?”

The former Antichrist looked up from where he was playing with Dog. “I think…” He gave the angel and demon a penetrating look, then shook his head, smiling as if he’d just seen the joke at the center of the universe, and it had turned out to be a truly terrible pun. “I think you should just tell us the next story.”

“Which one’s that?” Crowley asked, settling back into the curve of her angel’s arm, fingers still twined together.

“The one with the greatest project any demon ever came up with.”

“Oh.” Grinning, Crowley tipped her head to meet Aziraphale’s shining eyes. “Wahoo.”

--

The song is "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" by the Doors, because Queen had not yet put out their first album, though there was a lot of pressure in the Discord to have Crowley dancing to Abba instead.

Final scene set next year because we'll all be sitting together under apple trees with our loved ones and telling BS stories to kids before we know it.

For everyone who contributed non-anonymous suggestions:

@amidst-innumerable-stars @tangle5ancer @fenrislorsrai @feuerkindjana @bowser14456 @taksez @yeahhiyellow @infinitevariety @gargelyfloof118 @lourek @soft-forest-rain @undertaker991 @jules-al-c @lov-lyness2 @thisleadstohollyhocks @marianrios33 @aux-barricades @lostmemimi @joybones @derederest @myusernameispie @mothmans-favorite-lamp and @n0nb1narydemon (yes I did find a way to level up the coin gluing!) and of course @5ftjewishcactus who encouraged me when you really shouldn't. Sorry I couldn't fit in everyone's suggestions!

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Pt.6 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N finds out more about how the lovedust works and it leads to her realizing her biggest fears about Peter if he’s cured. 

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: There’s a lot going on right now but thank you guys for being so incredibly kind and patient with me. Shit is going to hit the fan real soon with Lovedust so stay tuned! ALSO Don’t forget to leave comments if you guys liked it or hey even if you hated it! ALSO ALSO My taglist is getting pretty big and hectic so if I missed yours, I am VERY sorry pls just message me again so I can add you asap!

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of death and nightmares, slowburn

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six ||

part seven || part eight || epilogue 

As your eyes fluttered open, you gave yourself a minute to adjust to the sound of rain hitting against your bedroom window. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, your arm instinctively reached beside you to touch Peter, only to find that side of the bed empty. 

You opened your eyes again and slowly raised yourself up to turn to see that your prediction was correct and that he wasn’t next to you. You knew it wasn’t a dream, you distinctively remembered him holding you as you fell asleep but you guessed he might’ve left soon after. 

The memories of last night rushed through your head as you felt your heart drop slightly and already, you felt empty so early in the morning. You remembered everything about the nightmare but more importantly, you remembered Peter cradling you like a child as you cried in his arms. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around a single feeling to describe the thoughts in your mind. As every day passed, Peter was showing you more and more how much he truly cared for you, and the thought of him not being able to keep the same energy once he was cured terrified you. 

You loved this new Peter and how kind and compassionate he was around you. It was annoying at first dealing with the cringey pick up lines and weird comments about the two of you getting married but now that you realized there was more to those side effects, you found him even more endearing. 

It was the small things like how he sacrificed the right side of his body so that you could fit under the umbrella perfectly or how he would willingly sit through a horror movie for you even though you both knew how much he hated them. 

You even saw a change in yourself and how you treated him. The other day, you two sat side by side on the couch and shared headphones while listening to the playlist you made for him or when you would tell him a dumb joke just so you could hear him laugh. 

It was selfish to hang onto the idea that Peter would always be this kind to you but you rather savored the moments you two had together since you knew better to know that nothing in life was guaranteed. 

You felt embarrassed that he had seen you so vulnerable, especially since Peter didn’t know what happened to your parents and now, you felt like you owed him an explanation. You looked back at your clock and sighed once you saw that you had already missed the beginning half of school, you thought screw it, you were taking a mental health day. 

“ Is it senior skip day or something?” You looked up to see your dad standing in your doorway with his arms crossed over his chest in a scolding manner but once he saw your dazed expression, he dropped the act,” Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You could feel your throat tighten as you shook your head, refusing to cry again. 

“ Nightmare,” You swallowed to stop yourself from letting anymore sobs from coming out of your mouth as Tony sat next to you and put his hand on your shoulder. 

“ I know kid, I know,” Tony brought you closer to him as you hugged him tightly. 

You had told Tony about your nightmares but he was already well aware on what happened with your parents. You were still pretty young when your parents had passed and you’ve lived most of your life with Tony as a parent but that didn’t mean you weren’t traumatized over what happened years ago. 

Tony had not only given you a good home and had locked down your future, but he was always there to listen and offer help, whether it was from himself or health experts.

“ It was Peter this time,” You said softly as you felt your dad hug you even tighter,” I don’t know why but he was in the nightmare and he-he tried to hurt me...I feel so guilty, I don’t know why he was there but my brain just made him  you know?” 

“ That’s not something you can control Y/N, remember what I said, your brain just picks up on different people-unless he did something. Did he do something to you? Cause I swear-”

“ No, no Dad it was the opposite,” You sighed as you pulled away and bit the inside of your cheek,” I know you told me not to hang out with Peter but...we’ve been getting closer and I think I...I don’t know. All I know was that when he comforted me after my nightmare, I felt the safest I’ve been in a long time….Things are different now. I don’t know what I could say to convince you but please don’t get mad.” 

You looked down at your bedsheets to avoid his gaze and you weren’t sure if he was burning a stern glare at the back of your head or not. 

“ I’m not mad about Peter, I already knew you were seeing him behind my back anyway and I should’ve known you two would’ve pulled some Romeo and Juliet bullcrap. Anyway- You’re strong enough to look after yourself, hell stronger than some of these people living here and if I may speak candidly, I know you could kick his ass if he ever crossed a line,” Your dad said as you let out a small chuckle,” I want you to be safe and happy. I would prefer you feel that way without a boy in the mix but I won’t yuck your yum.”

You wrinkled your nose but you couldn’t help but smirk,” Do you think I’m strong enough to become an Avenger?” 

“ You already are,” Your dad smiled as you inhaled deeply,” but before we get too mushy, I did actually want to talk to you about the other day, you know, about Peter’s health.”

You sat up straighter in your seat as you nodded attentively at him before he continued. 

“ It’s really important that you keep this between you, me and Banner, okay? I’m gonna use some big words so keep up,” You nodded again as you felt your heart beat rapidly against your chest,” you already know this but the lovedust activates a huge amount of serotonin in the body and sometimes that can lead to some major health problems. Well, with every day that passes, he runs the risk of having a ventricular tachycardia and that’s what explained how he collapsed the other day-”

“ Hold on, he collapsed? And did you say a ventricular tachycardia? Like a heartattack?” You asked as you felt your own heart stop for a moment as your dad gave you a confused expression,” So you’re telling me the lovedust could kill him? When did this happen?”

Your dad inhaled sharply as he swallowed hard,” Yesterday afternoon. We were done running tests and Banner noticed a car pull up and I said it was your friend John-”

“Josh.”

“ Yeah sure. Then we heard a loud thud and Peter just dropped. He just fainted but still, it’s a sign that things are getting worse,” Your dad said as you felt your heart completely shatter.

You felt like it was all of your fault. Even though Peter just fainted, he could’ve hit his head and died right there and you couldn’t stop yourself from filling your head with more terrible thoughts. 

“ Oh my god, I never thought things would get this bad,” You said as you rested your forehead in the palm of your hands, trying to keep a consistent stream of thoughts but each idea made you think of Peter getting hurt,” and there’s still not a cure? What have you guys even figured out so far-it’s been almost a week!” 

You knew your dad was trying his best but all you wanted was for Peter to get better and it didn’t help that time was against everyone. Peter could suffer a heartattack at any time of day and it didn’t make you feel better than nothing was being solved. 

“ Well we have a pretty strong theory about what caused the lovedust if you’re up for hearing it,” Your dad suggested as you hesitantly nodded. 

“ Our main theory is that the lovedust is effective when the patient- Peter- makes contact with the variable-you- and since you were the first person he saw, it activated his serotonin output. So it could’ve been anyone and Peter would’ve had the same reaction,” Tony said and it was so silent for a minute that you could hear a pin drop,” why is your face pale?”

You didn’t know how much you didn’t want to hear that theory until this very moment. You weren’t even sure why you could feel your throat close up again but this news made you sink back onto your bed. 

Peter really didn’t mean anything he was saying. After all those late night talks about how in love with you he was, those were all just side effects. Those were never his thoughts. He never really loved you. 

“ Oh...that’s good I guess,” You said quietly as Tony’s pager buzzed. You could tell Tony wanted to stay and talk to you but when he looked down at the notification, it seemed pretty urgent,” you can go, I’m just gonna stay here for a little bit.” 

“ We’ll talk later, okay kiddo?” Tony patted your knee and walked past your bed, closing your bedroom door behind him. 

You stared up at your bedroom ceiling as you thought about what your dad said. Peter’s condition was getting worst but now, at least they figured out something that could help them along the way. If they could figure out the properties of the lovedust than that means they could reverse it and find a cure. 

What if you didn’t want them to find a cure? 

You almost talked yourself out of your thought and called yourself a selfish idiot in the process, the goal was for them to help Peter. This could help Peter, you reminded yourself as you got up from your bed to get dressed. 

You weren’t sure where you wanted to go but you thought that your mental health day could carry on to the outside world. 

Mad....why were you mad? 

You had no reason to be so upset and you kept reminding yourself as the elevator went down to the garage. You aggressively pressed the button to unlock your car and once you sat down in the driver’s seat, you started your car and backed out of the garage. 

It was pouring outside and while you hated driving in the rain, you just had to leave to clear your head. 

Why were you upset?

Maybe because for once in your life, you felt special. 

You stopped on the brakes and you could feel your heart sink into your chest as the rain hit against your windshield. 

You shook your head slowly before you slapped your hands against your steering wheel hard.  

Was it awful that you loved the attention you were getting and maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see Peter differently? 

You slammed your firsts against the wheel again and again as you let out a frustrated grunt through your gritted teeth. 

You were mad that Peter could die. You were mad that there wasn’t a cure. You were mad that the lovedust had ruined your life. You were content without Peter meddling in your life but now that he had left such an impression, all you wanted to do was make sure he stayed as true to himself as he was now. 

You couldn’t expect that from him. You couldn’t expect that once he was cured, he would act back to his regular douchebag self but anything was possible, he didn’t owe you anything. 

You taunted yourself as you tried to snap out of whatever this hellish tantrum you were throwing. 

Why would you be upset over a guy who had fake feelings for you all this time? 

It wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t your fault either.

Anyone. It could have been anyone. It could’ve been a sockpuppet and Peter would’ve probably tried marrying the damn thing. 

You snapped your head over to the passenger side of the door once you heard a hard tap come from the window. Once you saw it was Peter, you turned to face the front and unlocked the door without looking back at him. 

He opened the door and sat down beside you in the passenger seat without saying anything. He was soaking wet from head to toe and while you were annoyed he was getting the inside of your car wet, you had more important things to focus on. 

It was too quiet for your liking but there wasn’t anything you wanted to say to him. Frankly, you weren’t sure why you even let him in.

“ How did you sleep?” Peter asked quietly as he tested the waters.

It was clear that you were in some type of mood but Peter never knew how to approach situations like this, especially since he didn’t know why you were so upset. 

“ I slept fine, you?” 

“ Good I guess,” Peter shrugged as he shifted awkwardly in his seat,” are you okay? Are you upset about what happened last night-”

“ No,” You said truthfully as you leaned your head back against the headrest,” I mean, yes, I’m okay but no I’m not upset about last night.”

“ Well something is clearly bothering you and I just want to help. You know you can tell me anything, I mean it Y/N, we’re friends now. We shouldn’t be hiding things from each other,” Peter said as you let out a dry laugh. 

You knew you couldn’t reveal everything to Peter about what your dad had told you but it didn’t stop you from feeling angry. 

“ Okay, you want to be honest, lets be honest. When were you going to tell me that you collapsed at the lab?” You asked as you turned your whole body to face him,” my dad told me this morning.” 

Peter inhaled deeply but looked you straight in the eye,” I was going to tell you... eventually. It’s not like I had time to really sit down with you, I know you’re going through a lot right now and I didn’t want to stress you out. Besides, I feel fine now, it’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, he could die. That’s what you wanted to tell him. His life was at stake and yet you were keeping this big secret from him. It was hypocritical and wrong and if anyone else had told you, you would’ve revealed to Peter about his worsening condition. 

But it was your dad who told you to keep things a secret for now and you just had to trust him for both of your sakes. 

You looked at him for a moment as you studied his face while he did the same to you. It was as if you both had so much on your mind yet no one wanted to be the first one to detonate the bomb. 

“ I’m just so tired Peter. I’m tired of having conflicted feelings on whether or not this lovedust has been creating more problems than solving them… Whatever this is between us, I like it a lot but I hate feeling so pathetic to the point where I actually enjoy the feeling of having a guy give me attention only because of some space shit,” You turned your attention back to the steering wheel,” How do we carry on with our lives once you’re cured? What’s stopping you from being a complete asshole to me like before?” 

“ I told you, nothing has to change. No matter what happens, we’ll always be in each other’s lives as friends or something more. I would never treat you the way I did in the past, I swear on my life.” 

Peter could feel the energy in the car shift right as he finished speaking but there was nothing he could do to change the course of the conversation. The path had already been set and now, he just had to strap in and hope he could hang on. 

“ How am I supposed to believe that? How do I know anything you’re saying is true? Everything this lovedust has been built on is a lie, you don’t love me Peter. It’s a fucking chemical reaction that is messing with your body,” You snapped loudly but Peter hardly flinched,” your mind and body has been corrupted by a parasite. You say you love me but if you take the lovedust away, you don’t. It’s that simple.” 

“ Just because it’s a chemical reaction doesn’t mean that the way I’m feeling is a lie. I spend so many nights thinking about you and how happy you make me so for you to say that I don’t actually love you-”

“ Are you listening to yourself? You love me because of the dust, why is that so hard for you to understand? Love is supposed to be natural, this is not natural!  If the way you’re feeling isn’t a lie, look me in the eye right now and tell me, did you love me before the lovedust?” You asked as you turned back to face him,” tell me the honest truth, did you love me?” 

Peter felt like his body was burning up in the worst possible way and his throat felt dry as he thought carefully. It was so hard for him to see how terrible he was in the past because of the lovedust, all he could think when he saw you was just utter love. 

You were visibly hurt, even if you were shouting at him he could read you like a book and there was something that he knew was there but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. It felt like some sort of test that Peter had to decipher; he didn’t have all of the pieces of the puzzle so how was he supposed to get the full picture? 

“ I don’t...no. No I didn’t,” Peter said softly as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding,” but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you.” 

There it was, the million-dollar answer to the million-dollar question. Of course he didn’t love you, he had tormented you for years. Your dad’s “theory” was right, the lovedust didn’t matter if he had loved you beforehand. It could’ve been anyone. 

So even if you might’ve known all along, why did it hurt and why were you upset?

“ Stop lying to me. You never cared about me, you loved humiliating me,” You said in a shaky breath,” you loved seeing me cry and you loved it when I got mad. I could see it all across your face, you loved making me absolutely miserable. So you can say you love me all you want now, but I know the truth. You don’t understand, this lovedust is ruining me, Peter. Do you know how painful it is to be tormented for years and all of a sudden, the same person is now in love with you just like that?” 

“ Ruining you? You didn’t touch the damn thing! And you want to talk about pain-Do you know how painful it is to love you?” Peter shouted as he felt his voice crack,” If I’m not near you, I feel like I’m going to die but when I’m around you, my chest feels like it’s going to burst open and it’s painful. I’m in pain right when I wake up in the morning to right before I go to sleep everyday because the mere thought of you drives me insane-” 

“ I didn’t ask for you to love me-”

“ I didn’t ask to love you either!” Peter shouted back louder, this time to make sure you would stop interrupting him,” My body feels weak all the time, I’m fucking falling apart because I love you so much. So don’t tell me that I’m lying about loving you because that’s all I feel when I look at you. Even when I’m pissed off I still love you but if you think for one second I’m going to sit here and let you attack me for my past that I have already apologized for, then I don’t want to hear it.” 

Peter gave you one last look before getting out of your car and straight into the rain. Peter slammed the car door behind him so hard to where the door completely fell off the hinges but Peter was so angry that he kept walking away. 

“ You fucking...ugh!” You screamed as you got out of your car and followed behind him. 

You were completely livid, you both were being unfair but just because he was going through a different type of pain than you didn’t mean yours hurt any less. 

You shouted after Peter but the rain was so loud to the point where you considered that maybe he just couldn’t hear you. You sped up your pace to the point where you almost slipped against the concrete. 

“ You don’t get to tell me that I can’t be mad at the past Peter when it’s only been a week since you got infected!” You yelled as you grabbed Peter’s arm to stop him from walking away from you,” Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I can let it go so easily. For years, you made me feel like I would be alone for the rest of my life because no one would ever love me!”

Peter whipped his head back around to face you as you kept a strong grip around his wrist,“ And I’m telling you now that I love you and I was a fucking idiot for hurting you. Jesus Y/N I am sorry but we’ve had this conversation before so why are you mad at me?” 

All you could focus on were his eyes, which were darting back and fourth across your face as if he was pleading with you. You had pushed him across the line so many times but now, Peter was pushing back because he just needed a clear answer. 

You both were tired of yelling and fighting and in this moment, Peter was so close to tearing down the walls you had set up for years to keep yourself safe against him. It was eating away at you because deep down, you knew why you were mad at him, you just didn’t know if you could bring yourself to let it slip out of your mouth.

The rain sounded muffled and all you could think about was how cold you were feeling. You were somewhat forcing yourself to focus on anything other than Peter but you were trapped in his desperate gaze. 

You felt your breath hitch as you could feel yourself getting choked up,” I’m mad...I’m mad because the way you feel about me right now, it’s fleeting... it’s temporary. One day when you’re cured, you’re going to stop loving me and that terrifies me.” 

Peter squeezed your hand and you didn’t even realize that while you were talking, the grip you had around his wrist had moved to interlock your fingers with his. You could feel your chest tighten as you moved your eyes down to your hands and you slowly moved your gaze to meet Peter’s. 

“ Why does it terrify you?” Peter asked softly and now it was your turn to plead with him using your eyes as if you were saying please don’t make me say it.

Maybe a part of Peter knew that you wouldn’t admit that maybe, there was something developing between the two of you that you just couldn’t bring yourself to admit. But Peter knew you well and even as he read you like a book, he wanted to hear it for himself. 

“ I’m terrified because…” You almost said it as a whisper and even Peter was having a hard time hearing you because his heart was beating so loudly,” because I…”

You swallowed hard as you looked down at his lips and even if it was just for a second, Peter caught you staring. Peter felt his knees weaken and he was seconds away from just pulling you into his arms but it was your move. 

Peter had given you all the power and while a part of him felt relieved, it didn’t stop him from reaching up and tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. This was the moment he had been waiting for. 

He had given you all of the puzzle pieces you needed except he saved the last one just for you. He wanted you to put the last piece in so that way you two could step back together and admire all of the hard work you put into it. 

 You would’ve. You were going to let him know everything and unravel in his arms because finally, you could let go.

You wanted nothing more than to pick up that stupid puzzle piece and slam it into the puzzle to show him you were serious. You were going to let your walls crumble down and for once, you were going to be fearless. 

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“ I can’t,” You said softly as you let go of Peter’s hand and practically rushed back towards the building,  leaving Peter alone in the rain. 

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[wayward-mikaelson]

I Still Want You, I Still Need You--VII. A Chance (NSFW)

Word Count: 4510

About: A few years have passed and you have adjusted to motherhood. Steve and Tony pay you a visit. You and Steve talk about a moment you guys had.

Characters: Okoye, Olivia (OC), Steve, Tony, Pepper (Mentioned), M’Baku (Mentioned), Bucky (Implied Return) 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings/Tragger Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (Unprotected-Wrap it before you tap it, Oral-F Receiving)

A/N: This part is bit long cause it’s full of details. Also who knew that about Steve?! 

*This contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd. Read at your own discretion 

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VI. Hello, Sweet

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Four years came and went.

You fell naturally into motherhood. Olivia was a good baby. She slept well during the night unless she had been teething up a storm. Those days you drank all the coffee you could. There were days you had a hard time but Okoye was there to help out and so did Steve whenever he came by. Steve and you grew closer as he helped you with Olivia. You called him super Uncle. The love and adoration that was always on Steve’s face, made you feel like you can almost move on. But the idea always scared you.

Olivia was a smart kid. She was a Stark to a T. She got her hands on just about anything and would make things. And for an almost four year old, it was extremely impressive. Impressive that Tony would sent little building kits for her and she would get them done in a few days with your help. She had the attitude of a Stark but she had the heart of a Barnes. Just like Steve predicted.

Your daughter’s facial expressions were one hundred percent Bucky’s. The way smiles played on the corner of her little lips down to the way she expressed herself with her eyes. Her long hair remained dark as well as her blue eyes. She was a miniature version of Bucky. Steve even said that each time he came back to visit, Olivia looked more and more like him.

Olivia was the calm to the the storm you had been through.

She kept you from falling apart.

She kept you whole.

But yet, you never moved on from losing Bucky.

You walked into the lab to find Olivia in the same place you had left her. She obsessed over the erector set Tony sent her. Tony loved to spoil his niece, just like you loved to spoil yours. A few months after Tony and Peppers wedding, Pepper had become pregnant and shortly after Olivia was born, so was Morgan. Whenever you went to visit them, which was the only time you left Wakanda, the two girls were inseparable. It killed you and Tony to see them have to part ways.

“What are you building this time, bug?” you asked as you sat next to her. Her dark hair hung around her face. She had always refused to where hair bands unless it was to bed.

“A rower coatter,” Olivia’s face popped through the hair, a huge smile on her face. The smile took your breath away. “Can you picture it to Unca Twony?” She loved it when you sent her completed works to Tony. And Tony loved it too.

“Sure thing,” you leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “How about this weekend we go see them? I’m sure Morgan and you can find something in Uncle Tony’s workshop.” Olivia’s eyes lit up when you said Morgan and workshop. When the two of you would visit, Tony and you would find the girls in Tony’s workshop. You had to convince him to make a small space for the girls since they were always found there.

You sat down at your work table and began to fumble with the scrap metal in front of you. You made it your mission to get cleaner and better filtered water to the Border Tribe after discovering their wells were either running dry or had harmful bacteria in them. It took you a week and a lot of using that Stark charm to get M’Baku to agree to your aqueduct like creation.

“All I need to do is come up with good design,” you whispered to yourself.

After an hour of fumbling and putting pieces together. You finally came up with the perfect example. Now, all you need to do is email Tony what you need.

After hitting send on your email, you looked up to see Okoye walk into the lab. Over the last few years, the two of you have grown closer and could count on each other. You trusted her with yours and Olivia’s life.

“Okie,” Olivia shouted and ran to the woman. Okoye knelt down and let Olivia jump into her arms. Okoye had grown so fond of Olivia that she would take her out with the other members of the guard to show her what they were doing. Olivia loved it.

“How are you little Tiger?” Okoye kept the little nickname for Olivia from when she was in the womb. She has proven to be just that too.

“Good,” then off Olivia went back to her little work table. A true Stark never fully leaving their work undone.

“I see you got your aqueduct done,” Okoye came over to you. “When will we be able to get this done?”

“As soon as Tony can send me what I need, we will be able to get it up and running.” You pushed back from the table. “How’s the guard doing? Were they able to get the barrels of water out there?”

Since finding out about the water situation, you and Okoye decided it would be best to send water until you figured out what you needed to do. So Tony sent twelve barrels to fill with water, even though you asked for six. Tony somehow knew you would need more. Once a week Okoye and the guard would swap out six for six new ones. It was a good process.

“They did,” Okoye crossed her arms and watched Olivia. “This water should last more than a week. They had two barrels still full.”

“Good, that gives us enough time to get this thing built and get them water,” You stood up and made your way around the table.

“I haven’t seen Steve around these last few weeks,” Okoye gave you a side eye and smirk.

“I may have made our friendship awkward,” you said walking to get water. You slightly cringe at the last conversation the two of you had about a month ago. Since then Steve only called or texted you. Making the conversations brief.

“How could you make it awkward? It’s not like you two slept together…”Okoye’s chuckle died as she saw your face. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Did you regret it? Nope, it was the first time in years you could let yourself just go like that. Was it the right time for something like that? Nope, but you thought it was and the next morning you had to tell Steve that.

“I did and it was great,” you closed your eyes as you remembered that night. “Then when morning came, some switch flipped and I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready.” Your voice began to shake as you remembered the exact moment you knew you weren’t ready to move on.

Okoye reached out and touched your shoulder. “It’s okay. Someday you will. Tiger will need a father figure to look up to. Steve Rogers is that kind of man.”

Okoye was right. Steve was the right kind of man and you knew deep down you should maybe at least give him a chance. “I’ll call him this evening when I’m settled down for the night.” Then you replayed that night in your head.

The tension.

The kiss.

The feeling of his skin on yours.

The warmth of his breath on your bare skin.

***

You sat on the couch mindlessly flipping through a magazine, while you sipped on your beer. You rarely drank so you always wanted to keep it light. Steve was putting Olivia to bed and seemingly, it sounded like it was going well. She normally tries every kind of tactic to stay up later. When a door opened, you looked up to see Steve walking your way.

“Asleep already?” you asked setting the magazine on the coffee table. “You didn’t drug her did you?”

Steve laughed and sat on the couch next to you. He cracked open a beer and took a long drink. “Nope, she just wanted four stories and by the time I got through the third one, she was out.”

You leaned over and rested your head on Steve’s shoulder. You swore you felt his muscles tense for split second. “You are a life saver!”

Steve gave a light chuckle. “Tell me whats new? How’s Tony and them doing?”

