#damn i sure am chatty today

[insufferablemod]

yall got any dave centric fanfic recs??

[studylabs]

self rb of old af posts for new followers........ i am EMBARRASSED

[agentmarvel]

center image by @/ave661

PART II

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,010

read on ao3

cw: toxic parenting, implied fatshaming, simon begins his descent into madness, so obsessive!simon

♡

It's irksome, the way Johnny fusses over Simon's bowtie. He keeps turning and twisting it in an effort to straighten it out, but the little perfectionist is just never satisfied.

“s'fine, Soap. Leave it alone.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid. Damn thing's more crooked than yer nose, LT. Not letting ye get hitched lookin’ like a dafty.”

Simon sighs, rolling his eyes with a sly smirk. He's partial to the nickname, though neither of them served a day in their life. Well, not in the traditional sense, at least. But the semblance is a loyalty forged in sweat and blood; Johnny's been with him for years, a parting gift from Price. 

“He's a good lad, Simon - real salt of the earth type. Bit chatty, but he works as hard as his old man did. Think he'd do well with you.”

Simon thinks he truly understated the chatty bit, but as usual, was not wrong.

“Aye, there we are.” Johnny finally steps back, admiring his work. “Yer tie looks better now; shame we can fix yer ugly mug, though.”

“Oi, fuck off.”

Kyle snickers across the small room, straightening his cuff with a grin.

“Don't be such a git, mate. Not every day the big man gets married. Frankly, with a face like that,  doubted he ever would.”

“You're both fired,” Simon mutters, shaking his head as he moves towards the door.

“Where ye think yer goin'? She's not laid eyes on ye, so I dinnae think she's bolted yet.”

“Better give ‘er the chance then, yeah?”

He slips out the door with an amused hum before wiping his palms against his slacks. Never will he admit it, but a waxing sense of anxiety gnaws at his gut. It’s been years since he’s actually felt… nervous. Not since his first solo contracted kill. Treading unfamiliar territory stirs foreign feelings, but perhaps they’re not all bad ones.

To take the edge off, Simon decides to step out for a smoke. That wasn’t his intent initially, lest Soap bitch at him for disrupting the effects of his subtle cologne, but he’s willing to face the wrath for some nicotine. He pats his jacket, feeling the creased, misshapen cardboard pack in his breast pocket and looks for the nearest exit. It’s just a bit further down the hall.

But something stops him before he steps out. An argument behind another closed door.

“Of course I think you look nice! All I’m saying is that you could’ve put a bit of effort into losing more weight. I didn’t hire a top nutritionist and personal trainer just for you to not need more alterations.”

Simon recognizes that voice. Your father has an unmistakable level of condescension that drips off every word he says.

“And would it kill you to smile? It’s your wedding day, for Christ’s sake! Pretend you’re happy.”

“You’re not in any position to ask anything of me.” The response is acrimonious, venomous, and a voice that doesn’t ring any bells. It’s you. 

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I am your father, and you will do as I say.” The already bellicose tone swells as his voice raises, and Simon has half a mind to step in. A sense of fury burns within his chest. He should’ve known that someone with such a flagrant disregard for you behind your back would be just as derisive to your face. It’s crass at minimum, especially in the face of your own fucking child.

The only thing stopping him is the want for things to go smoothly today; a temporary ceasefire to ensure that he can fulfill his obligation.

Still, he feels a tug at his hollow heartstrings. No one deserves to be spoken down to in that manner, let alone on their wedding day. He’s certain you look stunning, and he’ll be sure to tell you as much when he finally gets to see you.

He’ll also be sure to limit contact with your father immediately after the marriage license is filed. Keeping that twat on a short leash ought to keep his beautiful bride in high spirits, yeah?

Before he can think better of his decision, Simon sees himself outside. Getting his fix does little to quell the rage stoked by his albeit unintentional eavesdropping. Before he knows it, he’s gone through half the pack and is about to light another when he gets a text from Kyle.

>>> It's time!

He takes the unlit cigarette from his lips and begrudgingly stows it away. Making his way back inside, his stride slows as he approaches the door to the bridal suite. It's partially open, and from what he can see, your father is conspicuously absent. You remain, however. 

It's hard to fathom how a man could be so cruel to such a creature of allure. In the most fleeting glance as he passes by, Simon's struck with a gravitational pull. You're the moon, he's the tide. At that moment, he wants nothing more than to turn back. He wants to make his presence known and promise you'll never face another day of derision after today. You'll never endure another vile word. A painful, gruesome death would befall anyone who treated you so disgracefully from this moment on. In that singular frame, Simon knows he'd break John's rules for you. He’d break his own rules for you. 

And he's never even spoken to you.

♡

Johnny's waiting for him just a few doors down. As Simon approaches, he sees Johnny’s nose wrinkle.

“Och! Ye smell like the alley behind a fuckin’ pub, ye reprobate. C'mere, ye fuckin’ oaf.”

As predicted, Simon supposes.

It's a quick fix, and Johnny rushes him off to the altar. Simon adjusts his jacket, buttoning it properly before taking a deep breath and pushing ahead. The room goes silent as several dozen eyes abandon their previous gazes to watch him. His confidence doesn’t waver outwardly. There’s no room for that. He keeps his eyes forward as he approaches the pulpit. A familiar face awaits him there in a fresh-pressed three-piece.

“Didn’t know you did weddings,” he laughs, low and clipped.

“Do funerals, too, if you know anyone in need,” John Price hums back with a grin. Simon offers a hand, one Price accepts with a quick, firm shake. “Good to see you, my boy. Been too long.”

“Not long enough if your chin hasn’t caught up with your chops yet.”

“Glad to see time hasn’t dulled your sense of humor.” It’s a dry response, but the creases at the corners of his eyes give away his amusement.

Idly, they chat, waxing philosophical to pass the time. Periodically, John checks his watch and looks into the balcony, but he doesn’t miss a single word Simon utters. Simon’s seen this before; something isn’t quite right, and Price is trying to suss out precisely what it is.

The door at the back of the chapel opens, and a small woman with wiry hair rushes up the aisle as fast as her little legs could carry her without breaking into a jog. She clambers the quartet of steps, looking a bit worse for wear. Sweat prickles her brow, her sunken eyes seeming to recede with each movement. John raises an eyebrow as if to ask her if she’s okay, but she ignores the unspoken concern.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, John. Bride had a little, eh, mishap, but we’re ready to begin.”

Simon opens his mouth to demand more detail, but Price shoots him a pointed look, the aim to keep the dog from barking as he reassures her, “Perfectly fine, Doris. Is the young lady alright?”

“Quite. She's just had a bit of a rocky morning. Nerves and all.”

She shrugs with a timid smile, like that'll placate the intense look of defensiveness on Simon's usually stoic face. He knows she's not being entirely truthful, but to whose benefit? 

Price gives her a curt nod and offers his arm to usher her to her seat. Her frail fingers curl around his elbow, blue veins protruding like a web of thread unspooled. She smiles at Simon sympathetically. They descend the short few steps in stagger, and he can’t help but wonder what it is that she knows that he doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. After today, none of this really matters. The setting is a mere formality, born of a desire for flamboyancy and extravagance, neither of which have ever been in Simon’s wheelhouse. His preference for something simple and quiet was aggressively overruled from the start.

His eyes drift over the observers that casually mill about the pews. Only one bears any familiarity, the one patting an old woman’s hand before turning back towards the pulpit, while the rest look more like faceless mannequins, nondescript in the forward echoes of memory. 

John takes his place beside Simon, asking under his breath in close proximity, “Are you ready?”

Simon nods, folding his hands together in front of him and adjusting his stance to face the doors at the back of the aisle. In his periphery, he sees Price signal the woman who sits at the piano. She begins to play something Simon doesn’t recognize. Immediately, those stark moths flood to their seats like a bright bulb.

The doors open after a few measures, a pair of well-dressed ushers securing them in position. Shortly, the two pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen enter, timely and in sequence. The young women accompanied by Simon’s men are both bright-eyed and all smiles, but the air of wariness is not lost on anyone keen enough to notice. Circumstantially, this wedding is dubious at best, and if they’re close enough for you to ask them to join the wedding party, then they’re close enough to know the truth.

He’s under no illusion that you’re an overtly willing participant in any of this. You were blindsided. Out of the blue - no warning, no inkling - being told over dinner that your father is not the man you always believed him to be, that you’ve been promised to a stranger to improve business prospects, that you’re seen as a pawn rather than a person. Simon feels vaguely guilty for the turmoil, but seeing the lack of consideration for you truncates it. You’ll be better off by his side. That’s not the fanatical part of his brain speaking; it’s factual. 

When he hears the music change from a simple, tedious tune to a melodic version of the traditional bridal march, reality pulls him back into his body. His gaze locks on the doorway. For the first time - the first real time - he gets to see you.

You look god damn gorgeous. There’s no other way to describe it.

The dress is bright white, almost blinding. Crystalline and pearl accents around the neck and waist lines reflect sun rays from the windows, giving you an ethereal glow. Delicate charmeuse drapes some of your curves while tulle hides others (much to his dismay). Simon swears the halo above your perfectly styled hair isn’t a trick of the light. You look like a fucking angel - his angel.

His heart is racing, raging against the cage of his ribs like the bars of a prison cell. It wants to escape, break free and put itself in your hands. The pace of his breathing has quickened, palms beginning to sweat, and a foreign euphoria falls over him like mist. His lips curl into the smallest expression of joy, barely detectable, and John nudges him with his elbow.

“Congratulations, my boy. She’s a beauty.”

A sense of pride swells in his chest at that.

Halfway down the aisle, you finally look up at Simon. In the span of seconds, your expression rolls through a series of emotions; bitter, then a mite of surprise, confusion… then admiration and ire.

You take on a more timid look as you approach, though, fingers wrapped loosely around the inside of your father’s elbow. Despite the narrowness of the aisle, you’re still positioned as far away from him as you can be. The anger is palpable, rolling off you in waves. Just beneath the surface, an indeterminable despair. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be anywhere near that bastard or Simon himself. He may not have gotten to know you in the traditional sense, but he knows human behavior all too well.

You’re hurt. Betrayed. Defiant.

The iniquity of it all gnaws at his bones as he extends a hand to you. He watches your snake of a father wrenches your wrist with a hollow smile to pull you closer before taking your fingers in his with a brutish grip.

“Do you give this woman to be married to this man?” Price asks, an obscure grit of disapproval at the display thickening his voice.

“I do,” your father answers, tugging your arm forward in an offering of your hand.

Simon takes it gently, savoring the feeling of your soft, manicured fingers sliding across his rough, calloused palm. You lift the hem of your dress with your free hand, taking each step like it’ll delay the inevitable. There’s a tremble in your touch, undoubtedly apprehensive, uncertain, scared.

When you’re settled on the top step, you glance at your father with pleading eyes. His expression is stern and hardened. He mouths an inaudible warning before turning to take his seat, and Simon swears he sees the last shreds of your stubborn will collapse. 

Quietly, you hand your bouquet to the bridesmaid just behind you before placing your other hand into Simon’s waiting one. Tears spring up in your eyes, and he gives you the softest squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers so softly that even Price almost misses it. Your eyes shoot up to his. “Let’s just get through this, yeah? We can talk about everything when we don’t have an audience.”

You nod.

♡

It all passes in a haze, like Simon’s somehow running on autopilot while still autonomous in part. Both your vows and his were written by the wedding planner with significant input from your parents. An effort to hide the clandestine nature of the nuptials, he supposes. He recites his from recall, trying to place emphasis where needed like code. Yours, however, have him rapt. While he knows the words are not your own, something about hearing you profess your love ignites a spark within him. Hell, he nearly misses his cue for the ring because he’s so focused on absorbing your presence, memorizing every detail of the way you look right now.

One thing snaps him from his infatuated stupor: “You may now kiss the bride.”

He eyes you warily, seeking any sign of discomfort. There are no sirens sounding, no postings of danger, no flashing warning lights. You’ve resigned yourself to the moment’s arrival, and Simon does not hesitate. His hands curl around the roundness of your cheeks, slotting you into his palms like you were made to fit. The tilt of his head falls opposite yours. 

Slowly, he leans forward. Leisurely so as not to alarm you. Your breathing hitches just a hair as he closes in. The tips of your fingers settle against his chest as he reels you closer. His lips barely brush yours, a hint of strawberry as your gloss transfers in brief contact, and you draw him nearer until you reconnect.

It consumes him wholly now, the spark, engulfing his entire being. Flames of desire lick up the base of his spine, rising until your fingerprints are blistering his skin. He’s melting into you, embers glittering as they rise up and away until he’s nothing more than ash, staining every inch of you he may ever touch with a permanent marking that can’t be scrubbed away. Your name is branded on his chest, now and forever. In every way, he is yours.

Price is kind enough to wait until the kiss ends to formally announce the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Simon Riley with a reminder that a reception will occur at a later date. Simon takes your hand in his and briskly leads you back down the aisle, grateful for the guise of a honeymoon flight to stave off a night of questioning and awkwardness.

It’s not a honeymoon that awaits, but rather a lengthy flight back to Manchester. Movers cleared out your apartment this morning, carting it to the tarmac to load. Another crew will be waiting to unload it the moment you touch down.

Simon hopes you’ll be able to get some rest during the flight. You needn’t lift a finger, don’t worry; he’s just concerned for the dark circles hidden under your make-up, the torn bits of skin around your nails, the way your voice rings unsteady and uneven in the moments you’re alone with him.

It’s understandable that you don’t trust him yet. You don’t know him quite as intimately as he knows you. You’re afraid, unsure of what comes next. The life you knew is in upheaval, disrupted by years of lies and deceit. You don’t know what’s real anymore. You doubt everything. Who knew the truth and didn’t tell you? Are your friends even really your friends? Did your parents ever love you, or were you always just a puppet? The strings are too tangled to separate at this point, so you might as well accept your fate and cut them.

You sob into his chest, tears soaking through his white button down. It’s taken so much out of you, hasn’t it? And now you’re here, spilling your guts to a man you don’t know as he holds you, dutifully and steadfast.

One more hour, and you’ll be away from all of this. He won’t lie to you, he won’t hide things from you. You’ll never have to question yourself or the people around you again. You’re getting the life you deserve now.

It’s okay to trust him, sweet girl. Tell him all your secrets, let him in, let him live in your skin, burrow deep in your mind. Simon will keep you safe. At any cost.

part iii

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 25)

Tw: Some harsh words from Yves, homewrecking allegations

short chapter guys

damn yall this was originally suppsoed to be a "yes" option, but beyond 21 voted yall voted for a 'no', guess u guys still simp heavily for Yves to sacrifice entertainment

but 2 be fair, the outcome is pretty similar to this

emjouy

Part 26

"Well done, (name)." He praised, not out of malice or sarcasm, but out of genuine proudness. Yves was happy that you've been engaging with your critical thinking, that is something Yves does not witness very regularly.

