#everyone is anxious and wired and awkward so i get to stand out in a good way

[narcopathyfiles]

yesterday night i made and submit a cv for job applications. was kind of alienating feeling? i realized how many of my skills were not acquired by socially acceptable means. i feel like when i get interviewed i can't make myself look professional to save my life. i don't know how much of my outer personality can save my ass on that

[luvrbug]

When they have a crush on you

«─────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───────────»

▸ Characters; Law, Kidd, Luffy

▸ Warnings; GN reader

▸ a/n; my first OP work !!!! im still trying to grasp how to write for them but !!! i hope you all enjoy :] (psst- requests are open!)

«─────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───────────»

-> LAW

▸ Law refuses to show any emotional vulnerability. So when he realizes that YOU are the one making his emotions go absolutely haywire- its not a good scene.

▸ He cares about you so much. He doesnt form attachments easily, so when he does prepare for him to never let go.

▸ He starts to avoid you. Like, you cannot find him on the polar tang type of avoiding. He's afraid to put you in serious danger, he's wanted by the world covernment, has billions of beri on his head- he couldn't stand to put you in more danger.

▸ Law SAYS he is perfectly content with holding these feelings in until he dies. He is lying. At some point his frustration comes to a head and he just , corners you in the sub after not speaking to you for THREE WEEKS and word vomits all his emotions out while looking like a tomato.

▸ If you accept law is . surprisingly elated. This commitment doesn't feel heavy or scary like he imagined. He's not the biggest fan of PDA but he ABSOLUTELY links pinkies with you when walking around. (bepo, shaichi, and penguin are yall's biggest fans ever. they SO hide in the bushes during the first date and get discovered 😭)

▸ If you reject law .. he'll retreat back into his shell. He was open with you, and now he probably wont be. ever again. Really awkward interactions ensue.

-> KIDD

▸ He's so oblivious to his own emotions !!!!!! He's so mean to you all the time but he's killing anyone who lays a hand on you. He feels nauseous and feverish and embarrassed whenever he's around you but he's anxious and jittery when you're NOT around!

▸ He gets sooo jealous too. you could be like, sitting next to someone and he'll be breaking a tankard in his fist 😭.

▸ HE TRIES SO HARD TO IMPRESS YOU!!! He's smashing someone's face in extra flashily when you look his way. Carrying super heavy objects when youre in his vicinity. showing you all his latest inventions. He's almost like a really aggressive, abrasive puppy waiting on you to praise him.

▸ He probably blurts out all of his feelings when you sit just a little too close after one too many beers. He's raging at you for "making my head all spinny" and "making me feel like im gonna vomit glitter" while Heat and Wire are cackling in the background. Killer has his head in his hands while Kidd continues his drunken rant.

▸ If you somehow manage to wrangle him back to the ship and accept his confession, you will have a clingy, kissy kidd to deal with. He will not let you go. Your post-confession gift is a cranky, hungover kidd.

▸ If you reject him ... Kidd practically explodes. Not at you, but everyone who pisses him off is getting chewed out 10x as bad. He's hurt, and he needs time to tend his wounds. Your friendship will never be the same, but he won't make your life a living hell.

-> LUFFY

▸ Luffy is straightforward, honest, and determined. If he likes you, he'll say it loud and clear. He doesn't exactly know the line between romantic and platonic feelings, so it'll take someone like robin or sanji to clear that up for him.

▸ He is also very physically affectionate. Where you go, luffy goes. You have to practically beg to go to the bathroom alone. Skinny, Tall, Short, Chubby; luffy loves it all! He gomu-gomu no cuddles you constantly.

▸ He doesn't really get jealous. He trusts you! And he knows youre great, so obviously everyone would want to spend time with you! Just make sure he's in your top priorities.

▸ Luffy's confession is in everything he does. He never steals from your plate unless he's given permission, always makes sure you get the best cuts of meat / best quality veggies. He may just suddenly hold you and kiss you if hes in the mood. Luffy is probably on the aro/ace spectrum, so your relationship may be on the platonic spectrum some days + the romantic spectrum some days.

▸ If you turn down all of Luffy's advances, hes naturally a little let down. He won't stop caring about you, but he'll attempt (key word; attempt) to give you space and not be so affectionate. (how could you possibly turn this boy down >:[)

[fruggo]

the boys x tough f!reader (part 2)

requested by : @dranonymous

i love this idea and i hope you all enjoy part two! :D here’s part 1 with the original request.

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dwight is really cute, danny is an asshole, jake is that cute “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope because i say so

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

you are so cool. like ,,,,,so cool

dwight admires you so much. you just got here and yet you are breaking pyramid head’s ankles—dodging his trail of torment left and right, the killer just can’t touch you.

and how did you feel about everything? terrified, honestly, but nobody would ever be able to tell because you didn’t let it get to you. it was like you had already been here before, because the second you learned how to do something, you had it down no problem. fixing generators came naturally, and you could also run the killer for the whole trial if you had to. teammates could easily rely on you to do whatever needed to be done.

that was what made you and dwight such a powerful duo. from the moment you met, you knew you felt comfortable around this guy. he was sweet, maybe a little timid sometimes, but he knew how to step up and be a leader for everyone despite his fears.

you both knew what to do, and you fit together like a glove. your minds worked in very similar ways, which made communicating that much easier and efficient; the second a decision needed to be made, dwight was on top of it, encouraging the teammates and helping them get on their feet. you were already ahead of them, so dwight would just nod to you, knowing you could do your job well.

of course, there were times when dwight’s anxiety got the better of him, and you had to be the one encouraging him.

dwight hated the hag. despised her. he could not stand her jumpscares when a trap was triggered, he would swear he was about to have a heart attack. he couldn’t admit this at first, but you figured it out when feng min was hooked and dwight stuck to the generator, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. he always went for the saves, so something was obviously wrong.

“dwight? why don’t you go save her?” you asked, eyeing him from your side of the generator.

he didn’t respond, looking over his shoulder again.

you decided to rescue min, but when you got back, you were going to chew dwight out until he gave you a straight answer.

you crawled up to the hook to avoid triggering a trap and gently lowered min to the ground. the two of you inched away carefully until you were far enough away to patch her wound.

“dwight, get off your ass and answer me,” you demanded (affectionately) once you were back at the generator, which was nearly finished. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes conveyed nervousness in every sense of the word; they darted all around, searching for any incoming danger. this was your first time seeing him like this, so you were confused. was he alright?

“it’s just…the hag,” he started, still fiddling with the wires. “her traps, i can’t…”

oh. was he anxious about the traps?

“i just can’t deal with them,” he finally said with difficulty. that was understandable; when they caught you off guard it definitely made you leap out of your skin.

“dwight, listen,” you said. “you’ve dealt with every other killer in this realm, haven’t you? you’ve bested the nurse, the huntress, micky myers, and even the spirit, who’s a bitch. i know hag’s traps are fucking terrifying, but you’re dwight! you are a leader, and you are good at being a leader. you can get out of here, i promise. and besides, with me here, you have nothing to worry about. i’ll kick that witch’s ass, got it?”

your very inspirational speech got him to smile. you were right, anyways—you could definitely kick the hag’s ass. what could go wrong?

nothing, actually. genuinely nothing went wrong. you took chase for the rest of the trial so that dwight didn’t have to worry about a thing, and everybody escaped with no problem. he didn’t understand how you were so good at evading capture—but perhaps you would tell him about your past eventually. you hadn’t yet decided.

back at the campfire, you and dwight comfortably sat side-by-side, patiently waiting until your next trials.

“thanks,” he said.

“for what?”

“for that very motivational speech you gave me,” he laughed.

you wiped imaginary dust off of your shoulder, giving him a confident smile. “i got your back. and man, that hag lady really is a bitch, huh? i can see why you hate her.”

that comment unintentionally caused one of dwight’s long, angry rants about his least favorite killer, and all you could do was watch him and listen with a soft grin on your lips. you’d never seen him angry before—it was adorable. made you wonder if you should just piss him off for fun sometimes.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

this guy has hella respect for you

you’re independent and easy to teach, and that’s everything he could ask for.

now and then, the other survivors basically gave newbies to jake to teach them everything about the realm—they considered him the expert on all things survival. you were one of those newbies he was forced to take care of.

jake normally hated teaching new survivors more than anything, because it was never his choice and they were all so difficult. but you were different. you were responsible, reliable, and smart, and it made his job so much easier. as time went on, he grew to be quite fond of you.

word eventually got out that the new girl had managed to charm jake out of his “hermit ways,” but he insisted that it was not true (he also disagreed about the “hermit ways” part). it was never spoken of between the two of you, but it definitely floated around in the air waiting to be addressed.

it really couldn’t be ignored any longer. anytime you were seen anywhere within 24 feet of each other, the other survivors would give you looks and wiggle their eyebrows or shoot you a thumbs up—all of which were unwanted. it created a weird tension between you and jake that wasn’t there before, and you really didn’t like it.

you missed when you were first starting out, and jake had just realized how competent you are. those days were fun—he respected you a lot; you could see it in his face when he looked at you. you always knew when he was pleased and when you did stuff right, because he would have the tiniest, most subtle grin on his face, but you could see it, and it made you feel accomplished.

you knew he still respected you, but you had basically jumped the learning curve of the realm and quickly adapted to every killer, every challenge, and every task. how you did it, nobody could ever know. but you were almost sad, because there was kind of no reason for you and jake to spend a lot of time together anymore. if you did, then everybody would freak out for the wrong reasons, and it would ruin your friendship.