“Still won’t talk to you huh?” you leaned away. You saw the hardness in those blue eyes. Tony still held some feelings towards Steve. You tried a few times to get Tony to just move on and forgive him for whatever it was. But Tony was a Stark.

“Nope,” Steve emphasized the P in nope.

“Well, they're doing good, Liv and I are going to see them next weekend,” you poked your finger into Steve’s arm. “You can come, you know? He’s asks about you too.”

Steve leaned forward and folded his hands. “I can’t,” he said not making eye contact. “I have that group i’ve been leading.”

You stood up with a huff and walked to the small kitchen. “You and your fucking excuses Steve Rogers. You and Tony are like freaking teenage girls who had a stupid fight and wont talk to each other.” You turned to see that Steve had gotten up and had his hands on his hips. “I’m just saying,”  you turned to wash the few dishes in the sink. “You guys were the best of friends. You guys hung out almost all the time.”

You didn’t hear Steve come up beside you. You jumped a little but realized he was helping by drying the dishes. “That’s not why I hung out with him. People just assumed that, I just wanted to be closer to you and for the fucking life of me, I couldn’t man up and ask you out.” You rarely ever heard Steve swear. It surprised you each time.

But that wasn’t what made you drop the plate. You looked towards Olivia room and hoped that she didn’t wake up. You were in the clear.

“For years,” Steve continued as he turned to you. You just stood there and stared at the plate in the sink. The water spilling from the faucet, splashing water droplets around the sink. “I watched you with guy after guy. Almost dying in New York and then almost dying in Sokovia. I wouldn’t know what I would have done if you had.” Steve turned you with his hands. You kept your eyes on the ground. “The that day when Bucky went back on ice, that smile you two exchanged, I knew it was too late. I couldn’t be mad. The two you were perfect for each other.”

“Steve…” you stared to say but he shushed you.

“Then you lost Bucky and that literally almost killed.” Steve took his free hand and lifted your face to meet his eyes. They were soft and you saw just about every emotion he was felling. “Seeing you on that building ledge, I didn’t just pull you back for Bucky’s sake. I pulled you back for mine.”

Whatever happened next, it was beyond you. You didn’t know how it happened, but you found yourself closing the gap between you and Steve and pressing your lips firmly to his. His lips were soft and gentle. It was like something took possession of you body. Steve placed both hands on the side of your face and pulled away.

“You’re not kissing me because I told you how felt?” Steve asked resting his forehead on yours.

“I don’t know.” you answered honestly. Your eyes were closed and you were breathing hard. You really weren’t certain why you kissed Steve. He was never more than just a friend. But these last few years he’s been there for you and Olivia. “Just roll with it.”

And Steve did.

Steve pressed his lips back to yours and deepened it. One of his hands slowly makes its way to the back your neck, while the other goes down to you waist. It grips firmly as he backs you into the living room.Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. Steve’s tongue slid across your bottom one, causing you to groan.

“Not here,” you slightly pulled away. “My room.”

Steve’s hand left your neck and shot down your waist. Without any effort, he picked up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he wrapped his strong arms around you. Steve started towards your room. You buried your face into his neck and felt his body tense up and him suck in a breath.

Once in the room and the door closed, Steve had your back pressed to the door. His breath was by your ear. Sending chills down your back and making you ache for him between your legs. “I am going to take my time with you,” he whispered in your ear, sending yet another chill down your back.

“Show you me what you got, Captain,” you rolled your hips into his already hard erection. Even thorough your cotton pajama shorts, you could feel his cock straining against his jeans as it twitched.

Steve’s eyes grew dark as he spun the two of you around and dropped you on the bed. He bent down and pulled your bottoms and underwear. He saw how wet you were without even having to look at your underwear.

“Someone’s excited,” he teased as he tossed the clothes to the side.

You pushed up on your elbows and gave him a smirk. “I can say the same about you.”

Steve smirked and rose an eyebrow before pulling you legs and placing them over his shoulder. “Let’s see if you taste better than you look.” Without another word, you watched as Steve dove in. His lips meeting your clit and his tongue shooting right inside you.

With a gasp, you shoot a hand to push his face further. The way he licked, sucked, and flicked his tongue around, had you shaking and breathing hard. You couldn’t stop whimpering his name as you felt yourself quickly getting towards that edged.

“Steve,” you whimpered. Your legs pulled him closer and you could feel him hum against your clit as his tongue fucked you. The vibration of his hum was what sent you over the edge. You cried out and both your hands and legs pushed Steve further, if that were possible, into you. Your body shook as your orgasm rocked through your body. And Steve still ate at you until your back fell onto the bed.

You lifted your head up to see Steve stand up and discard his clothes. When his cock sprung free, it had you drooling and you wanted it all inside of you. Steve made his way between your legs and looked at your shirt, with his bare hands, he ripped the fabric off your body throwing it behind him. Looking into his eyes, you could see the hunger and lust. He dipped down and kissed you, tasting your release on his lips. He gripped your hands in his and placed them above your head.

“I want to hear you say it again,” Steve mumbled against your lips. You felt himself line up with your entrance.

You know what he meant. “Fuck me, Captain.”

With that, Steve slipped inside you effortlessly. A soft moan escaped your lips letting Steve’s tongue shoot into your mouth. Once he was fully inside you, he waited until you were adjusted before he started to move in and out of you slow. You slowly lifted your hips but Steve used a hand to pin them back.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he hummed as he peppered kisses to your jawline.

“Well,” you wrapped your legs around his waist. “If you don’t do anything about that slow movement, I will have no choice but to take control.”

Steve pulled out all the way and then slammed right back into you. You cried and moaned as he grunted as the pleasurable action was repeated. His cock slid against your wall in the most beautiful way. You arched your back into his chest each time his cock hit your cervix. His pelvic bone rubbed your clit perfectly, making you moaning, whimpering mess under him. The pressure on you hands and hip being pinned, added to the mess you already were in.

Begging him not to stop.

Pleading him to keep going.

Calling him things, you never thought you would call him before.

It all was bringing you closer to the edge.

Soon, Steve’s thrusting slowed but they were still hard and deep. His grunt were deeper, inside his chest. He let go of your hands and hip and wrapped his arms around you. You did the same. You knew you were at the edge and you knew that Steve was close too. You pushed his face up and see could see the love he had in that moment in his eyes. It was all for you.

“Cum for me,” you whispered.

With one hard thrust, Steve spilled right into you and triggered your orgasm. Your bodies shook together and your breaths were still uneven as the both of you came down. Steve pushed himself up and cupped your face with hand. He leaned down and kissed you slowly. There was no hunger behind it. Just love and passion. Then he rolled over and pulled you into his arms before the two of you fell asleep.

In that moment, everything felt right.

Morning came when Steve gently woke you up. He sat on the side of the bed and brushed back some hair. “Hey,” his voice was gentle. “Breakfast is ready and Liv wanted to show you the pancake we made you.”

You sat up and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Eight, you deserved a morning to sleep in. Especially after last night.” Steve leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “I’ll let you get ready.”

Once you were alone, you slid out of bed and went to the closet. When you turned the light on, your eyes landed on a box that was labeled BUCKY.

***

You were putting things away as you thought about that morning. You had just told Olivia to pick up her space for the day when you turned around and froze. There stood Steve and Tony. Their faces told you that they meant business.

Olivia squealed when she saw the two men and ran towards them. Steve hugged her while he made eye contact with you. Then Olivia jumped into Tony’s arms. He picked her up and he had the biggest smile on his face. She pointed towards her project and mumbled something. Tony’s face just lit up.

“I guess while I’m here, we can get you something else,” He told her as she wiggled out of his arms. “Sorry, dear,” he said as he and Steve approached. “We would have called but what we have to tell you has to be said in person.”

You gulped. Tony’s tone had you wondering what he needed to say. Steve just stood to the side and had his hands on his hips. His eyebrows furrowed. Taking a deep breath you turned to a random guard that was placed there to watch over you guys. “Can you take her to Okoye?”

The woman took Olivia’s hand and walked out with her. You turned to the two men but it was Steve you addressed. “What’s going on?”

“You may want to sit down for this,” Steve said.

You looked to Tony and he nodded. “Okay,” you sat in your chair. “What is it?”

“We may have found a way to bring everyone back.”

You froze. Coolness filled your body and in the wake of it washing over you, goosebumps followed. Your breathing got stuck in  your throat as and you grabbed your water and chugged the rest of it. Your ears were ringing and couldn’t hear what was being said by Steve or Tony.

“Let her breath, Rogers,” Tony’s hand was instantly on your back. “Gosh! We said we would ease her into this. Not dump it on her all at once.”

“How?” you choked out.

“Time travel,” Tony gently said as he sat on your table. “Do you remember Scott Lang? Well he helped me make it possible.”

Then you laughed. You laughed so hard that nearly fell out of your chair. “Time travel?” you asked trying to catch your breath. “You guys are going to go back into time and stop Thanos? What would that mean for us? I wouldn’t get Bucky back. 2018 me would still have Bucky and raise a child with him.”

Tony shushed you with his finger on your mouth. “Slow down, little sister. We are going back to get the stones and bring them to our time. Hoping it’ll work.”

You leaned back in your chair and folded your arms across your chest. You stared at Steve, who couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Do you think this will work?” You asked them both.

“We have to try, right?” Steve responded. “We owe it to those we lost. If not, then we just go on with life.”

You took a deep breath and just stared into space. You thought deeply about what was being said. You could get your husband back. Olivia could have her father. But what happens if this doesn’t work? Then you’re heartbroken all over again. You didn’t have the stomach to have such hope that they were serving to you on a silver plater. But yet, here you were taking it. Because that’s that just who you were.

“Okay,” you stood up. “Then I’m coming with you guys.”

“Nope, thats a huge ass pile of nope,” Tony said standing up too. “You missy, are staying here.”

“I agree,” Steve said.

“You have Olivia to care for,” Tony started to say.

“And you have Morgan,” you pointed out.

“She has two parents,” Tony said taking your shoulders in his hands. “Olivia only has one. For now. And if this were to go sideways and something happens to me, I need you there for Pepper.”

You took another deep breath. Tony was right. “Okay.”

“Perfect,” Tony said letting you go. “Now, I am going to go look for my darling niece and buy her something extravagant.” Tony walked out of the lab leaving you and Steve looking at each other.

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. You knew Steve didn’t want to look at you, he kept darting his eyes away from your each time you looked towards him. It wasn’t that the morning after sleeping with him was bad. There wasn’t even an argument. You just simply told him as you held one of Bucky’s shirts with a few tears in eyes that you couldn’t. That you needed some time.

Well, if this time travel thing works, then there goes the time you needed.

“You know,” you walked over to Steve. “I’m getting the feeling that you are partly on board with this.”

Steve looked down at the ground and then back at you. “What makes you say that?”

You made a face at him. “One, I’ve known you for over a decade. Two, you’re looking at me like you want to throw me on something and have your way with me. But you can’t because you’re best friend, also my husband could be coming back.”

Steve cracked a smile that disappeared just as fast. “It’s just horrible timing on my end. I’m fully on board with this.”

“Good,” you started to leave and turned back to Steve. “If this doesn’t work out, I’ll give us a shot. See where us goes.”

“And if Bucky comes back and he finds out about that night?”

“Then I tell him the truth,” you shrugged your shoulders. “In fact, I will just tell him. He’s been gone for five years. He would have expected me to move on. Now, let’s find my brother before he buys Liv something that’s too big to fit in my apartment.”

***

A few days have went by. Tony had sent the stuff you needed to get water to the Border Tribe. You and some volunteers set to work on getting it all started. It was hard long work that you decided to stay in your old house with Olivia. It made it easier to wake up and get to work and let Olivia play with the other children.

On the fourth day, you were ready to break ground when you noticed a change in the air. The same kind of change five years ago. You shook your head and passed it of as just thinking too much into it. You were too tired, you could barely sleep in that house still. You stayed up most nights as your mind raced with memories. And emotions.

“Let’s take a few hours,” you said to the others as you got up. You could barely concentrate. Today was the day that you brother and friends went on that time travel mission. You couldn’t help but worry about it going wrong. You were waiting for word about if it worked or not.

Olivia ran up to you and jumped into your arms. She nuzzled her face into your neck and you let out a soft sigh. She always knew when you needed hugs the most. She pulled back and took your face in her tiny, little hands. Her clear blue eyes stared deep into yours. She didn’t have to say anything to tell you that everything will be fine no matter what happened.

“I wuv you, Mommy,” she said.

“I love you, too, Tiger,” you gave her little butterfly kisses and set her down. “Can you take her back to the lab? I’m gong to take a few minutes and catch up later.”

“Yes, Missus Barnes,” the guard said taking your daughters hand in theirs.

When you alone you started to stare at the supplies in front of you. You wondered if this was actually enough. You wanted this to work so bad, you almost didn’t hear the snap of a twig behind you. You snapped your head up to listen for it again. Taking a deep breath you shook you head and went back to shuffling through the metal before you.

A twig snapped again.

You picked up a thin, but long piece of metal. “Whoever you are, you may want to think twice about who you sneak up on.”

You spun around, swinging the metal as you went. Something, well more like someone stopped your swing. You froze when you realized who had stopped your swing. A chill ran through your body. You know the color drained from your face. Those blue eyes were just as surprised as you were. They searched yours for some kind of answer.

Your hands fell and so did the metal. You took a step back only to lose your footing. He stepped forwards and grabbed your arms pulling you back towards him.

“Careful there, Doll.”

[bonnyskies]

his sweet omega ⇢ jjk

he’s your alpha, and you’re his sweet omega.

pairing — alpha!jungkook x omega!malereader,

genre — fluff, omegaverse au, college au, roommates au, friends to lovers au,

warnings — age-gap (the reader’s eighteen and jungkook’s twenty-two), swearing, past mentions of fuckboy!jungkook, jungkook is very soft for the reader, both parties are oblivious for the other’s feelings, and brief mentions of male pregnancy

requested by — anonymous

author’s note — honestly really loved this request so thank you to whoever sent this to me. and just a small heads up, this is my first time dealing with anything with werewolves so forgive me if there are any mistakes on the topic. i’m still learning about this type of au.

word count — 3k

masterlist

“—and he just told me that he couldn’t date me anymore. No real reason, just that he can’t.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe what he was hearing right now. How could Jaehyuk, your now ex-boyfriend end your guys’ six month relationship without any explanation? It wasn’t like you two had any problems, if anything the two of you were perfect for each other.

Jaehyuk—just the thought of his name already made Jungkook’s blood boil—was an alpha, and since you were only an omega, he protected you like an alpha should and treated you with complete respect and equality, unlike how other people do to omegas. That’s what made Jungkook like him when you first introduced them to each other, because Jaehyuk wasn’t like any other alpha. He was kind and didn’t order you around and treat you like you were his property like most alphas did to their omegas.

Jungkook still remembers the day you introduced him to Jaehyuk, because the image of your big smile and wide eyes shining with passion was engraved in his mind. It was just like any other day, Jungkook was on the couch in your guys’ apartment, waiting for you to come home from your morning lectures so that you two could go out for lunch together. You came back on time, but you also had someone else with you—Jaehyuk. At first, you introduced him as your classmate but from the way you glowed as you spoke about him told Jungkook otherwise. He joined you two for lunch that day, and Jungkook swore he never saw you blush so much, always shielding your face whenever Jaehyuk would compliment you.

You were so in love.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jungkook found himself growling, eyes flashing their crimson color as he tightened his arms around you, listening to your muffled cries into his chest.

“N-No, dont.” You whimpered out, sniffling and lifting your head to meet his eyes. “That won’t solve anything, Kookie. It’ll just create more problems.”

Jungkook smirked at his nickname, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss on top of your head. “He deserves it though. Nobody hurts my sweet omega and gets away with it.”

Even though your face was hidden from him, Jungkook could already tell you were blushing. You always get flustered whenever he uses his nickname for you. “Can I please beat his ass?”

You laughly softly into his chest, and Jungkook swore he could feel his heart stammer inside. “No,” you pouted, running your fingers along the fabric of his shirt. “Can you just stay here and watch movies and eat junk food with me?”

“Of course—,” Jungkook was cut off by the sound of his phone’s ringing before he had the chance to finish his sentence, causing him to slip one of his arms from you and check to see who was messaging him.

“Who was it?” You glancing up and attempting to peek at his phone, but Jungkook already shoved it back into his pocket.

“Nobody,” he answered bluntly, shrugging. “Just Jimin, wondering if I’m still going to his party tonight.”

You frowned, “You can go if you want.”

Jungkook grinned at your sad expression, pecking your head again before saying, “I’m not going. You need me, not Jimin-hyung. Plus, I rather be here watching movies with you.”

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing mildly. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his torso, your heart beating roughly and uncontrollably inside your chest.

Jungkook smiled, leaning down and gently running his lips along your cheek. “Anything for you, my sweet omega.”

And that’s exactly how you two spent the rest of the day. Laying on the couch, watching endless amount of different kinds of movies with Jungkook’s strong, muscular arms resting around your waist, keeping you secured against his chest.

When the morning came, Jungkook tried to persuade you to stay home and take a break from school just for today, saying how you deserve to have one day of relaxation. But really, he just didn’t want you to run into Jaehyuk alone. And since you two were in different grades—him being four grades higher than you, he wouldn’t be there to protect you if you did end up accidentally running into Jaehyuk.

You refused, of course. Jungkook wasn’t surprised though, you’d always been stubborn. Saying how you weren’t going to let one boy and a broken heart prevent you from attending your classes.

But now, Jungkook couldn’t stop worrying about you, wondering how you were doing right now. His mind was so consumed on you, that he couldn’t focus on his professor’s lecture. He didn’t realize how long he’s been distracted by you until one of his classmates broke him out of his thoughts and informed him that the class has ended.

When leaving the classroom, Jungkook checked the time—it was half past ten. He still has another hour and a half until your morning lectures were done. So he did what every other student on campus did when they needed to kill some time. Chill at the college’s lounge.

Jungkook sat alone at the one of the tables in the very crowded lounge, scrolling through his social media as he patiently waited for you to meet him here. And still, his mind continued to worry about you running into Jaehyuk. You were only an omega, a small, shy, innocent omega and there was no way you could defend yourself—both physically and mentally from someone like Jaehyuk, an alpha.

With his mind practically torturing him, Jungkook finally decided to go and meet you at your class’s building instead of—

“Hey, man.”

Glancing up from his phone, Jungkook’s jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed when seeing your ex-boyfriend standing right in front of him. At least he knew now there was no chance of you running into him anymore. Jungkook could feel his fingers tightening around his phone. It was taking everything in him to refrain himself from beating the absolute shit out of Jaehyuk. His inner wolf practically howling for a fight. “What do you want?” His voice low, eyes glaring threateningly at him.

Without saying anything at first, Jungkook watched as Jaehyuk reached into his backpack and pulled your—his sweatshirt out. “{Name} left his sweatshirt at my place, and I wanted to give it back to him today during class but he’s avoiding me.”

“Can you blame him?” Jungkook spat, snatching his sweatshirt from Jaehyuk’s grasp. Even after not wearing it for so long, he could still smell his scent on it along with yours.

“Okay, I deserve that.” Jaehyuk sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, an awkward tension forming between the two of them. “Alright, well that’s pretty much it. See you around—”

“Why did you break up with {Name}?” The question came out of Jungkook’s mouth faster than this mind could comprehend it. He knew this was none of his business, but he had to know. The image of your crying state was still burned into his head, and it tortured him. He needed answers.

Jaehyuk sighed, running his hand frustratingly through his hair. He glanced at the empty seat beside Jungkook, and when the older alpha nodded his head approvingly, he sat down next to him. “Because he wasn’t mine...”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook raised a brow at him, shifting himself to the side so that he was fully facing the younger alpha. “You two were together for six months, dude! {Name}’s crazy about you.”

“I know that we were together for a long time,” Jaehyuk groaned, tilting his head back. “But he never felt like he was mine, even to this day. No matter how many times I’ve tried to scent him or mate with him, he always refused.”

“You tried to mate with him?” Jungkook seethed, a growl forming in the back of his throat and his eyes shining their usual alpha color of crimson red. “He’s still a virgin, Jaehyuk! You shouldn’t force him to do something that he isn’t comfortable with yet—”

“I know!” Jaehyuk snapped, banging his fists against the table, earning some curious and annoyed glances from other students. “But I was sick of everyone constantly forgetting that we were together.” He confessed, “Even though we’ve been on dozens of dates together, kissed each other many times in public, people still didn’t believe that we were boyfriends. They thought that...”

Jungkook stared at Jaehyuk confusingly, noticing the way his hands were slightly trembling out of anger. “They thought what?”

“They thought you were his boyfriend,” Jaehyuk mumbled out, frowning.

Jungkook’s heart dropped. Other people thought you two were together? “Why would people think that?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Jaehyuk suddenly raises his voice, eyes flaring. “It’s because you’re always around him. And when you’re not, your scent surrounds him.”

Jungkook sighed, “Listen man, there’s nothing going on between me and {Name}. We’re just friends—close, childhood friends. We grew up together, and since he’s an omega and I’m an alpha, I’ve just got this natural tendency to protect him.”

“What you’re doing isn’t protecting him,” Jaehyuk commented, “You’re owning him.”

That caused Jungkook to scoff, “That’s crazy.”

“Is it really?” Jaehyuk questioned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve seen the way you act around him, Jungkook. You always make sure to have your scent on him, whether that be either wearing your clothes or—,” Jaehyuk then winced, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. “—scenting him personally.”

Jungkook’s hard expression dropped. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he was right. He always made sure his scent was on you before the two of you left for classes. It wasn’t his intention to make it look like he owned you. He just didn’t want any horny, asshole alphas to force themselves on you—a young, unmated omega while you were alone.

“I’m his—was his boyfriend.” Jaehyuk stated. “He’s suppose to smell like me, not you. I’m an alpha too, like you, and yet people spread around saying that I shouldn’t even be considered as one because I can’t keep a single fucking omega!”

Jungkook frowned, guilt coursing through him. He knew how possessive alphas can be, he’s experienced it himself—with you. For an alpha, reputation was everything. If word got around that they couldn’t keep their omega—or ‘property’ in check and loyal to them, it would damage their reputation greatly and they’d be seen as weak.

“Listen man, I didn’t mean make you feel that way.” Jungkook stared at him sympathetically. “It’s just that I’ve known {Name} since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood, we been through everything together. I guess there’s always been a part of me that wants to make sure he’s safe and protected.”

Jaehyuk sighed, leaning back against his seat. “It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re done.” He then stood up from his chair, pushing it in and slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “You should go for it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, “W-Wait, what?” He stared up at Jaehyuk with confusion. “There’s nothing going on between me and {Name}—”

He was interrupted by Jaehyuk’s laugh, the younger alpha shaking his head. “Come on, man. Have you completely ignored what we’ve been talking for the past half hour? You’re crazy about him. You’ve practically marked him without actually marking him.”

Jungkook lowered his head to hide the blush that was creeping up his face.

“It’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for him, Jungkook.” Jaehyuk continued, standing above him. “I’ve heard the stories about your reputation here. How you used to sleep around with anyone that caught your attention. But then you stopped when {Name} moved in with you. I’m right, aren’t I?”

He was. Jungkook couldn’t even say how many omegas or betas he fucked in the past. But when you told him that you got accepted into his college, Jungkook instantly offered you his apartment’s spare bedroom—saying how it’s cheaper to live away from campus than to pay for a dorm. Ever since then he hasn’t slept with anyone—let alone invite them over. It’s been months.

“T-That doesn’t mean I like him—,” once again, he was interrupted by Jaehyuk’s laughter.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, dude.” Jaehyuk attempted to reassure him, clasping his hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “{Name} feels the same way about you.”

Jungkook felt his heart stop and eyes widened. “W-What?” He stuttered out, “No he doesn’t. Why would you think he does?”

Jaehyuk rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard to figure out, man. Whenever he’s upset or happy about something, you’re the first person he goes to. He cancels our dates for those weekly movie nights you two always have. And when we do have dates, he’s constantly talking about you. Hell, he prefers your scent over his own boyfriend’s.”

He continued to verbally list, “It’s pretty fucking obvious that {Name} likes you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know to say. “Just answer me this,” Jaehyuk leaned forward to where his face was inches from Jungkook’s face. “Have you ever thought of {Name} as anything more than friends?”

Jungkook was speechless. Has he ever thought of you romantically? Yes, he thought you were handsome, beautiful even but he always saw you more as a baby brother. But then again, siblings don’t usually scent each other. ‘Siblings’ also don’t sleep in the same bed together, arms and legs tangled with another. With the image of you flashing through his mind, Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what a future with you would be like.

The thought of falling asleep and waking up beside you every morning, being able to kiss and hold you, and call you his. Mating with you, claiming you—just the thought alone made Jungkook’s heart burst inside his chest. The image himself marrying you, you carrying his children, his pups—oh fuck.

At this point, Jungkook couldn’t stop smiling. He wanted that. That future, with you.

Seeing the expression on Jungkook’s face, Jaehyuk couldn’t help but smile also. Patting his hand gently onto the older alpha’s shoulder, Jaehyuk whispered softly into his ear, “Go for it, man. Before someone else does.” And then he’s gone, leaving Jungkook with his thoughts alone at the table.

Jungkook’s heart was beating uncontrollably, his inner wolf howling loudly, cheering for finally realizing his true feelings for you. Next thing Jungkook knew, he was taking his phone out and messaging you.

jungkook: hey, can’t make it to lunch today. really busy. see you later at home.

And after the message sent through, Jungkook found himself searching for the nearest florist shop.

When recieving Jungkook’s message and reading it, you were confused. He’s never missed lunch with you before, like ever. After replying back with a simple ‘okay,” you headed towards your guys’ shared apartment where you were patiently waiting for him.