You felt a load taken off your shoulders, finally, you have done something right today. That has to quell some of his anger, right? You hope.

You sighed and asked him if there was anything you could do for him now.

"I would very much appreciate your company. Your first class will begin 25 minutes later, I would love to hear your voice until then." His sensual, caring demeanor is back. You are so glad to hear him purr again. You agreed much to his delight.

You looked at Evangeline as she stared at you expectantly. You shook your head, gesturing that Yves does not wish to talk to her.

However, Evangeline did the unthinkable and snatched your phone out of your hands. You gasped, trying to grab it back, but all she did was pull it away from you.

She pressed the Speaker button so that you could also hear the conversation between her and Yves.

"Hello, Sir Yves? Yes, this is Evangeline. First of all, I would like to say (name) is a wonderful friend! They are also very lucky to have you as their partner."

Yves did not reply. You gave up trying to take it back, you paced around while letting her deal with the mess she created.

"Secondly, I am thankful that you have allowed my father to work alongside you. You have treated us well and we are grateful for that."

"Are you finished?"

Her blue eyes widened in shock, taken aback by the unexpected animosity from Yves. She cleared her throat and said yes.

You heard him pouring something into his glass.

"I find it quite interesting that you chose to forcefully take the phone out of their hands. You chose to switch their speakerphone on without consulting me beforehand. What was your rationale behind them?" She stiffened up a bit but eventually composed herself enough to provide a coherent answer.

"Well, I have been noticing that you and (name) are going through a rough patch. So, I offered to be a mediator. I was trying to create an open environment with adequate space for communication between (name), you, and I."

You are not sure how to feel about Evangeline's formally chatty side. You know this will not end well, because she did not once say an apology.

"Evangeline. I have worked with your father for years. I fully expected him to have taught manners. At least, fundamental ones. But I was proven wrong today by your audacity." Her smile completely dropped off the face of Earth, now replaced with a neutral but somber look.

"Deepest apologies for my offenses, Sir Yves," she spoke with clarity.

"How dare you attempt to meddle in our relationship, manipulate (name) into thinking you're helping, but all you did was nothing except drive a wedge between us? How dare you invade our privacy and touch (name)'s personal items without their permission? I am exceedingly disappointed with you, Evangeline. You were taught better, I am in disbelief that you have decided to disgrace yourself like this. To disgrace your father's name." Your jaw drops to the ground as you hear Yves dish out his scoldings to Evangeline. She seems to take it like a champ, though.

"I am sorry, sir Yves. I don't know what has gotten over me." She replied to his devastating verbal blow.

"I do, Evangeline. You take pleasure in appearing as the savior to everyone. Your intentions were never to mend or strengthen my bonds with (name), it was completely self-serving." Her gaze was downcast as soon as he told her his thoughts.

"You are too undisciplined, too careless to consider the consequences of your behavior. All was done in favour of feeding your inflated ego. You're selfish." He spat.

"You're right. My apologies. I will do better." You looked at her, she smiled back at you as if she's having a friendly conversation about the weather instead.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the rumors surrounding your homewrecking tendencies have their merits." She gasped at his remark. You did too.

"Sir Yves, I... I don't think it's fair for you to--"

"Stay away from my (name)." He interrupted her, mid-defence.

"Dear, turn the speakerphone off. I would like to talk to you in private, please." Yves reverted his tone back to the honeyed version that makes you weak in the knees, in a good way.

You did as you were told and brought the phone back up to your ear.

"(name), I do not like Evangeline nor do I trust her." Your eyebrows shot up in shock, you don't get to hear him express his disdain for someone so directly. Not even Montgomery received such hatred from him. "I want you to reduce the time spent with her."

You were expecting him to tell you to cut her off entirely, seeing that he suspected you were cheating on him with Evangeline earlier.

"I allow you to remain acquaintances, solely because you still need a degree of social interaction each day to maintain your health. You don't have friends on campus other than Jones's daughter."

The last point reminded you how awkward you are.

"It's not good to isolate yourself, (name). Even if it is just for a few more days." He added. "I would prefer it if you could befriend other students. Perhaps even join a club. But in the meantime, if you cannot help it, go ahead and interact with her. Remember not to take the friendship too far."

You told him okay.

"You still have 20 minutes left, (name). Tell me about your dreams last night." You thought it was an odd prompt. But regardless, you looked up and started to retrieve patchy memories of what you witnessed in your slumber. You began giving him the gist of it, then slowly built up until the conclusion.

That was all you remembered. You don't know what else he wanted.

"That's fascinating, dear. What do you think it all means?" You hummed and spewed out your theories, no matter how strange, idiotic, or random it is, Yves enjoyed listening to it. He was recording everything down, noting that you managed to take his bait.

Eventually, you found that you couldn't stop blabbering from topic to topic. It felt nice to let out your true thoughts, even the most atrociously boring ones-- these are things that you refrained from telling Evangeline about because you think she's probably not interested. Yves is like your journal and you still to this day could not comprehend how his influence managed to make you bleat like a goat. Like you had no shame.

The thought of Evangeline completely slipped your mind. You walked away as a chatterbox, A bag of now cold fried chicken and waffles in one hand, a phone in another.

The blonde watched you slowly disappear into a building where your class would be. Her lips are pressed into a thin, fine line. She pulled her phone out of her tote bag and unlocked it, dialing a number that you might have seen before.

[dollywheeler]

September 3rd, 1996

Dear diary,

I survived my first day as a Junior. Not that I am surprised because I'd planned everything perfectly. Almost everything.

I woke a few minutes before my alarm as I always do - I don't even know why I set it anymore, other than the fact I know the universe will screw me over the one time I won't. I went down to have breakfast with dad before he had to leave and went up to get ready after he'd gone at 7:15.

Whitney was late as usual when I went to pick her up, but I'd accounted for that so we were still out of her street by 7:50. We pulled into our parking spot at exactly 8:00. I don't know why that brings me so much joy.

Anyway, we went into homeroom together as Whit, Dylan and I all have Mrs. Haywood again. I hate that we only get our schedules during the first day - I never know what to prepare for. I know it's mostly introduction anyway and we won't need more than a notebook but it still irks me.

Today was the perfect example as to why. As usual, I'm one of the last to be handed paperwork - stupid double u - and everyone was already skimming over their classes and their teachers. At first, I assumed the murmuring was just the recognition of my last name on some people's rosters, but Whitney turned to talk to Dylan instead of me so there must have been something else going on.

Once I got the roster, I understood why.

My third period today was art.

With mister Byers.

Of course, he'd be here too. I mean, why else would they both come back? But did they both have to get jobs in Hawkins?

At least it distracted people from English with Mr. Wheeler, which I have seventh period - joy! Luckily, Zombie Boy returning is more noteworthy than Holly's weirdo older brother - small blessings I guess.

I don't get the hype though - he's just Will. Just one of Mike's lame friends.

And now he's going to teach my art class which used to be my one moment of peace during the week.

Ugh.

Dylan asked about my brother when we were walking into our next class. She apparently has him fourth period which sucks because it means I can't keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't befriend Mike behind my back. She has a tendency to lull teachers into personal conversations, which everyone loves because it means a distraction from the coursework but I know only means we have more work at home later. It's not really her fault she's just so damn likeable, anyway. Her chattiness is exactly why she's one of my best friends.

It became apparent that Dylan wasn't the only one who'd recognized Mike's name, either. After my second period French class I caught Daniel's eye in the hallway. I swear his smile brightened upon seeing me and for a second today was perfect - until he asked about Mike. Apparently we both have him seventh period. I want to be happy we're finally sharing a class but what kind of sick joke is it that Mike will be there?

He couldn't be present for any of my birthdays but he's going to be watching every second of me hanging out with the guy I like? The universe is clearly out to get me.

I managed to smile and shrug through an explanation though, and I don't think it came off too weird. He continued smiling at me so that's good. We compared schedules and other than English we don't share any classes at all, which put even more of a damper on today.

We reached Mister Byers' classroom, but luckily he wasn't greeting students outside the door so I could send Daniel on his way before Will saw us. I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk in and find a seat without looking in the direction of his desk. I don't know why my heart was pounding - it's not like I thought he was going to single me out or anything. It was just unsettling I guess, to be near this person you used to know, who probably knows more about you than you do about them.

Or think they know you - I'm not six years old anymore.

When he finally started the class I was able to look up at him now I knew his attention wasn't on me. He honestly hadn't changed at all. He still had a bowl cut, which possibly endeared him to me a little bit. It was more mature now, of course, shorter, and overall didn't look too out of place. Maybe just because he's Will. He's always been Will. I don't know how I would have felt if he'd didn't have the bowl cut anymore. Mike probably would have thrown a fit. He always hated change - until he didn't, I guess.

There was something sad about his posture as he started his class though; Like his excitement had dimmed. He didn't sound like he used to when talking about his favorite colors or arguing crayon against pencil. I felt bad once I caught him glance at me before quickly redirecting his gaze and realized why.

None of this is his fault, after all, and I always used to like him most of Mike's idiot friends. He was always nice to me, and now I was being childish.

So after his class was over I hung back a little and went to say hi. He looked surprised but pleased to see me standing at his desk and it immediately made me feel a lot better. I apologized for not saying anything earlier but he said it was fine and he understood this must be weird. He said he was glad I still liked art and we talked about that for a moment before he sent me on my way to my next class.

Nevertheless, it was actually nice to talk to him, even if it was only briefly, and he didn't bring up Mike, which I'm sure was intentional.

Of course, seeing Mike was inevitable.

I tried the same tactic as I had with Will's class - just keep my head down - but of course Mike can't take a hint. He actually tried to catch my attention and greet me as I was walking in and I couldn't really ignore him in front of everyone - in front of Daniel - so I just forced a smile and nodded before sitting down as far away from him as possible. At least he wasn't wearing a nerdy t-shirt as I'd feared but a button-up and slacks - proper English teacher attire. Mom would have approved.

I tried to take notes even though I hate sitting in the back of the class, and as my attention was slipping anyway I had to try harder not to look at Daniel. Mike is not allowed to catch me staring at him.

Not that it's any of his business.

When the bell finally rang I already had my bag packed and was ready to bolt, but of course so was everyone else. Seriously, back of the class is not the most efficient seating arrangement.

"Hey, Holls, wait up!" Mike called me back, and I had to do my best not to visibly cringe. At least he didn't call me 'Holly Dolly' again. The room was still emptying and some were curiously glancing over at us so I just forced a smile and moved closer so they couldn't listen in.

He asked if I'd received his letter and if I wanted to have dinner tonight. I told him I had cheer practice and went home.

He probably isn't stupid enough to believe me but maybe he'll get the hint.

Anyway, mom was waiting on me when I got home. She asked about Mike. I didn't have anything to tell her, which made me feel strangely guilty. It's not my job to play telephone, but mom just looked so disappointed... I couldn't help but feel like it was my fault even though it clearly isn't.

I hope she won't ask again tomorrow. Or the day after that.

Love, Holly

[badsansandstarsansticklestuff]

I am surprisingly still not dead

Undertale AU tickle fic

Characters: Horror x Dust (ship)

Context: Dust has been saying terrible puns all day and Horror is tired

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

The day has been long, Horror and Dust were both sent on a mission to gather food and medical supplies, Killer couldn't come with them as he was still hurt from the previous mission, hence the need for medical supplies. They needed to be quiet and discreet, they didn't want the Star Sanses to show up, they were only two and they really didn't need anyone else to be hurt.

But the problem was.. Dust was feeling chatty this day, in a mood for puns, which really didn't help Horror concentrate. He would make jokes and puns all day, they almost got caught because of him ! It was a miracle when they came back in the castle without fighting. Horror was pissed.

- Boss, we have what you asked for.

- Good, thank you Horror. You can put it on the table I'll take care of the rest.

Horror gave the supplies to his superior and left, not wanting to bother him as he was healing his co-worker. He went straight to his room, needing some well-earned rest. He landed flat on his bed.

- Hey Horror I got a new joke for you, you're gonna like it !

Said an eager Dust as he walked in his co-worker's room. Horror sighed in frustration, couldn't he be alone juste one minute ?

He watched as Dust closed the door behind him and went closer to the bed.

- Okay so it goes-

He was cut in his sentence as two strong arms pulled him against Horror's chest.

- H-Horror ?

As previously stated, Horror was pissed and tired.

- You want to laugh, huh ? That's what you want ? Fine, I'll give you something to laugh at !

Dust was suddenly very nervous as he tried to escape the bigger's grip but damn, Horror was really strong !

- C-can we talk about it ?

- I don't think so, no.

Dust had a very bad feeling when he felt Horror's hands on his ribcage, and that feeling got confirmed when these same hands started squeezing his ribs, sending him into a pit of laughter. Dust always put on a tough appearance under his hood, like nothing could get a reaction out of him, but the truth was very humiliating: to get any reaction you simply had to tickle him a little, because under all these layers Dust was actually pretty ticklish... and Horror knew that very well.

- W-WAHAIT !

But Horror didn't wait, he was mad and wouldn't stop until he was satisfied. He kept squeezing and scratching his victim's poor ribs as he was trying to escape, kicking his legs to no avail and trying to grab his tormentor's hands.

- The more you move the longer it will last.

Dust flinched at these words and immediately tried not to move, but it was hard, very hard, as he really wanted to escape this torture. His legs were shaking as he tried to hold them in place, trying not to move his arms either, his hands firmly gripped on Horror's arms. His face was a bright purple, he hated being tickled, he hated how vulnerable it made him, how he was reduced to a laughing mess, unable to defend himself or even use his magic properly. But it was Horror, and he did have a pretty massive crush on him, so maybe this proximity wasn't that bad, maybe he could handle it a little if it meant being against his chest...

But it was still torture, and even more when Horror lowered his hands to attack his sides, making him arch his back so violently that he was pretty sure he heard a crack.

- YOHOHOHUHU SAID YOUHUHUHU'LL STOHOHOHOP !!

Dust screamed.

- I said it would be longer if you moved, I didn't say I would stop.

Dust blushed more, if it was possible, very embarrassed by the whole situation. He felt tears starting to form in his eye sockets and soon running down his cheeks. He couldn't take it anymore, it was way to much for him to handle.

- PLEHEHEHAHAHSE STOHOHOHOHOP !!

He was reduced to begging. What a shame.

- Only if you promise to stop with your puns for today and let me sleep.

Dust quickly nodded his head.

- I PROHOMIHIHIHISE !

Horror pretended to think for a moment, just to tease Dust a little, then finally stopped his assault on the poor skeleton's belly, letting him catch his breath.