so what if you had a few small feelings for him? no one gave a shit—you knew jake probably wouldn’t give a shit. to him, you were just another annoying survivor he was forced to teach. besides, you didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

man, were you wrong, though. he really, really wanted to be around you, but you already knew everything, so he didn’t know what to do to spend time with you. his way of initial bonding was sharing knowledge, but that had already been done, so…what now?

then came the one trial that changed everything.

it was normal at first. the killer, blight, was doing well, so you had to step up your game. one generator was completed and he had 4 hooks on three different people—you were the only one not hooked yet.

he was after you, and you were expertly dodging every rush and swing he threw your way. unfortunately, you accidentally ran to the generator that jake was working on, and things got a little complicated.

when the blight rushed at the wall, then at you, jake ran towards you while you ran towards him—you were both looking over your shoulders—and alas, bonk. you crashed into each other.

oh, no!! how terrible!! looks like jake fell on top of you :/ what an unfortunate situation to be in /s /s /s /s /s

wowwww near proximity ! you’d never been so close before and it was awkward but nice (?)

then you remembered there was a crazy drug addict or whatever over there and he was chasing you, and the moment was ruined. jake quickly rose and pulled you up with him, and you went in opposite directions, both nervous and wide-eyed now.

lol

after that, the trial went quite south. everybody was sacrificed. perhaps the loss could be partly attributed to you and jake avoiding each other like the plague. but who knows, right?

back at the campfire, you began feeling overwhelmed by all the weird stuff happening lately, so you excused yourself to the edge of the woods to have some quiet time to yourself. a few minutes later, jake came to check on you bc he is a fucking gentleman and yes i will die for the “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope. fuck you

it’s slightly awkward at first, but then you start talking like normal and things feel a lot better. a little bit of the tension eases away, but not completely. what the fuck do you do with feelings like this?????

you simply composed yourself as best you could. it would have to do.

now that you felt a little more normal (lie), you trekked back to the campfire to wait for your next trials side-by-side. there was no one you felt more comfortable with or more respected by than jake. he appreciated you for your competency, and that was one of the best things you could ask for.

and to your surprise, jake actually took your hand and laced your fingers with his own. and it felt nice. never in your existence would you have thought he would be okay with displaying public affection, but you smiled up at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

maybe the entity gave him drugs.

or he just liked you that much. either one would make sense.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

danny hated you. he really did.

you were so unbothered, so calm, so good at knowing what to do. it really pissed him off.

you got so much attention from the other survivors for your skill and that really pissed him off too. it’s not like you cared or wanted it or anything, but how dare they even touch you when you so clearly belonged to danny?

…who knows wtf that even means. so anyways-

when you realized how much time danny spent chasing you in trials when he should have been patrolling generators, you began to get suspicious. especially when he would take you to the hatch and then close it in your face, watching you die to the entity. he obviously had some kind of beef with you.

you were determined to find out what he had against you, so you began to tease him a bit in chases. your favorite and most frequent phrase was something like, "can't catch me? lil baby man? lil baby? lil baby man gonna cry?" you were really testing your luck with that one, and that's why you loved it.

once, you told him his fly was down, and he actually fell for it, making you nearly keel over in laughter. you got moried without even being hooked after that.

despite the horrors that frequented this place, you were never in a crisis about it. you simply learned what had to be done, and then you did it, much to the chagrin of danny. you had skipped the big "useless baby survivor" phase, and that one was his favorite :( he loved trials with new survivors because it was so easy and fun!

but alas, from the beginning, you were always on top of things, always slamming pallets onto his head or saving teammates with a flashlight.

oh, don't even get him started on your flashlight usage. you were the absolute worst to go against--every pallet stun, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. every time he picks up a survivor, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. you were a bitch with that item.

he finally began to get so fed up with your behavior that he decided you must be taught a lesson. somehow, countless mori and tunneling and camping incidents had not even managed to bother you. you literally did not care. but he had something different in mind this time.

the realm was haddonfield, of course. all of the killers despised this map, and for good reason--you ran danny around the entire neighborhood for three generators. did he have to chase you? no. but he needed to for himself.

he finally caught you in a dead zone, rejoicing to himself as you fell to the ground in defeat. "wow, that was a good chase," you mumbled under your breath, feeling accomplished. one of your best against danny, probably.

you were expecting him to pick you up, but instead he snatched the flashlight from your grasp and chucked it as far away as he could. and before you could protest, he pulled you up to stand again and yanked you towards himself, gripping your wrists so tightly you swore it left bruises.

"what's wrong...lil baby man?" you said with a pout, trying not to laugh. "is baby man angry?"

you were slightly scared if you were being honest, but you couldn't let him know that.

danny sighed. you really didn't know when to stop, did you?

"bitch," he spat, voice dangerously quiet. "cut that shit out."

"what shit?"

he squeezed your arms tighter, provoking an "okay, okay, i get it!" from you.

"do you?"

"sure. what's the worst you could possibly do to me anyways?" after those words left your mouth, you got a weird feeling that the killer was smiling behind his mask.

"listen, uhh, danny, is it?" you said, putting as much nonchalance into your voice as you could. "i just wanna know why you hate me so much. remember that time you closed the hatch in my face? the fuck was that for?"

he frowned at the use of his name but responded regardless, "you're a little bitch, and you deserved that."

you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "ouch. that one hurt."

"i can make you hurt a lot more," he said darkly. you probably should have been scared, but you just really couldn't take him seriously.

so you laughed. it shouldn't have been funny, but it just was and now you couldn't stop. "you're just--you--i can't--" you wheezed, shaking from the laughter. "i'm sorry, it's really not funny."

danny didn't understand you. anybody else would have been sobbing if he so much as touched them, and here you were acting like it was a joke.

what could he do if you truly were not afraid of him?

perhaps it was time to let it go.

while his guard was down, suddenly you reached above his head and plucked his mask off, revealing his face and continuing your bouts of laughter at his shocked expression.

you threw the mask in the same direction as the flashlight, composing yourself and putting your hands on your hips. "you look pretty nice," you said, nodding.

wow. what the hell was danny supposed to do with you? perhaps the only completely unbothered, completely unserious survivor? he knew you were smart, and you knew what you were doing. he didn't even want to kill you anymore, you were just that fascinating.

that trial ended in you standing at the exit gate, your finger and your thumb in the shape of an L on your forehead. danny couldn’t care less at this point--he was done with your shit. but somehow he still liked you, and this definitely would not be the last time you saw him without his mask.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue. 

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief. 

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger. 

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused. 

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out. 

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed. 

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile. 

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out. 

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve. 

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up. 

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily. 

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top. 

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench. 

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice. 

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp. 

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger. 

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

[heyyyharry]

Double Date

(a blurb from the Flatmate series)

…in which “I don’t want whoever I end up dating to feel second to you.”

Word count: 2.4k

This is inspired by the song ’gold rush’ from Taylor’s new album ‘evermore’. This song reminds me so much of the flatmate babiesssss.

.

.

.

Harry didn’t believe in his own ears.

His flatmate?

Going on a date?

No way.

But why would she lie about that? And he knew she hadn’t made that shit up, because the guy existed, and Harry had spoken to him and seen Y/N have a conversation with him several times before. However, never would Harry have thought that the two of them would go on a date. He couldn’t even imagine them holding hands. It was just bizarre. Also, Y/N never went out, and she hated people. Did she know that ‘dating’ required being around a person all the time? It would never work.

“You’re going on a date?” Harry asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

“No,” she answered flatly.

“Okay, then can I come with?”

“No!” cried Y/N as she shoved him aside to get to the fridge.

Harry huffed like an angry child as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “If he’s just a friend, why can’t I come with you?”

“Because it’d be weird! You don’t know my friend.”

“Not true. I had two classes with him last semester.”

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?”

Harry’s mouth froze as he opened it and realised he didn’t know the answer. Y/N shut the fridge door and started drinking her milk slowly with an eyebrow raised, waiting for the answer that he didn’t have.

“Okay, fine,” he sighed. “Who the fuck cares what his name is? It’s shady that you don’t want me to hang out with him.”

“He didn’t invite you.”

“But he wouldn’t mind if you did because we’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t comment and just brushed right past him. Harry knew it was her way of ending the conversation, so he hurriedly followed her out of the kitchen. She flopped down onto the couch and he came to sit beside her. She grabbed the remote to turn the telly on. He snatched it away, forcing her to stay in the conversation. He wasn’t going to let this end so easily. His need to win all the time was his most toxic trait, according to Layla. But oh well, nobody’s perfect. He had to have at least one flaw.

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“No.” Y/N scrunched up her face and reached for the remote. Harry immediately sat on it. “Hey!”

He ignored her reaction. “Then why don’t you want me to go with you and your ‘friend’ to this concert?”

“It’s not a concert. It’s an acoustic night at a cafe.”

“I still wanna go.”

“You’re annoying.” Y/N aggressively hugged a pillow to her chest and turned away from him.

Harry felt guilty. He might have said too much. If he was aware of him being annoying, it must be worse for her. And he never wished to upset her. He just didn’t want her to go on this ‘not really a date’ date.

“What if I bring someone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N glared at him. “Like...a girl?”

“Or Niall.” He shrugged. “Depends.”

He expected her to be jealous or at least showed that she was jealous. To his disappointment, she gave a nonchalant shrug and said, “Okay.”

“Okay I can go if I bring someone?”

“Sure, then you’ll have someone else to annoy.”