Two hours later, you were still waiting for Jungkook at your guys’ apartment, laying down on the living room’s couch in complete silence. As you waited, you couldn’t help but wonder the reason behind his sudden absence. He still hasn’t shown up and you were becoming anxious. This was unlike of Jungkook, completely vanishing from your radar, not replying to any of your messages.

Maybe he’s hooking up with someone right now, your mind thought, making your skin crawl and heart stop. You’ve heard how he was before you moved in with him. How he used to sleep around constantly, always having someone at his apartment. And since you’re living with him now, maybe he’s going to their place instead.

Just thought of Jungkook doing such...intimate things with someone else made your chest ache. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you knew that. You were with someone for six months, recently, and it’s not like you two were together or anything so Jungkook can be with anyone he wants. Even though that pains you.

But all those paranoid thoughts disappeared when the sound of the apartment’s door opening was heard, causing you to shoot up from the couch and practically sprint towards the entrance. “Kookie, where’ve you been—,” you froze when your eyes landed on him. Right in front of you, Jungkook stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“W-What’s this—”

“This is for you,” Jungkook spewed out slightly aggressively, anxiously shoving the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you gladly accepted.

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, leaning down and smelling the sweet scent of red roses. “Why flowers, though? And roses?”

“Because they’re the symbol of love.”

Your smile then dropped, replaced with shock. “W-What,” you stuttered out, eyes widening when Jungkook didn’t say anything. Instead he took a step towards you until he was only inches from you, lowering his head down to meet your wide-eyed gaze. His next words made your heart completely shut down.

“I’m crazy about you.” Jungkook said with such calmness, and you swore you’ve never heard your heart beat so loud before. “And I’m sorry that it took me this long to realize that.” You couldn’t speak a single word, you utterly speechless. Taking in your silence, Jungkook continued. “This entire time, I’ve only thought you as a friend. Someone to protect, and I’ve always blamed that slight possessiveness I had for you on my alpha instincts, but it’s not just that.”

Jungkook then leaned down and placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him enough to where your chests were barely pressed against each other. “I want you, {Name}. Not just as a friend, but as my boyfriend, my mate.” His words were taking your breath away, eyes swelling up with tears. “T-That’s if you’ll have as your mate,” he then started to stutter, head lowered to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. “I-I know you just got out of a serious relationship, and I-I’m not pressuring you or anything, I just want you to know—”

You couldn’t help but smile at your alpha’s rambles. You’ve never seen him so flustered, so vulnerable before. Leaning up, you silenced him by pressing your lips softly against his, which he gladly accepted and kissed back, tightening his arms around you. The bouquet of roses fell from your grasp as you moved your hands to rest on his broad shoulders, deepening the kiss as your lips moved perfectly in sync against his.

Jungkook couldn’t help but moan against your mouth, the alpha inside him howling, hungry for more, eyes shining crimson red underneath his closed eyelids. If it wasn’t for the need of oxygen, Jungkook could kiss you forever. Your lips was like alcohol, intoxicating. But nonetheless, you both needed to breath which is why you two pulled away, both heavily breathing.

“W-Wow,” was the only thing that Jungkook could say, smiling widely and cheeks blushing mildly. “Are you sure?” He then asked you, eyes shining with concern and assurance. You shared the expression as he did, jaw aching from how hard you were smiling.

And when you nodded, that’s all Jungkook needed before his lips came crashing back down onto yours.

He’s your alpha, and you’re his sweet omega.

[talesofstyles]

Quid Pro Quo

Another lawyer!Harry. Technically six years before this piece. Enemies to lovers with plenty of angst :))) [7k]

massive thank you to @smokeinherperfume @for-fucks-sake-h and @emotionally-imbruised​ 🥺💛

This has got to be one of the worst weeks of your professional life.

It’s only Thursday and this past week you haven’t left your office before eleven every night. You’re currently working on nine cases, two of which require immediate action, and you’ll most likely have to go to trial for at least three of the cases because the motions to dismiss that you filed were denied. Last night alone you didn’t get a wink of sleep because you were busy preparing for a deposition this morning, which turned out to be practically useless, because your client completely ignored your advice and said everything you told them not to and basically shit the bed for you.

You know this is what you signed up for when you decided to become a lawyer at a top law firm in the City. Clifford Chance is not a joke, there’s a reason why they’re number second in the UK and you knew that long before you even started working here. There’s a common knowledge which most law students throughout the UK knows, that if you work at Clifford Chance, you don’t get to sit around. Put it this way: if you let six minutes tick away without achieving anything, you’ve wasted the firm fifty pounds. Twelve minutes: one hundred pounds. Eighteen minutes: one fifty. You do the math.

It’s not that you hate your job. On the contrary, you absolutely love your job. You know you’re good at it. You love the thrill of negotiation. You like to argue and make the best point in the room. You’re addicted to the adrenaline rush of closing a deal, and frankly, nothing satisfy you more than spotting the loopholes in a contract (with the exception of sex of course but it has really been a while and you’re practically a nun these days so it’s not even worth mentioning).

 But sometimes it’s just too much. You’ve been working for fifty five hours per week, and sure, the money’s good (scratch that—the money’s great), but you don’t have a life outside of work and you’re beginning to realise that it’s one hell of a price to pay. 

The truth is, you know all this nonsense is not because you hate your job, nor because you’re stretched too thin. Interestingly, you actually thrive under pressure and you know that’s one of your qualities that makes you a good lawyer. And life outside of work? Even the thought of it makes you laugh. Your work is your life. You’ve never complained about that. This bitterness inside of you that you don’t even realise exists emerged when Harry Styles waltzed into your firm three months ago. You don’t normally make a big deal about people coming into the firm, because you’re good with people and you’re friends with everyone. But the thing is, you resent him because your firm gave him a senior partner title right away, one that you’ve been busting your arse for by working about two hundred hours per month minimum for the past year, just because he came from your firm’s rival which happens to be the number one law firm in the UK. And on top of that, he didn’t come empty handed. He brought five big clients with him when he came knocking on your firm’s door, and that sort of sealed the deal for your managing partner to choose him instead of you to be promoted to senior partner this year.

Bloody bum licker.

Your frustrated groan bounces off the thin walls of your two bedroom flat that you shared with your best friend and you accidentally slam the door a little too harsh. Luckily, she’s used to you coming home in such a state for the past three months, so she just turns her head to see you from where she’s sat on the couch in the living room, stifling a laugh.

“Harry Styles?” She ventures, smirking at you and you groan in annoyance as you throw your keys in the bowl.

“Harry,” you grunt. “Fucking Styles.”

Fran can’t help but laugh, and you give her a look that tells her you’d probably kill her if she keeps that up as you walk past her and straight into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, so she’s back trying to stifle her laughter.

“Alright,” she replies, you can hear amusement in her tone. “What did he do this time?”

“He took my case!” you snap as you plop down on the couch with a bottle of Riesling in your hand. Fran puts her laptop on the coffee table and turns to face you, sitting expectantly, waiting for the oncoming rant. “He’s just- ugh. I can’t stand him, Fran. He’s unbelievable.”

“What?” She stares at you in confusion. “How?”

“So Luke came to the office this morning-”

“Luke-”

“Don’t-” you cut her off before she can finish her sentence. “I know what you’re about to say, and yes, that Luke. So, he came to the office this morning because he’s got a problem. Basically, his company just cut a huge deal but he needs to get out of this contract because his general counsel accidentally let them slip something into the fine print.”

“Shit,” she remarks. “That is a fireable offense.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “The guy was fired on the spot. The thing is, if Luke fulfills this order, he goes out of business.”

“And if he doesn’t,” she pauses, looking at you for a second before adding another remark. “Shit, they’ll sue him for breach of contract.” 

“Exactly,” you sigh. “I’ve been at it all day trying to spot loopholes in the contract to save his company.”

You really miss working together with Fran. You’ve been living together since you were both still in law school, and Fran used to work in Clifford Chance as well until ten months ago when she decided she wanted to focus on fashion law and moved to Addleshaw Goddard.

It’s not that you’re not happy for her. You’re glad she found something that she’s passionate about. It’s just you’re so used to working on cases and going to mock trials together and you can’t deny that you miss it sometimes. You just wish that she’d stayed, because you know it would be much easier to handle Harry if you’ve got your best friend with you.

“Right,” she nods. “And I’m guessing Harry came to you and he wanted in?”

“That bastard!” You scowl. “He just waltzed into my office out of the blue and was like, ‘I gather Luke Whiteacre needs to get out of something? I want in.’ I mean… who does that?! He didn’t even say hi when he walked in!”

Fran snickers at your terrible impression of Harry. She hasn’t met him yet but she knows there’s no way he talks like that. “And you’re upset because he didn’t say hi?”

“Fran!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” she hastily amends. “Look, maybe he’s just trying to help? He’s not taking your case, babe, believe me. You’re still on it, aren’t you?”

“Well, I am,” you let out another sigh.

“See?” She goes on. “And even if he tries to, Luke wouldn’t let it happen. He’s been your client since forever.”

“Still. I don’t like the fact that he thought he could just walk into my office and hijack my case,” you say in exasperation. “I’m gonna kill him, Fran. I swear to god I’m gonna kill him.”

Fran burst in laughter, muttering your name in a chastising tone. “Don’t. You won’t look good in prison stripes,” she shakes her head. “Really rubs you in the wrong way, doesn’t he?”

“Absolutely,” you roll your eyes.

“Come on, babe,” she continues with a smirk. “I’ve said this before, you need to shag him. Take out all those frustrations…”

“Keep that up and I’ll put your name on my people-to-murder list next to his,” you grunt, standing up from the couch and head towards the kitchen hoping to find some treats from the snack cabinet.

Fran giggles as she takes her laptop back onto her lap and begins typing. “Let’s go out,” she suggests. “Been a while. You look like you could use a night out.”

“I can’t,” you slump against the couch with a bag of chocolate buttons. “He’s on his way here.”

“What? Harry?” She looks at you in surprise. “Why?”

“Yeah,” you shrug carelessly. “We need to work on Luke’s case.”

“Have you still got some condoms in your room?” She says teasingly. “I’ve got some just in case you need them. Just-”

The sound of the doorbell rings cuts your best friend’s teasing remark. It’s definitely Harry, and you give Fran one last death glare and Ross Geller’s version of middle finger as you get up from the couch and walk towards the front door to let him in.

“Hey,” he greets you with his usual smug smile that irritates you to no end. “Lovely flat you’ve got here.”

“We better get started,” you say dismissively as you close the door behind him before you lead him into your living room. You suddenly realise that it’s your first time seeing him not in one of his expensive suits. Not that you care enough about him to notice that. It’s just he happens to be wearing a lot of Jermyn Street suits, and you know they don’t come cheap. 

This time he’s only in his crisp white button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just below his elbow. His arms are full with folders that you asked him to take from the office, and as the two of you walk into your living room, you see Fran turning her head to greet him. “Hi.”

“Hey, you must be Fran,” he smiles as he strides to the couch.

“And you must be Harry,” Fran replies, before tilting her head to smirk at you. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Have you now?” Harry chuckles. “Only good thing, I hope?”

“Oh,” Fran can’t help but snort. “Only the best.”

You end up ordering Chinese because neither of you have had dinner, and Fran ends up helping both you and Harry on the case in the living room. Even with three heads brainstorming together you’re still struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

It is now past midnight and you and Harry are still working on your case. Fran has gone up to her room a little over two hours ago, leaving just the two of you in your living room. Your coffee table is strewn with photocopied draft contracts, financial reports, note-pads covered in scribbles, post-its and two cups of cold coffee from four hours ago that both of you keep accidentally drinking. Take-out boxes are littering the floor, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you read through yet another file to find literally anything which could potentially help.

“I tell you what, this is ironclad,” you let out a heavy sigh as you throw the document on the coffee table in defeat. “Houdini wouldn’t even get out of this contract.”

“We need to adjourn,” Harry suggests, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Regroup tomorrow to get to the bottom of this with clear heads. I’ve got a trial at half nine but I’ll be done by noon.”

“I can’t rest before we figure this out,” you state stubbornly, pausing for a second to let out a yawn. “But you go home. I’ll let you know if I’ve got something.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “You have to rest. If you were to come up with something you would’ve by now.”

You feel a stab of indignation. “Are you saying that I’m not capable of getting to the bottom of this myself?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry says in exasperation. “How did you even come up with that? I was just saying you’re knackered, well we both are, so we’re not thinking clearly. But you know what? If you wanna keep going, that’s your decision. But I’m not going to.”

“Well, I never asked you to!” you retort defensively.

Harry rolls his eyes as he gets up from your couch, heading towards the door without saying another word and you can’t help but groan in annoyance. With Harry, you’re quite capable of going from calm to seething in 0-60, and you’re too pissed to even notice Fran stifling her giggles from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” Fran appears in the living room with a glass of water in her hand, staring at you with one eyebrow arched high. “There’s no tension there at all.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, give it a rest!”

***

By two o’clock you’re already exhausted and brain dead after only three hours of sleep and non-stop work since this morning. You haven’t even had lunch yet, but even just the thought of eating already makes you nauseous because you can’t stop thinking about how crushed Luke is going to be when you tell him that he’s going out of business. Truth be told you don’t want to jump that far, but what Harry said last night keeps replaying on your mind like a broken cassette. ‘If you were to come up with something, you would have by now.’ And here you are, twenty-eight hours later, still have got nothing.

Speak of the devil.

“Where have you been?” Harry asks in a prickly tone as he walks into your office. His brows are knitted together and he looks concerned. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Honestly, a ‘hi’ would be nice.

“I’ll tell you where,” you shift your attention from your computer and look at him. “I was getting screwed by Berkeley Group and trying to figure out what to do about it.”

Harry gives you a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I went there with a dozen win-win offers and they shot down every single one,” you say stonily.

“Did you threaten litigation?” asked Harry, a bit superciliously.

“Harry, I threaten them with everything but the kitchen sink,” you flash him an incandescent look. “The thing is, this contract is airtight and they know it.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry says promptly with a glint of hope in his eyes. “And this won’t make Luke go out of business.”

“What you on about?”

“Slicing and dicing,” says Harry with a smug smile. 

You flash him another incandescent look. “Are you telling me that your big brilliant idea is to split his commercial division from his retail?”

The glint of hope disappears from his eyes as he looks at you. “This is the only way out.”

“Cutting someone’s arm off is not a way out!” you practically shriek. 

“It is if their life depends on it!” Harry yells in frustration, the volume of his voice matches yours and you can’t help but notice two associates stop for a second just to have a peek at you and Harry having a screaming match before they continue walking past your office.

“Look,” he begins again, and you know he’s calmed down a little because he’s not as loud as three seconds ago. “If we do this, we have a chance to get Berkeley back to the table before we cut anything off.”

“Listen to me Harry,” you venture after a pause. “I’m sorry but we’re not going back to Luke with this bullshit. Thank you for your help so far, but you’re off the case.”

“What?” Harry turns to you in disbelief.

“You heard me,” you give him a dismissive blink that makes him feel like an insect. “I’m taking back this case.”

You turn your attention back to some random document on your desk, pretending to read carefully, not daring to meet his eyes. Luckily he leaves your office without saying another word after a second or two of pause, and you slump back further on your chair as he slams your door behind him.

For the rest of the afternoon you’ve decided to keep yourself busy with your other cases, but you know deep down you won’t be able to focus on anything else before you get Luke out of the woods. You can’t let him go out of business. You just can’t. Not only because you’ve been looking after his company for years, hell you were only an associate when he first became a client, but you also saw with your own eyes how his company grew. He was only just starting his business when he came into your firm, and you witnessed it firsthand how he nurtured it into the big and successful company it is now.

On a side note, you also can’t stop thinking about what happened in your office earlier. Sure, you and Harry don’t particularly get along like a house on fire, but you didn’t have to be so rude, did you? His approach to the problem might be different than yours, but deep down you knew he was only trying to help.

So on your way to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, you decided to stop by his office. You know you owe him an apology. 

“Hi,” his door is open but you decided to knock anyway. “Mind if I come in?”

He looks up at you instantly, pushing his chair a little further away from his desk to break his attention from his computer. “Of course not, come in.”

“Look-”

“Look-”

You both say simultaneously, before breaking into a chuckle. 

“Let me go first,” he begins with a smile, which for some reason doesn’t look smug this time and you nod. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. That case is yours to begin with, and I should’ve trusted you to bring it home how you see fit.”

“Well I’m sorry too,” you add hastily. “Guess I let my emotion get the best of me back there. I was rude when you were only trying to help.”

“Hey, no need to apologise to me,” he replies without flickering. “I absolutely understand.”

“It’s just,” you continue as you saunter to his desk. “Luke was my first client. Ever. The first time I went solo on a case, it was for his company. I just can’t let him down.”

“Look, we don’t know that yet,” he assures you gently. “And even if it comes to that point, it’s not your fault. If anything it’s the general counsel’s fault.”

“Holy shit-” you say suddenly. “Harry!”

“What?” he looks at you in confusion.

“The general counsel didn’t just make one mistake,” you go on as you look at Harry with glimmering hope. “He made two, he never ran the final contract by me.”

“Holy shit he didn’t,” Harry remarks. “Because he knew you’d catch any mistake. So he didn’t make a mistake…”

“No it was on purpose,” you can’t help a pleased little smile coming to your lips. “Isn’t it a coincidence that he just signed a contract to work at a subsidiary of Berkeley?”

“This is brilliant,” he replies excitedly. “You’re brilliant.”

“Say that again?” you joke.

“No, you need to get them on the phone right now,” Harry gives you a rictus smile. “And I need to find us some bloody champagne.”

***

Harry grins as he walks into your office and asks, as though you’re mid-conversation. “Have you made the call?”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” you grin when you notice a bottle of Moët & Chandon in his hand. “Where did you get that?”

“Leftovers from the Christmas party,” he chuckles as he quickly opens it . “How’s it? What did they say?”

“Well, the contract is back exactly the way it was,” you begin, giving him a smug smile for a change. “Well, with a twenty five percent increase.”

He looks at you suspiciously, one of his eyebrows arched high. “Twenty five?”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes comically. “Forty.”

“Bloody hell,” he chuckles. “You don’t mess about, do you? Remind me to never mess with you.”

You laugh and take a sip of the champagne. “We need to celebrate this.”

“Do you wanna go out?”

“Oh no, I’ve got something better,” you smirk as you hand him a folder. “Take a look.”

Harry takes the folder promptly and begins skimming through the documents, occasionally taking sips of the champagne in between. “Aha, you need to get out of a deal.”

“Exactly,” you grin. “We need to get out of a deal I negotiated for a mobile payment app with our client’s credit card provider.”

“This is a three years deal and you’re only three months in,” Harry observes as he continues skimming through the files.

“Well, that’s what makes it fun, innit?” your grin widens.

“Oh, absolutely. This is fun,” his eyes twinkling in delight. “You don’t have any legal grounds to do it. Have you got something in mind?”

“Mhm,” you hum as you take another swig of champagne. “I think if I can find a reason to pay into a trust instead of to them directly then we can squeeze them…”

“Make them take a buyout,” Harry adds.

“Look at us finishing each other’s sentences already,” you make an elaborate gesture with your champagne flute and Harry gives you a shrill laugh.

“We’re best friends now, aren’t we?”

You retort at once. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Alright,” says Harry, his eyes still flashing with amusement. “That’s a good plan by the way. What do you want me to do?”

“I need precedents by noon.”

“You’ll have them on your desk by nine am sharp,” he smirks.

***

Harry keeps his promise.

When you arrive in your office at a little over nine, there are six folders from Harry waiting for you on your desk, which means that he didn’t only get you one or two but six precedents for the new case that you’re both working on. This is the boost of confidence that you need, because today you’re scheduled to go to the judge’s chamber and meet with the lawyer on the opposing side. Who knows, maybe this will be a quick one and the case will be over by the end of the day.

Well, that’s a nice thought. But in order for the case to be dismissed, the lawyer from the opposing side needs to show up here first and foremost. You’ve been sitting in the judge’s chamber for nearly fifteen minutes now, and he has warned you about ten times that if the other lawyer doesn’t show up, he would have to deny your motion to dismiss.

“Hello, sorry I’m late,” a voice pipes in from the door, and when you turn around, you see a woman with a smug smile that reminds you of Harry’s, clad in L.K. Bennett from head to toe walks into the room. She offers you a hand before she sits down, and you politely reach out yours for a handshake. “Camille Sweetings, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you now?” you give her a mocking smile as you begin confidently. “Well, you haven’t lived up to your obligations and according to these six precedents, we have the right to nullify this entire deal right now.”

You really don’t like the look on her face. Any other lawyers would at least be slightly ticked to hear that, but she still has the same smug smile across her face. “You don’t have the right to do anything, you’re in violation of your contract.”

“Paying into a trust isn’t a violation,” you frown.

“No,” she agrees. “But meeting with the competition is.”

You can’t see your own face, but if you do, you’re most likely to look like you’ve just seen a ghost. How did she even know that? You try to remain calm and look at the judge. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“No,” she’s smiling as she says the word. “You just didn’t know I’d find out about it. Your Honour, I’ve got a confirmation that YN YLN has engaged in a pattern of dirty tricks, unethical behaviour and borderline illegal activity. All in the name of ‘representing’ her clients.”

Your rage simmers up into a froth. “If you’re gonna say all that about me, you better damn well be able to back it up.”

You want nothing more than to rip off the smirk across her face as she hands two files to the judge. “Here are two of Ms YLN's old cases. There you’ll find settlements withheld and meetings with the competition.”

“How the hell did you get these?!” you exclaim indignantly. “Your Honour, my past cases have no relevance here.”

“No, but your answers to my question do,” he says sternly. “Did you or did you not meet with the competition last week?”

***

You stride back into your office furiously. Who the hell was that woman? You didn’t even know her yet she apparently knew a damn lot about you. Nobody even knew you had a meeting with the competition last week, so there has got to be something bigger going on yet you just can’t seem to figure that out.

You begin to realise maybe this whole case isn’t a good idea and you silently promise yourself that you will never take on anything with getting out of contracts or deals or basically everything that Harry is good at ever again. This isn’t your thing, this is Harry’s. Your thing is everything that has everything to do with mergers, acquisitions, all that, just like Fran’s thing is everything with fashion law. This whole thing is really stressing you out and you plan to speak to Harry when you get the chance later today to just hand him the case. 

Speak of the devil.

“Hey! How was the hearing?” he sounds jovial as he walks into your office with a bright smile. “Should I get another bottle of champagne for tonight? Of course when I say ‘get’ I meant ‘steal’ from downstairs.”

“The judge bit my head off,” you scoff.

He flashes you a quizzical look. “What? Why?”

“The other lawyer found some dirt about me,” you begin, already seething as you picture her face with that bloody smug smile in your head. “She found two of my old cases and said really nasty things about me to the judge. And before you say anything, no, I didn’t do anything illegal. But I’ve got to admit it was unethical.”

“Shit,” he looks at you, concerned. “Look, there’s no way they could’ve found all those shit just like that.”

“That’s what I’m thinking about,” you reply at once. “There’s got to be something bigger going on. This is a desperate move, I tell you.”

“I agree,” he nods. “It sounds shady, and in my experience the other side only does something like this when they’ve already done something even shadier.”

You look at him with a glint of hope. “So you also think they’re hiding something?”

“Yeah,” he sounds so sure. “And don’t worry, we’re gonna find it.”

“Good,” you remark. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let bloody Camille Sweetings get the better of me.”

“Wait, who?” this time, it’s Harry who looks like he has just seen a ghost. The colours have drained from his face, and you look at him in confusion.

“Camille Sweetings,” you repeat yourself, wrinkling your nose in disgust because you hate the sound of her name rolling out of your lips. “Why? Do you know her?”

“Have they put my name on this case?” he ignores your questions.

“Yeah, yesterday,” you frown. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath before he begins, looking at you in the eyes. “She and I, well, uh, we were together for a while.”

“What?!” you can’t hide your dismay. “Fucking hell, Harry. As if this isn’t complicated enough!”

You lapse into silence for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to say.

“I think this is personal,” he ventures after the pause. “Look, if you want me off the case now, I completely understand. I won’t fight you. But I hope you don’t because you need help now more than ever.”

“Just,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Please get out of my office.”

***

By nine pm you’ve already come up with three win-win offers, yet Camille bloody Sweetings gives you a shrill laugh every time and shoots down every single one. Honestly, she is the female version of Harry. They make a great couple, those two shady bastards. They should’ve gotten married and make a couple of shady children.

“Sod off, Harry,” you say without even moving your head from looking at your computer, but you know he’s standing in front of your office, probably waiting for the right time to come in. Honestly, he might be a brilliant lawyer but he sucks big time at a simple game of hide and seek. Behind the wall? That’s a toddler-level hiding spot.

“No,” he insists, finally walking towards your desk. “I wanna help.”

“I told you I don’t need your help,” you give him a dismissive blink that makes him feel like an insect.

He says your name sternly, making you look in his direction and finally meets his eyes. “Believe me, you do. You think I’m shady? That bloody snake is ten times worse. You need help, and I don’t care what you say because I’ve just checked and my name is still on the attorneys listed.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Take a look at this. This is as best as she could get yet she bloody refused them all.”

Harry takes the files from your hand and quickly skims through the documents, muttering one or two profanities under his breath before he puts them back on your desk. “You know what, we’re going out tonight.”

Is he joking? 

“My arse is on the line here in case you haven’t realised,” you look at him in disbelief. “She pulls shit like this again, it’s gonna cost me my license.”

Your name rolls out of his lips again and he looks at you without blinking. “Come on, we need to blow off some steam. We don’t do that, we’re gonna kill each other.”