Dust was exhausted, this tickle session sucked out all of his energy. Horror let him go to lay down on his bed again, closing his eyes, hoping not to be interrupted again. He opened his eyes again when he felt a hand pushing his shoulder.

- What ? You want more ?

He asked looking at Dust, who was blushing.

- Can-can I sleep with you.. ?

Horror arched an eyebrow before shrugging and moving to the side to make enough space for Dust.

- Don't make any noise.

- Y-yeah...

He didn't plan on making any noise, he had been tickled enough for at least three month. He laid down next to the bigger skeleton, still blushing a little, and closed his eyes, soon drifting into a peaceful sleep, rapidly imitated by Horror...

- end -

[xexiar]

Keep Watching. Ch 19

Ch18 Ao3 FFnet

---

Chapter 19

It's been two whole days, and that nerd has been acting strange. At that, why did I even care? Not like it matters to me. But still. I let out a deep sigh as I got ready for the day. Today was my birthday. Deku never ignores me on this day. Even though I shouldn't expect much, I somewhat am looking forward to whatever gift he got me this year.

That's the one thing that never changed over the years. Even when I tried to push Deku away, that nerd still got me something for my birthday. Sure, Kato and Saito gave me shit for accepting anything from that nobody. But I just couldn't resist. It's the only thing that made everything seem to be ok. And as I started out to school, I tried to keep my excitement down. All I hope is that Deku would at least not let the rest of the rest of the extras know about today.

When I got to class, I was not surprised to see the nerd already there. At the moment, it was just the two of us. It was hard to hold back a smile as I walked over to my desk. Maybe he'll give me my gift early this year. When I got to my desk, I was disappointed when Deku didn't even look up and acknowledge me. Not even a simple Kacchan. He wasn't even doing anything. He is just sitting at his desk, playing with his hands. What the fuck!

As the day went on, I was on edge. In between classes, that nerd was awfully quiet. It's nothing new since he has always been the quiet kid within school hours. Unless you got him started on talking about All Might or quirks. But something about this silence was pissing me off. And when lunch came around, I was not pleased to see him staying in class. A part of me wanted to stay as well, but that shitty hair started talking to me. This is not how I wanted to spend my birthday.

In the lunch room, these two idiots went on and on about English class. "I still can't understand when Present Mic talks about words that are spelled the same but sound different." Shitty hair and raccoon eyes were none stop with the chatting. But it was somewhat comforting compared to the silence from Deku. Why did I even care about that damn nerd not speaking? "Hey, man. Are you good?"

I looked up from my food and started to look around. There was no sign of the nerd. So, I let out a sigh before eating again. "I'm fine." And just like that, those two went back to talking among themselves. Even though they sat at the table at me and would talk to me, it felt so weird. Especially after what went down on Saturday. They're so weak and complained the whole time about how I was being too hard on them. When in fact, I was going easy.

But here I was, trying to eat my lunch in peace while dealing with two very chatty idiots. At least, whatever these two spoke about was nothing like Kato and Saito. In fact, I'm still shocked these extras even sit at the same table as me. I took one more look around the lunch room and couldn't stop myself from sucking my teeth. Where's Deku?

As we walked back to class, my shoulders felt heavy, and my body was somewhat shaking. Why was I shaking? At that, it wasn't the kind of shaking I get when I was frustrated. This felt different, and I don't get it. When I entered the class, I spotted the nerd still at his desk. Did he not eat lunch? That damn bastard! Thoughts of punching his stupid face ran through my head as I stormed my way over to him.

But I quickly stopped in place when All Might showed up for the training class. Maybe it was his fault that Deku was acting strange on my birthday. Just before I went to scream at All Might, he announced that we all had to suit up. Perhaps this was a good thing. I may get a chance to beat the shit out of Deku today for ignoring me.

As we got changed in the locker room, I couldn't help but take a few peeks over at the nerd. This time around, I spotted more scars than last time. Why was his back covered in them? Last I checked, mainly his arms were mostly injured during the entrance exam and training exercise. But the way these scars look, they seemed to be very old and didn't heal well. Especially the ones that lined up with his lower ribs.

I quickly shook my head as I realized I was staring for too long. Why did I care about how the nerd got scars that didn't make any sense? It's probably from all the dumpster diving he does. Or when he beat up our whole class last year. Either way, I shouldn't care about that stuff. That's when my mind wandered to the week I came back from my accident in 4th grade. Why was I thinking about that now?

Sure, Deku had bandages covering his face and arms. He looked like complete shit. Not to mention how he would keep holding his ribs whenever we walked past the middle school. And when I tried asking Kato about it, he always said something about how nothing happened. Not to mention how I always saw him cleaning his locker and desk after class. Nobody answered me on what that was about. Kato and Saito kept insisting I shouldn't worry about it.

Or the fact Deku didn't even talk to me when I came from my accident. Especially when I had been looking forward to seeing him again. And how I wanted to tell him about my mountain climbing trip over the spring break. But he didn't speak to me. At that, nobody gave me a chance to talk to him. Unless I confronted him alone. It was the only way we were able to speak to each other.

Once we reached Ground Beta, All Might informed us this was another test of skill. But how Deku had to stand out of this one. After I was done showing these extras who was number one, I was taken aback by the fact Deku didn't even look my way when I returned to the group. He was writing in his damn notebook and talking to round face. Was he really not going to comment at all to me? I worked my butt off, and I don't even get told how cool I was. How dare he!

As I walked over to where those two idiots stood, I suddenly felt something hook around my neck. "Chill, bro." I looked at shitty hair before I blasted him off me. Since he so desperately wanted to die, I might as well kill him.

So disappointing that I didn't get a single punch at shitty hair when All Might got in between us. And for the rest of the day, my anger just kept increasing. What is it with today? Then when it was time to go home, the nerd just got up and left. Where was my present? He never left classes this early on my birthday. Deku always waited till it was just us two and then went about giving me my birthday gift. What was wrong with him?

I quickly gathered my things and ran after Deku. I just had it with today. He was not going to continue with this bullshit! And when I reached him, just as he got to the sidewalk, I grabbed his shoulder. "What the fuck, nerd?"

The way he didn't even look at me was so annoying. "Leave me alone."

"NO!" That got him to look at me for a moment before he pulled away and faced me. But he kept his head down while just standing there. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

I couldn't believe my ears. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer. "Where's my birthday present?"

The way Deku's eyes looked scared me. I couldn't read any emotions from them. It felt like I was staring at a person I didn't know. Almost like a complete stranger. "Why would you ever want a gift from a nobody like me?" I was just in shock as I stood there. My anger from the day just vanished as I stared at Deku while he walked away. Did I really hear that correctly?

It felt like time froze over as I just stood there. I couldn't tell if I was breathing or even alive. I was struggling to believe what I just heard. Deku didn't get me anything, and he called himself a nobody. Never did I think a day like this would ever happen. I wasn't even sure what I should feel.

On one hand, should I feel relieved that he finally accepted his place? That he finally got it through his head that he was a nobody. But on the other hand, there was a deep pain in my chest that felt like someone stabbed me in the heart. Did I finally break him? I wasn't sure anymore on what to think.

Not like Kato or Saito or anyone from our middle school were around. At that, what was I supposed to do? After all, I did always tell him to leave me alone or just to give up. I even said multiple times that I hated him. But what else was there for me to say? Everyone around me kept repeating how I shouldn't lower myself to even associate with a quirkless nobody.

I could finally feel the cold breeze blowing my hair. And when I looked around me, I was in disbelief I had yet left the spot in front of the school. With a very shaky and heavy breath, I finally started my way home. As I did, all I could think about was this not how I wanted my birthday to go. I didn't expect to feel like my whole world be crushed before my very eyes. All I was hoping for was to see that damn nerd smile like he always does on my birthday. And maybe something small, like a birthday card. Those were always my favorite because Deku made them himself.

When I got home, I was disappointed to see that my folks were there. After the day I had, I wanted to forget all about my birthday. I ran past my parents as I rushed up the stairs to my room. Once there, I locked my door and went over to my bed. I grabbed my All Might doll and buried myself under the covers. As I hugged my doll, I just started to cry. I'm such a fuck up.

…

This was strange. As we started getting ready to head to lunch, I couldn't help but notice the way Bakugo looked at Midoriya. For once, he didn't look the typical angry that he always had. Instead, this seems a bit sad. In fact, as we walked to the lunch room, Bakugo kept looking around. Even while eating, he would occasionally look up from his tray and do a quick look around. Was he trying to spot Midoriya? For someone who claims to hate the kid, he sure does give Midoriya his full attention.

In fact, the way Midoriya has been silent these past few days was odd. Compared to how he was last week, this was the complete opposite. Even Uraraka made a comment yesterday that she was scared for her life. Something about how Midoriya hadn't been eating, and she feared Bakugo was going to kill her. But something about today just seemed strange.

As we changed in the locker room, I noticed how Bakugo would look over at Midoriya. And if I tried to look, I was greeted with a growling sound at my side. Bakugo seemed more on edge than I thought. Then when I watched as he stomped over to Midoriya after his run, I feared what he was thinking. "Chill out, bro."

The way Bakugo unleashed his quirk in my face had me questioning how did Midoriya handle it. Those explosions of Bakugo's quirk were super-hot. It stung my face from how intense they were. Even when trying to train with him last weekend, I was surprised by the burning effect of his quirk. And yet, somehow, Midoriya is able to put up with this. What was that kid made of?

As me and Ashido were leaving the school entrance, we overheard something. We quickly ran to the sound and saw that Bakugo was yelling at Midoriya. Damn it! Just leave the kid alone, Bakugo. "Where's my birthday present?" It was Bakugo's birthday? Why didn't he tell anyone?

"Why would you ever want a gift from a nobody like me?"

OH! The way this played out made me feel bad for watching. Whatever history those two had was deep. Especially with how frozen in place Bakugo was after Midoriya walked away. Me and Ashido tried shaking his shoulder, but he didn't respond. In fact, he just kept mumbling something about how much he "fucked" up. I looked over to Ashido, and she nodded. With that, we stood nearby and just watched as Bakugo stood there.

After some time, Bakugo started to walk. I guess he finally snapped out of whatever it was. At that, he soon was running. "Where you think he's off to?"

I looked to Ashido. "I don't know."

That's when Ashido had a smile. "What if we did a small celebration for Bakugo tomorrow?"

"Why?"

"Well, it's his birthday today, but nobody knew. Maybe this would cheer him up."

…

After leaving school, I decided to head to the gym Sydney suggested. Maybe someone there could help me figure out how to train with my quirk. Since every time I asked All Might, he didn't have any helpful advice. In fact, it was mainly him telling me how I'd figure it out. Did he not know how his own quirk works? Then again, he automatically knew how to use his powers. Everyone was just so amazing.

Talking the bus the 20 minutes to the gym left me wondering about the look Kacchan had. Here I thought he would be happy I finally decided to leave him alone. Why did he look shocked that I didn't get him anything for his birthday? He had new friends now. He didn't need anything from me.

I was still confused by the time I got off the bus. But I gave my face a few slaps and tried to focus on the task at hand. It's then I took note of where I was. From the large, heavy-duty metal gates to the wire fence that surrounded the large complex. From my current view, I was able to see at least 2 warehouse-sized buildings.

Walking over to the guard station, I felt nervous the closer I got. Through the window, I saw a person in what seemed to be a military uniform. Based on the flag on his chest, he could be part of the Japanese army. Was I at a military base or a gym?

And when I knocked on the large window, the guy gave me a strange look. "What you want, kid?"

I grabbed my wallet and took out my ID. I handled it through the small opening. "Smith Sydney and Smith Micky suggested I went to their gym. Am I at the right place?"

As the guard looked at my ID, I saw the gates slowly open. "Take a right and head straight. Make your way to building 270. Can't miss it." He then handed me back my ID and a guess pass.

"Thank you." He just nodded, and I was off. As I walked, I was just taken aback by how large each building was. It made me question what I was getting into. But there was no turning back. I have known the twins since I was 12, and they haven't given me any bad advice yet. But this place was scary.

When I reached building 270, I was left awestruck. Compared to the other buildings, this one was the largest. I went over to the door and rang the doorbell. It didn't take long for the door to open. What stood before me was someone who looked similar to Micky. Just that this guy was much taller and had more muscle mass. Along with red hair instead of black. "Don't tell me you're the kid the Smiths spoke so highly about."

He sucked his teeth as he moved to the side, letting me in. When I stepped inside, I was instantly greeted by a massive course. There were people using the course, and some using the equipment that was in the center. This was nothing like a gym that I expected.

"Close your mouth." I instantly shut my mouth and looked up at the large male. "Follow me." He started to point out each part of the course as he led me to a small office. I watched as he sat behind a metal desk and motioned for me to take a seat. He then grabbed a clipboard, a few papers, and a pen. "Whatever you say in this room stays in this room. This is an informal introduction. But you have to come back for a proper one on Friday. So, answer honestly, or I can't help you. State your full name, date of birth, age, gender, and marital status."

"Why do I have to come back on Friday?"

The way he looked at me was frightening. He slammed the clipboard down. "Answer the questions or get out. I am not wasting my time with a scrawny brat. All because you were recommended doesn't mean I have to accept your application!" I shook in my seat as he picked up the clipboard again. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"Midoriya Izuku. July 15, 2152. Age 15. Male. What's marital status?"

The guy took a moment from writing to look back at me. "Have you ever been married?"

"Why would I be married? I just got into high school."

"So, no." I nodded my head. He then went back to writing. "Have you ever been hospitalized? Any surgeries? Do you take medication? Blood type? Stuff from any chronicle illness? Family medical history."

"Yes. Yes. No. Type O. No? Not that I know of."

The way he looked back up at me got me shaking again. "List every time you have been hospitalized and had surgery."

"2 times in 4th grade. One for broken ribs and another for a stab to my left kidney. 1 time in 5th grade for another broken rib. And recently 2 times. One for injuries during the entrance exam at UA. And then last week for the USJ attack." I watched as he wrote everything down and then looked up at me.

"On Friday, bring in the list of the hospital you went to and the exact dates." He then got up and walked over to a ruler that was attached to the wall. Why didn't I notice that before? "Get on the scale." I walked over to him and saw footmarks near the ruler. I stepped on them and heard a beeping noise for a moment before it just stopped. "Turned you back against the wall." I did so and watched as he placed his pen on my head before writing again. "You're underweight for your height."

"How so?"

"Did I say you can speak." I looked to the other wall as he kept writing. "Lift your left arm." I did so and watched him wrap one of the blood pressure bands around my arm. "Deep breaths." After all was said and done, he had me wait in the room while he went off to do something.