Harry chuckled as he looked at her while she looked somewhere else. “You could be so mean sometimes.”

She rolled her eyes and gave a smirk. “Thank you.”

.

.

.

AJ. That was Y/N’s date’s name.

Why would anyone want to name their child AJ? It was like his parents didn’t even try. Harry hated to be an arsehole. Well, not really. But yeah, he fucking hated this dude.

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” Layla mumbled and shot Harry a glare as they followed AJ and Y/N to their table.

“It’d be embarrassing if I’d gone with Niall,” Harry whispered to Layla as they took their seats facing the other two, who were too caught up in their conversation to pay attention to all this shady whispering.

“Just pick another one from your long list of hoes,” Layla said.

“Well, I don’t want to make anyone think I’m taking them on a date.” He flashed her a smile. “So I picked you.”

Layla rolled her eyes and picked up the menu. “Wait. They don’t have anything with alcohol?” she asked aloud.

“Try this vanilla drink. So you wouldn’t be so fucking bitter all the time.”

Layla smacked Harry on the arm for his comment. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Y/N holding back a laugh by biting her lip. If only she knew how cute she looked tonight wearing that babydoll dress and her hair up in a ponytail. He wanted to tell her, but it’d be weird, wouldn’t it? They never complimented each other. And knowing how anxious he’d get, he’d probably say some dumb shit like comparing her to a ghost or something.

“The drinks aren’t the best,” AJ said after the waiter had left with their orders. “But the music is great. My favourite band is playing tonight.”

“Oh, what’s the band’s name?” Y/N asked.

“The Muse.”

“Never heard of them,” Harry said nonchalantly and received a glare from Y/N. He gave her a subtle shrug.

“Well, they’re a small band. But they’re great,” AJ said, smiling.

Layla tapped Harry on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper to him, “He’s handsome and respectful. You don’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t think I’m handsome and respectful?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Layla scoffed. “Handsome, yes. But you’re a hoe.”

Harry was so used to Layla’s sense of humour, he didn’t find these comments offensive at all, just funny, and kinda true. He was far from a saint. “Is that coming from a certified hoe?” he jokingly asked.

Layla smirked and pushed his face away. “Shut the fuck up.”

Harry let out a laugh, shaking his head. When he looked up, he caught Y/N staring. She turned away as quickly as she could but was unable to hide her blushing. Had she been checking him out? He wasn’t complaining. It was flattering, to say the least. With her date sitting right there.

“Stop.”

He flinched and turned back to Layla. “What?”

“Stop looking at AJ like he murdered your cat. You’re being embarrassing right now.”

“We’re not actually on a date, Layla.”

“I know.” Layla sighed. “That’s why I’m tolerating you.”

Their drinks were served just in time the opening act - a lady singing Taylor Swift songs - ended, and the main act arrived. Four men stepped on the stage and started setting up their instruments. The main singer introduced themselves as The Muse, and the first song they were going to sing had some weird symbolistic name that Harry forgot as soon as he’d heard it. He was too busy watching Y/N. AJ whispered something into her ear, making her giggle and Harry’s blood boil.

He was most familiar with that laugh. He’d made her laugh like that all the time. Well, yes, it was kinda weird to be gatekeeping someone’s laugh. But the fact that Y/N found this boring bloke funny made Harry’s skin crawl.

Suddenly, Harry caught Layla’s warning stare, so he swallowed his jealousy and took a sip of his coffee, which had already got cold.

The Muse sang two or three songs in a row and interacted with the audience in between little breaks. Meanwhile, AJ entertained Harry, Y/N, and Layla with his boring stories about his academic achievements. Also, he kept bragging about him being able to cook. We get it, Ratatouille, Harry thought. Go open a restaurant in Paris or something!

What Harry found more annoying than this guy having all the qualities a woman would look for in her future husband, was the fact that Y/N was completely infatuated. If she was just being nice, she should win an Oscar for Best Actress.

“Question,” Layla whispered to Harry when AJ and Y/N were lost in their own world again. “Will I be your plus one to their wedding?”

“Shut up,” he scoffed.

Layla shrugged. “I hear wedding bells ringing. Don’t you?”

Fuck bells. Fuck weddings. Fuck AJ. Fuck Layla. Harry wanted to say fuck Y/N, too. But he had a crush on her so he couldn’t hate her. Fuck this whole place. Fuck everyone except for his Y/N.

“Would any of you like to come on stage and perform with us?” asked the lead singer of The Muse.

“Ooooh, this is my favourite part!” AJ said, his green eyes twinkling.

Fuck this dude, Harry thought bitterly, for being handsome.

“You’re gonna sing?” Y/N asked AJ.

“Nah, I suck at singing,” AJ said. “I play the drums, though.”

“I bet you do,” Harry muttered, but it seemed like everyone had heard him. He responded to Y/N’s questioning look with an awkward grin.

“What about you, Harry?” Layla suggested, obviously wanting to start some shit as always. “Would you like to sing?”

“Harry can’t sing,” Y/N said quickly.

Harry blinked at her in surprise. “Hey, I can sing. It’s just I don’t want to.”

“Oh, it’d be fun.”

“No, thank you, AJ,” Harry said between gritted teeth.

AJ looked quite offended. Fortunately, Layla came for the rescue. “I’ll do it,” she shouted with her hand raised. Everyone broke into applause as she got up and made her way to the stage.

“Can she sing?” Y/N asked Harry.

He sighed and lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. “We could only hope.”

Layla strutted up the steps and waved at Harry, Y/N, and AJ. Suddenly, her heel was caught by a wire, and she tripped, falling headfirst into the lead singer. She knocked them both right off the stage against one of the tables and had the drinks spilt all over them.

Harry was frozen in shock until Layla’s cries snapped him out of it and sent him to his feet as he rushed up to help her.

“You got drunk on vanilla?” Harry asked while trying his best not to laugh at Layla being covered in strawberry smoothies.

“Shut the fuck up!” she cried. “I wanna go home!”

“Is she okay?” Y/N asked.

“No, bitch. Do I look okay to you?!”

“I’ll take her home,” Harry said, helping Layla up and receiving angry looks from the other band members, who were checking up on their friend. The lead singer didn’t break any bones. Thank God. Sighing, Harry turned back to Y/N and AJ. “You two...stay. Carry on with your date. Don’t worry about us.”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but AJ didn’t let her. “No, we can’t just stay when Layla’s hurt,” he said, eyeing Layla up and down in concern. “You live in the dorm, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I. I’ll take you home.” To Y/N, AJ said, “I’m sorry, Y/N. Next time?”

Y/N pressed her lips into a smile. “Sure. Drive safe, all right?”

.

.

.

“He seems nice,” Harry said as he walked home with Y/N. She’d been so quiet since they’d left the cafe, he was afraid she was mad at him or something.

She gave a nod. To his surprise, she said, “I’m sorry about Layla.”

He gave a dismissive wave. “She’ll be fine. That was probably karma for pushing Liam off the stairs.”

Y/N looked horrified. “On purpose?”

Harry shrugged. “We don’t know. Possibly. I mean, it’s Layla.”

They both laughed together and suddenly went quiet.

“I’m kind of mad at you, though,” Y/N said after another moment.

“Why?” Harry chuckled.

“You shouldn’t have asked to come with us.”

“You said I could if I brought someone.”

“Yes, I didn’t think you’d bring Layla,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Are you two like...hooking up?”

“Ew no, she’s like a sister to me. An awful one.” He laughed and nudged her with his shoulder. “Why? Are you jealous?”

She glared at him. “No. But you two are both attractive. It’s weird that you don’t find each other attractive.”

“You think I’m attractive?” Harry smirked, loving how quickly her face turned red.

“I mean, conventionally attractive.” She cleared her throat, refusing to look at him as they spoke. “Your hair’s always so nice. It falls into place like...dominoes…”

“Dominoes?” Harry chuckled. “Aww, someone’s flustered. Just say you have a crush on me.”

“No,” Y/N said timidly, as if she was unsure. “But...you should stop teasing me like this.”

“Why? It’s fun. I like teasing you.”

“People would think I have a crush on you for real.”

Harry maintained his nonchalant expression, but the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy. “You don’t?” he asked with mock surprise. “And what’s wrong with people thinking you have a crush on me? Everyone has a crush on me.”

That was meant to be a joke. Harry didn’t expect a serious answer from Y/N.

“I don’t want whoever I end up dating to feel like they’re second to you. Because sometimes I–” Her mouth clamped shut. She squeezed the strap of her handbag and walked a bit further away from him.

Harry found it amusing. “You what?”

“No.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say something and never finish it.”

Y/N gave him a glance, biting her lip. “Sometimes I feel like...I care about you too much. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why’s caring about me makes you uncomfortable?” He smiled, unable to hold it anymore.

She said nothing and only walked faster to get ahead of him. Harry sped up and fell into steps beside her again as he cleared his throat into his fist. “Just so you know,” he said slowly. “I care about you a lot, too. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t look at him, but he could see her cheeks turning red. He loved it. Her shyness when she was around him made his heart swell. Maybe that was why he enjoyed teasing her. He wanted proof that he could make her feel something, no matter how insignificant it was.

“Okay,” was all she said.

It made him laugh. “You’re being mean.”

“Only to you,” she replied.

“Good,” he said, hoping she’d heard him.

[zombryz]

★ needy ★ a Frieza story pt.2

Please read pt.1 here  【☆】

TW - mentions of anxiety, mentions of smut (next chapter will be smut)

Piccolo and Gohan arrive at Capsule Corp on request of Bulma. It’s still late so Bulma gathers everyone on the rooftop for a meeting.