Three hours later, you feel like you’ll never be able to get out of the comfiest bar stool you’ve ever sat on. You’ve never been to Hawksmoor, but Harry swears this place is good even though it’s filled with boring bankers with their ties stuffed in suit pockets (not that Harry’s tie isn’t also stuffed in his suit pocket, but, you know, at least he’s not a banker), so you followed his lead and let him take you here.

The salvaged furniture, low lighting, comfy seating and charming staff make it an easy place to settle into. Sitting beside you is Harry with his neat whiskey, which you realise that he hasn’t finished when you’ve already had three refills of your gin and tonics. Your head is most likely going to fall off tomorrow morning, you just know it.

“Argh,” you groan. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Right now?” Harry deadpan. “Huge quantities of alcohol.”

“Sod off,” you playfully nudge his shoulder. “By the way, you’ve got more ex-girlfriends lawyers I should know about?”

Harry laughs, his eyes crinkled and shining. “I’ll send you a list.”

“Good,” you mumble against the edge of the glass, before taking another swig of your drink.

“How about you?” Harry is smirking at you, one of his eyebrows arched high. “Any lawyers you’re seeing that I should know?”

You laugh. “I don’t shit where I eat.”

“Shut up,” Harry looks at you suspiciously, still with a huge shit-eating grin. “You’re telling me you’ve never got involved with anyone at work?”

There’s silence.

“Shit,” Harry remarks. “Who was it?”

You exhale sharply before you answer. “Luke.”

Harry takes a gulp of his drink. “Well, that makes sense.”

“You don’t even know which Luke I was talking about,” you frown. “You could be wrong, you know. There are millions of Lukes.”

“Oh, of course it’s Luke Whiteacre,” he chuckles. “Didn’t go to law school for nothing, did I? But I’ve got to say, it finally makes sense.”

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” you say sternly, starting to realise that you’ve probably made a mistake of telling him. “It was a long time ago anyway.”

“So, how was he?” he’s grinning.

You can’t help but laugh. “Are we having a girl talk right now?”

“No,” he shrugs carelessly. “Just wanna know how he was.”

“You want me to go into details?” you tease, and even though he doesn’t say anything, you know he’s glad you’re not as tense as a few hours prior. “Cause I could. What do you wanna know? Stamina? Girth? Technique? I could go on…”

“Ew!”

You’re laughing so hard that you nearly fell off the bar stool if Harry didn’t quickly catch you, and you realise this is the first time your arm brushes against his, and for a second you’ve both stilled, but you ignored it because this doesn’t mean anything. You’re both drunk anyway. “Why did you break up with she-who-must-not-be-named?” you peer at him.

“We had a pregnancy scare,” he says, looking down for a second at his drink before taking another swig.

“Shit,” you gape at him. “Was she-”

“No, she wasn’t,” he shakes his head. “But it made me realise that she’s not the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, let alone actually having children with. So I called it off.”

“Sorry,” you can’t help yourself from chuckling. “But you made the right decision. Don’t have a baby with a snake.”

“Don’t apologise, you’re right,” Harry joins you in laughter. “How about you and Luke? What happened?”

“Work got in the way,” you drain the rest of your drink before motioning for the bartender to get you another one. “I was only an associate back then so I worked so hard to get junior partner. And his company wasn’t as big as it is now so he was working crazy hours too because he was trying to expand it. We saw each other about three times a month for half a year before we called it off.”

“Three times a month?” his eyes widen in surprise.

“Mhm,” you hum, mouthing a thank you to the bartender as he hands you another drink. “We were besotted but we just didn’t have time for a relationship.”

“Do you still-”

“What? No,” you laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. The ship has sailed now.”

“Good,” he smiles at you, before hastily corrects himself. “I mean, good for you.”

You take another big gulp of your drink before you push it away. “Alright, playtime’s over,” you smirk at him. “Let’s get back to work.”

“Are you joking?” he gives you a quizzical look. “It’s nearly midnight and you’re drunk.”

“I just need two cups of coffee and a cold shower and I’ll be fine,” you reply as you hop off the bar stool, he quickly reaches his hand out for you to hold. “Let’s go back to my place so I can have a quick shower.”

“Let’s go to mine,” he offers. “Technically Maida Vale is closer from here than Hammersmith.”

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” you deadpan, your voice a little slurred. “Should’ve bought me dinner first, don’t you think?”

“Hey, I’ve bought you lots of dinners,” he retorts. 

“No, Styles,” you shake your head, chuckling. “Clifford Chance bought me dinners. Been using the company’s card, haven’t you?”

Harry laughs. “You’ve got me.”

***

In under an hour, you’ve arrived at Harry’s flat, had a cup of coffee, and a cold shower just as you requested. You’ve ditched your work dress and slipped into the clothes that Harry had laid on his bed for you; a blue Mickey Mouse t-shirt and a pair of black shorts, and when you walk into his sitting room, you see him sitting on his plush sofa with some clipped documents in his hand.

Your eyes dart around his flat once again as you plop yourself down on his sofa. He’s got a great taste, you’ve got to admit, because his flat is lush. It’s on the fourth floor of a beautiful, red-brick, Edwardian mansion which Maida Vale is well-known for, and the inside is modern meets classic. The gray panelled walls blend nicely with the elegant patterned wood floor, and the cream curtains really tie the look of his flat altogether. It really is a gorgeous flat, not to mention the white marble en suite and his really neat, sparsely decorated bedroom.

“Alright,” you begin, taking a document into your hand and begin skimming through briefly only to put it back on the coffee table in less than thirty seconds. “I’ve been at it all day, we’ve been at it for a while and it’s getting us nowhere. I think we need to shake down some employees.”

“And that’s all well and good,” he turns to look at you. “But if we don’t know what to ask, we’re not going to get any answers.”

“Yes we will,” you insist. “They don’t know what we don’t know, do they?”

“They don’t know what we don’t know…”

“That’s literally what I just said,” you frown.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Look, I’m saying according to this report, their accounts are growing by 200% a month.”

“Wait a second,” you remark. “If that’s true then why are they clinging to this deal like it’s their newborn and I’m Herod?”

“Because maybe they’re not really growing by 200% a month,” Harry adds. “Look, March, 5 million new users, but 60% of these card holders don’t even seem to know they have the cards.”

“Holy shit,” your eyes widen in surprise. “The people are real, but the accounts are fake. Harry, this isn’t just shady, this is the type of shit that lands someone in prison. And if Camille knows all this…”

Harry grins. “Wait til the judge sees this.”

“The judge?” you look at him suspiciously. “Why don’t we just leverage them into letting us out?”

“Because, darling, we have the upper hand now,” he says, still grinning. “We can’t give her a chance to get it back.”

“Harry, if Camille has anything to do with this it would ruin her,” you warn him. “I can’t let you do this to someone you once cared about.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about her,” Harry says harshly. “Not anymore. If she doesn’t want to be ruined she shouldn’t have gotten involved in this. And she damn sure shouldn’t have fucked with someone I care about.”

“What?”

“You better get some sleep,” he jerks his head towards his bedroom. “We’re going to the court first thing in the morning.”

***

Harry’s bed has got to be one of the comfiest places on earth.

He gave you his bed for the night and opted for the couch, which you bet just as cosy so you didn’t really feel bad. When you wake up, he’s already clad in his white button-up shirt and black trousers, swinging the fridge open to get a freshly squeezed cranberry juice.

“Morning,” he smiles when he notices you as he pours some coffee and juice for both of you. “Have some toast.”

“You know how to treat your guest with a good breakfast, don’t you?” you tease him as you look around the jars on the breakfast nook. There are several kinds of luxury marmalade, strawberry jam with champagne, wild blossom honey and even Belgian chocolate spread. Honestly, who is this man?

“No hangover?”

“Surprisingly, no,” you chuckle. “I mean my head is pounding of course but it’s not too bad, nothing I can’t handle.”

“You want some nurofen?”

“No thanks,” you shake your head and take the cup of coffee from Harry’s hand. “Harry, we need to talk.”

He sighs. “You’re gonna try to change my mind, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you nod as you look through the jars of fancy jams, trying to choose one, before going with just salted butter instead. “I can’t let you do that. She might be a snake but I’m not. We’re not.” 

Harry just look at you in silence, and you continue.

“If we do this, then what’s the difference between us and her?” you go on, trying to sound convincing. “We’re better than that. We’re good people, you know.”

“But we’re going to make her pay,” he finally concedes and you smile. “Really make her pay.”

“That I agree,” you nod. “Okay, I’ll just go home quickly to get changed then we’ll meet at the office? Need to pay her a visit don’t we?”

“We can just go together,” Harry suggests. “We’ll stop by your flat then we can go straight to that snake’s office.”

***

“Are you crazy?” Camille flashes an incandescent look at both you and Harry. “I sign that, my client will be on the brink of bankruptcy!”

“So you rather go to prison?” Harry frowns and you try to stifle your giggle. “I mean, it’s your choice, but-”

“Fine!” she says in exasperation. “I’ll sign it. But give me your word this wouldn’t go out of these walls.”

You hand her the file and pen, and as she’s signing it, you can’t resist yourself. “You go near me or my clients again I swear to god you are dead fucking meat.”

Harry can’t help but chuckling, and you both don’t waste another minute in Camille’s office before you head out with smug smiles plastered across both of your faces. 

“You’re a badass lawyer,” he compliments you as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Stating the obvious there,” you smirk as you slide into his car and buckle up your seat belt. “But thank you, you’re not a shit lawyer yourself.”

“Since we’re passing compliments, shall we do it over a drink?”

“Drinks, Styles,” you shoot him a savage smile. “And you’re buying. Not Clifford Chance.”

Harry laughs, closing the car’s door. “As you wish.”

-

gif

[recentanimenews]

Yen Press Announces New Manga and Light Novels for November 2021

North American publisher Yen Press has big plans for later this year, with nine new releases revealed for November (and one for October). Among the latest licenses are six manga—including Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc—and four light novels, so dig into the details below.

  MANGA

  The Hero Laughs While Walking the Path of Vengeance a Second Time Story by Kizuka Nero Art by Yamo Yomoya (This one is listed for October)

    Kaito has been summoned into another world as a hero, and though all goes well for a time, one day, his entire party betrays and mercilessly kills him. So when he suddenly gets a chance to redo his life, starting from the point he was first summoned to this world, he swears to exact vengeance on everyone who stabbed him in the back...

  The Hero Laughs While Walking the Path of Vengeance a Second Time is a dark isekai tale based on a Yen On light novel scheduled for an October 2021 release. Fans of dark fantasy manga are sure to enjoy this upcoming release that does an amazing job adapting the highly-anticipated light novel.

  Let This Grieving Soul Retire  Story by Tsukikage Art by Rai Hebino Character Designs by Chiko  

  This man—is he an extraordinary hero or an ordinary person?

  "What I'm seeking is to be the world's one and only strongest hero."

  Cry had made an oath together with his childhood friends to become the strongest hero, but he realized right after that he has no talent.

  Nevertheless, for some reason, the expectations of those around him keep rising rapidly every day. And (at least according to Cry), things will always head in an outrageous direction!?

  Let This Grieving Soul Retire is a manga adaptation of the fantasy light novel series by Tsukikage, the creator of Defeating the Demon Lord’s a Cinch (If You’ve Got a Ringer) and The King of the Dead at the Dark Palace by Yen On. This comedic adventure about a reluctant hero appeals to fans of the recently released Hazure Skill: The Guild Member with a Worthless Skill Is Actually a Legendary Assassin.

  Namaiki Zakari

Story and art by Miyuki Mitsubachi

    Basketball club manager Yuki has a secret—she’s in love with the team captain! But when Naruse, her cheeky kouhai, discovers her big secret, she’s in a tight spot! Just how long is he going to keep teasing her about it!? Stupid pretty playboy…

  Namaiki Zakari is a gorgeous romantic comedy shojo filled with charming boys and love triangles. With a story filled with adorable romance and school-life elements, much of which revolves around the events of the characters’ basketball team, Namaiki Zakari will surely be shojo fans’ next favorite series!

  I’ve Been an Omega Since Today

Story & Art by Maiki Sachi

    It all starts with your typical childhood friend love story—average Kanade pining after his dandy best friend, Munechika. There’s just one big problem with their high school romance—Kanade’s a Beta and Munechika’s an Alpha! And everyone knows that Alpha/Beta pairing just aren’t compatible…on a physical level. But when Kanade goes into heat as an Omega for the first time, will Munechika be there to give him a helping hand?

  Fans of boys love rejoice! Following hot new releases, such as Sasaki and Miyano and I Cannot Reach You, Yen Press is releasing I’ve Been an Omega Since Today. This standalone title is filled with beautiful artwork and omegaverse elements—truly irresistible to the growing boys love fanbase!

  The Splendid Work of a Monster Maid

Story and Art by Yugata Tanabe

    Sumire, a “nekomata” phantom, has lost her beloved master. After wandering alone, she stumbles into…a foreign demon world!? Now Sumire serves under the president of a company, alongside an undead named Rose and an android named Ivy. In order to get back that “certain someone,” Sumire’s splendid work begins!

  The Splendid Work of a Monster Maid is a fantasy slice-of-life manga surrounding the events of maids in the demon world. With art and story that are both beautiful and very unique, this series is reminiscent of the likes of Black Butler and Kaori Mori’s Emma.

  Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc

Story by Magica Quartet

Art by Hanokage

    All the witches in the universe, past and future, may have disappeared, but in their place, emotion-eating “wraiths” prey on humanity. The magical girls fight to protect Mitakihara City once more…

  Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Wraith Arc is a spin-off of the iconic manga and anime property, one which takes place between the events of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Puella Magi Madoka Magica the Movie: Rebellion, with much of the story told through the perspective of fan-favorite Homura Akemi. This series debut follows the recent omnibus release of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Puella Magi Madoka Magica: The Different Story.

  LIGHT NOVELS

  Magical☆Explorer

Story by Iris

Illustrations by Noboru Kannataki

    Reincarnated as a character in the legendary eroge title “Magical☆Explorer,” our hero ends up as an unlucky side-character instead of the game’s lady-killer protagonist. Not to worry, though! Armed with his deep knowledge of the game (not to mention a few cheat codes), he’ll do whatever it takes to win the hearts of the game’s heroines and emerge as the most accomplished student at the Sorcerer's Academy. 

  Magical☆Explorer is an isekai light novel series that involves a protagonist using his expertise of visual novels to dominate the world when reincarnated within the game. Fantasy isekai and romantic comedies are among the most popular genres in the world of light novels, making Magical☆Explorer a series that will appeal to a wide range of readers.

  Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie

Story by Hiroro Akizakura

Illustrations by Dangmill

    Reincarnated as a villainess in an Otome game, Cecilia realizes that as the heroine’s rival, she’ll die no matter what route she takes. Convinced that she can avoid her death flag by becoming a man, she crossdresses and takes on a new identity. In the process, however, she ends up replacing her brother-in-law as the knight charged with protecting the heroine! Now the prince who should be condemning her to death wants to hang around her all the time...?! Cecilia will do whatever it takes to achieve a peaceful and carefree life, but if her guise ever slips, it’s Game Over! 

  Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie takes the isekai concept of being reincarnated in the world of an otome game and turns it on its head! In order to save her life, our protagonist masquerades as a man—a choice which leads to a whole lot of chaos in this fun-filled light novel series!

  The Girl I Saved on the Train Turned Out to Be My Childhood Friend

Story by Kennoji

Illustration by Fly

    While on his way to school one morning, high school second-year Takamori Ryo saves his childhood friend Fushimi Hina from a sexual harasser on a crowded train. Although the two are practically opposites in appearance and popularity, not to mention the fact they haven't spoken since middle school, Hina finds herself smitten with the oblivious Ryo. A frustratingly sweet, zero-stress romantic comedy!

  The Girl I Saved on the Train Turned Out to Be My Childhood Friend is a sweet slice-of-life light novel that tells the story of love interests who reconnect in high school after years of separation from their middle school days. This rising star in the light novel world is written by Kennoji, the author of Hazure Skill: The Guild Member with a Worthless Skill Is Actually a Legendary Assassin, and illustrated by Fly, the artist of Bottom-tier Character Tomozaki.

  Rust-Eater Bisco

Story by Shinji Cobkubo

Illustrations by K Akagashi and mocha

    In the far future, a disaster known as the “Rusty Wind” has transformed the majority of Japan into a barren desert and left civilization in tatters. After his teacher falls prey to the rust, the roguish Bisco Akahoshi embarks on journey through the sandy wastes to obtain a mushroom known only as the Rust Eater, rumored to cure the ailment. Together with the dashing young doctor Milo, the pair will have to contend with the unforgiving environment and their fellow wanderers in order to make it back alive.

  Rust-Eater Bisco is a compelling, post-apocalyptic light novel series with excellent world building complemented by amazing illustrations. An anime adaptation of this award-winning series was recently announced for future release.

  Source: Press release

    -------

Joseph Luster is the Games and Web editor at Otaku USA Magazine. You can read his comics at subhumanzoids. Follow him on Twitter @Moldilox.

By: Joseph Luster

[junietc]

car rides with you - peter parker

peter parker x reader

pairing: peter parker/spiderman x reader

word count: 6567

warning: swearing, some asshole who doesn’t know how to respect women, and fluffffff

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for way too long so i decided to finish it before i forgot it ever existed. its really long but i hope you’ll enjoy a one shot with our favourite little peter benjamin parker :)

send in requests and share your love ~

If you were being honest, it wasn’t like you needed Peter to drive you to and from school each day. You had options. You could take the bus or ask your dad to pick you up or even walk. But having a personal chauffeur didn’t hurt, and if he was so nice as to offer it, then how could you say no? 

Plus, it was on his way. Sort of. It was only a detour of about a block; maybe less a detour and more an alternate route? Either way, his apartment complex was hardly two minutes away. Five minutes to walk, three with your bike, six if you hobble over with a tweaked ankle. 

This was a route you’ve been intimately familiar with since you became best friends in the seventh grade. Back when your hair was barely past your ears after a platinum blonde mishap (you still immediately dyed it green after lobbing off half of it) and Peter was wearing the same hideous Star Wars sweater every day. Somehow, both of you believed these fashion choices would help improve your social status.

Both of you were delusional. 

Luckily, by ages sixteen (you) and seventeen (Peter, by default), you’d come to your senses. Sure, Peter’s penchant for sweaters persisted – why would any one person need five of what was basically the same sweater? – but you grew your hair back out and kept its inoffensive natural colour. And neither of you wore shirts with puns on them. Not anymore.

Earlier this year, back when you were still sophomores, Peter passed his driver’s test. Now with a full license and his aunt’s old sedan, he’s taken the habit of waking up the whole neighbourhood with his obnoxious honking.

Okay, maybe not the entire neighbourhood. Really, just you. 

Still, today was no different.

“Hey, Peter,” you yelled out as you swung the door open, “How about shutting the fuck up?”

You shoved your feet into your shoes and scrambled out, backpack dangling off the crook of your elbow and burnt toast between your teeth as you try to shut the door. Peter leaned across to push open the passenger door so that you could throw your things into the backseat. Papers flew out of the half-zipped bag and spilled onto the floor. 

“For the expletives, I’m afraid I’ll have to only give you a three-star passenger rating,” Peter quipped.

You frowned deeply, pulling the seatbelt. The mechanism got stuck, and you had to pull it out a few more times again. Peter just grinned at you, clearly taking joy in your glares.

“So, ready for the chem test?” he asked, shifting the gears. 

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well that you had sent him a distressed voice message at four in the morning of you crying, saying how you were going to fail, but decided to respond as nicely as possible. “Fuck off.”

He chuckled. He pulled up to the intersection, slowing down but not stopping at the sign. 

You mock gasped. “Wow, illegal. Imagine if there were cops. I’m going to have to give you two stars. I can’t have my Uber driver potentially getting arrested.”

He sighed, shoving you with his free hand. You almost scolded him for not keeping both hands on the wheel (one star!), but he began talking before you could. “You should know, that if I ever was sent to jail, it would never be for something as lame as not stopping at a stop sign”

You snorted before rolling your eyes. “Oh? What would it be for then? Pirating video games?”

“Exactly.” He winked exaggeratedly; you shoved his face to focus back on the road. You looked down at the charred toast, which had been sprinkling crumbs all over your lap. It was far from appetizing, but your stomach growled, and you decided to scarf it down – it was that or no breakfast at all.

Peter laughed at the wince you tried to stomach what was basically a brick of carbon. (Honestly, he laughed at your expense a lot. Some friend.) “I really don’t know why you haven’t just started waking up earlier. I mean, I pick you up at the same time every day and-”

“Okay dad. I’ll start waking up earlier,” you lied.

“I hope you know that I know, you’re lying.”

You flipped him off. 

-----

Lunch seemed to be the only time that you and MJ ever got to hang out at school, so you took pride in making the most of your conversations. 

The two of you shared a laugh and through your peripheral vision, you saw Ned and Peter waving at you before coming to sit down. “So, what are we talking about?” Ned asked as you turned to face them with a smile. 

“Where MJ is going to hide my body after she kills me,” you notice her crack a smile as Ned and Peter both give you strange looks. “I was thinking maybe throw me in a river, but she thinks that burying me twenty feet underground would make it harder for the cops to find.”

The two boys looked at you apprehensively as MJ chuckled as you grinned cheerfully. “Should I be concerned?” Peter asked before you all laughed. 

“Anyways. I was thinking of finally taking my driver’s test. I decided might as well get it over with no?” MJ and Ned both nodded at your suggestion, MJ even mumbling something among the lines of “finally”. Peter on the hand looked, well, skeptical. 

“You want to take it now? Out of the blue? Why? I thought you wanted to wait until you had a job,” he questioned.

After taking another sip of the juice box you managed to steal from Ned, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I might as well get it over with. I mean, it’s been well over six months since my written test and I’ve been practicing enough with you and my dad, so I should be fine.”

Peter nodded, though a slight frown still prominent on his face. The conversation steered over to a completely different topic when Ned brought up the chemistry test causing you to pretend to bawl and everyone to laugh.

After lunch had ended, you said your goodbyes to Ned and MJ as you and Peter stopped at your locker. You were in the midst of grabbing your book when he sighed heavily, causing you to stare at him. “You know if you really wanted me to stop driving you, you could have just said so,” his voice was offended as you scoffed.

“What? Where would you get that idea from idiot?”

Huffing slightly, he shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe when you said you wanted to finally get your license.” 

“Are you serious? I’ve been meaning to get my license for the past few months you dummy. Plus, I can’t count on you to drive me everywhere. You’re busy with your own life, you know with that Stark internship and everything. Not to mention, you’re still going to have to drive me to school, since I don’t even have a car,” you roll your eyes at the boy. 

A light smile started to tug on his lips. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to get rid of me,” he joked as you snorted in response.

“Oh trust me, I’ve been trying since the day I met you,” Peter pouts as you flicked him in the forehead. “Stop with that face. You know I suck up to how cute each time,” his cheeks tinged a pinkish hue as you ruffled his hair and laughed. 

“O-Oh. Yeah, haha. Sorry,” he murmured as you started to walk in the opposite direction. He caught up with you before heading over to English – which truly was your worst subject – and sitting next to each other. 

Peter fiddled with his pencil for the most of class while you aggressively took notes, wishing that Mr. Petersons would slow down and breathe.

“Alright class. That’s it for today but if everyone could just pick their partners for the project and try and get started over the weekend, that would be great,” as he dismissed everyone, you and Peter turned to each other, giving a silent acknowledgement that you were each other’s partner. 

Heading out of the classroom, you and Peter both went your separate ways. “See you after school!” you waved before heading to History.

History was blur of numbers, years and dead people that you were going to have to remember for an upcoming test, so you were thankful that the clock had finally read 3:00. Your teacher finally dismissed you, causin you to rush to the parking lot, seeing Peter already sitting in the front seat. “Hey there Parker,” you knocked on the window as he smiled and unlocked the door. 

“Hey, how was history?” rolling your eyes, you told him about the dumb test you were going to have to study for. He laughed as he buckled his seatbelt, “well at least you have the weekend to study for it. Speaking of which. When do you want to meet to work on the English project?”

Sighing slightly at the reminder that you had other things you also had to work on, you bit your lip. “Are you cool with Saturday? I’ll just walk over, maybe at like three or four,” Peter nodded as he started the car. 

“Sounds good to me.”

------

Swinging around Queens was always a nice break for Peter, seeing all of the buildings and feeling almost weightless was a nice distraction from all of his studies and duties but he always seemed to forget the time when he was doing so. 

Cue Peter – well Spiderman I guess – hurriedly swinging back to his apartment when he received a text from you saying you were at his door. “Shit, shit, shit!” he swore, finally reaching his window and climbing in. 

As he changed to some regular clothing, May’s voice echoed throughout the little apartment, talking to you as footsteps approached. “He’s been in his room for quite a while. I’m not sure what he’s been up to,” Peter was frantically trying to search for a shirt in his mess of a room when the footsteps got closer. “I have some muffins I baked earlier on the counter, feel free to have one if you get hungry. I’ll be off for a bit so just call if you –” May’s voice seems to be getting closer when she suddenly opened the door, revealing you staring at him, neck immediately snapping to turn the other direction. Peter tried covering himself with a pillow as May immediately said she had to go and left you both alone, very uncomfortable. 

You stood there, unsure of what to do and more so, where to look. Though obviously you looked away and allowed Peter to have his privacy finding a shirt, you couldn’t help but think of his shirtless figure. Since when did he start working out? ‘When did he get those abs? Is this the same Peter that literally dropped me during a drama performance last year?’ you thought to yourself, cheeks tinging pink as Peter finally put on a shirt.

“Hey, um – sorry about that. I was just –”

“Nope! It’s alright. We can just forget this ever happened,” you rushed to say, shaking your head.

Peter blushed before nodding. “Right. Let’s just erase the last two minutes from our brain.” 

You swung your legs as you sat on his bed. “You weren’t doing anything weird right? Because I know that guys - “

“That’s not what I was doing! I was just changing,” he shook his head as you laughed. “Asides from that. Do you want to start working on the project?” You nodded as the two of you got to work. 