I wondered again what I was in for. Sydney never told me this would happen when I came to the gym. In fact, why was I being interviewed? And when the guy returned, I saw Sydney come in after him. She closed the door and sat in the other chair that was next to me. At that, she didn't even look at me the whole time.

As the guy sat down, I saw he had extra paperwork in his hands. "We need a parental signature for you to enter." At that, I couldn't help but start to panic. Are they going to call my mom? I didn't think that was a possibility. Let alone, my mom would never sign something like this. "Kid!" I blinked a few times. "God, Smith was right about you." He let out a sign. "Because of your situation, Ms. Smith will be signing off as your legal guardian." He placed the papers onto another clipboard before walking over and handing them to Sydney. "You know how I feel about recommendations in early spring."

Sydney took the clipboard and started to write across a few pages. "I know, Mr. Jones." She then had a smile when she looked over at me. "You better listen to everything he tells you. And text me when you decide to bring anyone with you."

"Why?"

Sydney folded her arms and seemed to relax in her chair. "I have to sign off on anyone you decide to bring. Especially if they plan to use the gym alongside you." She then looked serious again when addressing Mr. Jones. "The sports festival is next month. Are you looking forward to seeing about the other kid I mentioned?"

Mr. Jones shook his head as he picked up a folder and waved it in front of him. "You're always up to something. But yes. I look forward to filling out these forms if your intel is right."

[max-the-many]

Start here:

('body a day' #12: six)

#5

Back at the lockers I returned to the mirror. This body really was faczinating! Those bulging pecs were nothing like those of my neighbour. They must have been twice his size. 

And the arms! I couldn't stop feeling them, flexing them, playing with those hefty thighs. 

"There you are little fucker! Wanna opt out or what!" A dude entered, obviousky talking to me as nobody else was in the lockers. 

"Didn't know you were so full of him self" he added as he ended up besides me, looking back and forth between the mirror and me.

I choked. Did he already notice his buddy act weired!?"

Just kidding. Come on, you can flex even better after training! The bars are already crying  for your grip”

What a goofbag, I thought, unable to reply much. But he didn't seem to careuxh, gave me a wink and chatted on while I tried to act casual, with more or less success, taking out of the lockers what seemed to be more or less useful for training before heading out woth him.

The gym was surprisingly packed, compared to the empty lockers. But besides the occational greeting nobody seemed to be that familiar with the guy I was now. 

"Man I really am a bit besides the lines today" I commented as I constantly loaded the weights either too high or too low while Brant, as his gymbuddys name was, also wondered about the excercises I chose and how I did them aswell. I really had no clue on those things and tried to hide that by pretending to experiment with a new technique which seemed to sooth Brants irritation at least a bit.

Besides that struggle though the experience was exceptional! The amount of weight those guns could carry was incredible! Not to tell the feeling of them tensing up, watching them move. I couldn't get enough of that and really struggled to keep it to a level that wasn't too off. 

"Man I really feel myself today!" I stated while ending up yet again infront of a mirror.

"You don't say! Nice to see you appreciate it for once!" he replied, joining to pull out his guns aswell. 

"Damn i'm really kind of jealous about that guns. You must be almost double" he added, comparing his upper arm, feeling it before he felt mine. 

"Enough leisure" I cut that, feeling a tingle down under. I didn't want to further act different to how they possibly were.

So we went back to the weight, finishing exersizes further along. More and more I got into it, or at least there were viewer comments from Brant. 

It wasn't until we went for the showers that I was pretty aware of what could go majorly different. Because as we undressed, casually chatting, and more so as we headed further there was just as major of an effect under that towel I put around that muscled weist. Brant undressind aswell as myself in that body just wasn't to be contained as a stimulation. I really struggeled turning away from Brant, or trying to act casual. 

He on the other hand didnt seem to bother at all, he even seemed to be aware of it, but acting like that raging boner was the most normal thing. He even seemed to comment my attempts of handling the situation with an occasional grin.

Maybe it wasn't as unusual as I thought! He even appeared to have some minor groth himself! Maybe it really was just me. 

So we went along, dried ourselfs and eventually headed out.

"How about hanging at my place?" he asked as we left the front door.

"Sure" I simply responded, following him along the walkway.

—

What a nice dude! I thought. So chatty, so goofy and and from what I heared, he really was a great friend, too. Sometimes I even forgot, that I was wearing his buddy, but besides some minor questions I seemed to do a pretty good job of keeping low profile. Fortunately the guy I slipped in wasn't the chattiest one, or at least Brant showed no irritation at my behavior.

Conviniently his place wasn't that far away, we headed up the stairs to the second floor and entered one several doors along the hallway. The flat was pretty nice, bright, modern and well taken care of, yet it didnt took long since I noticed quite the distraction.

He chattet on while we put off our jackets and shoes. But he didn't stopped there. As he put off his socks aswell I didn't really wonder, but when he grabbed his sweatpants and janked them down including his underwear I froze mid-motion without even realizing that.

Did he want to change? He continued, pulled off his shirt before he clearly notoced my reaction.

"What is it" he said, standing infront of me bucknaked without any sign of him eanting to change that.

"Erm, sorry, I just remembered something I forgot at work" I responded helplessly. At work? There surely wasn't much worse to say.

He continued to look at me. Did he want me to undress aswell? What was that? Or was it just my confusion that irritated him?

In an act of pure helplessness I put off my shirt, hoping, that this was the right move as odd as it felt. And it seemed to be that! He turned away, wandering through the flat, putting sway his cloth and gymbag while I undressed until I stood there without a clue what bext to do.

Eventually he stopped in the hallway, looking at me, clearly noticing that something was off. But the nice guy he was, he got over it with a smile.

"Beer?" he asked

"Oh yeah" I replied with relief. That was just, what I needed, alrhoug I still felt odd, as sexy as this could have been. Slowly I mived theough the flat, getting to the living room where we ended up on the couch, him, turning on a sports channel.

More and more I lost my tension, getting a little more relaxed. Him beeing a great host, constantly chatting quite entertainingly definately helped. But the more I got relaxed, the more another concern arose. Literally.

That nice tool of his buddy slowly came to life. And at the moment I really became aware of that I noticed, that he definately had noticed it aswell.

"Damn that chick earlier really made me hells horny" he suddenly stated and I almost got the feeling that he wanted to help me with beeing pretty uncomfortable with my present situation.

"Mind if I jank one out"

I needed yet a moment to process that. I wasn't even able to fully realize the hotness of that, just beeing thankful for him to seemingly help me out.

"Damn no, absolutely not" I finally responded in a sudden wave of relief "I guess I don't even have to say that I wouldn't let you have that alone"

And without any hesitation, he casually started to massage his tool. But he didn't stop talking, watching tv, going at his rod as if it was the most normal thing! What kind of friendship was that? Or was he always like that? Is this nudism? It didn't fit with any of my experiences at all. My timid, shy self sitting here with that dude, posessing a hunky body like him, janking away like there was nothing more normal.

He seemed to take his time, although it didn't take long for him to get his junk to full, pretty respectable size. I on the other hand, really had to be very cautious not to shoot a load the moment I grabbed the nice tool that stood post between my legs.

It took quite a while until Brant started to moan slightly, and I followed along, tried to match his energy, looking at him ever so often to see, how the situation would develop. But he stayed by himself, and so did I, injoying that tool, the situation, beeing with him, and more and more mainly beeing that whole other person, massaging rhose hefty pecs, that neck, with growing excitement, aware of this orb, that skill, that marvel that seemed to be my life now, and I went on, more and more, felt that energy in my chest, welcomed it, growing on it until I rocketed out a massive orgasm, going on and on in waves that took me like never before...

Next part:

MALIK DELGATY - Warm Welcome (2022)

[big-sapple]

Chapter 14: Dancing with Demons

“Why does he call you demon?”

Zagreus is still trying to catch his breath after the long trek back to reunite with Byleth. They’d gotten their asses thoroughly handed to them by the King and Bull duo this time, and while he doesn’t really want to talk about it, he’s not going to pass up on Byleth initiating a conversation.

“Because he’s an ass, and because my father asked him to stop me.” He wipes what he thinks is sweat from his forehead but his hand comes away with blood. Gods, is she going to say something about it?

She doesn’t, “Do you have a bad relationship with your father?”

He looks up at her. Her expression is just as icy as usual but her head is tilted slightly to the side, as if she’s at least attempting to emote.

“My relationship with my father is…complicated.” he’s not sure how much he’s ready to share with her. He’s not sure how many more opinions of his situation he can stomach.

“I see. Is that why you’re leaving?”

“It’s part of it.” He pushes himself up off the ground to face her, “What’s with the personal questions? It’s unlike you.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Maybe a little, but he actually prefers it to the uncomfortable silence she’s been giving him so far, “What about your dad? Seems like you’re close.”

“He raised me alone. I put people off, so it was mostly just the two of us.”

Oh. Well, now he feels like a jerk.

“And your students.” He points out.

“For the last year or so of my life, yes.”

“You’re risking eternal torment for people you only just met?”

“Yes.”

She gets him every time with how blunt she is. He supposes it’s not really his business to question her goals, “Alright then. Ready to get moving?”

She nods and follows beside and slightly behind him. Another way in which her mannerisms feel somewhat awkward.

“Where do you go when you die?” She asks. She’s awfully chatty today (tonight?).

“Um, here? Isn’t that how you insist you got here?”

“No. Where do you go when you die here?”

“Ah, that. The river styx takes me to my father’s house. I have to go through Tartarus and Asphodel before I get here.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Aw, do you miss me?”

“I think we could make faster progress together.”

Damn. She is sick of waiting around for him. “Why wait at all then? You could go ahead without me.” It’s not like he asked her to wait anyway.

“I have been.” He feels a little spike of anxiety in the midst of her lengthy pause, “I don’t make much headway without you.”

He’s relieved to hear her say so. And guilty that he’s relieved. And embarrassed that he worried about her lapping him in the first place.

“Well,” He says, hoping to keep his childish feelings to himself, “You’re welcome to come along. I’ll warn you though, it’s not pleasant. And Tartarus and Asphodel aren’t a picnic, either.”

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

[bobohu4eva]

Sweet Tooth (Part 3)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, mutual pining

Summary: Life as the palace baker got a lot more interesting after catching the devastatingly cute prince sneaking around your kitchen.

WC: 5.1k

Tag List: @wooya1224 @dixnysustae @bbhile @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @leave-me-in-the-summertime @baekyeonoreo @cupreoussyzygy @nana-banana

Masterlist

Baekhyun stayed true to his word. He kept you company almost every other day, usually just watching, talking, and snacking on whatever leftovers there would be.

It had taken several more visits for you to truly start opening up to him. Luckily his looks and his silliness balanced each other quite well, making him less and less intimidating the more you saw of him and the more he got comfortable with you as well.

You were surprised when he told you that he was actually a couple years older than you. It wasn’t that you found him immature, but he just had that optimistic boyishness to him that made him appear much more youthful.

Sometimes he would say things that worried you. Usually remarks about his family or his status as a prince. He never wanted to talk about it past those fleeting remarks though, quickly putting back on a smile and asking you about whatever you were baking that day. He seemed like the kind of person who would rarely let any negative emotions show, pushing them down and making jokes to try to make it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Sometimes you thought about pushing it, and trying to get him to talk to you about it. He was your friend, and you worried about him. But on the other hand, he was the prince. You had no right to try and force your way into his family’s business like that. He would come to you if he really needed you, you hoped at least.

You didn’t get nervous about his visits anymore. You had actually started to look forward to them quite a bit. He was a true friend. An annoyingly beautiful one.

In a way, you got used to that too. Of course you still couldn’t help being attracted to him, but you were able to fight it better now and act much more normal. You had really tried, and didn’t have a single mess up in front of Baekhyun since your tart accident. You just had to try a little extra hard when he was around, but that was okay. You took it as a challenge. After years of always doing the same thing having him there was still a nice way to spice things up.

You knew you had a crush, you were just learning to deal with it better.

Today was particularly busy. All morning you’d been preparing for some kind of event and Baekhyun just sat on his little stool across the table from you as you worked, occasionally asking if he could try something or why you did a certain thing. He knew that on busy days, it was better to stay out of your way. He always offered to help, insisting that you could just tell him what to do at any time, but that felt too weird.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help? I feel bad just sitting here.”

This was probably the busiest he’d ever seen you. It must’ve been a pretty big event you were preparing for and you had no time to waste, trying to get things done as quickly and carefully as possible.

“Don’t feel bad.”

First it was the sugar, then the flour. You ran out. You needed to go haul two giant bags up the stairs from the basement. You groaned.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I just have to grab new bags of flour and sugar.” You yelled over your shoulder as you made your way towards the stairs to the basement.

He followed you and you rolled your eyes, pretty certain you knew what was coming next, and it would not be good for your already weak heart.

As expected, he immediately scolded you for not asking him to just help out and ended up carrying both bags up the stairs for you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want the help, it was really nice, but especially things like this that involved heavy lifting made you feel too much like some sort of damsel in distress and the fact that he felt such a need to always help out only made your crush worse and worse. It would’ve been easier to handle if he wasn’t always so nice and considerate.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked once you were back at your work table.

“Do what?”

“You never ask me for help even if you know it’s something I could do more easily than you. You always try to do it yourself until I notice it and go to help. You know sometimes I really worry that you just never get jars open by yourself if I’m not here.”

You grinned at his usual antics, “You know Baekhyun, I did this for years all on my own before you decided to pop in on me, I can handle myself.”

He shot you an accusing look. “So you’re saying that before I showed up, the jars would magically open themselves? No assistance needed? Or when you had to get one of those giant bags out of the basement? They would just float up the stairs? Come on, Creampuff, don't lie to me.”

It was surprising to you how much he seemed to like that nickname, and he especially liked to use it when he was teasing you.

Of course he was right, there were times when you couldn’t open a jar or there was an especially large bag of sugar that you couldn’t get up the stairs on your own. But he wasn’t the only one there to help. “Well I can also just go next door to the cooks and ask one of the guys there to do it for me too.”

His jaw seemed to tense before he spoke up again. “But you ask them for help, you never ask me though.”

You swallowed. That was also true, but it wasn’t for whatever reason he probably thought, asking him for help seemed like a boundary you didn’t want to cross, for a number of reasons. For one, he was the prince, and therefore you worked for him, not the other way around. It also made you feel too strange with how bad your crush had gotten, you didn’t want to seem like you were prying for his attention so you always tried as hard as you could to do things by yourself first. But he probably shouldn’t know about the second reason.

“Well I work for you, you don’t work for me. It’s not your job to come here and help me carry things and open jars.”

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbled. “It’s not their job either.”