“Y/N has been taken.” She says facing away from them and staring at the night horizon, unable to see their reactions. No comments were made so she turned around to face Piccolo, Trunks, Gohan, Goten, Chi-Chi, Krillen, and Android 18. This had become an emergency meeting. She continued to speak, “as you know Goku and Vegeta are training on Beerus’ planet.” She rolled her eyes. No one said anything unsure of where this was going. “I think I know who took Y/N but gods I hope I am wrong.” She brought her hand up to her face trying to hide her guilt, struggling to say what she was about to say. 

There was a brief pause. Everyone’s eyes still fixed on her. “Frieza took her. I had a feeling that he had been brought back for some time now...”

“What do you need us to do, Bulma?” Piccolo finally chimes in with his arms still crossed attempting to hide his concern at the mention of Frieza’s name. 

“We need to somehow get to Whis so he can bring home Goku and Vegeta.” She turned to him, anger in her eyes. She thought, how could she let this happen? An evil being came and abducted her best friend. She couldn’t get emotional now. “I’m thinking we use food, and lots of it!” 

Everyone nodded in agreement, they were going to stay up all night trying to reach Whis. You were a part of their family. The idea of Frieza having you scared everyone, they wouldn’t dare say it outloud but they were terrified that he had already killed you. 

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

White noise is all you hear. Your eyes flutter open and your consciousness comes with a pounding headache. Where were you? Nothing looks familiar. You thought back to the last thing you remember. Frieza. That bastard. Where did he bring you? You tried calming your breathing so you wouldn’t freak out. You start to look around, scanning your surroundings for anything that might help you escape. You felt that your hands were tied behind your back. Your chest feels heavy, there is something big and metallic hanging around your neck, you couldn’t exactly see it but you assumed it was some kind of collar to keep you from trying to leave. Great, now I’m a pet you thought. Wherever you were looked to be a spaceship of some kind. The walls were a type of metal that matched your collar, the floor you were sitting on was cold and there was no sign of anyone, not even Frieza. It didn’t look like a throne room, so where are you? You looked over to your right and there was a literal king sized bed floating in mid air, illuminated blue from the bottom. On your left was a large and exquisite dining area. Okay, so you’re probably in someone's quarters. Why?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sliding of the quarter’s door. You slowly slid back into the wall you were leaning against in hopes that you’d blend in, not to be seen. With no hesitation Lord Frieza walks in, his strut more intimidating than ever. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, he instead ignores you completely. He walked over to his dining table and began pouring himself a glass of wine. After drinking the glass in one sip he finally spoke,

“Ah, comfortable are we, human?” His bright red eyes piercing yours, making you feel like prey under his predatory stare. “You see, I’ve never had the need for hostages so sadly, I do not have room for them.” He raises his hand to jester in the air in complete annoyance, but continues talking anyways. “You should feel honored to be staying in my quarters with me.” He twists his mouth into a smirk. 

“I liked my apartment better” You retorted, instantly regretting saying anything at all. 

“Ahh, a spunky little one,” He began walking over to you, his feet leaving behind a creepy mechanical sound. As he closes the space between you he leans down with one hand still behind his back while the other reaches for your face. He grabs your jaw, causing your lips to pucker out. Your jaw was still sore from the night before. He slowly lifts you so that you can look him in the eyes. “What is it about you that makes the monkey’s willing to do anything?” He questioned examining your face and body. His eyes continue lower and lower down your body until they snap back connecting your eye contact once more. 

The interaction was making you anxious. Your breathing became sporadic and Frieza started to notice this. With his free hand he ran a clawed finger up your abdomen starting at your naval and slowing when he got to your ribs just under your bra wire. This motion sent shivers down your spine. 

“Human lungs are so fragile, hmm?” His voice quieter than it had been only moments ago. You didn’t break eye contact trying not to let him feel superior in this moment. You didn’t want him to be the powerful one although there was no doubt that he was. He removed his hand from your ribs to run it over your face, he absorbed your energy from you once more forcing you to sleep. 

You fluttered your eyes open the same as before. This time there was sunlight creeping in from the window instead of the darkness that laid there previously. The ship must be facing the sun this time, before you were only able to see stars. There was something different though, you didn’t feel as cold as you did before. You actually felt very comfortable, you grip around you only to feel that your surroundings had been replaced with a soft feeling. Sitting up you realize where you were. Frieza’s bed?! When you look around he’s nowhere to be found. You had no idea how much time had passed or why you had been asleep in his bed. Your hands were no longer bound together but your collar remained where it had been before. You rolled out of the bed standing to your feet, you must’ve not been fully used to the gravity difference because you started stumbling. 

“Ha, this is very entertaining, please don’t stop on my account,” You knew that voice. It was Frieza. When you turn around you see him coming out of a room that was attached to his quarters. Your brows furrow in anger. 

“This isn’t funny Frieza, how long am I going to be here?” As time goes by so does your confidence in speaking to him. He needs you as a hostage, so he can’t kill you. Right? 

“I share my bed with you and this is the thanks I get?” he pouts. “Such a pity, I liked it better when you were asleep.” He added while he removed one hand from behind his back to pick at his nails. You were no longer entertaining him. 

You walked up to him, becoming cocky with your movements. “Listen Frieza, Goku can lock onto my location. You better hope he doesn’t pop up here and kick your ass!” you started waving a finger in his face, anger getting the best of you. Maybe you should’ve thought out that last part. 

Frieza grabs your wrist and your finger retreats forming into a fist. His grip was always so tight. “Ouch,” you tried to pull away but couldn’t escape his grasp. Frieza removed his free hand from behind his back to place it on the small of your back. You gasped at the action not expecting him to grab you by the waist. In one swift motion he pulled you in closer to him, your chests were inches away from each other. There was no calming your breathing, you were so nervous. 

“Just because you’re my hostage doesn’t mean that I have to be nice to you.” 

Silence. You had nothing to say, there was so much tension it could fill the whole room. You didn’t like him but something about how close you were caused a million butterflies in your stomach crying to be let out. You swallowed in hopes the feeling would go away. He was the enemy, why were you feeling this way about him? Before you could be in your thoughts any longer you felt something cold sneaking its way up your leg. You didn’t dare look down but you had a feeling you knew what it was. Frieza’s tail was climbing its way up your leg. 

Shit. What is going on?

Frieza looked down at your leg realizing his tail had you pinned. He released you immediately and left the room without a glance in your direction. The gravity became heavy once more and you dropped to your knees at the foot of Frieza’s bed. What just happened? 

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

Later that night you were laying in Frieza’s bed. He hadn’t returned yet so you were alone in your thoughts for hours. Whatever happened you had a feeling Frieza felt it too. What did this mean? You can’t be ‘sleeping with the enemy’. You had to get out of here before anything else happened. Before you could plan an escape, the door opens. 

“I-I feel the need to tell you that my tail has a mind of its own so don’t get any wrong ideas.”

You didn’t answer. What would you even say to that? The air wasn’t awkward, as soon as he re-entered the room the tension was back. This was the first time Frieza sounded unsure of anything. It was like your presence made him weak. He walked over to the bed. Uh-oh, you just realized that in the past however many nights Frieza had put you to sleep that you weren’t conscious and had no idea if Frieza was actually sleeping IN the bed with you. When he reached the side of the bed he untucked the sheets insinuating that he would be getting into the bed. Your eyes went wide, you froze unsure of what to do. You turn over to face away from him, you felt his movement as he got under the covers. He shifts around to get comfortable. Well this couldn’t get anymore awkward. Your thoughts running wild it was getting harder to control them. You turned over on your side this time facing him, he was laying with his hands behind his head staring blankly at the ceiling. You could finally decipher the tension you had been feeling, it was sexual. Your desires becoming hard to ignore. Your cheeks give off heat leaving behind a rosy hue. You closed your eyes tightly trying not to think about all the things you’d wish he’d do to you. 

“Please do control yourself little one, I can smell your arousal from over here.” 

You froze. He can smell you? This was embarrassing. Could you use this to your advantage in some way? He seemed vulnerable, maybe you could use this to escape. Did you even want to escape anymore? Why were you feeling this way? 

This was killing you. You decided to just let your instincts take charge, before you knew it you had hoped on top of him, straddling him, holding his hands at the sides of his head. You were pinning him down. Under your grasp, he had become the prey. He didn’t respond, he did nothing. Maybe he was unsure of what your intentions were? You were breathing heavy but he was completely calm, unconcerned with you. He treated you as though you had no power or strength over him and it drove you mad. His eyes locked on yours, there was a moment, the tiniest moment of need in his eyes. He looked at you like he was enjoying this. With your instincts still in control you did it, you leaned down pressing your lips to his dark ones. The kiss was intimate but brief. Almost immediately you were shoved off, the roles had reversed. He quickly flipped you over and had you pinned down beneath him. Your hands were grasped tightly in his, he held them above your head. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His brows furrow, he was angry. Gods, he was so beautiful. Was he going to kill you now? Maybe he’ll say whatever to his grand plan and kill you right where you lay. 

He slowly removed his palms from yours, sitting up still straddling you. His face turned sour, his pointer finger lifted up as he swirled together a red ball of energy. He started laughing evilly. This was it. This was the end.

[blackroseraven]

So I slept at the barn last night, out in a horse paddock.

I may have also ridden my horse naked but I will neither confirm nor deny this.

It was a good night.