– a few hours later –

  You were both hard at work, basically finished the first two parts of the project, leaving only the last section left when you flopped onto Peter’s bed dramatically. “I’m so exhausted,” you whined, as Peter chuckled. 

“We only have one more part to do and we’re practically done the project, so do you want to finish it now?” Peter asked, still typing in his laptop. 

You pursed your lips, pondering on the idea of that but shook your head ultimately. “Nah. I’m tired. Plus, we’ve been working our asses off the past three hours. I just need to breathe.” 

Peter laughed at your dramatics before he asking question. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Obviously agreeing to a break in any form, you nodded eagerly and headed over to the living room. You managed to steal a blanket from his bed and bundled yourself up as Peter turned on the television. “So, what are we watching?” he asked, flipped through the collection of old DVD’s. 

“Can we watch Star Wars?” he pleaded as you rolled your eyes, this was probably the third time this month he wanted to watch Star Wars, but you agreed to it anyways. 

“Fine, just don’t be annoying about it again.” 

------

The weekend seemed to breeze by with you desperately trying to study for the history test, and with only a few mental breakdowns and a couple thousand replays of your favourite song, you were ready.

Obviously, you severely underestimated how cruel Ms. Gail could have possibly been and left the classroom wanting to punch yourself, or her, in the face.

Luckily you didn’t have to endure another class seeing as the day was over and you could get home to your bed to cry in private. But before that of course, you were forced to see Peter’s face.

A light smile was etched on his face as you settled in the car. “So how was the –”

“Don’t bring it up. I am already debating whether or not I should throw myself off a building,” you groaned, leaning your head back on the seat. Peter laughed before trying to reassure you that it really couldn’t have been that bad, but you responded with, “no it really was. I honestly think I only got one or two answers right.”

Trying to raise your spirits, an idea popped in his head. “Do you want to get sandwiches at Mr. Delmar’s? Maybe that’ll lighten up your mood,” he suggested as a bright grin formed on your face. As devastated as you were, you were sure that a full stomach would make everything better. “Alright let’s go.”

Obviously, parking was a nightmare in central Queens, so, you decided it would be easier to walk there instead. The two of you headed to the small corner shop, making light conversation. After opening the door to the store, the two greeted Mr. Delmar, Peter snatching a packet of gummies worms and you going directly to pet Murph, Mr. Delmar’s cat. 

“Hey Murph! How’s my cutie doing?” he purred in response before you walked over to the cash with Peter. “Hey Mr. Delmar! Business running smoothly?”

He smiled at you before answering. “Of course. I’ve got my two most frequent costumers keeping me in business,” you and Peter laughed before ordering your sandwiches, paying and heading off. 

You walked back to the school and got back in Peter’s car, eating your sandwiches in the school parking lot. The two of you conversed, making up dumb scenarios and silly topics for a while. Peter nearly choked of laughter as you tried to defend Tik-Tok.

“Not all of Tik-Tok is thirst traps okay! Maybe yeah there’s a weird subsection of it, but it really depends on the algorithm! Most of the users are sane – ish,” you argued as Peter shook his head. 

“I really don’t get it. And somehow you stay up until morning watching them! Didn’t you do that when Vine was still around?” he took a pause, a dramatic gasp escaping from his lips. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying are you?”

You placed on a hand on your chest in slight offence. “No! What? Listen, I’m not saying that Tik-Tok is better than Vine, don’t get me wrong but –”

“But what? Tell me?” he raised a brow at you, suspicious as to which team your truly were on. 

You shook your head laughing before punching him on the side of his arm. “You’re such a piss off Parker. Hey, should we get going? It’s getting late,” Peter looked at the time on his phone before nodding, taking a final bite of his sandwich before starting the car. 

“Oh, shoot you’re right,” you smugly flipped your hair, as he rolled his eyes. 

“Aren’t I always?”

----

“You said yes?” Peter demanded, trying to keep up with you as you walked to your locker. 

Sighing as you rummage through your locker you answer, “Yeah I said yes. Noah is a good guy and quite frankly, I don’t see why it would even matter to you?” 

“You said that you would think about it!”

Turning to face him as you shut your locker closed, you rolled your eyes. “That was nearly a week ago and I’ve thought about it since then. Besides, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. It’s just one date.”

“You see that’s where it starts!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “It’s just a first date but then it’s a second and a third and soon he’s your boyfriend and he’s the one driving you to school and everywhere and then, where am I?”

You shook your head laughing slightly at the brunette. “Would you calm down Peter? You’re getting way too ahead of yourself for the first part. And yeah, maybe it’ll be more than one date but trust me you can keep driving me to school. Also we’ve been best friends since middle school, I wouldn’t just ditch you when I got boyfriend,” he seemed to calm down, nodding slowly at the words you were saying but he knew it was more than just being allowed to drive you to school. “I’ll see you around okay?” you smiled before heading off to meet up with Noah, who was standing with a group of his friends. 

Peter’s smile faded away shortly as he watched Noah wrap his arm around your shoulder. He was too busy thinking of different scenarios to notice Ned had come up beside him or the fact that you had slapped Noah’s arm away. “Hey Peter. What are you looking – oh. Sorry man,” Ned tried to console Peter, but the words seemed to pass his mind. Sighing, Ned tried to pat his shoulder. “I mean, it is kind of your fault.” 

“Excuse me?” the words seemed to catch his attention as he turned around to face his best friend. 

Ned shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hey not trying to be rude but maybe if you hadn’t chickened out into asking her out, you could’ve been the one dating her,” Peter stared at his friend, slightly hurt but also aware that everything he was saying was right. 

“Yeah, maybe if I had.” 

He couldn’t help but look at you wistfully, his heart almost aching at the idea of you going out with anyone else but him but at this point, what could he really do?

Waving bye to Ned, Peter headed off into his car and drove home since you were already going with Noah on your date. Once he got into his apartment, he saw May and smiled.  “Hey Pete, how was your day?” tucking his hands in his sweater pocket he sighed slightly. 

“It was okay, I guess. Erm – I’m gonna work on my assignment in the library. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, heading off to his room to grab a few things. 

May shouted from in the kitchen, “alright! I’ll be heading off to grab a few things. Just be back before dinner!” he grabbed his suit and tried to get some fresh air to distract himself.

----

A month had passed, and you and Noah were happily dating, much to the dismay of Peter, who constantly tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart every time you two would display physical affection, but it was whatever. 

You got in his car and buckled your seat belt without a word to Peter. You were tired of schoolwork as you always were, so you weren’t as talkative as you usually were. Slumping into the chair and sighing heavily Peter stared at you.

“Everything okay?”

You looked at him surprised, nodding. “Of course! I’m just really exhausted. Got a lot of work, that’s all.” You sighed, looking at the text on your phone. “Hey, we should get going. May’s probably wondering where you are, and I have a date with Noah so I can’t be late.” 

The moment that Noah’s name was mentioned, Peter mentally rolled his eyes but nodded and started to drive again. 

He dropped you off at your place before texting his aunt May that he would be heading over to the library to work. He drove over and got to the library, trying to find a place to sit.

After finding a seat, he pulled out his laptop and worked for a while, maybe a few hours or so before heading back home. May still wasn’t back and Peter really needed some air, so he put on the suit before leaving through his window and swinging around. It was a nice distraction as he watched the sun slowly start to set, dealing with a few petty crimes around the neighbourhood. He was about to call it a day when he heard a shout coming from someone. 

“Hey! Get off me!” the voice sounded awfully familiar and as soon as he realized who it was, Peter’s stomach dropped. “I said get off!” you were shouting from about a block away, trying to keep a man away from you. 

“Oh, come on, you look all nice and dolled up. Why won’t you just –” the man started before you started to attack him with your bag. Sure, you weren’t scared of him, but you were really hoping he would catch a clue and leave you alone for the rest of the night. You were tired and your feet hurt, and the sun was setting so you really didn’t want to be walking alone back to your place in the dark. You’d forgotten your phone like a dumbass in your room, so there really weren’t that many options. “You bitch! I can understand why you’re walking all alone! I wouldn’t want to be near such a��whore either!” the words sank into your skin as you made a disgusted face at the man. 

“Listen if you could please just leave me alone it would be –” as you placed your hands up trying to be defensive, the man grabbed onto your wrists and started to pull on you. “Stop! What are you –?”

“She said stop.”

Your head whipped around, and you saw Spiderman hanging from a web. You watched the man smirk and laugh for a minute, his hands still holding onto your wrists. “And what are you gonna do? From what I’ve heard about you Spiderman is that you’re just a kid. Don’t think that I’d fear a –”

Before he could finish his sentence, Spiderman had knocked him cold with a single blow to the face. He turned to you and tried to make sure you were alright. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting him to get knocked out. Are you alright miss?” you nodded, trying to massage your wrists, damn that guy had a firm grip. You glared at his lying figure, still holding onto your wrists. Spiderman’s eyes, or well, you couldn’t really see his eyes through his mask but whatever, moved to your wrists. “Are you sure? Here, let me see.” 

He took your wrists gently, examining the potential bruises and making sure you were okay. You smiled before taking back your wrists. “I’m alright, honestly. Thank you for your help, even though I didn’t really need it,” you stated, causing him to scoff.

“Um what? From what I saw, he was holding you and you couldn’t move,” he crossed his arms making you snort.

“That’s because I was trying to reason with him before kicking him in the balls,” you mentioned, causing Spiderman to choke in response. “Kind of stupid that guy. I mean my legs weren’t restrained. But whatever. Thank you though. I do actually appreciate it,” you smiled and was about to walk off before he kept talking. 

“Why are you walking alone? I mean it’s getting late, no? Why not call someone to drive you home?” he asked making you stop and turn around. 

You placed your hand on your hip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it would be nice to get some fresh air so I just decided to walk. But I’m starting to think I should just take the bus for the rest of the way back.”

“I could swing you back?” Spiderman’s offer was a surprising one, considering how this was your first time encountering the hero. Though it was a bit skeptical, you agreed to it, wanting to go home. “Just hold on tight alright?” he asked as you nodded, latching yourself to him, arms wrapped around his neck. You heard his breath hitch slightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist but ignored it as he shot a web up and started to swing. 

You screamed loudly, the adrenaline of being so high up and swing fast soon kicking in. “Do you even know where we’re going?” you shouted, the wind smacking you in the face. You rolled your eyes before giving your address to him and soon landing safely at your windowsill. Thankfully, your widow was still unlocked so you lifted it up and slid in. Before he left you tapped his shoulder. “Thanks Spiderman.” 

“Not a problem. Just being your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.” 

He left soon, leaving you in your room, bored. You walked over to your desk and saw your phone there, a bunch of texts from MJ asking you how your date went so you went and responded. After binging a bit on Netflix, you decided to get ready for bed, knowing Peter was going to come honking at the door the next morning. 

----

“Wow, you’re early for once,” Peter joked as you sat in his car. You rolled your eyes at him, before turning on the radio. “How was your, umm, date yesterday?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable. 

You raised an eyebrow, confused as to why he had suddenly taken interest into your date with Noah. “It was the same as usual I guess,” you shrug. “Why?” 

“You walked home last night?” he huffed, causing you to readjust your position. You awkwardly nodded, because you knew he was going to go into his “you shouldn’t be walking home alone late at night” speech. 

“Yeah,” you admitted, as he stopped at the red light. “How did you know –”

He kept his eyes on the road before speaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you pursed your lips, shrugging once more. “I went to bed pretty early for once. I just forgot about it, I guess. Sorry,” you tried to apologize yet Peter’s face stayed stern. 

“Why didn’t Noah drop you off?”

You were shocked at his tone but answered him, trying to keep your own temper. “He said he had to go somewhere once we were done the movie. He apologized for your information. He’s got more in his life then just me.”

“No one goes on a date with someone and just leaves because they were ‘busy’,” he argued. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. 

“Would you cut it out? It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” you snapped, crossing your arms and turning to look outside of the window. 

Peter turned to you and glared. “Not that big of a deal? I heard some guy tried to attack you,” he retorted, causing you to turn back and face him, confused as to how he knew. 

“Who told you?” 

“That doesn’t matter!” his tone was harsher, making you wince at the volume. He took a breath and regained his composure. “I just can’t believe Noah let you go home alone. Why didn’t you take the bus?” 

You were getting tired of his protective behavior, sighing. “Oh my god Peter. I’m not a helpless child, I can walk home on my own! For your information I didn’t have my bus pass. Besides it was hardly dark!” your attempts to reason with him fell on deaf ears. 

“There were so many other things you could have done though!”

“Like what?” 

“You could have called me!” 

“You were busy! You have a life that’s not taking care of me twenty-four seven! I don’t want to have to rely on you for every fucking moment of my life!” you retaliated, breathing heavily. “Besides, I didn’t even have my phone.”

“You could have –”

“Could have what Parker?” you were sick of him treating you as if you were incapable of doing anything. “I get that you’re just trying to look after me, but I can handle things on my own!” 

“Can you? Because it seems like the one time you are on your own you get yourself in situations like yesterdays!” 

“You think that it was my fault? You think that some guy trying to assault me is my fault? Are you fucking serious right now? You know what, I’ll just get Noah to drive me home tonight seeing as you clearly don’t trust me walk home on my own, because I don’t want you to drive me anymore. Don’t wait for me after school,” and with those words, the car had come to a stop and you slammed his car door, leaving Peter to slap himself across the forehead at his stupid mistake. Groaning to himself, he placed his head on the steering wheel. 

“What the fuck did I just do?”

------

It had been two weeks since you and Peter’s argument and neither of you had spoken to each other since. There had been awkward moments where you two would cross paths, like if you were hanging out with MJ and Ned, but you made it seems as if it were your sworn duty to ignore the boy. You sat with Noah and his friends at lunch and either walked home or had your dad pick you up. 

That was all until one fateful night.

It was maybe eleven, possibly even midnight, and Peter had just gotten back from patrol. It was boring that night. Nothing happened, maybe a guy flashing people down the street but asides from that, the city was calm.

He had climbed back into his room and sat down on his bed, laying up at the ceiling. He hadn’t done much the past few weeks since he didn’t have you to bother him with, so his life was boring. He laid there for a few more minutes before his phone buzzed.

He was quick to get up and grab his phone, wow addicted much, and his eyes squinted when reading the name, making sure they weren’t deceiving him.

you: hey

you: do you think you could come over?

Peter: ofc! On my way right now

you: thanks :)

The ride to your house was short and before he knew it, you were sitting beside him, awkwardly staring forewords. “Can we drive? Anywhere is fine,” you mumbled under your breath, latching on your seatbelt.

Peter nodded and started to drive off. He glanced to look at you a couple times, watching as you anxiously played with the sleeves of your sweater. Maybe ten minutes had passed, and you motioned for Peter to park the car on the side of a quiet street.

“Me and Noah broke up.”

Peter looked at her surprised. “Oh. Do you want to talk about – “

“Do you still have those movies you downloaded on your phone?” you asked quickly, avoiding his previous question. He nodded as you smiled. “Can we watch one of them in the back? I really just don’t want to think about anything.”

Peter smiled at the girl. “Anything for you.”

So, the two of you sat in the backseats of Peter’s old sedan, wrapped up in an old blanket and watching trashy romcoms together.

And it was perfect.

-----

The two of you had finally made amends after the incident and nearly a month had passed until the two of you were working on a project in Peter’s apartment.

While Peter was vigour sly typing up the document, you laid on his bed, playing with various Knick knacks he had scattered around his room.

“Peter?” He hummed his response before you continued. “What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about me?” 

“Sorry?” He paused his writing, confused at why you had suddenly decided to go into such a deep question.

You sat up for a second, repeating the same question. “What do you think of when you think of me?” you collapsed back down onto your back and laid your head on your arms. “Go on. Answer it?” 

He took a second to think about it before answering: “Annoying.”

“You think I’m annoying?” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes at his childish answer. 

“Undoubtedly. Every day I wonder how far I can shoot you into space,” he joked as you threw one of his pillows at his head. He caught it with ease, turning on his chair to face you. “Why are you asking? Did someone say something?” he asked defensively. 

You shook your head, playing with some strands of hair, braiding them carelessly. “No. I was just kind of sitting in my room earlier today and stumbled over a Tik Tok where a girl asked people what they thought of when they thought of her, so I just wondered about it. I asked MJ and she said that I reminded her of comfort and that one time we plotted to kill Ms. Gail,” Peter looked at you with a cocked brow as you shrugged. “I mean, at least her answer wasn’t as rude as yours.”

“Oh, come on. It was just a joke,” he tried to reason with you as you laughed. He left his desk and sat at the bottom of his bed beside you, taking a second to think about it. “I guess the first thing I think about, when I think about you, is cars.”

“Like the Pixar movie?”

Smacking you with the pillow he was holding, he rolled his eyes, “and you wonder why I said annoying?” 

“You love me,” you stated, as Peter sighed.

“No, but like cars. More so car rides,” he stopped himself, thinking of all the memories you have made in the car rides you had been on. “Like, I guess car rides with you are what I think of. Like how I pick you up and drop you every day. And all the stupid conversations we have, or watching you trying to put yourself together in the mornings when I pick you up. I think about the arguments we have gotten into, the tears that we shed, the terrible jokes you made, the movies we watched in the back of the car on your phone late at night,” a smile tugged at his lips as he thought: ‘It’s where I fell in love with you.’ He leaned his head back on the mattress of the bed. “I guess it’s just, our special thing.” 

You smiled to yourself at his answer, as you laid on your back staring at the ceiling. “That was a solid answer Parker,” you teased him. You slid down the bed, so that half of you was lying upside down and turned to face him. 

“Yeah well my real answer is just annoying,” he laughed before turning to face you. You both hadn’t realized how close you were to each other’s faces. Your nose was almost touching his as you stared into his soft brown eyes.

Neither of you moved. 

Just the sound of silence and your heartbeat going haywire.

“Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I think of you?” you asked smiling. “I think of how many times you’ve been there for me, showing up at midnight with your old sedan and your hair a mess. I think of how you always seem to be there no matter how pissed off I am at you or the world. I think of your cute face and how you always manage to make me smile. I think of how much I really love you Peter Parker. How your dorky face manages to be my entire world.”

Peter’s mind seemed to unravel as the words left your mouth. “You, love me?”

A light scoff seemed to escape your lips before you responded. “I do. Have been since sophomore year, but if you don’t feel the same, don’t feel obligated to answer. I know it’s really-“

His lips sealed over yours before another word could have been spoken. His hair tickled your eyes as you two got closer together, his hand placed on the back of your neck. The two of you parted, your eyes staring longingly into his. The two of you shared a pair of love sick smiles. 

“I guess that means you love me too?”

“You have no idea.”

[taxicabinmemphis]

Prince Charming Chapter 6 - Sword-ing Things Out

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six

Word count - 2,019

Pairing - Moceit (Prinxiety and Intrulogical in previous chapters)

Warnings - sword fighting, kiss without consent (it’s fine in the story but please remember that consent is essential, kids, and always ask first!), food, tell me if there’s anything else I need to tag!

Janus woke up later than usual. A glance at the clock told him he had slept for a full eight hours and that it was a quarter before ten in the morning. Dinner had been very late, and he read for a couple hours while processing the day before he went to bed.

When Janus had finished getting ready for the day (around a quarter past ten), he sunk out of his room and into the kitchen. He glanced into the living room next to the kitchen, spotting Patton sipping from a coffee mug. The moral side had a plate of pancakes in front of him, covered in syrup, and seemed to be deep in thought. His glasses were slightly askew on his face, his hair wasn’t fully in place, and his cardigan was tied around his shoulders a bit messier than usual. Janus smiled; Patton looked like he’d just gotten up.

“Good morning, Patton,” Janus greeted smoothly. “I hope you slept terribly.”

Patton jumped in his seat; Janus had clearly surprised him. “Oh! Sorry, Janus, good morning! And, uh, I slept alright I suppose. You?”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “A full eight hours. However, it doesn’t seem it was the same for you; you look quite tired. How long have you been up?”

“Oh...maybe an hour or so? An hour and a half? I got at least six hours, so I’m alright.”

“That’s wonderful for your health.”

“It’s one night; I think I’ll be alright,” Patton replied, a small smile on his face. “Anyway, Janus, please don’t bother cooking or anything. I made enough pancakes for everyone, and there’s another mug of tea as I had extra, if tea is indeed your thing.”

“It is, Patton. Making breakfast for everyone is very considerate, and the tea is a very nice gesture, thank you.”

“It’s no trouble, Janus,” Patton replied tiredly.

Janus grabbed a plate, placed two pancakes on it, put blueberries on the pancakes, and grabbed the aforementioned mug of tea. He noticed that there was already syrup at the table where Patton was sitting and walked over to the moral side. He stopped in front of an empty seat, not wanting to invade his space.

“I’d hate to join you, Patton, if you’d allow me,” Janus requested.

“Oh, of course! This is a table for all of us sides, is it not?” Patton permitted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Janus sat down, frowning. “Are you sure you’re alright, Patton?”

“Yeah!”

Janus gave him an unimpressed look, pouring syrup over his pancakes.

Patton sighed and took a long sip of his tea. “I’ve just been thinking about yesterday. It’s probably why I didn’t sleep as well as you.” Patton stared at his pancakes, stabbing his fork into them rather harshly but not taking a bite.

Janus waited for more exposition but didn’t receive it. “I don’t suppose you’d like to elaborate on that.”

“I don’t think you’d want to listen.”

Janus shook his head to indicate a negative, taking a bite of his pancakes. “I’d love for your day to be ruined by unresolved worries. Considering the stress I put on you yesterday, it’s only fair for me to listen to your troubles in return.”

Patton glanced up at Janus from his food. “There are a lot of benefits to talking about your feelings…” Patton stated, considering Janus’ offer. “Sounds pan-tastic.”

Janus snorted at the pun, suppressing a smile. “I’m disappointed you agreed. What’s on your mind?”

“I just…can’t help but be mad at myself for what I did to Virgil. I know he doesn’t blame me for it, but I still feel really bad.”

“He would’ve killed you if you hadn’t,” Janus pointed out, taking a sip of his tea.

“I know,” Patton sighed. “But he’s my best friend! I can’t help it.”

“That makes no sense. It’s understandable. Of course you feel guilty, you’re Patton. But you have to remember—you totally deserve the guilt. It’s not like you did anything wrong.” Janus took another sip of his tea. “I wouldn’t go as far as to say your actions were more considerate than what could be expected of you.”

“Thanks, Janus,” Patton said, taking a bite of his syrup-soaked pancakes.

“Of course,” Janus responded. “Anything else on your mind?”

“Uhh,” Patton started hesitantly, “yeah? I may or may not be confused and...just a tiny—” he held up his index finger and thumb to Janus in a position that made them almost touch, “—bit annoyed and, well, irritated as well as previously a small bit angry with you for forcing me to fight Virgil.” He gave Janus an unsure look, smiling nervously. “Sorry?”

Janus sighed; this part of the conversation was inevitable. “Ah. Yes. Don’t be sorry, I get why you’re upset. You have every right to be.” He sipped his tea.

Patton nodded, refusing to look at Janus and staring at his pancakes instead as he stabbed at them with his fork. “Was it really necessary?”

Janus opened his mouth to defend his actions, but he shook his head. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I was supposed to play the bad guy.”

Patton frowned. “It has to be more than that. You don’t seem like the type to do stuff like that just because of a role someone gave you.”

Janus sighed, pouring more syrup on what remained of his pancakes. “If you must know, Logan was beating me in our fight; I had to distract him.”

“You could have done anything else.”

“He also wasn’t getting in my head.”

Patton raised his head to meet Janus’ eyes. “In your head? Logan?”

Janus nodded. “It was quite a travesty. I guess I tried to...prove something to him and myself.”

“And?”

“I didn’t,” Janus said with a pitiful laugh. “Logan was right.”

The two ate in silence for several minutes, processing the conversation, before Janus realized he hadn’t apologized.

“I’m not sorry, Patton,” Janus said to break the silence. “It was right of me to take out the confusion of my inner struggles on your and Virgil’s emotional wellbeing.”

Patton gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry, but...I don’t know whether I should forgive you yet. I want to, but...it hurt.”

“You don’t have to. I definitely expect you to, especially this soon after events. Just please know that my apology is sincere, and I will do my absolute worst to make sure it never happens again in the future.”

Patton finished his pancakes and put his fork down. He put his elbow on the table and leaned his head onto his fist. “I don’t wanna forgive you yet but you make it so hard. I wanna hold out until this evening but I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

Janus’ human side adopted a pink tint. “You’re rude, Patton, but strong. I’m sure you can do it.”

Patton’s face lit up. “I have an idea!”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’d hate to hear it.”

“You’d have to be up for it, though, and you in no way are expected to be,” Patton prefaced.

“Alright.”

“We could fight it out! With swords!” Patton said with a grin. “If I win, it’ll satisfy me enough to forgive you, and if you win, I will be dissatisfied and be able to not forgive you.”

“Losing creates anger, does it not?”

Patton waved a hand. “No, I’m not mad at you, silly. You can not forgive someone and not be mad.”

“Fair enough,” Janus replied, finishing his breakfast. “I agree to this, especially if it helps calm your mind.”

“Yay!” Patton stood, taking Janus’ arm. “Let’s go sword things out.”

Janus snorted and shook his head. “Hilarious.”

The two ventured into the Imagination. Patton conjured the sword he had used the previous night, and Janus looked at it with amusement.

“A beautiful sword you have there, Patton, though I think I will have to trade mine for a shorter one.” He conjured a black gladius with a yellow hilt.

They were in a plain black room, the only color filling it being them and their accessories. However, they could see the other very well.

Janus stood in a fighting stance, smiling at Patton.

“Square up, sweetheart. Starting a fight unprepared is incredibly wise.”