He seemed oddly down after that but you didn’t have any time to dwell on it with how busy you were so you let him be. You decided to just focus on the task at hand, and let him eat some leftover icing so he wouldn’t talk so much. As much as you appreciated it on boring days, Baekhyun could be pretty damn chatty and on days like this one where there was a lot to do it could be a bit taxing having to talk to him too, no matter how much you enjoyed his company. If he was just another guy it would’ve been a different story but having to focus on talking to him and not saying anything dumb on top of all your work was a lot. Despite being much more comfortable with him now, he was still your friend that you were growing more and more attracted to, to the point where even just saying it was a crush seemed like an understatement.

You felt that disgustingly sweet, heart fluttering sensation that had been plaguing you for weeks now when you focused your attention back to him, watching as he scooped up icing with his finger before sticking it into his mouth.

Crush wasn’t a good enough word. You felt stupidly, helplessly infatuated, to the point where just watching him messily eat his icing had you working way too hard to fight the smile that was forcing its way to your lips.

Unfortunately Baekhyun caught on to these things quickly. Unlike you, he had nothing better to do in that kitchen than watch you as you worked, so he noticed every smile, every eye roll, and every time he would make you blush.

You assumed he knew, he just had to by now, with how bad you were at hiding how he made you feel. You’d accepted that, and that he didn’t see you the same way. You were just friends and he probably thought it was cute that you had a little crush on him, the silly little baker girl who liked the prince too much. But you knew it was best to keep it at that.

“Why are you smiling like that?” He asked as he once again licked a scoop of icing off his finger.

You shook your head, still smiling and looking down at what you were working on.

“I wish my mom would smile like that when I eat too instead of telling me I’m an embarrassment.”

He sounded far too lighthearted as he said it, as usual. It had been bothering you for weeks now. You knew you probably shouldn’t, but you asked anyway.

“Baekhyun, you don’t have to tell me anything, because it’s not my business anyway, but why do you say things like that? Sometimes I really worry about you.”

You had stopped kneading your dough, eyes remaining fixed on the soft mass beneath your hands, not trusting yourself to look up at him.

“You worry about me?”

Still looking down at your hands, you gave him a small nod.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m a big boy, I’ve been dealing with this my whole life.”

When you finally looked up and met his gaze he was giving you a soft smile, although you could see the hint of sadness in his cute droopy eyes.

“I just want you to know that you can talk to me if you need someone.” The words came out too quietly, but you meant it. It made you sad to hear him say such things and you wanted to be there for your friend.

All the sadness left his face when his cheeks pulled up into a grin, his eyes turning into the cutest half-moon shapes. “Aww, you really do worry about me.”

These were the type of things that made you so sure that he knew your little secret. His teasing you when you got flustered around him, and now this too. It almost felt a bit cruel at this point, that he knew how you felt and he still teased you about it like it was nothing. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, returning your attention back to your dough.

“How am I mean? I remember when we first met you thought I was the nicest.”

“You say stuff like that and then when I get worried you make fun of me for it.” You wanted to add something along the lines of ‘You also get a kick out of my stupid unrequited crush on you’ but you held your tongue. “Am I supposed to listen to you say those things and just not care?”

His brows furrowed at your question, and he paused for a minute.

“I didn’t realize you would care, at least not so much.”

Was he really this blind? This clueless?

“Of course I care Baekhyun, you said it yourself, we’re friends. Friends care when someone says things like that.”

“Oh..” His face had shifted into something you hadn’t seen before. “Then I’m sorry I worried you.”

You weren’t quite sure what it was, but he seemed genuinely taken aback by what you were telling him. It didn’t make any sense to you considering how obvious it was that you liked him, but you couldn’t exactly just say that either.

“You don’t need to feel bad. Like I said, I want to be able to help if you need someone to talk to. I’m here for you.”

You smiled when you saw him smile, his emotions rubbing off on you so easily with how much you cared for him.

“Thank you, y/n. I appreciate that a lot, really.”

As sweet as the moment was, you still had a lot of work to do. You gave him another smile and got back to what you were doing, and he stayed quiet as well. Eventually Baekhyun had somewhere else he needed to be and he excused himself and left, after sweetly thanking you again for your friendship and your kindness. There was so much about his actions that you didn’t understand, but you wanted to learn, to get to know him better and to really figure the guy out.

A couple hours after Baekhyun left you were finally done for the day, and as you were leaving the kitchen you found a small note where you always hung up your apron at the end of the day.

“Meet me in the garden at half past midnight, at the bench where you like to sit and read. That’s a royal order. - B”

~

You checked the clock again before slipping out of your room as quietly as possible, heart pounding in your chest in anticipation. Why Baekhyun had asked you to meet him so late was beyond you, and hundreds of possibilities, good and bad, flooded your mind with you powerless to stop it. The nervous giddyness you felt before he would show up at the bakery was nothing compared to this. What if you got caught? What would you say? What if he got caught? Or worst of all, if both of you were caught?

Despite your nerves, you had to go. Standing him up would feel too awful anyway, since you really did want to see him. And either way, you couldn’t disobey a royal order. You had never interacted with him outside your little bakery space, where people were popping in and out all the time and there was no real privacy for the two of you to talk about more serious matters.

You tried to walk through the halls as quietly as possible, unsure of if and where there were guards. Luckily it wasn’t too far from where you stayed to the gardens and you were already outside of the castle, feeling the warm spring air on your skin as you made your way towards your favorite spot to read.

Despite the darkness you could already make out the silhouette of your friend as he sat on the bench waiting for you. You smiled looking around at your surroundings. You had never been in the garden at night before, but the soft glow from the castle over the lush spring flowers in the dim light was breathtaking.

As you got closer you saw him stand up, and start walking towards you, meeting you halfway. He kept getting closer, and you expected him to stop but before you could fully process what he was doing, both of his arms were wrapped around you in a tight hug and he held you close.

For a second you stopped breathing completely, but after a couple seconds when reality sunk in you were able to catch your breath. Baekhyun was hugging you. And it wasn’t just some wimpy half assed side hug either, both of his arms were wrapped firmly around your back as he held you against his chest. Your whole body suddenly felt very hot.

“Baekhyun?” You said softly, bringing your arms up and around him as well.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” You heard him whisper.

If your heart rate had been a bit high earlier already, you were surely in danger now. And with your chest pressed against his own, of course he noticed, he always did.

You pulled back but his hands stayed on your shoulders and he looked down at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just jumpy, I was really scared of getting caught on my way down here.” You lied, trying to avoid eye contact with the close proximity of your faces. He moved his thumb, gently running it over your collarbone and you felt his eyes on you when it made you gasp slightly.

“Aww poor Creampuff.” He cooed, making you pout back at him. “After midnight there’s only one guard left outside the castle, and he stays on the other side, near the main gates, not back here in the gardens. We’re totally safe, I promise.”

You tried to act like that helped reassure you but there were still a thousand other little things running through your mind about him. You decided you just had to start asking the man if you wanted answers.

“Baekhyun, why did you ask me to meet you here? Isn’t this a bit foolish?”

He grabbed your hand and led you to sit down on the bench next to him. “Maybe it is, but since we’re friends I think there are some things I want you to know.”

You had been so caught up in your own worries that you hadn’t even noticed how nervous he looked too. When you sat down with him you were surprised when his hand stayed firmly intertwined with yours. His hand was soft and warm and felt just right holding yours.

He looked down at the ground and the hand that held your own rested between you on the bench.

“Baekhyun?”

He was the one acting shy now. This beautiful person who was also so far above you in so many ways, seemed genuinely nervous.

“I’m sorry if this is strange for you, I’m not quite sure what to say, I’ve never had someone I can talk about these things with.”

He was still looking nervously down at his feet so you decided to scoot a bit closer and face your body towards his. When you were looking at him, and gently squeezed his hand which was still holding yours, he finally looked up at you.

“What things? You asked. “About your family?”

He nodded. “I don’t even know where to start. Do you know how much I envy you? You get to do something you like every day and you’re so good at it too. There’s nobody telling you you have to be something you’re not.”

His eyes had drifted to the garden around you as he spoke, and his grip on your hand only grew stronger.

“What do you mean?”

You had an idea, albeit a very vague one, of what was wrong, from the things he’d said to you in the bakery. Often it was about disappointing his mother, other times it was something implying how he’d never be able to live up to his older brother.

“I never asked to be born into royalty. I know that it seems horribly ungrateful for me to complain, because I have so much and so many people would love to be in my position, but I’m just not cut out to be a prince.”

You felt the weight of his words sinking in as he spoke to you, looking at you with a newfound seriousness you weren’t yet familiar with.

“I wish I could be what they want me to be, like my brother is, but whenever I try I usually end up making a fool of myself or do something that makes my mom mad. I don’t know how he does it, he’s so good at all this stuff it makes me feel even worse for being so shit at everything. I just wish I could do something with my life that actually makes me happy.”

His voice was growing more and more shaky and you had no clue what you could possibly say back to him when he was hurting so badly, over something you’d never be able to fully experience or understand. Eventually you mustered up a meager “I’m sorry.”

“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, but that’s a good thing, really. I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.”

He looked so defeated and your heart ached for him, wishing you could somehow help, but knowing there was nothing you could do.

“Baekhyun, you aren't ungrateful and it’s okay to mess up, I can’t even imagine how much pressure you must be under, of course that’s hard.”

A small smile tugged at his lips briefly but disappeared as quickly as it arose. His eyes looked glassy. You wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort him, to protect him from everything that made him sad. He was so lovely and he deserved so much more than this.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever talked about this with, aside from my brother, but talking to him isn’t much help. I wish I could just be like the rest of them, and fit in with my family and the nobility without having to try so hard.”

His hand left yours and moved to wipe away the wetness in his eyes. When he didn’t lace his fingers back between your own, you took his hand and did it yourself, resting your hands on your thigh. “I don’t wish you were like the rest of them. I like you like this.”

It came out as barely a whisper, but with all his attention on you in that moment he heard you clear as day. He stared back at you, almost making you think that he didn’t believe you.

“Do you really mean that?”

You kept your eyes on him and nodded. “As much as you like to tease me, you’re so much nicer than I ever expected you to be. You’re also funny, and helpful, even though I never ask you to be. You’re really really sweet, Baekhyun, I like you a lot just the way you are now.”

With your last sentence you found yourself looking down in embarrassment, hoping he wouldn’t make fun of you for saying something so vulnerable.

“I like you a lot too.” You saw how his cheeks pulled up into a shy smile and although it was hard to tell in the dim moonlight, you could’ve sworn he was blushing as well. “You’re my best friend, you know.”

“I am?”

As much as you were flattered, and happy that he was so fond of you too, you always assumed he had other friends with how outgoing he seemed.

He nodded. “I told you, I don’t really get along with most of the people my family surrounds themselves with. Most of them don’t like me and think I’m strange and the few I got along with aren’t close with the family anymore, and I don’t blame them.”

“What about people like me?”

He just laughed, “There’s a reason we have to meet like this, I’m definitely not supposed to befriend palace maids, servants, cooks, anyone like that, anyone who doesn’t have some higher status really. I was worried that someone would rat me out for coming to see you so much but surprisingly nobody seems to care.”

“The kitchen staff all generally mind their own business, we know that what you and your family are up to isn’t our business. I doubt they care that you’re in my bakery so often. We aren’t a particularly nosy bunch.”

Baekhyun was smiling, and you were having trouble looking away. You were his best friend. He thought that highly of you. This beautiful, kind, lovely prince really cared about you this much, enough to tell you about his family and the things that upset him. And you were the only person outside of his family that he’d even mentioned it to.

“Baekhyun, you’re my best friend too.”

Baekhyun’s smile became even more blinding and next thing you knew he scooted himself to sit directly next to you, thighs pressed together, and he rested his head on your shoulder. You felt his breath on your neck, and tried to conceal how it made you shiver for a second.

“I’m glad I was craving creampuffs so badly that night.” He hummed and his low voice so close to your ear made your skin tingle.

“Me too.” You responded, squeezing his hand. “If you weren’t the prince, and you could do whatever you wanted, what would you want to be?” You asked him.

“I want to sing, and I want to be in love.” He replied softly.

You felt your heart flutter, you wanted him to be able to be happy, to do what he loves, and to love someone, someone he could actually be with. You couldn’t help the slight lump in your throat when you thought about how that could never be you.

“You can sing?” You asked, trying to ignore the other wish of his for your own sanity. “You’ve never sung for me before.”

“I haven’t in a while now, when I was younger sometimes I would get to sing at events, but eventually my mother deemed it an unnecessary distraction, and I had to stop.”

You frowned. “I’d love to hear you sing.”

With that he started faintly singing a familiar melody, a traditional wedding hymn, and of course his voice was just as pretty as the man himself. You were already so fond of his speaking voice, it wasn’t surprising to you that you loved his singing voice even more.

“You’d be a fantastic singer.”

He groaned, and leaned further into you. “It’s so unfair.” He whispered, and you could feel his lips slightly brush against your neck as he spoke. “Why don’t I get to be happy? Why do I have to live a life I don’t want, why can’t I love who I want?”

It was becoming more and more difficult to keep your composure with how he was pressed up against you, his lips almost touching your neck, breathing you in with every breath, his hand tightly intertwined with yours. Your infatuation was too much to bear, and with a shaky breath you leaned into him as well, resting your head atop of his. “It is unfair. So fucking unfair. I wish there was any way I could help, something I could do to make things better but I’m just a baker. I shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“You’ve done more than you realize. I have someone who will listen to me now, someone who’s nice to me and I can be myself around without feeling bad about it. On days when I can’t come see you, I just look forward to seeing you again the whole day.”

I just look forward to seeing you again the whole day.

The words rung in your mind, and you thought about the days when he wouldn’t be there. You missed him on those days too, and usually spent hours daydreaming about him as you did your work. His laugh, his smile, his silly jokes, his enthusiasm any time you made him something. It was just better when he was there. The bakery felt too quiet and lonely without him ever since he’d made it a regular thing.

“It feels so lonely now, working when you aren’t there. I always miss having you around on days when you’re too busy.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face from where he was, and how hard you were blushing. Your heart felt like it was about to burst. The affection you had for him was overflowing, and with all of his sweet words whispered into the crook of your neck it was hard to not just start weeping. If you didn’t know better you would’ve thought that maybe, he actually liked you the same way you liked him.

But that was a foolish thing to even think about. He was a prince, and you were a nobody, a commoner. Even if he did feel the same way about you, you would never be able to be together anyway. He deserved happiness with someone he could actually start a life with, someone that his family would approve of, who he could marry and start a family with, and live happily together as royalty, like he was born to.

Did he not think that was possible?

“Baekhyun, why do you say that you can’t be in love?”

You wanted to protest at first when he sat up, but then he looked at you, and you saw the sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t get to meet people, fall in love, all that. Some day my parents will arrange a marriage for some sort of political advantage and I’ll just have to deal with it. The well-being of the people goes before any one individual's happiness, I suppose.”