Okay so. We got there at the usual time and did some easy riding. The biggest thing is that I got my partner on Quattro again and he rode around for a bit without a pad or anything. It went really super well.

Then he went and got me Burger King, and then left me there, and I went and set myself up a nice little camping spot outside in the paddock.

The horses were all very curious what the hell I was doing. Which is fair, I had my backpack and an outdoor sleeping bag and all, all new things, and of course I was in a nice little nook near the shed and next to the boys’ pasture.

Buster was like. Terrified, but also extremely curious. Just kept coming back again and again to check it out. Rhymer and Turbo were just enamored with me being there and hung out most of the night by the fence. And Tosh basically turned into a giant dog and at first ran back and forth in front of the fence, then repeatedly tried to stick his head through to get to the sleeping bag.

Quattro was anxious, but Q and Zara both got over it very quickly. I mean, Zara didn’t care. Quattro was also very confused why I was still there at first, and he got kind of skittish, kind of nervous, but... then when I got up and came over to pet Q he literally ran around the hay bale to be touched, too, so... I was glad that worked out.

Also. I brought ice cream cones, and filled them with grain.

None of the goddamn horses would eat them. None of them, except finally Sunny. I thought it’d be perfect but they all hated them, even Jaeger and Hale.

But anyway. Being out there, in the paddock with the horses was... I dunno how to describe it properly. It was really wonderful. I was laying there in twilight, as darkness came in, and it went from “haha this is a dumb idea” to just... peaceful. I didn’t want to turn on anything, or even read. I just wanted to lay there and bask in this feeling, like that feeling when you wake up early on a day off and you can just... lie there forever, in bed, at peace.

It was really nice.

It helped that, you know, there was a truck hauling garbage out of the barn. But once that was finally gone, I was able to go in at nine at night and get Jaeger, and then spend some really good, relaxed time grooming him and going over him and just... being with him.

That was wonderful.

I went back outside, spent time with the horses. And so like. At one point, Q came over, right? And he starts nosing my feet through the sleeping bag. I ignore him, until he starts pawing a hoof at it, and then I tell him to stop and boot him away. And then he goes back to nuzzling for a while before he suddenly freaking bites me hard through the sleeping bag, and I squawk and kick at him and scare all the horses.

Q only goes about ten feet back but. At least it was enough he got the point.

Mostly.

So late in the night. When everyone was asleep. I got Quattro and Q, brought them in, groomed them nicely, and then took them up to the arena. And there was some riding done, and it may or may not have involved no clothing.

It was exciting, though. Not gonna lie.

Then it was just. Time to try and sleep. Okay so. A silly dumb thing but I got up once to pee. No I did not pee on the electric wire. But like. Q and Quattro RUSHED over to see, and then Q. Also just started peeing.

It made me feel very awkward and I just kind of went back to bed.

Then like. One thirtyish?  Two in the morning?

Yeah, I felt a breeze, I shifted, and my foot went through the zipper at the bottom of the bag. Teeth came completely undone. Mad as hell, literally bought the outdoor bag for this express purpose and it didn’t last a single night. Thankfully, I am used to camping and so I overprepared - or just right prepared, as it turned out - and brought a sheet sleeve too.

It was actually rather chilly, which ended up being really nice, to be honest. No bugs to worry about. I heard a few raccoons and some mice and/or rats, but nothing bothered me. Except for the horses that kept coming over to stare at me, but that was a good kind of bother.

I apparently was near Buster’s sleeping spot, which is why he kept checking me out, but he settled and slept once he realized I wasn’t going to bother him. Q also slept, no problem, which is unsurprising.

I was worried about Quattro. That I was going to disrupt his sleep cycle and everything, that he wasn’t going to settle, that I was just stressing him out. He would come and go now and then, stand nearby, but never lay down, all that. I figured if he did sleep it would be in the far paddock, since at night they have access to two.

But he actually came into this paddock, relatively close, and laid down and slept.

And after that I slept. Just... melted all my stress away.

I woke up to Q breathing heavily in my face. Literally inches away from my face, just standing over me, staring down at me.

It was a little odd.

I slept again, and woke up to Cowboy and his daughter getting their horses. Mostly because. Tosh went crazy and was cantering furiously all over the pen, and Cowboy is not a quiet person.

Shocking, I know.

Finally, sevenish rolled around. I got up, got dressed, got going. Bagged my stuff up and went to feed horses, and then start putting them out. Made some good progress by the time anyone showed up.

Partner showed up a bit after eight? And he rode Zara. I only rode Quattro down and back along the lower trail to make sure it was tied, and I wasn’t going to ride Q but... somehow I ended up on him, and just let him wander the lower trail without any reins or anything. It ended up being super nice.

It was a good gift to myself.

I know that. You know, I have just turned a third of a century old. I am twenty years too old for this.

Bu tit felt good. Right. And I was glad to have the experience, especially while I’m still able to handle it so well. My body barely hurts; it’s also a reminder that... I am in shape. I am decently capable. It’s just... I get a lot of pain, from my stupid broken brain.

So I have to make the most of what I do have. And remember to take advantage of everything while I still can.

[twinkleallnight]

Marshmallow

(Part-8) Fight or flight

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC, Drake x ??

For previous chapters: catch up here

A/N: This fic is my submission for this week’s #WackyDrabbles. The prompt is: ‘Oh? Just once?’ and will appear in bold.

A/N 2: Thank u @ritachacha for helping out and connecting me to @queen-of-effing-everything who gave me a basic idea of the noble houses and further gave a lead and I met @lizzybeth1986 . Lizzy, your essays are amazing. You have helped me with your vast knowledge and It was an enlightening discussion. This chapter wouldn't have been without your inputs.

Music inspo: Connan Gray

Tags: @ao719 @aloneautumn @charlotteg234 @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @daisydancer12385 @drakewalker04 @gardeningourmet @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @ritachacha @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @loudbluebirdlover @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @yourmajesty09

The next few days are spent busy, at the stables. After couple of days, Liam walks in, as I am tending to Brawny in the separate temporary shed, that I got made for the infected horses. I signal him to wait. I change out of my protective clothes and scrub before meeting him outside.

“Welcome back home! So, how did Lythikos treat you?” I know I am beating around the bush, when I am asking it. But I don’t want to hit him straight with the awkward question. I know he is equally in an uneasy position.

“Yes, all well.” He gives me an agonizing stare. “I had a talk with her.” He brings up the inevitable topic. “I think she did it out of desperation and jealousy.”

“It is alright Liam. She is not blind and not a child anymore. She can see where you are inclined.” I let out a sigh, “It’s difficult to read a woman’s mind. I feel sad for the manner in which we are parting ways. Part of growing up, I guess!”

Liam gives out a sigh too and then changes the subject, “Everything under control here?”

“Yes. I reached in time. There were two more horses showing similar signs. Got all three horses isolated. And vaccinated remaining ones.”

“You are good at your job. Even father seems to have blind faith in you, when it comes to vet skills.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” I smirk thinking of king Constantine. It’s his inherent nature to always doubt and question everyone. “I have to report and update it to him later today. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Liam gives me a friendly pat, and we head to the palace for a quiet lunch together. I get a call from Max soon after we finish our meals. “It’s an emergency. I am sending you the address. Meet me in half an hour.” He sounds serious.

I drive down to the coffee shop, which he mentioned in his text. When I walk in, I find him sitting in the corner booth, his feet tapping on the floor nervously, and his blue eyes scanning the scene around, in a hope to find solution to the problem he is carrying in his mind.

“What’s wrong?” I ask settling down across the table.

“I don’t know. Bertrand doesn’t seem to be interested in giving me the whole story. He thinks I’m still his baby brother.” He rolls his eyes. “All I know is, that the crew we hired for our yacht for the Royal Regatta scheduled tomorrow, has ditched us.”

“It’s just a symbolic boat race and not an actual one with a pressure to win.” I try to lay down the facts.

“But you know Bertrand. He won’t leave any stone unturned to win it. Also, it’s king’s favourite event. He wants that Riley should bag the prize, so that she gets a chance to interact with the king. It is kind of gaining brownie points.

“Hmm." I ponder. "How many members do we need? Let’s count. You and I will be there.”

“You will do that for me?” he says, his eyes widening with a shine.

“I will. If you promise not to crack your stupid jokes during the event.” I warn him. “Who else can be roped in?”

“I don’t want to include anyone else. I don’t know what is wrong with House Beaumont and it’s difficult to explain to outsiders. So, I think just three of us. I hope we will be able to pull through. Will you be okay with that?”

“Yeah, I see no problem there. What about Bertrand?”

“ He is in a bad mood. Angry, sad, frustrated, all at the same time. He should be fine by tomorrow to give us a helping hand.”

We finish discussing all the minor details for the boat race in next hour and then walk out of the coffee shop.

The following day, at the Royal Regatta, I stand on the deck taking in the salty air.

Riley comes and stands beside me. “What are you looking at?”

“I just realised the actual count of suitors for the first time, by the number of boats, of course. I hardly know any of them. For me they are only the names I hear from the conversation with Liam. I should know at least this much, right?”

“Yes, you are his best friend and best friend should know it all.” She says it with a wink.

“Am I missing something?”

“Just that, may be, I am falling head over heels for your friend.” She grins.

“And you are revealing this to me and not him?”

“I don’t want to burden him more. He has too much to handle already. I know, being a crown prince, he cannot open up about his feelings for one particular suitor in the midst of the social season. So, I don’t want to tell him, just yet, lest he gets anxious and tries to spend more time with me. That would put him in a tricky situation.”