Patton laughed nervously, a pink on his cheeks from the pet name. He shifted to a fighting position. “You got it. Prepare yourself to be defeated.”

“So you want to forgive me?”

Patton made the first move, not dignifying the comment with a response. He stepped towards Janus and swiped at his shoulder. Janus parried, and made a strike at the moral side’s neck, only for that to be parried as well.

They went on for a couple of minutes, trying to disarm the other. The only noises heard was the shuffling of feet, grunts of effort, and clashing of swords.

Janus made a particularly hard hit that Patton could barely parry, throwing the moral side backwards a little. He took the opportunity to discard his cloak and his hat, throwing them a good fifteen feet away.

“You removed your hat? And your cloak? Woah, this is a moment to remember!” Patton teased, striking at Janus’ head.

He blocked the blow, taking the opportunity to stare Patton in the eyes. “Only for you, honey,” Janus replied.

Patton flushed, stabbing at his torso.

“Oh, you needn’t try to hit my heart, it’s not there.”

Patton raised an eyebrow, deciding to humor him. “Where is it, then?”

“I don’t think I saw you holding it a few minutes ago.”

Patton laughed and made a cut to the neck. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my breath.”

“Considering it’s not cold enough, no….”

“Oh. I thought you had taken it away for a second,” Patton said with a cheeky grin, swiping his sword at Janus’ legs. “But if you haven’t…”

Patton knocked the gladius out of Janus’ hand, the blade falling right beside him. He stood close to Janus, really close, too close (though Patton could never be too close in Janus’ eyes), his sword at his side. Though Janus may have imagined it, he could swear he saw Patton’s gaze drop to his lips for half a second.

“I suppose I can take yours instead.”

Janus smiled, raising his hands to surrender slowly. Patton’s smile widened, and he took a step back.

“So I w-”

Janus kicked his sword up, grasping it by the hilt and knocking it horizontally into Patton’s torso, making sure not to hurt him. Patton fell backward, eyes wide as Janus knelt over him. His right hand was clasped over the moral side’s left, holding it in place so he couldn’t strike. He got himself as close to Patton as he had been before; leaning over him with a victorious smirk on his face.

“I think I win this one, my blue beauty,” Janus whispered, staring into Patton’s eyes. “Though, I’m completely opposed to a rematch.” He glanced at Patton’s lips, before looking back to his eyes.

No. Patton hadn’t said he forgave him, he was a dark side, this could have all just been a game. For show. And even still, romantic feelings were a completely different level than friendship.

He stood up and extended a hand to Patton to help him up. Patton took it, pulled himself up, dropped his sword, and in one fluid motion, pulled Janus in for a passionate kiss.

Janus’ eyes widened and he dropped his sword in surprise. He didn’t know what to do and was more surprised than he should have been. His hesitation prompted Patton to start to pull away.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve as-”

Janus reconnected their lips, putting his arm around Patton’s shoulders and kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

He pulled back for air. “You’re giving me mixed signals here. I won, yes, but you’re kissing me, so am I forgiven, or…”

“Not yet.” Patton pulled him back in for a third kiss—a smirk on his face and his eyes alight.

~

Taglist: @the-sympathetic-villain ​ @justanotherhumanstuff ​ @thistledown15 ​

~

This is the final installment! Originally this was a sequel, that’s why it has a title (I kept it cuz I like the pun). Hope you liked it! This one wasn’t quite as serious as the others so the writing is different.

                                                    \_/. _ . \_/

                                                        /     \

                                                       /        \ 

Love you all, thanks for reading this story!

[linkysmommy]

The Time That Came Between

PART I

Part II link here

Fandom: It Lives in the Woods

Pairing: Noah Marshall x fem MC

Words: 3,057

Summary: What happened to Noah after Jazmyn Park sacrificed herself and he fled Westchester?

Warnings: Some minor swearing, topics of drug use and addiction

Author’s note: This is basically my imagination of what happened to Noah after he left Westchester and before he realized that MC was still somewhat cognizant as the shadow monster. I definitely have some creative liberties and my own thoughts on the dark path Noah went on after everything went down. It shouldn’t be too long, but I’m splitting it into parts. It’ll probably be between 5-6 parts when all is finished.

The first thing he noticed was the overwhelming stench of sour, rotting garbage.

Then came the God-awful pain.

It felt like there was a bonfire burning in Noah’s back. The muscles in his body screamed and throbbed, and his body shook violently. He weakly opened his eyes, and could barely see because they were so watery. It was like this every morning when he woke up. But somehow, that didn’t make it any better.

He managed to push himself into a sitting position as he tried to put together where the hell he was. He rubbed the film away from his eyes and glanced around himself. He was sitting in an apartment parking lot, his back pushed up against a huge dumpster bin. A trail of gooey water dripped from the trash can and trickled down the cement pavement. The morning sun shone in colorful rays through the filth, and he could hear the morning hum of cars and commuters as the responsible population began their days. A street cat hissed and rustled through the trash, and one of the windows in the building across from him burst open as yells from the people inside drifted out into the morning.

Noah sighed and leaned his head against the metal trash bin. He didn’t even care that his shirt was soaked with trash water, or that the side of his face was still covered with gravel from the ground. All he could focus on was the pain and discomfort. His burning back, his aching muscles, his runny nose, the wave of nausea that crashed over him.

He should get up, go to his apartment, take a shower, get dressed. He should get to work on time and save some money so he’d be able to go far away and leave forever. But no. Instead, he woke up in front of a dumpster and the first thing he did was reach for his phone. He hated everything about himself as he turned on the screen and dialed the person he simultaneously hated most and needed most in this entire world.

But he was too weak. So he called Reynold anyway.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Terror seized through him and his hand began to shake uncontrollably. What if Reynold didn’t pick up? What if—

Before Noah could think much, a very unhappy voice on the other line answered.

“The hell you want? It’s 7:00 in the morning.”

“I need some,” Noah said. “Where can I meet you?”

The voice on the other end scoffed. “Are you serious? You already blew through what I sold you two days ago?”

“It’s been… a rough couple of days.”

Reynold fell silent, which pissed Noah off. He was the one funding this guy, yet Reynold acted like he was the nuisance. Finally, Reynold let out a long sigh. “I’m busy today Malcolm. I don’t have time to—”

“I’ll pay you double. Hell, I’ll pay you triple. Just tell me where to meet you and when.”

Reynold grumbled something under his breath, but then he agreed. Soon, Noah had the place and information typed into his old, cracked phone. Now all he had to do was survive six more hours until they met up. Even that long seemed like more torture than he could stand.

Noah didn’t know how long he sat there, feeling like complete and utter shit. It could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours. All he knew was that when two middle school girls crossed in front of him to head to their bus stop, chattering excitedly about some TV show, the expression on their faces when they saw him was enough to make him want to kill himself.

There was fear in their faces. Fear that the dirty, grimy man sitting by the dumpster would hurt them. Noah lowered his gaze and they hurried past. And he wished, for what must have been the thousandth time in the past twenty-four hours, that his life had never been so goddamn awful that he felt the only way he could survive was through losing himself to heroin. 

He wished that it had been him who took Redfield’s place, and not Jaz.

Never Jaz.

***

The bell jingled as Noah stepped into the gas station where he worked. A handful of customers browsed the shelves, and crouched in one of the aisles was his supervisor, Russ, probably doing inventory.

The door clattered shut behind Noah and he tried to sneak past Russ. But, like some freaking bloodhound, he looked up the moment Noah took a step. Russ’s eyes narrowed and his face flushed with anger. He stood, the item scanner hanging loosely from one hand.

“You’re late again, Johnson.” Russ glanced pointedly at the clock, then back at Noah. “Twenty-two minutes late, to be exact.”

“I’m aware of that,.” Noah said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I ran into some… stuff.”

Russ did roll his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. Not when it happens every day.”

“Yeah, well. I’m here now so let me get to work.” Noah shouldered past Russ to the employees only area. It wasn’t much, but there was a wall with hooks where he could hang his jacket, and shelves and shelves full of supplies. 

Noah hung his jacket and took a deep, calming breath. He hated this job. He hated how Russ thought he was worse than dirt, and he hated how much he resented that. After what he’d done, he didn’t deserve to be treated well by anyone. He deserved every ounce of hatred every single person had to spare.

He brushed his fingers over the scarred skin on the inside of his elbow. It was rough, and still tingled with his most recent dose. He was a coward for trying to find something to ease the pain, to make him forget. It was only fair that the drug no longer made him feel anything other than normal. Where it once had left him feeling powerful and nearly happy, now all it did was make him need it when he wasn’t using, and when he was using he just felt normal.

And normal… wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

The one good thing about Jaz sacrificing herself for him was that at least she didn’t have to live to see him like this. This pathetic shell of a man she thought was worth enough that she decided to die for him.

Noah squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand into his forehead. Forget about this. Don’t think. Just get out and do your job, go home, shoot up, go to sleep, repeat. Keep going. Just survive. 

He took one last calming breath, took a moment to steel himself… and then stepped back into the front.

As he approached the counter to take his position for the day., the girl standing behind it glared at him.

“Finally. You made me stay late, you jerk. I’ve been here since 12 AM!”

“Yeah… sorry Diane,” Noah said sheepishly, fumbling awkwardly with the edge of his beanie. “I’m here now though, so you can leave.”

Diane peered up at him from behind the counter and her scowl melted away into a grin. “I’m just teasing, Malcolm! No need to be so serious. Of course I’m not mad at you.”

“Oh! Right. Of course.” Noah forced a laugh and sidled behind the counter. 

Ever since the cops found Jaz’s broken body last September and Noah had become the prime suspect, he’d been on the run, never staying anywhere for too long. He spent time in Montana, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada. He never finished high school, and instead took to getting himself fake IDs and socials just to find work wherever he could get it. But now, he was back in Oregon, a mere three hours away from where it all started: Westchester.

Noah had only been working at this convenience store for two months, but no one in any of his other jobs paid attention to him like Diane did. She knew nothing real about him—she thought his name was Malcolm Johnson and that he moved from Missouri to live with his aunt—but she always invited him out, always found ways to tease him, always tried to make him smile.

And she was cute and pretty and sweet, but she was no Jaz. No one could ever even begin to compare to Jazmyn Park.

“Well now that somebody’s here, I’m gonna go get changed and get the hell out of here,” Diane said with a smirk, nudging Noah as she sashayed out from behind the counter.

“I said I was sorry,” Noah called after her. She just waved and disappeared into the employee area.

Noah let out a sigh and leaned his elbows against the countertop. The store wasn’t very busy right now, so he’d just get to stand there for hours, doing nothing. Doing nothing was hard because when you were doing nothing, there wasn’t anything to distract you from the terrible things you didn’t want to think about. He much preferred busy days to slow days.

The door jingled and Noah heard footsteps as people entered the store. He couldn’t see the door from where he stood. He hoped it was a munchy druggy or a parent with kids. Those people always bought the most stuff, which meant more time to be occupied.

“…Been a whole year now,” a familiar voice drifted over to where Noah stood. “And nobody knows where he is.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced furtively around the store. The newcomers to the store stepped out from behind a row of shelves and then, standing across the room with his back to Noah was a man with a flannel shirt and shoulder-length blond hair. A man Noah recognized all to well. Connor Green.

“Shit,” Noah muttered. His heart pounded in his chest and his mouth felt dry. “Shit shit shit sh—” 

Connor started turning, so Noah did the only thing he could think of. He dropped to his hands and knees behind the desk, disappearing from view.  Diane exited out of the employees-only area just as he did, and he saw confusion flit across her face.

“I miss Jaz,” Connor said. “She was really… somethin’ else. I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

A very unjustified but burning hatred for that man flared up inside Noah. He remembered being at the hardware store, shopping for supplies to go up against Mr. Red—Jane. He remembered how Connor flirted with Jaz and how she flirted right back. And he remembered the day Andy asked them if they wanted to go to homecoming. Noah had said, “Seems kinda pointless to go without a date. And I’m… not really in a good place for that. Dating, I mean.” Then he asked Jaz who she wanted to go with and she turned around and went straight to Connor.

He knew he had no right to be angry about it. He’d told Jaz that he wasn’t in a place for dating, and he probably would’ve said no if she’d asked him. But when she decided to ask Connor and Noah responded with “Good luck,” he really had just wanted to clock Connor in the face.

“Do you think they’ll ever catch Noah?” another voice—a woman this time—asked. Noah’s heart nearly froze at the mention of his own name and he frantically tried to place the voice. Then he realized—it was Stacy Green, of course.

Another pair of hands and knees fell onto the ground beside Noah and he started, jumping back and nearly slamming against the back wall.

Diane watched him with an amused expression. Her short black pixie cut was messily styled and her dark makeup made her features stand out against pale skin. “What’re we doing down here, Johnson?” she asked.

“Uh…” His mind raced frantically, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. Some sort of truth and lie mixture that could get him out of this mess. “I know those people from high school. And, uh, they were snobby assholes who hated me. So, I just don’t  want them to know I work here, okay?”

The amusement faded from Diane’s eyes and she nodded solemnly. “I understand. I know I already clocked out, but… I can cover for you until they leave.”

“Really?” Noah couldn’t hide the relieved smile that stole onto his face. 

“Oh yeah,” Diane said. “But you owe me.”

“Okay yeah, that’s fair. What do you want? I can cover your hours or—“

“A date,” Diane said with a smug smile, and before he could protest she bounced to her feet and pasted a winning smile onto her face.

“Hiiii,” she greeted. Noah wondered if she was talking to Connor and Stacy. All he could see was the gross tile, front counter, and Diane’s legs. “Can I help you with something?”

“Hey,” Connor’s voice said. “Cute shirt, by the way.”

Noah wanted to barf. Flirting with random strangers was so Connor.

“We just wanted to buy a few things and ask a few questions, if that’s all right?” Stacy said. Noah could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Okay, shoot!” Diane said.

Noah heard the sound of items being dropped on the counter, and then the register creaking like it did whenever anyone leaned on it. He could imagine Connor leaning against it now, looking at Diane with the stupid flirtatious smirk he always used on Jaz.

“We were wondering—” it was Connor again “—have you heard of anyone… suspicious running through these parts?”

Diane let out a sharp laugh. “Is that all you’ve got to go off of? I’m sorry, sweetie, but if I told you all the suspicious people I’ve seen around here I’d be listing names ‘til midnight.”

Noah snorted silently. Leave it to Diane to handle a situation like this so perfectly.

He heard Stacy sign in aggravation. “Connor, maybe I should handle this.” There were shuffling footsteps, rustling of the contents of a purse, and something being slapped onto the countertop. “Have you seen anyone who looks like this man? About this tall, almost always wears a beanie? His name is Noah but he probably goes by something else?”

All traces of a smile evaporated from Noah’s face. His heart started to race with panic. He chanced a look up at Diane’s face, and her eyes were narrowed, her mouth tugged into a frown.

Silence. No sound besides a ticking clock and Russ shuffling around the aisles. Diane stared at the counter, at what Noah was sure was a picture of him. He held his breath, waiting for her to jump aside and say, “Oh you’re looking for this guy? Here he is, take him!”

But instead, she shook her head. Her voice was tight. “Nope, never heard of a ‘Noah.’ Also never seen this guy. Sorry.”

Relief flooded through Noah, almost as satisfying a feeling as a heroin high. Diane wasn’t giving him up. At least not yet.

Connor sighed loudly. “Do you have any idea who might know something? This is important. We got a tip that he moved to this area recently but so far, we’ve found nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Diane said. “Why’re you looking for him? Maybe if I knew I could point you to the right people.” 

Noah frantically grabbed her foot, trying to somehow signal to her to not ask these questions. But she shook him off and kept staring straight forward.

“It’s kind of… a personal thing,” Stacy said.

“Well I can’t help if you don’t tell me anything,” Diane countered.

“Look,” Connor interceded. “The police are after him for something he actually didn’t do. We think we might be able to help him, but he’s dodging us.”

Diane glanced down at Noah for a fraction of a second. Then she shrugged. “A person on the run? I’d look for them in Lensgate Park. Or maybe check out the baseball field on eleventh. Tons of shady people hang out there. They might know something.”

“Lensgate Park…” Stacy repeated slowly, probably entering it into her phone. “Okay. And you said eleventh?”

“Yup,” Diane said dryly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope,” Connor said. “You’ve been great. I hope you have a great shift.”

Finally, finally, the footsteps sounded once again, the bell rang as it was opened, and then the door slammed shut. Noah barely had time to reorient himself before Diane reached down and pulled him roughly to his feet.

“Malcolm, what the hell was that about? Who were those people? They weren’t high school bullies, this was something else entirely. And Noah? The cops? What. The. HELL.”

“Diane, Diane,” Noah said, grabbing her by the arms. “Look, those people are from where I grew up, and they… they can’t be trusted.” His mind scrambled to come up with some sort of excuse, but all he could see was Jaz, over and over again. Her terror when she realized he tricked them, her body, broken in his arms… “Um, they, want to frame me—”

Diane scoffed and glared into his honey brown eyes. “Do you expect me to believe that? Are you just one big lie?”

Noah fell back a step, the color draining from his face. “I—”

“Save it, Malcolm. If that’s even your real name.” Diane skirted around the counter and headed for the door. “I backed you up because I liked you, but whatever you’re involved in, I don’t want any part in it. You can forget about the date.”

Noah’s eyebrows knit together as he watched her head out the front door, never looking back. Russ came out from one of the aisles, glancing between Noah and Diane.

“What happened with you two?” Russ asked.

Noah skirted around the counter, removing the name badge he wore on his shirt. “Sorry, Russ, but consider this my resignation.”

He dropped the badge on the counter and shouldered past a shocked Russ.

“Wh—what?” Russ sputtered, chasing after Noah. “Johnson, if you leave it’s just me and Tom. I need the coverage, at least wait until tomorrow—”

“Stuff came up,” Noah said, pushing the glass door open with his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Russ.”

Russ watched helplessly from the sidewalk as Noah slid into his old beat-up car. He turned the radio on high as he backed out of the parking lot.

He was going to Lensgate Park, or maybe the baseball field on Eleventh.

He was going to figure out what Stacy and Connor knew.

***

Post-note: I wrote this a while ago and wasn’t going to finish but that fic by @isometimesplaychoices inspired me to continue and finish this fic, ily friend!! 

[pavlikovskaya]

the secret history live blogged

forever mad that i got spoilered so much on this book.

anyway hello! and welcome to this … shit fest of the secret history by donna tartt aka the biggest letdown of my life

enjoy! i didn’t

ok whaatttt the fuck. he was walked over?? he was packed and squished under ice?? WHAT DID THIS BUNNY GUY DO TO MAKE Y’ALL SO MAD????? istg what the fuck. cruel cruel fate

four against one, i knew y’all were assholes. you sounded like assholes before i even knew what your names were.

i have to say, i’m not a very big fan on the beginning: hello, my name is richard, i am 28, this is my story. makes it sound like he’s in an AA meeting, but i’ll let this one slide.

years at home dispensable like a plastic cup? fictional history and upbringing tales? [*clears throat in relatable*]

my father was mean, my house ugly, my mum didn’t give me attention, must kill someone to cope and serve the aesthetic™ of rejected, unloved child, brooding and mad at the world. got it.

if richard, plain and poor is the one who kills the rich asshole bc he’s a rich asshole, i might relate to him more than i thought.

[*slams book shut*] okay. okay. am i gonna have to google every other phrase in this godforsaken history book or is donna gonna go easy on my ass?

sounds like a university i would love to go to. oh, pardon me, CoLlEgE.

wait, they’d pay him back for the plane if he GOT IN??? and if he didn’t well then what, soz dude, tough luck , such is life, see ya never? makes a lot of sense. should pay him back regardless imo but hey, i had to pay £50 six times to audition at universities who, all six times, rejected me, so.

three days on a bus and arrival at six in the morning? i cannot fathom a worse scenario.

this prof conducts his selection on a personal level rather than on an academic one, said with a note of sarcasm? is he … you know … ?

ahhhh these saucy saucy tea spilling french people, gotta love em. ‘listen, i know i’ve only met you three minutes ago, but i’m bout to spill some serious tea which i must ask you to keep to yourself and never mention for i have some formidable enemies in the literature division, yes, my very own department, but we all actually love each other. you know, in a very shakespearian ‘i shall murder you at the end of the play but for now, let’s make sweet love under the stars as a witch friend of mine who will later murder you watches’ way. all very platonic. but don’t say a word of it.’

who do you think was with morrow when richard came to see him in the lyceum and what were they talking about? GODDAMN IT, this french bastard put me in a gossipy mood.

bunny — short for edmund…….

god, i love a redhead.

richard and me being whipped by francis and his long, flapping black coats, love to see it.

‘pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded and black clouting was de rigueur’ can I enrol ~now~????

francis talks to cats and bunny yells from his window down at the incest twins to stop snogging in the garden. i can’t wait to see which one am I at the end of the book

henry and julian driving off together? do i smell something…. gay?

THEY WRITE WITH FOUNTAIN PENS????? [*flashbacks from my childhood intensify*].

i do not understand most of these references or sentences and if the whole book is like this, i will throw myself out the window in attempted suicide even though i live on the ground floor.

i have absolutely no idea what they’re on about.

hwhat

francis in black cashmere and cigarette smoke brushed past him and almost touched his arm. how bloody delicious is this??

‘give him some flowers and he’ll enrol you.’ ok, julian is definitely the gay prof everyone falls for.

at this stage, i would rater have voted we kill henry, not bunny, but we’ll see.

‘i was tired of being poor.’ [*buys a tie with pictures of men hunting deer on it*] ‘that’s better.’

‘i believe that it is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially.’ donna tartt gave me the book and the reason both.

constantly chuckling at the way richard is so completely mesmerised and intimidated by francis to the point that he’ll duck into a doorway to let him pass even though they’re going to the same lesson.

I don’t know how a ‘bostonian voice’ is supposed to sound like so francis will be slightly british in my mind for the rest of the book.

cubitum eamus? cubitum. eamus? CUBITUM?? EAMUS????? OH! GOD! HELP ME! THE SWEET SWEET HOMOEROTIC FORESHADOWING OF IT ALL!!! throwback to when, in a much too similar vein, boris, upon being asked by theo to say something in russian for him, he said ‘fuck you up the ass’. my heart is racing with yearn. i can’t fucking believe i just read this. it’s time to bust out the annotation tabs again.

oh my gooooddd whAt is henry’s problem????? he reminds me slightly of number one from the umbrella academy, but in a meaner, more show-offy, bastardish way that’s supposed to showcase his superior intelligence over all mortals like fuck you, go read harry potter and chill.

‘meke (s.p.) you Wear it’? i take it meke is actually make but what on earth is (s.p.)? google gave me 238 possible definitions for that acronym and, needless to say, i didn’t bother.

i love how donna’s main characters are funny essentially bc they’re bitches towards other people they deem inferior to them in their internal monologues.

if you were drunk and ‘slam-dancing’ at a party, i don’t have to be stuck up or elitist to judge you and hate on you. even less so if you throw your beer in my face.

‘love that jacket, silk, isn’t it?’ ‘yep, my grandfather’s. totally not from that annoying girl in my dorm whose mate your mates beat up at a party last term for shoving camilla and throwing a beer in her face and who probably only gave me the jacket because she wants to fuck me, nope.’

‘let me get that door for you.’ that’s it, that’s the tweet.

when bunny said they should round up the ‘officious fags and burn them at the stake’ i yelled the loudest what the fuck i’ve ever yelled at a book. i can see now why they killed him. and i bet that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

okay, his true colours are starting to show. it’s even more unnerving when i think about the fact that like half of this stuff is supposed to be true.

called it, they’re boning.

i can’t wait until francis locks lips with richard. i am simply tingling for it. i hope he and camilla have a threesome with richard at this country house. oh wait no, they’re all here. eh, maybe another time.

oh, we finally get some juicy inside gossip

if francis and richard don’t fuck in that gorgeous immense library, i will riot.

okay, what’s henry’s deal? he’s nice now? and he’s oddly … interested in/caring towards richard? like who the fuck says ‘i hope you slept well’ without at least a little affection towards them.

AHAHAHAAHA, NOW I GET ALL THOSE MOON LANDING QUESTIONS ON THE TSH RELATED UQIZZES I STUPIDLY TOOK. I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS REAL. imagine them lot in present day completely bewildered and confused at the fact that the whole world is in lockdown for some weird fucking reason. this is the funniest shit ever, swear to god.

dogs get heart attacks?

wow they’re being dicks. that shady shit they’re doing’s so fucking rude aajksdhfkfh and to think i had initially thought richard was the ‘leader’ of their group...

okay, they’re either all into bdsm or they’re some odd breed of late vampires who don’t have much of the traits/qualities of ‘classic’ vampires as they have possibly diminished over the centuries as the species was becoming extinct. maybe witches. hm. or occultists. I REALLY DON’T KNOW!!

richard be like ‘what should I tell you?’ well—and this is merely a suggestion—, how about you start with what they’re actually doing when they’re not hanging out with you?????

i can’t wait for bunny to figure/find out richard’s not actually rich and be a dick about it.

two months??? what kind of bonkers winter vacation between terms is that???

is being constantly cold part of the dark academia aestehtic? cos it certainly seems to be.

what the fuck are these (sp)s bunny keeps putting in his letters??

i hope somebody (henry, or maybe francis? as something that would bring them together?) is fake rich too.

ouuuuu here comes the dark, mental stuff.

richard dropped out of drama to study the classics. if we were villains is a group of people studying shakespeare. coincidence? i think not. it is with dread that i think at the possibility that i might like the other more because so far, i can’t say i’m heavily impressed with tsh.

now i’m all for weird, fancy names, but marchbanks is really an odd one. who the fuck looks at their newborn baby and goes ben? nah. tom? no. MARCHBANKS! perfect.

henry winter saves richard from a piping cold winter. ah, don’t bother, i’ll do it myself [*jumps out the window*]

henry dislikes electric lights? smokes cigarettes without filter? reads milton translated into latin ‘just to see if a language with no noun cases could possibly support the structural order he attempts to impose’? can this dude be any more pretentious?