This time you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “That still isn’t fair.” You mumbled.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Have you ever been in love? You had to think about it for a second, but looking back on the past flings you’d had here and there, it was never really love.

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not sure I know what love even is, in the romantic sense. I’ve been attracted to people, sure, but I was never able to act on it anyway. I bet it feels amazing, though. Loving someone and them loving you back. But of course people always want what they can’t have.”

He sighed, and you felt his thumb gently rubbing back and forth across the back of your hand.

“Even if it’s just for a little while, I hope you get to feel that someday.”

“Me too.” He whispered. “And I hope you get to live a long, happy life like that.”

You felt the lump in your throat again. Of course you wanted that, but your infatuation for him at that moment made it hard not to be sad at the notion that you’d never experience that with him. Of course you’d daydreamed about different worlds, where he loved you and the two of you could be together, but this wasn’t your reality.

You stayed quiet after that, focusing your eyes on the garden in front of you, the colorful flowers in the moonlight and the occasional flickering of a firefly. You and Baekhyun sat like that, simply enjoying each other’s presence, until you heard yawning coming from both of you, and decided it was time to call it a night before you could accidentally fall asleep.

Baekhyun thanked you oh so sweetly for coming and spending time with him, and gave you another hug before you parted ways.

As you drifted to sleep his words and actions rang in your mind, and you already felt yourself missing him and his touches.

Baekhyun, your best friend.

Next Chapter

[sisterspooky1013]

Better Than Sex

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1666

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Read it on AO3

“Better Than Sex Cake” Mulder read aloud from the menu before looking across the table at Scully with his eyebrows raised in question.

They had just concluded an evening traipsing through an (alleged) actual ghost town, though no signs of ghosts were to be seen. Just a lot of graffiti, dirty mattresses and a used condom or two. Now they were sitting at the first diner they came across, Mo’s Café, and Mulder was considering the sex cake.

“Knock yourself out, Mulder, I’m sticking to coffee.”

“You aren’t curious as to whether this cake is, in fact, better than sex?”

“Well I’m sure it’s better than bad sex, but if it were better than great sex the population would die out because everyone would skip procreating and just eat cake.”

Mulder considered her statement. “Isn’t ‘bad sex’ somewhat of an oxymoron?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you being serious?”

Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “The only bad sex is no sex, as far as I’m concerned.”

Scully shook her head ruefully. “Must be nice to be a man.”

Just then the waitress came by to take their order. Scully requested coffee and dry toast, while Mulder opted for coffee and the aforementioned sex cake. After she collected their menus and retreated to the kitchen, Mulder eyed Scully appraisingly, gaging her mood. Sometimes she was open and willing to talk about things of a personal or private nature, other times she kept her lips as tight as a steel trap. He suspected he might have a chatty Scully on his hands, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, Scully, there would be a circumstance under which you would choose a piece of cake over sex?”

She screwed up her mouth a little, not in consideration of how to answer the question, but whether to answer it at all. “Depends who the sex is with, I suppose, but yes, I could think of a few times where cake would have been a more enjoyable option.”

“Hm” was his only reply as he sat back against the seat of the booth, absorbing this information.

“Are you saying you’ve never had sex that was subpar enough that cake would have been better?”

He pulled in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling briefly, and she could imagine him running through his mental file of sexual encounters. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Is it wrong that I feel compelled to kick you right now?” She asked, just a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He laughed.“I’m not saying that every single time was Oscar-worthy, but even the worst was still better than some flour and butter.”

“And they say male privilege isn’t real” she deadpanned as the waitress came by to present them with two coffees, cake, toast and a tray of sugar and cream. She mixed the accoutrements into her cup while Mulder sipped his black, followed by a bite of the cake, which looked like a basic white cake with some kind of custard and whipped cream on top.

“This is pretty good, though I can’t say it lives up to its name” he said around the food in his mouth, pushing the plate towards her and holding out the fork suggestively. She took it and stabbed a small bite, meeting Mulder’s eye as she pulled the tines from between her lips. It was good, as most cake is, but nothing to write home about.

“Well?” He asked expectantly.

“Well what? She returned, wiping her finger at the corners of her mouth.

“Is it better than sex?”

She paused before answering, knowing that Mulder was going to keep picking at this until it got uncomfortable. He liked to do that, to see how far he could get her to go before she blushed and demanded they change the subject. He took immense pleasure in making her squirm, and even more in getting her to reveal something personal that he normally wouldn’t be privy to. Sometimes, she had as much fun indulging him as he did in goading her. She wasn’t above sharing something that she knew would shock him, just so she could see the look on his face. She liked that she could still surprise him.

“Not better than all sex, but certainly better than some of the sex I’ve had, regrettably.”

“What would make sex so bad that cake is better? I must know.”

“I think you can use your imagination, Mulder.”

“Come on, Scully, you could be saving some poor woman from ‘worse than cake’ sex with me in the future. Consider it an act of charity.”

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Your answer lies in that drawer full of tapes that aren’t yours, Mulder.”

“How’s that?”

“Let’s see, sex starts when the man presents his erection and ends when he ejaculates. The woman howls like an animal no matter what he’s doing, though her orgasm is never mentioned. There is no foreplay. Would you like me to continue?”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee he’d been holding, afraid he might choke. He’d never heard her speak so openly about sex before, especially not sex she had personally experienced, and though he’d been the one who initiated the conversation he was suddenly afraid he was going to have to walk out of this diner trying to hide a bulge in his slacks.

“Fair enough, Scully, but porn isn’t real. It’s like an action movie. No one actually hangs off the skids of a helicopter mid-air, it’s just fun to watch.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re aware of that, Mulder, and I would implore you to spread the news to the rest of the male populace.” She punctuated her statement with a loud crunch into her toast.

Mulder’s mouth fell open slightly as he studied her, trying to tell if she was joking or embellishing.

“People really do that? Have sex like they do in porn? Men you’ve slept with?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, if you’re going to sit here and tell me that you have never done that, even as a young man, I’ll have to call BS.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I emerged from puberty as Don Juan, but I don’t recall ever not being invested in my partner’s experience. I’m sure my skills were lacking at the outset, but I always tried.”

She looked at him derisively from under her eyelashes. “Well then, you really should get out there more, Mulder. Share your gift with the world.” Her voice was laden with sarcasm.

He laughed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “How am I coming out to be the bad guy, here Scully? I’m not the one who gave you a ‘worse than cake’ lay.”

She smiled at him but her tone remained facetious “of course not, you’ve demonstrated that your skills in this area are unparalleled.”

“Damn straight!” He said with a slap of his palm on the table, and they both erupted into laughter.

They held eye contact as the laughter subsided, awkwardness descending over the conversation. He had made reference to the two of them having sex, which was a topic he’d only made innuendo about, never mentioned directly. Trying to break the tension, Scully finally spoke.

“Well, I guess you can see why I don’t bother dating.”

“I guess I can” he replied, swiping the last crumbs of cake off the plate with his finger.

“Why don’t you date, Mulder?” His expression registered surprise. “Or do you? I don’t want to be presumptuous.” She felt a pit in her belly at the idea that he may actually have a secret love life.

“No” he spat out, chuckling a little. “No, I definitely don’t date. It’s just too complicated I guess. I’m kind of a serial monogamist anyway.”

“Really?” Now it was her turn to be surprised.

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve had a couple flings, but the vast majority of the women I’ve slept with I was in a relationship with. The emotional aspect is important for me.”

She studied him, imagining a version of Mulder who would be so considerate and giving. She didn’t need to imagine it, really, she’d seen it. While he was capable of being selfish and obtuse, he had also been incredibly tender and caring with her on many occasions. He had certainly shown a proclivity towards chivalry; opening doors for her, walking closer to traffic on the sidewalk, helping her into her coat or holding an umbrella for her. The idea that such gestures would extend into the bedroom was logical, but it still set off a stirring in her belly. In what other ways might he be so attentive to her needs? She swallowed the last of her coffee and tried not to think about it. Maybe later, but not here. Not now.

“Well, I hate to state the obvious here, Scully, but I don’t think you’re going to happen across the guy that will give you a 5-star experience if you never put yourself out there.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to kick himself; why the fuck was he encouraging her sleeping with other people?

She smiled demurely and shrugged “for now I get my thrills from ghost busting and the occasional slice of really good cake.”

He bobbed his head and smiled back, pulling out his wallet and setting his bureau credit card on the tabletop.

In truth, she had already happened across that guy. He was sitting in front of her at a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere. And while she hoped that she may enjoy that 5 star experience in the future, for now just being in his presence, laughing and seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe together, that was better than sex.

[writingsfromhome]

Bad Timing II

A/N: I’m just about finished the whole series and I’m excited for you to read this! <3 Sorry for the late upload, I started a new semester and had zero time to write but I worked on this all weekend. I’m curious to know if your opinions on Harry change after this part, the next part’s going to be packed but this is an in-between. Thanks as always for reading <333

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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

I lay awake in bed, staring at the blank ceiling before my phone’s constant buzzing forces me up. A couple voicemails, and a single text from Harry: GM, call me if you need anything.

I stare at it longer than I should, the audacity to think we were fine enough to text me so casually. But there was some small solace in knowing he took the extra step to let me know. Ugh; my head injury was more serious than the medic diagnosed. I throw my phone on the bed and head downstairs where I’m surprised to see him gone. It was only 8am and I needed a coffee, otherwise I would not make it through the day. When I see the pot of coffee half full, I stop in my tracks. Harry made coffee before he left. I touch the pot and it’s still warm, he couldn’t have left that long ago.

I open the dishwasher that I’d loaded last night only to find it empty. I stand straight, hand on my hips--had he unloaded the dishes too? How did I not wake up to the noise? How did he even know where everything went?!

Maybe he wasn’t such a dense detective after all, the thought makes me smile. I look around the room and notice he’d tidied up from last night, and folded everything away on the couch he slept on. I take my coffee to the couch and without thinking, hug the pillow to my face and inhale. The strong scent of his aftershave sends a sharp and painful jolt to my memories. What the hell was I doing?

I drop the pillow and settle on my kitchen table, responding to some emails while I make a game plan for the day, shaking off the claustrophobic feeling I got thinking about going back to work. I finish the last of the coffee and start moving, shower, dress appropriately, pack my laptop...I just had to keep busy so I wouldn’t have time to think about it.

***

“We’re here for you, whatever you need,” the regional manager lets me know during the meeting. I’d learned post-trauma policies the bank had. I was sorry to know them, I really just wanted to put the whole thing behind me. I tell her that. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. We do require you to go to at least one counseling session, your employees have got to go to a group meet with a licensed therapist so you can all discuss this and get over the awful event.”

“I see,” I chew my lower lip. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about the way I jumped at every little thing and stared down each and every stranger on the tube on my way in today. I felt crazy. Maybe I did need a shrink. “I’ll include that in the memo I guess. Thanks again for all the support and the resources-”

“That’s my job, our job.” She motions to the man sitting beside her who hadn’t actually said much the whole time. We talk for a little while longer, and by the time they leave I’m exhausted. But I make the trek to the hospital to visit Cole like I told him I would.

***

The weekend flies by: I take the train to visit my dad up north and let him take care of me like I was a kid again. It was nice to unwind, I thought, I should visit my dad more often.

But come Monday, I’m back in my pantsuit ready to get on with my life. I try not to think about Thursday too hard but it’s difficult when first thing that morning, a therapist shows up for a group session. Most of my employees look anxious to be here, but I watch their shoulders relax as they discuss what happened. Watching everyone bond brings a lightness to the heaviness that sat in my chest: it was good.

“Ms. Y/L/N? When can we schedule a one-on-one?” The therapist stops me at the end of the session.

“I think this session helped a lot,” I put on a big smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

She smiles politely, as if she expected this, “It’s a requirement for back-to-work. I have time right now if you’d like, I’m not seeing another employee until lunch.”

“Um,” I look to where everyone mingles, comforting each other and breaking off into groups. If I had to talk about it in order to work, and work is the only thing to help me get my mind off of it...I guess I had no choice. “Let’s do it now.”

But an hour later and I’ve mostly just talked her ear off about Harry showing up, how awful my luck was that he would be the lead detective on the case, how much damage he’d done to me. How he appeared on one of the worst days of my life again.

“It’s almost a sign,” I ramble. “Like...what are the odds?!”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” She asks, looking like she knew the answer.

“No,” I scoff. “I hate him. He broke my trust!” And my heart.

“Those are feelings,” she says wisely. 

“Well sure, yeah, I have negative feelings towards him. Why wouldn’t I?”

She pauses, a very pregnant pause. “It’s been almost 4 years right? Usually, those feelings start to...dissolve into a more neutral ground when you...receive closure. You take time to grieve, to sit in the wound in your heart, but then you pick yourself up and try to heal. It seems like you’ve just told yourself you were healed and got on.”

“I am healed,” I insist.

“Just like you started this sessions by letting me know you were over the trauma that happened to you a few days ago?” She asks. I avoid her gaze. “When I asked about Thursday, you said you were ‘over it’ and you just wanted to focus on work but you’re not giving yourself closure. Likewise, with Harry. You haven’t found closure even after all these years.”

I stare at her, she’d sliced right into a vulnerable part of me--I’d led her there, I realise. It was something I knew all along, I just didn’t want to point at it alone.

“You’re right...I feel like I never got closure.” I confess. “How? I just want to know h-how he could’ve left me for another woman after all those years together--as lovers and as friends? He was there when mum...he was there through hell. And then he put me through hell.”

“I’d like to believe Harry showing up on a...hellish day is a sign like you say. But maybe a sign you need closure. Talk to him, ask him what you need to know in order to close that chapter of your life.”

I exhale, the idea of it making me feel claustrophobic. She wanted me to open myself up to him again and invite him to hurt my feelings? I try to ask her more but she looks at her watch. We’d gone over.

I thank her and walk out with a weight on my back that feels bigger than the one I went in with. I thought therapy was supposed to make me feel lighter.

***

I’m hiding behind my desk as the footsteps get closer and closer to the door. I clutch the knife in my hand and-

“Y/N!”

I jump up out of sleep, and open my eyes to my office. I stare at the table in front of me where the papers I used as a pillow are rumpled.

“Y/N? You have a call on-”

“Adam,” I look at my assistant. He’d been really quiet today and I was worried about him but there was so much to catch up on I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him. “Sorry I...haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...the detective’s on the line he insisted he talk-”

I roll my eyes and answer the phone, motioning for Adam I’d be okay. He hesitates at the door before closing it tightly behind him.

“Y/N?” Harry’s breathless voice answers irritably on the other line.

“Harry? Why are you calling me at work?” I ask, still sleepy from the nap. Is this about the case?”