I sweep her in a big bear hug. “Oh, Brooks! I am so happy to know that.” I part away and look into her brown eyes, tears of happiness glinting in them. “He is so lucky to have you. That’s all he needed. Someone who understands him, his struggles, his responsibilities.”

I hug her back and whisper in her ears, “Let me give out a secret. He may also be sharing the same feelings.”

“I know.” She says gleefully looking up at me.

“Okay now let me help you enhance your knowledge about my competitors.” She rolls her eyes. “Let’s start from the right.” She points out to the boat lined up in extreme right to us.

The sight is full of colourful sails. Each of these boats have a flag representing their house. The one Riley pointed to, has a black flag with a silver owl on it.

Riley starts “That should be from the duchy of Castelsarreillan represented by Kiara Theron, the future Duchess.” Riley continues.

“Yes, the owl represents their house. Their family has intelligence and art running in their blood. Duke Theron is a very wise man and the Duchess is an artist.” I add on.

“So, you have met him?”

“Once.”

“Oh? just once?” Riley gives me a playful smile.

“Yeah.”

“Kiara is very smart, logical person and a linguist.” Riley elaborates. “Next to her should be her best friend’s boat.”

I observe purple flag with golden waves and a narwhal painted on it. “Portavira.” I blurt out.

“ I guess, it’s the only duchy with a sea port. Penelope Ebrim represents the house. Easy way to identify her is, you will find her talking about her poodles every now n then. You may like her.” She teases me. “She is an animal lover and she is sweet and kind.” She flashes that smile again.

I cut her, “Wait. Are you trying to set me up, Brooks?”

She lets out a laughter. “No, I better not. I can see where your interests lie.” She raises a knowing eyebrow at me, making me blush behind my tough skin.

“Let’s quiz you with the one with green flag.” Riley gestures at the next boat where a green flag with a pine tree on it, flutters.

“Madeliene, right?”

“Yes, the ambitious countess of Fydelia.” Riley fans out her hand. “You must be knowing all about her from Leo’s social season.” She pauses and then claps for the boat next to us. “ And that’s my dear friend Hana as our left side neighbour.”

A pink flag with purple orchids, furnishes Hana's boat. Just then, as on cue, Hana appears on the deck. “Hey there guys!” She waves out. “Time to greet the king at the harbour.”

“Lets go!” Riley jumps up excitedly.

“You proceed. I am better here, away from the crowd. I will wait for you to come back, and then we do our favourite thing together. Race!”

“As it suits you.”

“Just one question. How do you know so much in detail about all the houses in such a little time? A few months back, you didn’t even know where on earth Cordonia is,!”

Riley smiles wide, “Bertrand is my teacher, remember?” she says gazing up at the House Beaumont flag on our boat that shines with its silver sheen, a squid in the centre and the motto embroidered in blue, 'Depths to remember'.

“We didn’t talk about your friend’s, House Nevrakis, but I am sure you don’t need introduction there.” Riley speaks looking at the only boat to our left side.

I shake my head and make myself busy, untangling the wires of my earphones that I plan to put on, till Riley returns and the race begins. She shrugs her shoulder, “Bye! See you in a jiffy!”

“Bye!” I wave out to her and turn to the sea.

Before I could plug in some music, the fluttering of the Nevrakis flag catches my attention. The crimson flag has a flaming sword of steel on it. The motto shines in gold,

‘If you can breathe, you can stand.

If you can stand, you can fight.’

Just then a seagull flies high over the boat, crooning a song for the lonely sea.

I plug in my earphones and the song fills my ears and my mind,

‘Something’s gotten into you

You don’t really look at me the way you used to

And I’m hoping it ain’t true

Every single rumour that I’ve heard of you say……..

It’s time to move,

Fight or flight….

Fight or flight.’

[dc41896]

Between the Lines

Hey guys! Really quick, the song we’re gonna pretend is the reader’s is Hallucinations by dvsn (I would try to link it like I’ve seen other songs on posts but I don’t know how nor do I want to mess up anything so I’m just gonna leave that alone lol). It’s really good and may put you in your feels but I recommend it☺️. Okay that’s all, hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None🥰!

“Can we dim the lights just a little bit more please? There, that’s perfect! Thank you!”

“Okay I got a few outfits picked out for you so after rehearsal you can pick which two you want to wear tonight,” your stylist and best friend Gina smiles walking up to you on stage.

“Thank you! I already know I’m gonna love everything and then not be able to decide until the last minute and stress out even more than I already am.”

“And then I’ll help you and you’ll do incredible as always,” she laughs wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry girl you got this!”

In less than five hours, you’d be performing for the first time on live television as the musical act for Saturday Night Live and to say you were nervous was an understatement. Your stomach felt as if you had gone upside down on a rollercoaster at least a hundred times and your hands were already sweating and shaking. Even your bottom lip was starting to hurt from you biting on it so much, which was something you tended to do when you were anxious.

“Looks like I made it just in time for the performance,” an all too familiar voice announces as they walk up to the front of the stage.

Oh and as the cherry on top to your stress, your ex was tonight’s host.

Not that you guys ended on bad terms, it’s just some unresolved feelings on your end made it difficult for your heart not to break every time you saw him. “Agreeing” that you both made better friends than you did a couple, you watched the love of your life walk away after leaving a kiss on your forehead. With every atom in your body, you wanted to pull him back and hold him so tight that he couldn’t move, but there was a piece of you that wondered maybe he had a point. Maybe he was meant to be someone else’s even though all you wanted was to be with him.

And if that were the case, who were you to get in the way of that?

Of course with you being exes there were additional eyes planning to tune in to see whether things would be painfully awkward or if everyone would play dumb and circle around the obvious elephant in the room. The executives swore to both of you that you guys getting set for the same show wasn’t on purpose or a way to boost ratings. They even offered to move one of you, or accommodate in any way they could.

However, you and Chris assured that everything would be fine and there was no hard feelings between you. Whatever they needed you both to do, you’d happily be there.

“Any other time I’d let you sit in, but this is a secret rehearsal so...,” you answer pointing towards the door as he stands in front of you.

Sitting on the edge of the stage, he lightly taps under your chin immediately making your now lightly red tinted bottom lip appear. “Bite it anymore, you won’t have a lip to sing with tonight.”

“Maybe that’s for the best so then I won’t embarrass myself.”

“I know there’s nothing I can say to take away your nerves, but you got this trust me. They wouldn’t have chosen you to be here if they didn’t already know you’d do amazing.”

“Mm that’s a strong assumption, and you know what they say when you assume,” you counter slightly tilting your head and making Chris roll his eyes.

“Y/N...”

“Okay you may have a point,” you giggle meeting his baby blues. “How are you though? I’m not the only one with a first tonight.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he sticks his hands in his pockets switching from one leg to the other. “I can’t lie I’m nervous, but once I get up there I’ll try to focus on just having fun and doing my best.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt but they need you to run through your song to check the mics and everything,” a stagehand explains from behind you.

“Okay I’ll be there in a second,” you smile before turning your attention back to Chris. “Looks like I gotta go. If I don’t see you before everything starts good luck, you’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks and same to you. Try to turn that beautiful mind of yours off and remember what I said ok?”

Smile on his lips, he pulls you in for a hug before softly kissing your cheek leaving a tingling sensation on your skin along with slight remnants of his warm cologne. Watching as he rounds the corner officially out a sight, a shaky breath escapes your lips as your hands cover your face.

You hated how this was always your response. Feeling as if tears would stream down your face at any moment while your heart pounded against your chest with no sign of slowing down. And it didn’t only happen being in his presence, just the mention of his name made a lump develop in your throat as the rest of your usual symptoms soon followed.

“Y/N, you good?,” the sound tech asks from the side of the stage taking a break from checking the numerous wires plugged into the system.

“Yea I’m fine, sorry about the wait I’m ready now,” you softly smile as you stand to grasp the cold mic in your hand.

———

So far everything had gone really well with the show tonight. Every skit Chris was in made the crowd erupt with laughter, including the one where you two played the ridiculously competitive couple at game night making your friends regret inviting you guys.

Reading the tweets from those at home, it seemed they were loving it too, but of course mainly happy to have Chris on their screens.

With the show winding down, it was time for your last performance, which was the one you were most worried about. Not only because of the performance but the song itself.

“Last song of the night!,” Gina claps lightly bouncing on her toes. “You ready?”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?,” you nervously laugh looking over yourself in the mirror one last time fixing your top.

“Technically yes, just say the word and we could parent trap this thing.”

“And that would possibly work if we were identical twins, which we are definitely not,” you laugh. Placing her hands on your shoulders, she leads you in a few deep breaths before fluffing out the pineapple puff on top of your head.

“You’re gonna do great and everything will be fine. And I’m not just talking about the singing.”

Gina, along with your band, knew what this last song meant for you and gave you their full support when you brought up the idea to perform it tonight. You planned on taking it with you to the grave when you first wrote it, but something in the pit of your stomach urged you to be honest with how you truly felt.

Taking your position on stage, you take one last deep breath before Chris’ voice flows through your ears.

“Ladies and gentleman, Y/N.”

Lights dimming around you, the soft beat plays in the background waiting for you to make your entrance. Wanting the performance to feel as intimate as the song itself, you sat on the edge of the stage, legs dangling in front of you as you peer out into the crowd of various faces.

Having hallucinations

I'm losing sleep every night

Keep trying to cover my eyes

My eyes, yeah

Is it my imagination?