BUNNY! IT’S BUNNY! HE’S FAKE RICH THE BASTARD! ALL THAT ‘oops, forgot my wallet’ BULLSHIT, I THOUGHT IT WAS A TEST FOR RICHARD OR JUST RICH PEOPLE LEECHING OFF OTHERS (why spend yours when you can spend theirs?) BUT NOOOO, HE’S BROOOOKE! AND AN ASSHOLE! WHAT AN ASSHOLE!!! serves him right, the asshole (that gay people being burnt at the stake comment really bothered me despite the fact that i laughed). and not only is he broke and leeching off of henry, he leeches in the most shameless, greedy, extravagant and ignorant way, ordering the most expensive thing on the menu fuck out of here.

ha! he got fat the bastard. found some sugar daddy to sustain you during your last month in italy or what?

this rabbit dude sure has some big balls for a broke ass bitch.

‘let me see your head wound.’ vs ‘your arm.’

‘that sort of tension which i, being rather more disinclined that way than not, am quick to pick up on. i had caught a strong breath of it from francis, a whiff of it at times from julian (…)’ sounds like we got another one boys, a straight dude with the best gaydar in the world. that being said, julian is the fakest bitch in the book so far.

this secrecy is killing the ever-loving shit out of me. argentina one way?? whY

lol if you’re gonna steal his book with the intention of having him come back to the apartment and see all that shit, at least don’t put it in such an obvious place where he couldn’t have possibly missed it. for such a smart guy, you sure are dumb, dude.

francis’ mother be like ‘give that bad boy a kiss from me’ and i’m like HE BETTER.

richard the worst liar. just say your mum called for fuck’s sake! you could get your boyfriend in trouble!

cheesecake cover: ‘please do not steal this, i am on financial aid.’ bunny: [*steals it*] the cheesecake: [*sucks*] me: serves you fucking right, pig.

THINKING ABOUT HIS HANDICAP. I’M YELLING. funniest thing donna tartt ever wrote.

i bet they’re all there sat at the table like nothing happened and weren’t supposed to leave anywhere at all.

called it! motherfuckers.

what the hell is going on. are they a gang of assassins or something?

richard: ‘you killed somebody, didn’t you?’ henry: [*laughs as if it was the most ridiculous idea in the world and how could you possibly suggest such a thing*] yep

bunny: gays are weirdly obsessed with food, don’t you think? also bunny: [*gets excluded from the bacchanal because he couldn’t stop eating*]

okay. i can see now why this book started the whole dark academia aesthetic

aight, that’s all good and great (far from it) but WHERE IS MY FRANCIS CONTENT????

going through the motions of hating and liking henry every other chapter.

everybody: [*burning clothes, cleaning the car, running this way and that to get rid of evidence*] francis: aight y’all imma take a power nap real quick cool? cool

there is hardly anything in the world i hate more than loose-of-tongues. bunny and that bitch ass hely from the little friend. god, i want to sock each and every single one of them in their stupid bloody loud mouths.

i want to know, i really want to know if there are any bunny apologists or … s…. s… [*grits teeth*] stans out there. don’t worry, nothing will happen to you, i just wanna talk.

if it’s henry and richard and not francis and richard,,,,, i will riot.

boy this henry guy smokes a lot…. more than me in my prime.

as if this dude reenacted the murder he wasn’t even present at in the lobby of a hotel just to torture henry. i can’t believe this character is still alive and has been for so long.

FINALLY! one francis moment that indicated there will be no more francis moments…. .

funny that, reading the secret history put something into perspective about the goldfinch for me.

i love how richard just casually throws it in there whenever he happens to mention camilla that he loves her and wants to kiss her and that she’s so beautiful and blah blah blah and then it’s never brought up again ever because he’s constantly going on and on about henry.

wait, don’t tell me it’s happening now, in the middle of the book! that would be most unexpected as there’s a whole entire book following.

henry is such a stone cold bitch, i wonder where they put his heart when they made him, in his ass?

don’t tell me henry went boxer dogs on JULIAN?!?!?! he wouldn’t. … would he?

i don’t know. i get it, obviously, the gravity of the situation, but going as far as killing him to silence him is a bit … extreme in my opinion.

thank you, charles, for being the only voice of reason in this madness.

okay, i understand it’s in richard’s best interest not to be involved, but they called him there to what, make him listen to all this and then send him on his merry way?

charles: well, if you wake up intending to murder someone at two o’clock, you hardly think of what you’re going to feed the copse for dinner. [*crickets*] francis: hey, how about asparagus?

henry: someone’s coming. quick! act normal! richard: [*turns to inspect the trunk of a tree*] [*footsteps approach*] richard: [*inspection of tree intensifies!!*]

you’re a bit late, bunny, just saying.

and now what the fuck is the rest of the book about? what do we do, let’s run, let’s stay, let’s go to the police, what do we do with him?

i love how richard describes himself as part of the process: we dwelt on it, we convinced ourselves, we devised plans when in reality, he was only there as an attaché, he wasn’t included much, almost at all in the actual planning process of it other than to give his insight on the poison route because henry thought it was his area of expertise so to speak when, really, it wasn’t and then was told about the other plan because they simply thought he should know. even then henry tells him ‘you can go now, if you like’ because there wasn’t anything they sort of needed him for anymore since he wasn’t going to be there, he was just a pair of ears. i like to think he was there in hopes to maybe dissuade them, try to stop them, tell them how mad it is, tell them there’s another way, but he didn’t do much of that either (not that I think he would’ve succeeded anyway, had he tried, henry’s one stubborn motherfucker). he didn’t come up with shit, he wasn’t supposed to even be there, i think, much less contribute in any way. had bunny not told him about the bacchanal, richard would have probably found out about it after it was already done, he was only included for the fucks of it and yet, he talks as if he was right there in the room with them, brainstorming ideas how to kill him. and i get how it only comes from a sense of obvious guilt because he knew about it, he was there and didn’t do anything to stop it, but he’s by far not one to have agreed to the whole thing or condoned it in any way from what he’s told us in book one. he himself says in the very same paragraph that he only watched. he’s very much a dark academia nick carraway type of character and i hate it. because i like him. he deserves better.

i’m pretty sure that the reason that serial killer autobiography you picked up in an airport was bereft of details is because no publishing house would allow such lurid specifications that might shock, disgust, enrage or give ideas to the reader in their book, not because the author is shy, richard, but ok, let’s move on. actually no, let’s not. you can’t expect the autobiography of a killer to only tell you about the murders, especially since in this particular instance, he was caught and went to prison. of course he’s going to tell you more about that than the killings, have you any idea what prison life is like? how much it eats away at your soul? how it crushes your spirit if you have one and how hard it is to get over? the time he spent in jail is going to haunt him forever and after such a long time in there, however long it was, you hardly think about your crime as anything but a huge mistake that was not worth the torment if you’re not a downright psychopath which, since he came out and wrote a book about it, doesn’t seem to be the case here but i guess you’ll find out all about it soon enough.

OH! a francis moment???? could this be it? please dear god may this be it.

it wasn’t, but there’s another one!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

‘it’s fun, i promise you.’ [*dies*]

if this is it, if that’s all, i am not forgiving this book.

‘i tried to pull him out but it was no good; his head lolled back uselessly’ YEAH. BECAUSE HE’S DEAD, RICHARD. [*scoffs*] ‘uselessly’

i wish i held any of my teachers and professors in at least half the high regard henry holds julian. i also wish they were half as competent and passionate about teaching as julian.

I DON’T BELIEVE ‘HE WAS JUST THERE’. IT’S BORIS AND THEO AT 6 AM IN THAT NEW YORK BAR ALL OVER AGAIN. HE’S ONLY SAYING THAT BECAUSE RICHARD WENT ALL ‘YOU’RE NOT HOT’ ON HIS ASS AND I REFUSE TO BELIEVE OTHERWISE. if they don’t kiss again—

i can’t help but admire the way they communicate sensitive information to each other in ancient greek, they sound like characters from jane austen novels while talking about drugs and saving face from tabloids and gossip, it’s rather amazing.

quite pointless to go through all that trouble to hide the cigarettes and deny having been smoking when the smell will be there no matter what and she’ll know for sure. i swear, all these seemingly smart ass people are actually idiots

my question is why would anyone, drunk or not, for any reason, leave the top down in the rain? why? what possible pleasure could one get from driving in the middle of the rain with rain actually pouring down on them?

isn’t linoleum a bit tacky for a house that looks like it’s been in architectural digest?

why is charles so on edge? why are they all always hiding??? camilla and her late night 3 am phone calls, her secret phone code with henry, charles mysteriously going out for cigarettes so brusquely without a word in the middle of the night and refusing to talk about it, what are they all always hiding?! nobody trusts one another with anything, it’s very annoying, to be honest. aren’t they supposed to be super best friends? you’d think that after a bacchanal and a double homicide, you wouldn’t keep secrets from one another, but i guess not.

ah, shame. was kind of hoping for some sneaky richard/francis basement action, but alas. what’s their ship name anyway, richis?

i just spoilered myself again, twice, by going through the tsh tag on tumblr and then looking for francis/richard fanfics on ao3 and finding out that francis marries? gets with? a girl who’s apparently called fucking priscilla. donna tartt really has a knack for weird fancy names, huh? i’m here for it tbh

richard you fucking snitch! you had one job!!!!!!

why the fuck are they still keeping him in the dark about shit? henry and charles quarrelled and charles is in jail and henry still won’t tell him what’s so bad about it and why he wants richard to handle all this shit instead of him and why bunny’s murder still matters and why why just why are they still using him as their pawn??

seriously, this exchange was about the worst they’ve had so far. he himself knows it: ‘there was a silence during which I felt acutely the hopelessness of ever trying to get to the bottom of anything with henry. he was like a propagandist, routinely withholding information, leaking it only when it served his purposes.’ THEN WALK AWAY. SAY NO. PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN. FUCKING—UGH!!!!!!!

they’re all so shamelessly using him… i can’t read. it’ll kill him, one way or another.

these ungrateful little shits i swear to god. richard bails him out, he’s all thankful and sweet when he wants him to do ‘this one little favour’ of taking him to his francis’ house so he can break in and when richard’s like i don’t have a car, he immediately turns sour and passive aggressive like you know what?! richard hasn’t slept all night and all morning waiting for your ass to go to court cos you were a drunken idiot and decided YET AGAIN that driving in that state is a great idea so he can bail you out and when you are finally out, you start being fussy and then it’s all ‘right. thanks a lot’??? richard doesn’t fucking need this shit! y’all are horrible friends. he’s not your bloody servant. how about you take that stick and privilege out of your asses and start treating him a bit more kindly, huh???

‘henry made me swear not to tell.’ WHAT. WHAT. BITCH, GET THE FUCK OUT.

this is by far the most toxic friendship i’ve ever heard of.

oh wow that kiss was hot. i thought it was just a speculation that they were incestuous with each other, but i-i guess not.

FINALLY it gets interesting. Mr Abernathy spilling some piping hot tea mmm

he literally just said i’d sleep with you if you got drunk enough to let me. oh dear god help me.

oh fuck it got sad. It’s patrick and brad all over again ugh always happens to the best of gays

finally richard my boy starts hating them, as he should. except francis, you’re a dick in that respect. he’s only joking for fuck’s sake, don’t get all butthurt, jesus. sensitive much?

uuuuuu tunts Tunts TUNTS! shit is hitting the fan. henry, henry, henry, our ‘golden boy’. nothing but a crook himself, the motherfucker. i’ve been waiting for this reveal since the beginning of the fucking book. if they gang up on him and kill him, i will never stop laughing.

it’s as if he’s begging to be excluded and hated, i swear. why is he being such a prick? does he love her? is that it? then there are a BILLION other ways to go about it, he doesn’t have to be such a shady bitch!! besides, wasn’t he in cahoots with julian?

‘i was depressed, i thought if i slept here it might make me feel better.’ that’s so precious tho….. funny, but precious. such child-like innocence in this grown ass intoxicated man, i melt.

clever, luring him out of the playground under the false pretext of a drink when he’s had plenty. think like a drunk

the only consistent, recurring and ever-present elements in donna tartt’s books are the hors d’oeuvres.

it’s so cute how charles needs him, i—

girls be like: watching a film, listening to a podcast, talking on the phone, having dinner, figure painting, filing nails, writing an essay and doing their makeup all at the same time

this so called love he feels for camilla is so unfounded and feeble and just … it seems so out of the fucking blue every single time he mentions it, i can’t read this shit. IT’S SO SEE-THROUGH!!

okay WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DID I JUST READ. WHAT. THE ACTUAL. MOTHERFUCKING. FUCK. one second he’s ‘i love her so much’ the next he wants to strangle and rape her?????????????? i have zero goddamn words. i am fucking speechless. i don’t think i have ever been this confused at something since i watched the turning. i don’t think you realise quite how done i am with this fucking book at this point.

i think i do hate henry more than bunny and i’m afraid i’ll like if we were villains better.

richard: [*takes sleeping pills*] also richard: [*surprised he can’t keep up with the film he started watching after taking sleeping pills*]

‘look,’ said francis. ‘let’s just go, if we leave now we can be in montreal by dark. nobody will ever find us.’ vs ‘well, i’m not going,’ said boris serenely. ‘fuck that, i’m running away. do you want to come?’

this henry bitch is the most difficult piece of shit i’ve ever fucking encountered. ‘you mean, it’s something you need to tell me in private?’ oh FUCK OFF AND STEP OUTSIDE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. IT’S ONE THING I ASK OF YOU, YOU TWAT.

huh, i thought he was doing this shit on purpose, leaving the page face down on the table so that julian could see it, i thought it was some sick twisted plan of his.

lmao called it. everybody saw through julian’s façade except richard and the others and i completely understand. in a fashion much like julian’s, i think he knew that, he saw it, but just chose to ignore it because the image he posed and richard himself constructed of him in his mind was much more favourable to what he really was. i mean, fuck, who the fuck says ‘i hope we are all ready to leave the phenomenal world and enter into the sublime’ with their whole chest and mean it?

if you think he’s not coming, why sit in silence staring out the window, ignoring everyone and wasting everybody’s time instead of telling them from the very start this piece of information you have on hand that could save everybody a lot of trouble, time and overthinking? why be all mysterious and enigmatic about it? just tell them from the start, you’re not in a film for fuck’s sake……..

charles, one of the four of them (henry, camilla, julian and himself) might be the one i despise the least, almost like had he not been so brutal towards camilla,,,, but i don’t know if i can trust her, that whole scene seemed … staged somehow. i don’t know. i don’t know

didn’t expect henry would turn on julian too though. first real thing he’s done all book.

agatha

christie

writes

good

mysteries.

richard does seem like the type of fellow who would grow up in a household where his dad would strike his mum for no fucking reason.

okay so did henry punch him for that comment or not? what was all that father beating mother bit for?

#boysweekendinthecountry! 🤪 #partytime! #ignoringourproblems! #woooo!!!

oh my fucking god chARLES!!!

yes, henry, great, brilliant, fucking splendid idea to antagonise the man pointing a gun at you.

MY PAUL SMITH SHIRT!!!!!!!!! AHAHAHASFSHDGFDK

i love how absolutely nobody noticed fucking richard BLEEDING RIGHT NEXT TO THEM

‘expected everyone to stop and look at me. no one did.’ and they never will. that’s your whole friendship summed up in two lines. you don’t matter to them, you never did, you’re absolutely unimportant. just a tool, a pawn, a nobody. sorry you had to get shot to realise that.

‘’he shot me.’ somehow, this remark did not elicit the dramatic response i expected. before i had the chance to elaborate—’ ELABORATE WHAT? ELABORATE WHAT?! THAT’S ALL YOU NEED TO SAY!! GOD, this hurts to read. this angers me beyond words, but it also fucking hurts so bad…

nothing, not even getting shot can make richard lose his wit

disGUSTING henry and camilla moment. I HATE THEM

oh shit. did not see that coming. well, glad that’s over.

ugh, time to read how francis got hetero married :\

[*chokes*] DUE TO THE VERY EXCELLENT EXCUSE OF HAVING A GUNSHOT WOUND IN THE STOMACH I DIDN’T TAKE MY FRENCH EXAM YAY!!! god, i fucking love Richard.

the thing is, right, i read that line, ‘i managed to get out of taking my french exams the next week’ about three or four times and somehow, the following line or even the words ‘gunshot wound’ never made it to my eyes! i don’t understand how! but i’m completely happy about that given the fact that i spoiler myself on every single book i read by reading ahead like an idiot..

how much do you want to bet that it was the inn keep who called the ambulance and not those fuckers? because of course henry, dead henry’s more important than slowly dying, almost dead but not quite richard.

despite everything, it sounds like he had a nice summer in brooklyn. good for him. god knows he deserved it, the poor guy.

yeah no, fuck henry’s post-mortem hero narrrative.

lol, at least he got a nice car out of it. this book shows me once again that things happen just the way they should happen.

OH MY FUCKING GOD NO. NO. NO. NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! I CANNOT READ. I DO NOT SEE. I REFUSE TO COMPREHEND THIS PIECE OF INFORMATION.

i will not say a WORD on this, much less his letter. i am hurt, i am wounded, i am grieving, my head is full of thots and i cannot speak. i died on this bed.

ugh [*rolls eyes*] this fucking guy again with his sudden, out of my ass declarations of love towards camilla. JUST GIVE IT UP ALREADYYYYYYYY!!! TELL IT TO SOMEONE WHO CARES!!! (francis) i wouldn’t be surprised if she was married or engaged and just didn’t bother to mention it ‘because he never asked’ or some bullshit excuse like that.

I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY I HATE HENRY [*deep breath*] I FUCKING HATE HENRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he’s telling me about all these people and where they ended up after graduation but not only do i not give a single solitary fuck, i actually don’t know who the fuck he’s talking about?? like who the fuck is bram guernesnesnica? rooney wayne? what the fuck do i care what jack jud and frank did?

the only people i do remotely care about are the professors (the saucy french teacher and the boring, senile dude who wouldn’t shut up and who kept referring to richard as ‘jerry’ in his grad school recommendations letter ahahah that is the content i signed up for, not dumb and dumber’s bar or whatever) and the cat charles left at francis’ country house who lives in a ten fucking room apartment in boston.

love how ionic the whole marion storyline turned out to be. marred another corcoran who looked just like bunny and had a daughter who, despite having her and his mother’s name ended up being nicknamed also bunny. i’m sorry, i just—i have to laugh.

[*slams fists on the table*] THE AGENTS??? YOU’RE GONNA TELL ME ABOUT THE BLOODY FBI AGENTS???!!!!!! CAN THIS BOOK PLEASE JUST FUCKING END ALREADY??????!!!!!!!!

a dream. a dream. if it’s a dream of henry i will personally shoot you and make sure i aim a little higher than your abdomen this time.

[*shoots the book*]

oh, you died and suddenly you have a sense of humour?

‘that information is classified’ [*shoots a torpedo at the book*]

‘are you happy?’ / ‘not very.’ vs ‘are you happy here?’ / ‘not particularly.’

okay. so. final thoughts: fuck this book.

good night

[temilyrights]

the case of us (chapter five)

Jack Sloane x Reader

Word Count: 2566

A/N: Shorter chapter this time but I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome :)

Read on AO3

Chapter Four  Chapter Six

You barely contain your yawn as you make your way into the diner. Your face lighting up when you see Jack, already waiting in a booth, and you quickly make your way over. “Sorry, I’m late!” You slide into the seat opposite the blonde, greedily taking a sip of the coffee she pushes towards you. 

“Not a problem, I ordered your usual.” Jack’s smile is a little sheepish like she’s not sure if she’s overstepped but you just flash her a grateful smile and the unease vanishes from her expression.  You sigh as you lean back in the booth, feeling your body relax. “How’s your house guest?” 

You can’t control your groan at that and Jack laughs, a smirk pulling at her lips. “That well, huh?” 

Your younger brother, James, has been staying with you recently after getting kicked out of his old apartment. “He’s the reason I’m late! He kept me up till 2 am shouting at his Xbox.” You whine. “Jack! He doesn’t do anything. I don’t think I’ve seen him do a single chore, he orders take out every night instead of cooking. I swear he turned 15 and decided to just stop ageing!” Jack tries to be sympathetic but there’s still humour in her eyes and you shoot her a glare which just causes her to actually start laughing. 

“You’ve got to find a way to make him uncomfortable, motivate him to want his own place again. He’s too comfortable.” 

You release a withering sigh, dropping your head to the table dramatically. “But how?” The whine is back in your voice again and Jack playfully rolls her eyes at you. 

“He’s your brother.”

You sigh again,  lifting your head to rest in your hand as you look at Jack. A sly smirk covers your face and you can see Jack’s growing unease. “Jackkkkk” You smile sweetly. The blonde just looks at you, crossing her arms. “You’re the profiler… can’t you, I don’t know, meet him, play some mind tricks?” 

“Mind tricks?” Jack smirks, rolling her eyes. “Seriously is that what you think I do?” You’d think you’d offended her if you didn’t notice the humour in her eyes.

“Please, Jack. I need the man child out of my apartment, I want to be able to come home to a clean and quiet place that doesn’t stink of men and greasy take-out food.” Jack doesn’t say anything and you clasp your hands together on the table, trying your best at ‘puppy dog eyes’. “Please! I’m begging, I’ll do anything!” 

“Anything huh?” Her smirk turns devilish, a sparkle in her eye that makes you gulp. You don’t move though, even as a slight blush tinges your cheeks. Jack releases an amused chuckle, tapping your hands to get you to sit back. “Sure. I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you” You grin, breathing a sigh of relief “After work tonight?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack’s eyes are twinkling and it’s not until the waitress arrives with your food that her eyes leave yours. You gulp trying to ignore the weird feeling that has settled in your stomach. 

---

Breakfast is cut short by a call from Gibbs about a case, and you quickly shovel the last of your scrambled eggs into your mouth, shooting an apologetic smile at Jack. You try to drop a couple of bills on the table to pay but Jack waves you off and you don’t have the time to fight her as you hurry out the diner and into your car. 

The victim is Petty Officer William Shore. His body is found on a jogging route where he was shot in the back. There’s not much evidence on the crime scene, only his phone that lays a few feet away from him. You get the statement from the woman who found him, she’d been completing an early morning jog but had no idea who the man was and hadn’t seen him before so the crime scene is wrapped up pretty quickly and before you know it you’re heading to the Navy Yard. 

Gibbs and Ellie go straight to the conference room to interview the victim’s wife and you head to your desk and begin going through the man’s credit card history. 

It’s pretty clean although there’s a suspicious amount of transactions in a neighbourhood that, as far as you know, he doesn’t have any connection too. When Gibbs and Ellie return they’re convinced it isn’t the wife, she’s distraught over the whole incident. Torres informs you all about the frequent number of phone calls over the past six months to a woman called Sarah Dredger. She lives in the same neighbourhood as where your transactions are from.

Gibbs sends you and Torres to collect her and when you knock on her apartment door you’re surprised to find the woman already in tears. You have to stop yourself from laughing at Torres’ eye-roll as he puts the woman into the back of the car.

You get into interrogation and you don’t have to say anything for her to start confessing. It was a story you’d heard thousands of times before, she’d been having an affair with William and he’d promised to leave his wife for her but then, last night, he’d ended their affair over the phone. He ran the same jogging route every morning so she knew where he’d be, she tried to make him reconsider but he wouldn’t listen to her and started to continue to jog. She shot him and dumped the gun in the trash bins outside her home. 

“Well, that was the easiest case of the century.” You roll your eyes, watching as the agents take Sarah away. Jack chuckles from behind you, a smirk on her face. You turn slightly, bumping your shoulder against hers “Redo of breakfast sometime this week?” 

A bright smile fills her face. “It’s a date.” 

---

The day goes by pretty quickly and before you know it Jack’s in the bullpen, jacket on and bag hanging off her shoulder. “Ready to go?” She asks, stopping by your desk. 

You switch off your computer, standing up and sliding your own bag on. “Let’s do this!” The determination is clear in your face and Jack rolls her eyes playfully at you. 

“Hot date?” Nick comments as you begin to follow Jack, you don’t falter though, just grab the rubber band ball off of Ellie’s desk before turning and chucking it at him. Ellie’s and Tim’s laughter follows you out of the room as Torres nearly falls from his chair in the effort to avoid it. When you load onto the lift Jack’s grinning at you and you both break out into laughter. 

----

“James, I’m home!” You call when you open your front door. There’s no answer and you roll your eyes, kicking your shoes off and dumping your bag on the couch as you pass it. Jack does the same, as well as shimmying out of her jacket and placing it nicely on the back of your couch. “Drink?” 

“Sure.” She follows you as you make your way into the kitchen.

“Coffee ok?” 

“Yeah, that’s great.” Jack takes a seat at the breakfast counter as you move around your small kitchen and make the drinks. You’re just tipping the liquid into mugs when you hear the guest bedroom door open. 

“Is that coffee I smell-” Your brother halts, stopping in the entrance of your kitchen when he notices Jack. You don’t bother hiding the smirk that tugs as his mouth drops open in surprise.

“James, right? I’m Special Agent Jacqueline Sloane but call my Jack.” Jack extends her hand and your brother accepts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he quickly recovers from his surprise. 

You focus on finishing the coffee’s, putting Jack’s mug in front of her along with your pot of sugar. You go to hand your brother his and barely contain yourself from throwing an apple at his head when you notice his eyes trail over the blonde. You clear your throat, your eyes dark with danger as you hand the coffee over. When you turn back to look at Jack she’s smirking. 