“No it’s about your things at the station, it was processed--we couldn’t find anything useful so we’re returning this batch. And I think some of it belongs to your staff? Did you want to pick it up or should I drop it off to yo-”

“I’ll pick it up,” I wanted to make it clear that Harry in my space wasn’t going to be a normal thing. “I’ll head out in a bit, can I just collect it at reception?”

“They’ll buzz you through to me, I’ve gotta go-”

“Just leave it with reception...” I say to dead air. He’d already hung up. Damn.

***

“I’m here for some things, it was taken for evidence?” I say to the woman at reception.

“You’ll have to be more specific love,” she raises an eyebrow. “A lot happens here.”

“The bank rob-”

“Ah, Harry’s case. I’ll buzz you through-”

“No I thought maybe I could collect it here uh-” I look for a nameplate. “Serena, listen, I’m in a rush so is there any way for you to get it-”

The phone ringing cuts me off. She holds up her finger and I stand tapping my foot. She rolls her eyes at whoever was on the other line, motions that they were chatty and points to the glass doors. I sigh, I guess I was seeing Harry. I think about my therapist and cringe, I couldn’t.

When I walk in, I scan the room for Harry but I don’t spot him anywhere. I walk awkwardly until someone asks if they could help but they point to his desk and tell me I could wait there.

“I’m actually here to pick up some evidence, couldn’t you just give it to me?”

“He’s the lead officer, he’s got to sign off--”

“Fine,” I hated the bloody bureaucracy around here. I go to where he points and sit in Harry’s chair, ignoring the looks from people around me. I toy with the pen and doodle on an empty paper. Y/N was here I write and smile, it was juvenile.

“Y/N! Sorry! Nobody told me you were here.” Harry shows up a few minutes later. He opens the bottom drawer and takes out a nondescript cardboard box. If I knew if was down there I would’ve left a long time ago. “Just need you to sign this.”

“Okay,” I sign where he points and reach for the box. “I’ll grab that, thank you.”

“Can I walk you out?” He fiddles with his phone.

“Will you take no for an answer?”

“Nope,” he’s all teeth when he smiles. I sigh and walk in front of him. It’s weirdly silent but I notice he was typing on his phone when I look over.

“Well...g’night then.” I say at the door but he pushes it open and walks out with me.

He finally puts his phone away and asks. “Are you alright? Have you gone back to work?”

“Yeah,” I chew at my bottom lip, nervous. “We’re really sticking together, trying to get through it.”

“That’s good. That’s how it should be.” He waits a beat. “We’ve been trying to catch the robbers, they hit up another bank so it’s hell inside. That’s why I was so busy.”

“Another?” My heart plummets, and my palms feel slick.

“Yeah but we’re working as fast as we can. So...uh, did you need anything from me before you go?”

“I...” I think about the therapist’s words and chew my lower lip. I try to work up the courage. Fuck it, I realise. I had nothing to lose. “I do...actually.”

“Oh,” he looks surprised. “Good, what’s that?”

“I want to talk, about us. I...I need like, closure Harry. I think I deserve an explanation about...” I trail off as I notice him staring at me blankly. “What?”

His blank expression settles into confusion. “What’s more to explain Y/N. I’ve told you everything, I-I dunno. I thought one day we could get together like old friends, but it’s obvious you’re still upset with everything and I don’t know what more I can say? I said everything in that letter but if-”

“The letter?” I ask sharply, cutting off his chatter.

“Yeah, the one I wrote you after we...after you moved out?” When I don’t react he continues: “I dropped it off at your sister’s the week after you cleaned out your things? You didn’t...read it?” He looks hurt, if that was possible all these years later.

“I...did. Obviously I just...had some questions.” My heart races; what letter? He wrote me a letter?

“So what do you want to ask?” He looks at me curiously, concern etched in his brows. “I would like to talk actually-”

“Now’s not a good time,” I cut him off again. I had to know about this letter first. I can’t believe I walked into this blind. “I’ve actually had a long day, this is--we can do this another time, okay? Thanks for...walking me out.”

***

The first thing I do when I get home is call my sister. I can sniff her guilt a whole country away.

“Y/N, you were heartbroken! Y-you didn’t need to have it broken all over again reading his stupid letter! I was looking out for you!”

“That wasn’t your call!” I raise my voice. “I’ve been...I haven’t had closure all this time! I thought he didn’t even care enough to try to explain it to me and you knew he sent a letter this whole time?”

“Well when he showed up to the flat I wasn’t about to-”

“When did he come to the flat?” I wanted to strangle my sisters and her protective instincts.

“After you moved your things out. He wanted to see you and I knew you were a mess, I told him you never wanted to speak to him. I was looking out for you babe I-I didn’t even realise I was keeping you from closure I just...I didn’t want you hurting. Don’t be mad.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, she was right. It was Harry who hurt me, and I shouldn’t take it out on her. “I know. I know. I’m sorry for yelling I just-I wish I could read that letter.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “I should’ve given it to you once you moved out...I still have it though. I think I tucked it into my old yearbook. D’you want me to...”

“Mail it? Yes, as soon as possible please. I need to know what he wrote.”

“What if you just get hurt all over again?” she asks.

“I’ve been hurting, I don’t think his outdated explanation will hurt any more. Just please mail it the first chance you get okay?”

I was so close to it, I think. I had to get that letter. I needed closure. I deserved it. And just knowing I could get it, it’s almost like I was waking up in a dark tunnel I hadn’t realised I was in this whole time. I knew where I was, and I could see light on the horizon.

H POV:

The last time I had a full night’s sleep was on Y/N’s couch, this case was a lot bigger than we thought. It wasn’t just a robbery at one branch, these same people have hit up two other places in the last few days and they were good. The worst part was they weren’t afraid to use a gun.

“Chief,” one of the constables comes up to my desk, where I’d been staring at footage for the last hour. “There’s been um, there’s a problem-”

“Spit it out,” I say, eyes still on the screen.

“The evidence you released on Monday...blokes down in evidence can’t find the SIM from the scene...we think they accidentally left it with that batch.”

I look up from my screen and I can practically see the sweat breaking out on his brow as I stare. If that was important evidence, we’d misplaced it at the height of an investigation. My arse would be on the line too--it was my name on the authorization letter.

“Don’t panic until we’re sure it’s not with the evidence we gave out,” I get up and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking into it right now, don’t let anybody know it’s happened.”

I grab my jacket from my chair and root in the pocket for my phone but Y/N’s number goes to voicemail. I curse. I look at the time, it was 6 already. I had a feeling she might kill me but I would have to drive to her place, I hoped she didn’t leave the evidence at work...after all I did tell her to return it to her employees...I have the brief thought of asking her in the morning but I remember my arse on the line and walk quicker.

“Woah, someone’s in a hurry,” Detective Cole comments as I rush past her. “Not even a hello.”

“Sorry,” I flash her a smile. “Urgent!”

“Need any help?”

I pause long enough to turn around and answer. “Normally I would say yes but I’ve got to do this.”

“Don’t let me keep ya,” she smiles, I notice Serena eyeing the both of us suspiciously as she packs up for the day. She was always trying to convince me to ask her on a date, but I was done with dating coworkers after I made the mistake of marrying one and breaking up quickly thereafter in the past. I’d changed careers quickly after that.

Y/N’s POV:

“Oh my god,” I stop in the middle of my bedroom as my sister reveals her big news over Facetime, an ultrasound held up to the camera. “Oh my god!”

“I know!” She squeals.

“I-I-you’re pregnant!” I was shocked, I didn’t even know my sister was trying for a third kid. “You better give me a bloody niece this time!”

My sister laughs, one hand on her belly. I should’ve known, I realise, she’d been cryptic the last few times we talked, dropping clue, but I’d been so wrapped up in other things I didn’t pick up on them. “It wasn’t even planned but Y/N, it feels right. The boys are stoked--they want a sister too.”

“I am so happy for you and Stu,” I let out a whoop. “I wish I could hug you! I’m going to book some time next month and come see you--this is big! Did you tell dad?”

“Not yet, don’t say anything--oh,” a cry bursts out from somewhere on her end. She rolls her eyes and tells me she would call me back. But I get a text to say there was an accident with a toy truck and a jug of OJ, she would call me back later in the evening when everything was settled.

I throw my phone down on my bed and sit on the edge in my robe, I’d just come out of the shower to my sister’s call. I was over the moon for her, but it was times like these I felt like an awful person. Because as I think about her happy news, I put my hand to my own belly and imagine what it would’ve been like to be the one calling family with good news. The familiar ache in my chest comes back, once upon a time I did have good news for a short period of time.

It was a few months before Harry and I split, I’d skipped a period and went immediately to the pharmacy. I’d decided to wait for a week before I would tell Harry because he was stressed from work. He was always stressed at that job, but I wanted it to be perfect. I’d spent the whole week stopping by nursery stores, browsing baby books, even buying a few onesies and the cutest booties I couldn’t put down. I picture the baby--mine and Harry’s, wearing them.

But the day I’d planned to tell him, I’d woken up and knew instantly something was wrong. I never told him, I fought with him that day instead...I couldn’t even remember over what. I held the awful burden on my own, packed the future I couldn’t have into a little box and shoved it under the bed. A few months later, Harry and I were over. That future was as fragile as the paper-thin wings of a butterfly, one that would never take flight.

I do what I did on my darkest days, I root underneath my bed and pull out the box.

I still had it; it was morbid, holding on to a future that was deader than dead. But I hold it in my lap, and run my hands over each piece of clothing. I imagine just for a moment what I could have had, they would’ve been 3 and I would’ve been a mum. My chest tightens, and I squeeze the items closer.

H’s POV:

By the time I get to Y/N’s, I’d stress-sang so many 90s hits that most of my nervous energy had streamed out the car window. I gather myself, clear my hoarse throat, and knock; ready to be beheaded. When there’s no answer, my nerves return. I knock louder, and try to peer through the frosty window.

“Harry?” Y/N opens the door in a flourish, looking fresh from a shower. I try to block the visuals that spring to mind, my mind blanking as I try to remember what I had to say. “Hello? Harry? Why are you here?”

“Uhm,” I shake my head. “Urgent business--the evidence I gave you on Monday, please tell me you still have it?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “You’re knocking on my door at nearly 7 for evidence you returned to me?”

“It’s urgent,” I look around out of habit. “Y/N, we may have accidentally given you something with the evidence we were meant to keep--please I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. I’m not messing with you, this is my head on the chopping block--I need to know if you have it.”

“For fuck’s sake Harry,” she opens the door wider. “Just...come in.”

“You have it?” I step in eagerly and close the door behind me, basking in the warmth inside. It was a chilly spring evening.

“I haven’t touched it since I brought it home, I threw it somewhere in my room.”

“Didn’t it...have your employees’ personal items in it?” I ask cautiously.

“It’s not like they’re eager to have reminders of that day!” she snaps and I back down. She turns in a flourish of her robes and walks upstairs. She doesn’t say anything so I follow her up, drinking in every detail I can about her new life as we pass through.

She’s headed into her bedroom when her phone buzzes. I recognize her sister from the contact photo that takes up the screen. She glances at me, and back at the phone, making a decision.

“It’s beside the dresser, don’t make a sound or my sister will come here in record time to rip your head off.”

“I take it she doesn’t like me,” I try to joke.

“She’s not the only Y/L/N sister that doesn’t like you,” she puts a finger to her mouth and takes the call into the other room.

Maybe I should stop cracking jokes with Y/N, I think. It was clear she still hadn’t forgiven me. I was surprised she still held on as vehemently all these years later.

I head into her bedroom, a tidy and plain room. Compared to what I’d seen of her main floor, her bedroom looked like it belonged in a hotel. I spot the box almost immediately resting between a laundry hamper and her dresser. I pick it up but on the way back, the box on her bed catches my attention. The lid is half on, and I know I shouldn’t but something almost possesses my hand to nudge the lid aside. I stare and what’s inside the box sends me reeling; like I was seasick, but with both feet firmly on the ground. The feeling punches me directly into a past I’d abandoned. A future I abandoned too.

When Y/N finds me a few minutes later, I’m holding the shoes from the box in my hands. She stops beside me. I look to her and her face is frozen in fear, before it shuts down into anger--no, fury.

“What the fuck are you doing going through that?” she snatches the shoes out of my hand and picks the box up.

“Y/N,” I say gently. “What...what is all this?”

“Did you find your stupid box? Just--” her eyes search the room frantically and settles on the evidence box on the bed. She picks it up and shoves it into my chest. “Take it and go Harry, I don’t want t-to talk. To you. Please just--” her voice breaks.

“Okay I’ll go I just...” my heart feels heavier than lead and I want to say the perfect thing to her but nothing comes out. When she shoves me I scuttle out. I hear the sob that escapes her as soon as I exit into the hallway, I almost turn to go back in and offer comfort. But I couldn’t comfort her, not since the day I gave up on her. I walk to my car, not even relieved to have the evidence. I don’t know how long I sit in the car and think about the contents of that box: folded in neat piles were baby onesies, bibs, and a pair of tiny shoes. Remnants from a broken past, a broken promise.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I wasn’t heartless despite what Y/N thought. I know what my selfish actions did to her, I know how I’d fucked her up without meaning to. But it’s only now that the weight of it settles entirely on my shoulders. How many years has it been, and that small box of new onesies stayed under her bed. Her room might’ve looked sterile and fresh but its corners held heavier burdens than I thought were possible. A new feeling of shame blooms from within me, and it stays like a bad aftertaste.

***Y/N POV:

I was going to read that letter, find my closure, and burn everything from my past ceremonially in a bonfire, I think as I watch the trees in my backyard rustle with the morning wind. It had been a few days but I couldn’t even focus on him finding that box, the humiliation of watching him look up at me with confusion and pity...it was enough he’d broken my heart, but now he felt sorry for me too. I focus back on the greenery while my fingers toy with the letter that’d come in the mail, a few years late.

The envelope looked worse for wear but it was still as sealed as the day Harry had written it. I hesitate, trace my fingers over my name on the front. A memory comes rushing to me, Harry in my dorm writing silly things on my post-its and sticking it in places I wouldn’t find until he’d left. Like under my covers, or inside my closet door. They would be silly like

Y/N smells like farts

or cheesy like

have a terrific day

. I usually tossed them, other I’d tucked between classroom textbooks. I wonder what happened to them.

Finally, I work up the courage to slide my finger under the seal and break it open. Two pages fall out, his distinct writing halfway between cursive and chicken scratch covers both pages. I read:

Y/N

You’re probably wondering why you’re reading this--I don’t think I deserve your consideration for even a moment let alone for enough time it will take for you to read this. Yet I want so badly for you to read this, to just know I didn’t mean for this to happen to us. And I know you think I’m the one who did it to us, but I need to explain.