I think I'm losing my mind, yeah

Still see your face all the time

All the time

Tryna rewind 'til we're back where we started

Yeah, that's all I want

Yeah, night after night after night

I'm still haunted

I'm haunted, baby

———

Watching you gently sway on the tv in his dressing room, he couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Bearded chin resting on his knuckles, the look in his eyes as he witnessed you on stage in your element was reminiscent to that of a proud parent in awe of their child’s first play.

“You are so smitten it’s not even funny,” Scott smirks looking at his brother.

“I’m just really happy for her that’s all,” he replies, hand nervously raking through his hair.

“Mhmm that’s all.”

I'm haunted by you, you, fall asleep and dream of

You, you, late at night I scream for

You, you, waiting on a deja-vu

But until then

I live with hallucinations

Yeah, they're just hallucinations

And I'll just hallucinate

'Cause you're not here

Hallucinations

The band playing being the only thing heard, he notices you quickly wipe under your eye setting the mic away from you as you quietly laugh to yourself and the audience claps telling you it’s okay. Listening to the lyrics, there was a small twinge in his gut that maybe what he was currently thinking was true, but it wasn’t until your next movement that he was knew for sure what you were saying.

“Wait you saw that right?”

“Saw what?,” Scott asks as Chris positions himself closer to the screen.

“She tugged her ear.”

“Okay...and what about it?”

It would probably sound silly to others, but during your relationship you two created your own secret signal of lightly tugging on your earlobes to say hello during interviews and that one was thinking of the other.

Although it was something small that would definitely go unnoticed by everyone, it helped tell Chris everything he needed to know.

Losing my concentration

Hearing your voice in my head

Seeing you when you aren't there

You aren't there

And I can't keep living like this, yeah

Something's gotta give (give me you, yeah)

If I could make it all go away

Then I would

Tryna rewind 'til we're back where we started

Yeah, that's all I want, that's all I want

Yeah, night after night after night

I'm still haunted

I'm haunted, baby

I'm haunted by

You, you, fall asleep and dream of

You, you, late at night I scream for

You, you, waiting on a deja-vu

But until then

I live with hallucinations

Fall asleep and dream of you, you

They're just hallucinations

Late at night I scream for you, you

I'll just hallucinate

Waiting on a deja-vu

Cause you're not here

Hallucinations

Finishing your song, you give a small bow as the crowd erupts with claps and cheers making you shyly smile. Although you made it through your biggest challenge of the night, there was still one last worry taking up space in your mind.

———

“Thank you to the cast, the crazy talented and beautiful Y/N, and everybody for watching! Goodnight!,” Chris smiles waving into the camera as the rest of the cast claps and begins hugging each other.

Moving from person to person exchanging “congrats” and “good job’s”, you eventually end up face to face with the host himself, a small bit of panic setting in causing you to freeze in your current spot.

Pulling you in, he gently rocks you back and forth as his hand caresses the back of your head instantly making you melt.

“Congrats Y/N you did amazing!,” he whispers in your ear as you try to hide your smile in his neck.

Before you could even say thank you, a tap on his arm informs him he’s needed across the room for something important and returning that familiar ache to your chest. “I’ll talk to you later Y/N.”

“Um yeah, sounds good,” you answer as he kisses your cheek before heading to the area he was needed.

“Maybe he didn’t notice. Or what if he did but doesn’t care” you thought with a sigh as you continued to make your rounds talking to everyone.

Finally arriving back at your dressing room, you’re met with confetti and the sound of popping champagne bottles as your team and band shout “congratulations!”

“Congrats girl!! We did it!,” Gina squeals hugging you. “Oh how did everything go just now?”

“Not bad, he had to go do something so we weren’t able to talk really but we’ll try later.”

“Well I know it didn’t go how you wanted, but at least it wasn’t the worst outcome you know?” Giving you a sympathetic smile, she hands you a solo cup filled a third of the way with the bubbly liquid. “Now you know I hate to see you down, so lets celebrate this huge accomplishment and take care of the heart later.”

Tapping your cups together giggling, Gina makes her way to the others leaving you standing against the makeup counter watching your friends laugh and converse amongst themselves while music began to play overhead.

Catching the corner of your eye, numerous notifications illuminate your phone with people reaching out to you to say how good of a job you did and how happy they were for you. Scrolling down the line, you click on the tag from Chris’ Instagram to find an old video of you in the studio.

Arms crossed over your head in your grey sweatshirt and eyes closed, you were singing into the mic lost in the music playing in your headphones as your producer nodded along watching your vocals on the computer screen. Towards the end of the video, you finally open your eyes to see Chris recording and lightly tug your ear as you smiled.

chrisevans: Tonight wasn’t only a first for me with hosting SNL, but it was also y/IG/n first live tv performance and I just want to take a moment to say how so so soooo proud I am of you💙!! I’ve seen all the hard work, dedication, long nights, and heart you put into your songs and this album (don’t know if I’m allowed to say that last part now that I think of it lol) and I already know great things are coming. I know Scott’s gonna try to fight me on this, but you’re bringing me to the Grammys right🥺👉🏾👈🏾? #mygirl #shemightkillmeforthealbummention

Taglist: @honeychicana @fumbling-fanfics @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @my-rosegold-soul @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @itshinothey @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, only wants to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[possum-rat]

Resident J.D commits a War crime then unalives

Warning: mentions of Explosions, and other stuff Previous Next

"PEOPLE OF L'MANBERGs.And TommyInnit and WilburSoot- once we find them and expel them from our great nation! Yes, yes! Ah... the sun rises, over another beautiful day in our country. The sun rises on another chapter in our nation's history- the next page of will be reading... 'till the end of time. I reckon our nation needs to expand! I reckon we've... we've done our country a great disservice. I reckon we take down the walls- EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY! I'm launching a public works project- funded by our meth lab that we run- All citizens of L'Manberg, are REQUIRED, REQUIRED! To help TEAR DOWN the walls of this country. Thus ends... the second presidential speech. Let's get to work. Oh wasn't there another kid? (Massacred version of your name) was it?"

The words aren't the best way to wake up. As (y/n) brushes their hair from their face they groan in annoyance. "Jesus Christ. What the fuck is going-" they begin before clapping their hands to their ears as something begins to play. Somehow.

"If he said help me kill the president

I'd say he needs medicine

Sick of screaming let us in

The wires got the best of him

All that he invested in goes

Straight to hell

Straight to hell

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Straight to hell

Straight to hell

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

He told me I should take it in

Listen to every word he's speaking

The wires getting older I can hear the way they're creaking

As their holding him

Well I could see it in his jaw

That all he ever wanted was a job

He tells me to be raw

Admits to me that every little flaw

That never let him sit upon the top"

"Okay, what the hell?" (Y/n) murmurs as they duck into the mineshaft cavern thing. As they reach the cave itself they duck to get through the tiny door that Tommy had provided apparently not taking into consideration the fact that (Y/n) isn't entirely human, and therefore taller than the average height their age.

as they walk deeper into the cave they dart toward a small hole in the cave. Pressing their hand into a small hole beside the one their in they press a small wooden button.

As they pull their hand back leaning against a small section of wall the floor spins revealing a small room. A bunker if you will. Reaching toward a wooden armor stand. Enchanted netherite armor shining slightly in the darkroom.

As (Y/n) begins to pull on the armor. Adjusting the straps mounted beside their ribs they tighten it to what's needed. Then pulling on their gloves they turn toward the portal infront of them. As they enter pulling on their helmet a voice asks "(y/n?)" a small smile spreads upon their face. Upon reaching the nether they type in the chat, whispering to Tommy Wilbur and Technoblade specifically:

<y/n> I'll be back in a few just need to do something important really quick.

Running toward the community Portal (Y/n) feels adrenaline filling their veins. Everything seems to be more serious. Dangerous even. As the portal comes into view (Y/n) slows down muscles aching heart slamming against their chest. They pull out their potion of invisibility. Uncorking the vile they down it in one gulp. As the slight fowl taste, they pull a face then replace the bow with their crossbow which is able to shoot arrows.

The familiar message of waiting appears infront of (Y/n). As they reach the familiar land they had been exiled from they sigh and begin running toward the White House.

"Funny isn't it?" A voice murmers "it's like history repeating itself. Someone entering the White House..." (y/n) feels their shoulders tense up slightly. They murmer below a whisper "But I'm not killing him. Seriously injuring him? Yeah sure. But not killing him." As they reach the garden of the White House they duck into the small kitchen. Pulling off their armor they begin searching. Almost instantly (Y/n) hears the Yelp and tinkle of glass breaking. Jogging toward the sound (Y/n) sees Quackity.

Arm outstretched in an attempt to protect Tubbo who's cowering. Squatting down out of sight (Y/n) types to the two males.

<Y/n>Get out into a different room or meet me at this location. *insert location*

Quackity begins backing up arm still infront of Tubbo as Shlatt roars drunkenly "YEAH YOU BETTER LEAVE." before something incomprehensible. Followed by "Phattest ass.🥴"

as the room is just about empty (Y/n) stands up stretching and yawns loudly.

Shlatt whips toward the sound and freezes. His pupils turning rectangular in shock. He stand their in shock making the whole thing a little awkward before in freezing and shouting "YOU! I EXILED YOU WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?" (Y/n) laughs doubled over before coughing "Bruh. You should have expected this. I'm pretty good at making bad decisions!"