“So James, are you enjoying staying with Y/N?” Your brother moves to sit on the stool next to her.

“Yeah, it’s like being kids again, she spends the whole time nagging me to do stuff and I respond by not doing it. All that’s missing is when she inevitably would call mum.” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to nag you if you actually did anything.” You stick out your tongue at him, completely ignoring the humour you see dancing in Jack’s eyes at your childish action. “And I see you didn’t take out the trash as I asked you too.”

“I only got home like 20 minutes before you. I do have a job too!” 

“But you also didn’t leave for at least an hour after I did!” You didn’t really know exactly what your brother did, you just knew it involved a lot of maths and it was also a 9-5 job. So he always left later than you and arrived home before you but still managed to do nothing to help. 

James arches his eyebrow at you with a smirk on his face and you know whatever he says next you aren’t going to like. “So, Jack, has Y/N ever told you about the time she got food poisoning as a kid and threw up all over the waitresses shoes.” 

“I swear to god, I’m going to kill you.” You glare at your brother, trying to stop the blush from rushing up your face as Jack starts laughing sympathetically. 

“She didn’t! Have you got any other stories?” 

“Jack!” You whine “You’re meant to be on my side!” 

Jack smirks, looking away from you and back to James. “So, what other stories?” 

----

“So...I’ve got an idea. I’m just not sure you’re going to like it.” 

“Jack, I’ll honestly do anything!” You can hear your brothers’ footsteps coming closer and Jack quickly makes her way around the counter, stopping in front of you. 

“Trust me, ok?” 

“Of course.” Jack smiles and then shocks you by grabbing your waist and pushing you back into the counter. Your eyes widen in surprise but you don’t say anything just grip hold of the surface behind you.

Your breath hitches as she steps closer, her hands resting on the counter either side of you and her leg slotting lightly in between yours. “Ok, he’s coming.” She whispers, your eyes fall to her lips and you try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Jack’s mouth begins to dip lower, hovering centimetres away from yours and you can’t breathe as your heart pounds in your chest. 

“So, Jack-” James enters the room and Jack lingers just long enough to make sure he’s taken in the scene before stepping away. Your hands are digging into the counter behind you and it takes you a moment to catch your breath before you turn around, you know your face is scarlet, but that doesn’t stop your smirk when you notice the look of horror on your brother's face. “God, I need to get my own place.” Your brother quickly backs out of the room and Jack turns to face you a wide grin on her face. 

You high five, your thumping heart  finally starting to calm down again and you clear your throat, “How did you know that would work?” 

“No one wants to see a member of their family in a position like that.” You laugh but then seconds later scrunch up your face in disgust when an image of your brother being in the same position pops into your head. You shiver and humour dances through Jack’s eyes. 

“Thank you. Really. I owe you one.”

“No problem, It was fun.” That sparkles back in her eye as she smirks and you quickly look away. She excuses herself not long after that and after a quick dinner, watching a couple of episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and a shower you head to bed. And if you happen to dream about Jack’s mouth hovering near yours and the feeling of her leg slotted between yours, well it was the most action you’d gotten in months so really it didn’t mean anything.

----

“You are an angel! James has found his own place!” You barely stop yourself from jumping in joy as you throw open Jack’s office door. You don’t notice her immediately and it’s not until you turn around that you see her quickly getting up from the chair in the corner of her office, wiping at her eyes. 

The glee instantly disappears from your face as you quickly shut her office door. “I’m sorry for barging in...Are you okay?” 

Jack groans, dropping back into the chair and holding her head in her hands. You move over sitting on the floor in front of her and lean up to rub soothing circles on her knee. “Hey, what has happened?” 

Jack’s eyes slowly come up to meet yours and you can see the unshed tears in her eyes. She releases a self-deprecating laugh and huffs a breath. “Safwan Anshiri.”

“One of the Wingo's, right?”

Jack’s lips tip up into a barely-there smile. “It’s his birthday today and It’s just bringing a lot of stuff back up.” You move your hand from her knee up to squeeze one of her hands. 

“Tell me about him.” 

Jack blows out a breath, looking up to the ceiling and you pull your hand away, giving her the space to collect her thoughts. “He couldn’t play poker.” Jack laughs. “He thought he was so good, but the first time I played him I completely thrashed his arse.”

“Oh, so kind of like that time at Gibbs’ when I thrashed your arse.” 

“That was totally a one-off!” Jack scrunches up her nose at you and you can’t contain the wide smile that crosses your face and the playful eye roll you shoot her. “Anyway, we had a short fling but he was a good friend. He was great at keeping everyone’s morale up and could pretty much always make me laugh.” Tears have started to trail down Jack’s face as she smiles. 

“He sounds like a pretty amazing guy.” 

“Yeah, he was.” 

Jack continues to tell you her favourite stories about him and you sit quietly watching the emotions play over her face as you take in every detail. It isn’t until nearly 45 minutes later when your phone rings, Tim telling you they’ve got a lead and need you back, that you finally get off the floor. 

She follows you to the door. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” You don’t overthink it as you pull the woman into a hug, she lets out a slight “oh” in surprise but doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull away. “I should get going before Gibbs gets impatient.”

Jack laughs. “Don’t worry I’m sure he’s already annoyed you didn’t materialise in front of him.” As if to prove her point your phone starts ringing and you roll your eyes, showing the phone to Jack as the caller ID flashes. She smirks. “See, nothing if not predictable.” 

“Bye.” You mouth to the blonde, as you make your way out of her office and answer the phone. “I’m just coming now.” 

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 24)

Welcome! Happy Friday! Kit does in fact Live! Who knew, right? I got the cold of death this week and I swear to GOD I’ve been asleep more than awake. But those who have been keeping up with the family bullshit that has knocked this to biweekly updates and killed my will to write- Cora’s getting a 504 plan so she’s promised the same accommodations she’s getting now from the teacher in the following years. WooHoo! Still some kinks to work out but I *hope* to be writing enough to get this back to weekly updates by the end of March. 

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M, Series warnings: Pretty much every Trigger warning that can exist is in this series at some point.

Masterlist 

Feed me coffee

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 24: Going Up

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.  

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.  

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.  

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.  

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.  

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.  

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.  

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.  

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.  

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.  

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”  

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”  

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.  

“Let’s go.”  

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.  

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.  

Assuming they both survived.  

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.  

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.  

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.  

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.  

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.  

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.  

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.  

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.  

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.  

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.  

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.  

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.  

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.  

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.  

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.  

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.  

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.  

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the  open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.  

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.  

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.  

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.  

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.  

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.  

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.  

King Jacob needed to die.  

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @usedtobegoodfriend96, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki​, @toozmanykids​, @j-u-s-t-4​, @missaphrodite23​, @bambamwolf87​, @nonsensicalobsessions​, @tinchentitri​, @xoxabs88xox​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @carissime72​, @myoxisbroken​, @coyotesongwriting​, @wegingerangelica​, @faemapfae​, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​, @tnystrk-exe​

[barnes-belle]

Beauty and the Barnes (9)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Lots of Smut, Light Hints of Non/Dub-Con, Prostitution, Swearing, Dark Bucky. (I can’t stress enough that this is kinda dark, Buckys an asshole and the kind of behavior that goes on in this fic is in no way acceptable in the real world)

When your father falls deathly ill you fall into a lifestyle you would have never predicted for yourself. Selling your body as a high-class escort isn’t ideal but it’s the only way to find the money you need to help your father, until your first client offers you another way.

Bucky’s mean, coarse and gets a kick out of watching you squirm but he is willing to help your father. All you have to do is sign yourself over to The Winter Soldier, body and soul.

Trapped in The Avengers compound, serving as a PA to a man who’s an absolute beast you find yourself wondering if there’s such a thing as a happy ending?

Masterlist

Chapter Nine 

“You can sleep in my room.”

 Six words, repeating over and over in his mind. Haunting him, taunting him.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

You’d held him, comforted him, cared for him and you would have kept doing it.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 He’d come back from the mission, wracked with self-loathing, cold and broken and you had unflinchingly warmed him until he could breath again without it hurting.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 Your hands had washed away the blood of the people he had killed from his skin and your lack of judgement had washed away his sins.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 There was no fear, no hatred, no disgust in your eyes. Just concern. Concern for him.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 He wanted it, he wanted to let you pull him under the sheets and mould your body to his.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 He looked around his room, at the furniture that had been repaired time and time again, the plastered over holes in the walls, the easily replaceable pillows and sheets.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 When he slept, his mind replayed all the horrors of his past and his body struck out. His enhanced strength would destroy everything in reach.

 “You can sleep in my room.”

 But he couldn’t. He could never lay beside you and let his mind and body rest.

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

You never did end up getting back to sleep after you cleared the broken china and blood soaked rags from Bucky’s suite and as the clock ticked down to 7am you showered and dressed before Bucky could get up and leave his room. You didn’t even stick around to make coffee, choosing to brave the communal kitchen instead.

 “Morning Miss Belle!”

 “Morning. Why are you so chipper? Who’s this chipper at 7am?” You asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the smiling face of Peter Parker.

 “Mr Stark signed me out of school for the day so I could help him with… a project.” Peter told you.

 “That sounds like fun.” You yawned, leaning over the look at the fancy coffee machine, hoping to figure it out.

 “Hey Miss Belle?”

 “You really don’t have to call me Miss.” You assured him, prodding at a button.

 “Belle, wanna see something really cool?” Peter asked excitedly.

 “Is it how to work the coffee machine?” You asked hopefully.

 “Better!”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the window, practically pressing his face against the glass. It took your eyes a few moments to adjust but when they did you leaned forwards with him, just as fascinated.

 “It’s snowing!”

 “Hey, parker?”

 “Yeah Belle?”

 “You had breakfast yet?”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Half an Hour Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “What’s going on here?” Tony asked in befuddlement, peering over the veritable mountain of cinnamon rolls.

 “We’re baking!” Peter shouted, popping up from behind the counter.

 “Yeah, no, I can see that.” Tony said, biting into a cinnamon roll and making a noise of surprise.

 “This is really good.” He announced, squinting suspiciously at the young boy.

 “I found the brown sugar and the extra flour, how are the croissants coming?” You asked, walking into the room with a mixing bowl in your hands, a bag of sugar tucked under your arm and a bag of flour balanced precariously on your head.

 “Are we opening a bakery?” Tony asked, plucking the flour of you and shaking his head.

 “It’s the first day of snow, I thought I’d bake.” You said, shrugging.

 “The croissants are brown?” Peter said.

 “Then they’re ready. Here.” You said, passing him the bowl of batter and grabbing a teatowel to take the tray out of the oven.

 “What’s going on here?” Sam asked, wandering in with his nose in the air as he sniffed.

 “Breakfast!” Peter announced.

 “We’re having pastries for breakfast?” Sam asked.

 You grabbed a bowl and ladled him a bowl from the massive pot on the counter and handed it to him with a kind smile.

 “Porridge?” You offered.

 He took the bowl from you with a frown that lasted all of three seconds before he gave you a wide grin.

 “You’re too good for the likes of Barnes, you should come work for me.” He said and sitting at the table.

 “You’re sweet.” You laughed.

 “Speaking of sweet, these are the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever tasted.” Tony called out, grabbing another.

 “My mothers recipe, she was a baker.” You told him.

 “Secret recipe or will you share? I’ll buy it from you.” Tony offered.

 “No deal, but I will make them for you whenever you want?” You counter offered.

 “Done.”

 “What the hell?”

 The fun friendly atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly turned very frosty as Bucky walked in with Steve by his side. The Brunette super soldier was glaring at anything and everything he could while the blonde was smiling at the scene they’d walked in on.

 Unbeknown to you, Steve was relived to see you acting so happy. He’d been worried that because of Bucky’s foul mood, something had gone wrong last night.

 “Porridge?” You offered them with a warm smile.

 “No.” Bucky snapped.

 “Yes, please. For both of us.” Steve corrected, dragging Bucky to the table.

 You took two bowls over and put them down in front of the two men.

 “Thank you Belle.” Steve said politely and you heard a thump under the table as he kicked Bucky on the shin.

 “Thanks.” Bucky grumbled.

 “Belle, sit down and eat. There’s nothing in the oven.” Peter insisted, pushing you towards a seat.

 You obliged and sat down, watching Steve whisper frustratedly to Bucky. Bucky met your eye and quickly looked away.

 “Just eat it Bucky!” Steve hissed.

 Bucky sneered and picked up the bowl and slurped from it loudly. Steve sighed and you could see him physically resist the urge to slam his head down on the table in frustration. Peter animatedly put a bowl down in front of you and with a smirk you picked it up and brought it to your mouth, forgoing the spoon. Steve, Sam and Bucky all looked at you in surprise. You ignored them and slurped your porridge daintily.

 Almost against his will, Bucky smiled. It was a small, barely there smile but you saw it. You smiled back at him and for a few moments the two of you lost yourself in the shared smile and twinkling of each other eyes. In that moment, you both seemed to forget there was anyone else in the room.

 Tony smirked happily and conspiratorially at the scene, Peter looked between you and Bucky in amusement, Steve looked perplexed before a hopeful glint appeared in his eyes and Sam just looked baffled. The four of them looked at each other and seemed to come to some sort of silent agreement.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Bucky paced back and forth in front of your office door for at least twenty minutes before he gathered the courage to go in. His hand hovered over the handle before he seemed to think better of it and knocked.

 “Come in.”

 He swung the door open and you looked up from the scattered pile of papers on your desk. He noted that you looked ill and glanced down at the papers. The mission reports from yesterday.

 “Are you ok?” You asked him.

 “Fine.” He said gruffly.

 “You don’t look it. You look tired. Have you even slept?”

 “It’s none of your business.” He snapped.

 “Well, yes it is. It’s my job to look after you and if you pass out from exhaustion then I’m a failure.” You joked softly.

 “That’s not my problem.”

 “Bucky, just try and rest. Please?” You pleaded, standing up and walking over to him until you were standing in front of him and gazing up at him in concern.

 “Ok.” He agreed and made a face of surprise, like he hadn’t meant to agree to it.

 He seemed to be having some kind of internal struggle with himself and you waited patiently for him to figure it out.

 “Why are you so nice to me?” He demanded desperately.

 He studied your face frantically, like the answer was more important to him than you realized. You slowly brought your hand up to brush a lock of hair off his face and he held himself absolutely still.

 “Because I want to be.” You said simply.

 His chest heaved almost painfully and he looked so torn, so conflicted.

 “You shouldn’t be, you need to stop. I don’t want your pity or kindness. I just want you to do your job.” He said and his words were harsh and cruel but his voice was soft and unsure.

 You just smiled at him.

 “Are you an idiot? I don’t care about you, I don’t want you to be my friend. You’re nothing to me, nothing. Do you understand that?” he snarled.

 “You can be as cruel as you want, you can shout and rage at me and be a bastard but your attitude doesn’t get to change who I am. You don’t have that kind of power over me Bucky.” You told him firmly.  

 All the anger drained out of him and he slumped down, emotionally drained.

 “Go and get some sleep.” You instructed, turning away.

 “Fine. But only because I’m tired, not because you told me to so it.” He snapped petulantly.

 “Of course not.” You agreed, smirking when he stormed out.

 You sat down at your desk and started reading the graphic reports of violence again, correcting any mistakes. The more you read the worse you felt but even through the awful descriptions of the acts of violence that Bucky had committed it was glaringly obvious to you that every move he made, every life he took was carefully calculated. Threats to him were taken care of only after threats to the Captain and the Falcon were dealt with.

 You sent a message to the triplets asking for Steve and Sam’s reports so you could check for discrepancies and you told the women that you would file those as well. It was more work for you but it made more sense for you to file all the mission reports for everyone who was with Bucky in the future and you sent a message to Tony explaining exactly that.

 When you finished messaging Tony you put your tablet down on the table, accidentally knocking your pen onto the floor where it rolled under your desk and you sighed and knelt down to retrieve it. You blindly fumbled under the desk for the pen when your fingers brushed over a piece of card. Frowning you pulled it out.

 It was a white envelope with your name on it and you opened it curiously.

 There were scribbled out lines, attempts at writing.

 I thought some flowers would brighten the office.

They’re not romantic ones. This isn’t romantic. Don’t read into this.

But I thought maybe, if you wanted, if you liked, that I could be your friend.

I want to be your friend.

Please. ??

I just wanted to give you flowers. I wanted to do something nice for you.

 And underneath them, written in painstakingly neat writing.

 I didn’t want you to be the only beautiful thing in that office.

The flowers aren’t as beautiful as you are, I don’t think anything is.

I’m sorry I’ve been such a beast to you and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I was hoping you would have dinner with me tonight?

Yours, James Buchannan Barnes X

 Your eyes stung as you realized that the flowers had never been from Ben, they had been from Bucky. He had reached out, shown vulnerability and kindness and you had rejected him without ever knowing it. You clutched the card in your hand and scrambled to your feet, running through the compound. You burst into Bucky’s suite and came to a stop in front of his bedroom door.

 Horror clutched at your heart as you heard his pained yells from within the room and disregarding his rule, his one command that you never ever go inside, no matter what… You pushed the door open.

~~~~~~~~~

No quirky meme for this chapter, I'm busy getting the fan ready. Because shit is about to hit it!!

@spnqueen02 @nogardsoahk @chipilerendi   @youwerespared@jessieray98@nochampagnesocialist@scarlettswxtch@dropthepizza346@jsmith509@musingpredilection@shirukitsune @dragonrosegardens @sexyvixen7@spicymagz @teh-nerdette @nerdy-bookworm-1998@australianhorrorstory   @thejourneyneverendsx

[ernmark]

I was just rereading the married in space vegas au, and the line "Between the two of us, I'd rather be Peter Nureyev," just kills me every time. Any chance we could get another installment?

Holy crap, this past month has been packed.

But I’ve been tapping away at it when I’ve gotten a spare minute. So here’s the next bit:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  | Part 4 

According to the Office of Annulments– there’s a goddamn department for these things– it’ll take upwards of six business days before the marriage license is in the system, and only after that will they be able to begin the long process of getting it expunged.

It would have taken three business days, but Juno had to shoot off his big mouth and piss off the clerk. That’s three more days that he’s got to pay for overpriced food and an overpriced hotel room, on top of the already ridiculous filing fees.

“If it’s money you’re worried about–”

“It’s not,” Juno snaps too quickly, and then lowers his voice to something less aggressive. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“It occurred to me that we’re both here longer than expected. And the cost of the hotel is going to be the lion’s share of the expenses, after everything else is spoken for. I certainly wouldn’t mind cutting down on that cost.”

“Good luck finding a cheaper place, Nureyev,” Juno mutters. “This is the most economy you’re gonna get inside the city limits.”

“I was thinking more of splitting the bill.” He says it so delicately it’s almost clinical. He’s nervous about asking– because he’s scared he’s gonna get shot down? Or because he’s already been shouted at once in this conversation?

“What, you mean like sharing the room?” Juno asks, careful not to sound too snide. He’s not going to mock the guy just for coming up with an idea, even if it is weird. “Sure you want to be sleeping next to a stranger?”

“Come now, is that any way to speak about your husband?”

Juno’s response is a silent, stony glare.

“I’m only teasing,” Nureyev says warmly. “But we have managed to spend one night in the same room without any major bodily harm.”

“Tell that to my hangover.”

“I don’t see why we can’t continue on this way.”

“Maybe because the last time we woke up hitched. I don’t know about you, but that seems like a good reason to me.”

“That’s just it, though,” Nureyev steps closer, and his big brown eyes are impossibly bright. “The worst of it is already behind us. It isn’t as though we could possibly be more married than we already are.”

Juno looks away. “You’re missing out on a whole lot of worst-case scenarios.” He sighs. Damn this guy. If Juno doesn’t keep an eye on him, Nureyev might actually wake up in a bathtub full of ice or something. “Okay, fine. You’ve got a point. Splitting the bill is a pretty good idea.”

Nureyev smiles, only it isn’t just a smile. How the hell does the guy get his face to light up like that?

“So which one of us is checking out of their room?”

“Would you mind terribly if I do?” Nureyev asks. “Between the smell and the lumps in the mattress, I had to check the bed twice to make sure it wasn’t hiding any bodies. The alcohol aside, last night was the best night of sleep I’ve gotten in days.”

Juno glances at the bed. A king-sized mattress. He hadn’t exactly been planning to spend this bender with anyone, or he would have gotten the two queens instead. Transferring to a new room will cost extra. So will a roll-out cot. This goddamn hotel is gonna squeeze every last cred out of him, isn’t it?

But he had this coming, didn’t he? He was so busy trying to forget all his problems that he got himself a whole mess of new ones. The bed’s made, and now he’s got to lie in it. Or… not lie in it.

“Fine,” he says. “You get the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair.” He jerks his chin at the armchair in the corner. It’s not gonna be the best sleep of his life by a long shot, but it’ll be a hell of a lot better than nodding off behind a desk.

Nureyev looks affronted. “Juno, you can’t. I’m not about to chase you out of your own bed.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“I’ll take the chair. I insist.” Goddamn Nureyev acting like a goddamn martyr. Like Juno’s not the one who got them into this situation in the first place.

“I’m taking the chair and that’s final,” Juno snaps back.

He thinks he’s won the argument, but Nureyev rises to his full height and looks imperiously at him. “Very well. You can have the chair. And I’ll take the floor.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Juno scrapes a hand down his face. Why are they even paying for a room, then? They might as well sneak into a janitor’s closet or something. “We’ll share the bed, okay? It’s big enough that we won’t get in each other’s way.”

Nureyev seems to shrink back down to his normal size. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

At least, Juno means to keep his hands to himself. After four hours on the comms with his spaceline, he’s too exhausted to really worry about who’s sleeping on the other side of the bed. Hell, he’s ready to pass out without a thought about dinner, but then Nureyev comes back from wherever he’d wandered off to while Juno was busy swearing at customer service reps.

“Did you get everything worked out?” Nureyev asks.

Juno drags himself out of the armchair. “Yeah. I’m off tomorrow’s flight, and they’re holding my seat until we can get this all cleared up.”

“That sounds like quite the victory.” Nureyev pulls a takeout bag out of his coat. The thin paper bulges around a pair of sandwiches. “Shall we celebrate?”

Juno could kiss him for that.

Maybe that’s what does it– the idea of it floating around in his subconscious while he’s asleep, making decisions for him that he wouldn’t have made. Maybe he’s just cold and gravitates to the nearest source of warmth. Maybe his body remembers the rightness of not sleeping alone.

Why it happens doesn’t matter.

What matters is that he wakes up nestled with his head on Nureyev’s shoulder, his arm around a slender waist, their legs intertwined. It would be fantastic if Juno had actually meant to do it, if he hadn’t explicitly said he wouldn’t, if Nureyev had agreed to something so compromising. Right here, right now, all Juno can feel is a surge of panic. 

And it only gets worse when Nureyev yawns, showing off those sharp teeth. He’s awake. “Good morning, Juno.”

Juno tries to roll put some more distance between them, but he’s too thoroughly entangled in the sheets to make a clean getaway. “Shit,” he mutters. “Listen, I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on you or anything. This just happened.” Goddammit, he should have slept on the floor. “I’m not some creep.”

“It’s alright.” Maybe Nureyev would be more pissed if he wasn’t still half asleep. “I can’t say I mind waking up this way.”

Seriously? The reversal hits him like whiplash. 

“You wake up like this very often?” Adrenaline sharpens Juno’s voice into an accusation.

Nureyev just chuckles. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

“Jealous?” Juno raises himself incredulously on one elbow. “What the hell would I be jealous about? I barely know you.”

Nureyev gives him an odd smile. “Most mornings I wake up alone, as a matter of fact. As much as I enjoy travelling for my work, it doesn’t leave many opportunities to date. To be perfectly honest, I’d mostly given up on the prospect.”

Juno bristles. “We’re not dating.”

“Only married.” Nureyev chuckles again, completely unfazed. Funny– as tightly wound as Juno’s feeling, it’s hard to stay on edge when the Nureyev is so calm. “I know this situation is temporary, but I must say, I’m enjoying the novelty of it all. It’s something I never thought I’d get to experience for myself.”

Juno deflates a little bit despite himself. It wasn’t too long ago that he was fantasizing about married life– right before all those hopes and dreams got yanked out from under him. He’s missed all those dreams, as much as he’s been trying to convince himself otherwise. He’s missed having someone beside him as he drifts off to bed. He’s missed waking up to the sound of another heartbeat.

“Juno,” Nureyev says gently, tugging Juno out of his thoughts. “Could I ask you to indulge me?”

“More than I already am?”

“Only as far as you’re willing,” Nureyev says. “Only until the annulment goes through.”  

Juno sighs. Of course. “Listen, if you want sex you can just ask for it, alright?” 

“Duly noted. But I was hoping for something a little more… domestic.” Nureyev leans in, conspiratorially close, and Juno’s struck by the memory of other conversations held early in the morning, of another face blinking at him bleary-eyed as they gathered the energy to get out of bed, whining playfully for Juno to kick their slippers to the other side of the bed so they don’t have to walk barefoot on the cold floor. “So long as we’re here, I’d like to enjoy the full experience.” 

“If–” When did Juno’s voice get so raw? “If you’re hoping to enjoy married life, you proposed to the wrong lady.”

Some of the languid warmth drains out of Nureyev, and he’s a little more formal than before, a little less sultry. “Ah. Apologies, Juno. I didn’t intend to–”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Juno says before he can stop himself, which is stupid. It’s so stupid. He’s got a perfect opening to get out of this situation, no questions asked, no strings attached. He should take it. If he had half a brain he would take it. But he’s always been an idiot. “If you want to play at being a couple or whatever, that’s– that’s fine. But in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly all sunshine and roses. I can’t promise you won’t regret it.” 

Nureyev smiles, and Juno wishes he could soak up all the warmth in that smile. “Of course not. But a bit of risk is what makes it an adventure.”