You always told me I was good with my words, that maybe I was an artist in another life--a poet you liked to say. But every time I try to find the right words to say to you, English may as well not be my first language. I should have tried harder, should have found the right words for months but I kept putting it off until it was too late.

You are and will always be my best friend first, Y/N, I know I’ve broken your trust but I care about you deeply. I just wasn’t happy. And that had to do with the road we were going down together, not you. I’m deeply sorry for the words I said that day, for how I’ve made you feel these last few months. I guess, ultimately, I was being selfish. And I don’t have an excuse for that. I fucked this up but I wasn’t happy and I was taking it out on you, and on us. I used the things we couldn’t have as an excuse, but I’m not happy where I am in my life. And that’s something I need to find; I need to figure out what I really want.

I can only hope we’ll circle back to each other one day, in the future, when we’re in better places. But I don’t think we were right like this, maybe it’s bad timing, or maybe there’s a blanket over us much too heavy for us to find comfort under. I’m sorry for leaving us like this and for breaking your trust but I need to do this.

Know you’re perfect as you are, right now, there’s absolutely nothing about you I would ever change. I, on the other hand, have a lot of changing to do.

I wish you nothing but the best, you deserve the whole bloody world Y/N, but I don’t think I can give that to you. I hope one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. For now, know I love you and I’m truly sorry.

Harry, xx

My finger brushes over the last line, I take myself back to the Y/N and Harry four years ago--and it’s not so hard to do. I lived there more often than I’d like to admit. But I picture us, I picture Harry sitting down to write this. How might I have taken this if I read it all those years ago? I picture myself dissolving into tears--maybe my sister was right in not showing me.

I also imagine I would have known why, and maybe I wouldn’t be where I was right now if I’d had that closure.

But even all these years later, the tears stream down my face as if it were just yesterday Harry handed the letter over to my protective sister. There was so much hurt and heaviness, looking at it from the perspective I had now...I see a glimmer of truth in Harry’s letter. We’d worked wonderfully as best friends, and our intimacy was comforting. But we were also two people being pulled in two directions while clinging onto what we thought would keep us happy. It didn’t mean I forgave him for what he did, how he did it. But I finally understood why.

All this time, I asked why--I wondered if there was something I could’ve done to have fixed it before he left. I see now, he’d wanted an out the whole time. Nothing would have fixed us except time apart. I still felt like shit, but this epiphany made me feel closer to the closure I needed. The light on the horizon grows a little brighter. We’d just had bad timing.

***

I feel bright and chipper Monday morning; a sunny morning and a weekend of closure could do that to a woman. I bring along with me a box of treats; it had been a week since the horrible robbery. We’d put some precautions in since, had the therapist stay a few more days, a few of the employees decided to transfer and as sad as I was to see them go I knew it was the right thing for them to do to feel better. As for myself, I forgot about it most of the time. But it would creep in every so often and freeze me up.

I spoke to the company’s therapist once more after Monday, she’d asked about Harry and I had told her about the letter. She was intrigued but quickly changed the topic to how I was feeling after the events of last Thursday.

“Y/N?” Adam walks into the staff room as I finish the note to accompany the treats. “What’s all this?”

“Treats to cheer everyone up! Not that sweet fried dough is going to erase everyone’s PTSD...” I try to make a joke but Adam’s face is tense like it’d been since that day. “Adam I’m teasing...have you um, have you talked to someone one-on-one?”

“Me? Why?” He jumps. “I’m fine, I’m alright it’s mostly out of my head anyway.”

“Hm,” I look him up and down. “I don’t believe you but I’ll let it drop...for now.”

He fidgets with his hands, “Anyway I came in here to let you know the detective on the case called first thing about returning some evidence-”

“I can’t pick that up.” I say finitely. “Do you have room today? Maybe take an extended lunch and pick that up?”

“From the station?” he stutters.

“Is that where he said it was?”

“Uh yeah, yes. He wanted you to pick it up.”

“Well DCI Styles won’t get what he wants for once, you’ll pick it up at lunch okay? Just keep me posted.”

I go back to my office with a coffee and get a crack on with my work. I check for any updates on the client from last Thursday but I continue to receive the automated email that their office was closed for the week. It was weird, but I just make a note to follow up later on.

After lunch, Adam appears shaken, with the evidence. I instruct him to leave it in the staff room and send out an email, making sure to remind them that they didn’t have to go through it if they didn’t want to. I would keep it there until it was cleared out, even if that took the month. I think about my scarf in there, the one used to tie my hands. I wanted to burn it, never see it again. I send Adam a quick email to remove it from the box and dispose of it.

H’s POV:

“This just doesn’t make any sense,” I comb my fingers through my hair, as if it might trick my brain into seeing the pattern here. “This same group’s hit four places total, and yet Y/N...the HSBC was the first. There’s got to be a connection there, it’s here but I just can’t see it.”

“Harry,” Detective Cole puts her hand on my shoulder briefly before moving it away. “Maybe you need a break, I don’t think I’ve seen you go home the last few days and your shirt’s a bit...ripe. Maybe take the rest of the day off?”

I sniff myself, she was right. She shrugs with a I had to say it look.

She was right too that I hadn’t gone home. I did almost nothing but focus on this case, not only because it was growing bigger by the day and I had pressure from upstairs. But it was a welcome distraction to the new guilt that seemed to jam every other area of my life.

It was almost like I was reliving a timeline, going back three or so years ago. It felt like Y/N and I were freshly broken up, and I was trying to pick myself back up from it. Except that’s not the way it went all those years ago--I’d moved on, quickly then. But now, time was catching up. Or maybe it was karma.

“Earth to Harry?” Cole waves her hand in front of my face. “You really should go home.”

“Yep,” I scratch my stubble. I should shave too. “I’ll just drop by evidence before I go.”

She looks like she was going to say something but she gets up from the chair beside my desk, and walks back to her own. I sigh, sifting through the files on my desk to take home with me. My notepad underneath shifts and I spot Y/N’s familiar writing: Y/N was here. I run my finger over it and smile, remembering how she had written that on the baseboard of every flat or dorm room we’d left. And just like that, the guilt and shame take the memory’s place. How the fuck was I supposed get past this and focus, I think.

I shove my files into a bag and head out. Evidence tells me there wasn’t a lot on the sim card but they were still trying. I ask for an email if anything comes to light, and go home where I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

i meant to take a short nap, but I wake at 4am and my mind’s buzzing with so many thoughts that I have nothing else to do but get up, eat a mashup of breakfast and last night’s dinner. With nothing more to do, and 6am creeping up, I decide to get in my car and drive while the roads were somewhat clear.

Driving helped me think sometimes, on my worst case after my promotion, I’d gotten on the road one night and driven all the way to Leicaster. After a night’s rest in a hotel and the drive back home, I’d cracked the case. But this time, with my thoughts racing, I end up driving to Y/N neighbourhood on autopilot. Maybe because she was on my mind, the guilt a constant companion since that day.

I park on the other side of her street, and watch her front door from the rearview. I don’t know why I was there, it felt ridiculous and creepy. Yet, I couldn’t leave. Maybe I could offer her a ride to work, I think. But I know she would decline because she didn’t even come in herself to collect her evidence. She’d sent her awkward assistant instead.

Her door suddenly opens, and a strange man walks out. She leans on the doorframe and laughs at something he says. He leaves a kiss on her cheek and walks away. She shouts something after him and he turns, saying something back that gets her laughing. My heart races, seeing her face in the distance wrinkle with laughter. I remember all the times I could get her to do that, effortlessly. The guilt returns tenfold.

He adjusts his coat, turning back around and she watches him fondly for a few seconds longer before closing her door. I’m suddenly irritated, immediately suspicious of this bloke. I watch, unblinking, until he turns the corner out of sight. Who was he? Her boyfriend?

I look at the time on the dashboard, 7:08am. I sit, indecisive for another half an hour. My thoughts churn: the robberies, the motives, Y/N, the worn out box with baby clothes, her male guest who’d spent the night, the look on her face when she’d woken up after her concussion and saw me: disbelief, anger, and sadness.

I get out of the stuffy car and walk across the street where I hesitate outside her door. I knew I was crossing a line, pushing a boundary she put up by not picking up the evidence herself. She’d made it clear what she wanted, but I never denied that I was a selfish bastard. I raise my hand, and knock.

[tangledstarlight]

2. “Sure, you can use me as a pillow.” For willex 😃

hello hi this could have been so much longer but it’s 2am and i gotta go to sleep, but i also felt compelled to do this tonight so here we go! and yes okay i nearly forgot there was a prompt my bad 😬 hope you like anon!! 

hurt/comfort dialogue prompts!!

2. “Sure, you can use me as a pillow.” 

The thing about traveling is that Alex really hates traveling. 

Sure, he likes going to new places and experiencing new cultures and buying hotdogs from street vendors in New York who don’t work out of a car. But that actual act of traveling? Of getting from one place to another long distance via plane? Absolutely hates it. As he sits around in hard plastic airport chairs he often finds himself wishing he could just teleport himself. Think of where he wanted to be and poof! there he was. 

But he couldn’t poof around the world and instead he was stuck on a flight back to LA from New York that was already an hour delayed and was now a further two hours delayed on the tarmac while they were on the damn thing. 

Balling up his jumper and stuffing it behind his head Alex tries to relax, to stretch his legs out in front of him a little and let the tension leave his shoulders. He thinks about the apartment that him and the band had rented for the three months they’d been in New York working on their new album. Of how he could be on the plush grey sofa right now, listening to Reggie talk over whatever film they’d picked and trying to throw popcorn into Luke’s open mouth after he’d fallen asleep ten minutes in while Julie tried with m&ms. 

But no. He’s stuck in a plane and starting to get cramp in his leg and regretting not accepting the travel pillow Reggie had tried to give him before he left. God there had better be an open bar at his sister's wedding to make up for this experience. Though he knows that’s partly a lie, because seeing his little sister walk down the aisle in her white dress will be worth it, but the way his parents will avoid him the whole weekend? Oh yeah, he’s gonna need an open bar for that too. 

“Sorry folks, looks like we’re going to be stuck here a little while longer. Please remain in your seats and if you need anything––” Alex, along with the majority of the plane, stop listening to the pilot's voice on the speaker. There’s a collective groan and he can hear people complaining and the little tell-tale ding of someone calling for assistance. 

Alex blows out a breath and tries to go back to relaxing in his seat. Which feels awkward and uncomfortable and exposed, probably due to the fact he’s got an aisle seat. Logically, he knows that. Logically, he knows that no one is really judging him right now because they’re all too busy dealing with their own shit. 

The sleeve of his jumper slips free, dropping to his neck and, without thinking, he swats it away. Belatedly, and okay yeah, only after the responding grunt, does Alex remember that there’s someone sitting next to him. 

Eyes snapping open he looks at the man next to him, takes in the long hair and the tie dye sweatshirt and the wires of his headphones and the raised eyebrow as he looks back at him. 

“I am so sorry I just––” Alex trails off because he doesn’t have an excuse. He just forgot there was someone sitting next to him. Which, the longer he looks at his seat neighbour and takes in the jaw line and the lips curving into a smile and the way his eyes haven’t left his–– how the hell did Alex not notice him when he first got on the fucking plane? (He’s going to blame it on how much he hates traveling, it blinds him to all hot people in the vicinity, even if they happen to be right next to him apparently.) He can feel his cheeks growing warm and he realises he’s just staring and hasn’t actually finished his sentence. 

“Fell– neck, y’know?” He gestures vaguely to his neck, and the sleeve of his jumper that’s still on the other man's shoulder and god fucking damn it Alex that wasn’t even a sentence, get it together! If Luke or Julie or Reggie were here right now they would be laughing at him. 

“It’s all good man,” the stranger says with a light laugh and–– god he’s got such pretty eyes that Alex is almost distracted from what he says next, “You seem a little tense there though man. You goo?” 

And see, this is exactly part of the reason why Alex hates traveling. It’s the awkward small talk on the plane or the train or when you’re unfortunate enough to end up next to an extra chatty person on the bus. It’s why he shoves headphones on and pretends he can’t see lips moving. Though, he’s maybe willing to break that rule just a little today.

“Not a big fan of traveling,” is all he says, trying not to grimace about how much of an understatement that is. 

“On planes or just in general?” 

“Just in general. Though after this it might be a plane thing,” he tries to joke, and he’s pretty sure it’s a terrible attempt but the stranger giggles and oh man Alex hadn’t thought he could get cuter. 

“Yeah, this has been a pretty shitty few hours,” he agrees, biting down on his bottom lip for a moment before seeming to decide something, “I’m Willie. By the way. Since we’re going to be stuck next to each other for a while.” 

“Alex. Hi,” and, for some strange reason he lifts his hand and waves at him. That magical teleportation power would come in handy right about now, he decides. 

But, for whatever reason, Willie doesn’t find it weird and they start talking. Alex learns that Willie’s flying back to LA because he’d been in New York for an art show, and that he’s into skateboarding and he looks really good when he ties his hair up in a bun. In turn, Alex tells him about the band and recording their first album and about his weekend. 

“So wait, your parents don’t want you going to the wedding?” Willie asks, body half turned towards him in his chair and there's a look of confusion on his face. 

“They’d didn’t explicitly say that but we all know they’re going to be disappointed when I show up,” he shrugs. It hurts, but it’s also just been a fact of his life for so long now that Alex sometimes forgets that not everyone has the same experience. And anyway, he’s not going for his parents, he’s going for his sister. 

“Man that’s fucked,” he mutters, eyes seeming to zone out for a moment, only to refocus as Alex claps a hand over his mouth to block a yawn. 

“Sorry. I put off going to sleep so I could sleep on the flight but,” he shrugs, shooting Willie a slightly sheepish smile but he just shakes his head, another smile on his lips. 

“You’re all good. When this thing finally takes off you can use me as a pillow,” there’s a slightly teasing edge to his words but a challenge in his eyes. 

And maybe it’s because he’s been stuck in an airport and then on a plane for four hours longer then he’d expected to be, or because he’s just really tired or maybe he’s just feeling brave in the face of his weekend ahead, but Alex smiles back at him and says, “You’re probably much comfier then my jumper.” 

There’s a beat before Willie laughs, knocks his knuckles casually against Alex’s shoulder. Half an hour later, when the pilot announces they’ve been cleared for takeoff and the majority of people cheer, Alex and Willie share a high five, palms lingering maybe a touch too long, but he’s not going to complain. 

He doesn’t sleep on the flight, but he does leave LAX in a taxi with Willie’s number saved in his phone with the first text he’d sent being the address of his sister's wedding and an assurance he didn’t need to bring a gift. 

So okay, maybe traveling isn’t the worst thing in the world.

[griff-us]

Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”