Pulling out the crossbow they continue talking as if nothing going on. "You know? Not a fan of dictatorship. 'Ts never been...what's the word? Uhh for me? I guess. I mean I don't even like democracy but here I am." As shlatt goes silent there's some aggressive typing before (Y/n) says tiredly "Look dude. I'm trying to have a moment here-"

"HA- D'You think you can overpower me? I've called for backup. YOU'LL DIE!" he laughs. (Y/n) sighs before notching an arrow of Wither effect. A special type. Not enough to kill but still enough to leave the victim with about 2 to 1.5 hearts. "Dude. I don't care. I can literally just disappear Never be found again." (Y/n) sighs.

The shouts from down the hall makes (Y/n) smile. As the arrow clicks into place they hear a ferm voice. Sam. "(Y/n) put the crossbow down." He says calmly. (Y/n) smiles simply and hums quietly to themselves

"If he said help me kill the president

I'd say he needs medicine

Sick of screaming let us in

The wires got the best of him

All that he invested in goes"

A tall silhouette covers the light on the ground. A few more footsteps before (Y/n) takes aim at Shlatt's forehead. "Well...I guess this is a temporary goodbye." They pull the notch and the arrow flies. (Y/n) sprints toward the window crashing through pulling an Ender pearl from their inventory flinging it forward.

they squint as the harsh rays of the sun beat down on their face. It didn't help that small shards of glass were embedded in (Y/n) still healing face. Upon reaching Pogtopia they stumble into the cave and laugh. Not the type one would consider completely normal. It's probably the emotional constipation (Y/n's) put themselves through so they don't grow attached to anyone/thing.

Wilbur's worried face pops into view at that moment. "(Y/n)? What the hell did you do?" (Y/n) then calms down slightly before murmuring "Just shot the president with a poisoning arrow. As you do. He won't die, severally injured yes." At that moment Technoblade Thomas and all the other inhabitants of Pogtopia arrive. (Y/n) bows and disappears into Pogtopia.

-------

As Shlatt is surrounded by basically everyone in the world (Y/n) is zoned out. Standing beside Eret and playing with Her cape. The long black fabric the inside the colors of the Bi flag. The small thin layer of strings on the bottom of the cape. As (y/n) fiddles with it they grow ever more anxious as Shlatt grows ever closer to Fundy. (Y/n) suddenly drops the cape sprinting infront of Fundy as Shlatt slams the bottle down. They then return to where they were murmuring "Yeah he's dead." As soon as those words leave their lips, Jschlatt freezes and drops and dies. Rather anti-climatically.

"Wow. Uh. I- Uh what now?" (Y/n) asks as everyone's gaze turns toward they begin fiddling with their hands nervously. (Y/n) begins to fiddle with the glass ripped clothing over their burnt arm. Eret simply leads them out of the small area and walks toward the Podium. He then takes a seat amongst the chairs and gently takes (Y/n's) arm asking quietly "Is this okay? Can I help you?" (Y/n) freezes at the genuine kindness feeling their eyes begin to water. So to avoid any confrontation they pull an invisibility potion out.

--

As everyone begins taking their seats (Y/n) sits beside Eret on the ground and near Fundy. Placing a small clay Fox ring beside Fundy they continue fiddling with Eret's cape. Even as the speeches go around (Y/n) can't help but feel that some things going to go very wrong. Letting go of Eret's cape they silently dart up toward the Podium. Pulling out an Ender Pearl they take aim and launch it.

The feeling of being sucked then dropped overwhelms (Y/n). As the world blurs (Y/n) shakes their head before speed walking toward Wilbur. Following him the two of them duck into a small hallway. (Y/n) ducking to fit. They eventually ask quietly "is the weight of it all finally too heavy?" Wilbur jumps slightly but turns toward them an unreadable smile upon his face.

"Everything is temporary, L'manberg was merely one of those things,” Wilbur states in a calm tone. "You of all people should know. That good people-Good things don't last. They give up on you. So you have to remove things that mean Value." (Y/n) tenses up and begins to tap the wall beside them anxiously. Not realizing that their tapping "don't leave. Not again."

Wilbur smiles sadly and begins to rant. (Y/n) feels their heart beating faster and faster. (Y/n) holds out a hand hesitantly before deciding against it as Wilbur is facing the other way. "What happened to you?" (Y/n) whispers. "What about your son? You're just going to leave him? Wilbur you promised." Wilbur turns and scoffs. "(Y/n) awe. I didn't realize that you thought that i'd actually keep the promise. Things change. PEOPLE change." He clarifies. "You don't get to change Fate. Look, Tell Fundy I'm sorry. Well- Why don't we sing the anthem again. For old time's sake. "

(Y/n) simply stares in shock. Voices of the dead whisper harshly While faint whispy figures float around. "You should have expected this. Nobody sticks around. They all are going to leave you." (Y/n) Faint footsteps grow louder and louder. (Y/n) whispers "Wilbur. Step away from the button. We don't need another J.D Wilbur please." Wilbur turns his eyes wild, toward (Y/n) and says "Philza." (Y/n) falls silent before drifting toward Wilbur. Falling silent (Y/n) fiddles with their protective gloves, mentally arguing with the dead.

A sudden movement and a Click causes Philza to clamp his hands over his ears while Wilbur does the same. (Y/n) didn't notice. However, the literal Earslitting sound did. Panic filling their head they feel as though the world is tilting. Almost as if the world were a snow globe and a small child was shaking it violently. (Y/n) feels their back slam against a wall sending a flash of pain against their spin. Shaking they watching horror as Wilbur says something. Wait. Why can they hear him? They could hear him a second ago?

Philza turns to on of the crows that had followed him and points toward (Y/n). The bird obliges gliding toward them and fluffing up it's feathers catching (Y/n's) Attention. They offer a violently shaking hand toward the bird. It nuzzles it's beak into their hand. (Y/n) takes the invitation to pet the bird.

After who knows how long it removes itself and flies up. (Y/n) frowns slightly wondering why the bird had flown. Glancing up they see Philza. His mouth moves rapidly but no sound comes from his lips. (Y/n) lift their arms feeling exhaustion pulling at their muscles as they do so. Pressing their hands to their ears they blanch. Pulling their hands away to reveal dark crimson standing out against their (S/c).

Flicking their gaze up to Phil. He crouches holding out a hand. (Y/n) takes it skeptically before a faint voice. One that was declared dead a few minutes ago. A simple word. "GLATT."

(y/n) flinches violently causing Philza to glance toward them worriedly. His blond eyebrows furrowed. He then is surrounded by a sphere of black tones of birds lifting the two of them up and toward the group of civilians staring in a mixture of longing and sadness at the wreckage of what was once home.

(Y/n) feels Phil's hand let go of them and they stumble unsteadily before grabbing onto Bad's upper arm. He turns toward them pure white eyes meeting Grey-ish-(E/c). He mouths something but stops concern filling what's visible of his face.

Pulling their hand back they glance at the ground sheepishly before turning and stumbling off.

[quirklove]

I beg of you- some soft Tomura, Compress, and Setsuno headcanons, please. I’m on my simp shit rn

aw, you don’t have to beg!! I’m constantly on simp mode for these babes

soft soft soft soft!!!!

ATSUHIRO

Is always humming something or other when he’s around his S/O. It might be an old nursery rhyme that’s stuck in his head, it might be some catchy pop tune that he keeps hearing on the radio, it might even be their favorite song. He’s nearly always an outgoing personality, but his S/O makes him so happy it puts that extra little spring in his step.

He’s a man of culture, (Name)! Somewhere he has a small stash of money from his past that he can draw on, so every once in a while, he likes to treat his friends and his S/O. (Most of the time, that cash goes to making sure they all actually have enough to eat or emergency supplies, and it’s obviously not too much money, so he doesn’t do this horribly often.) If anyone else will join him in disguise, he might be inclined to go with his S/O to a play or musical… perhaps even a ballet if the tickets are affordable enough. If no one else comes, ah, that’s alright; he’ll go with (Name) anyway, then bring back a slightly nicer dinner than normal for everyone else so that they aren’t left out. Maybe once or twice a year he does this, so everyone better enjoy it!

Noooo, he doesn’t wear the balaclava when he goes to bed, nor is it the first thing he puts on in the morning. He loves those times ― lying down to sleep and waking up. He gets to feel so vulnerable and exposed with his S/O, having them stare at him with his entire face uncovered, feeling their hands run through his hair like only ever allows in private. Plus, the fact that their gorgeous face is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes in the morning? God. He’s gone soft. At least that softness is only for them, otherwise he might have a problem.

He likes to play cards with his friends and S/O if they’re not busy. No missions means he’s at the bar playing poker with Kurogiri, or war with Dabi, or… well, all Tomura ever plays is let me turn the cards to dust because fuck your games, Compress. What a brat!! One can practically see his face light up behind whatever mask he has on when (Name) asks him to teach them a game.

No matter what, he makes the extremely conscious effort to always give his S/O some gesture of affection before he goes off on a mission. Whether it’s tipping his mask to lovingly kiss their cheek, giving their fingers a passionate squeeze, or pulling them close for a gentle hug, he won’t leave without doing it. It’s a subtle way of saying goodbye, just in case things might go sideways. He acknowledges that the League’s affairs are incredibly dangerous and illegal; they could all die on any mission. He wants his beloved’s potential last memory of him to be something good. If he ends up dead, he doesn’t want them left with any doubt as to the fact that whatever else is true, he adores them very, very much and wants them to be happy.

TOMURA

Nightmares are a frequent thing with him, unfortunately. Sometimes it takes the form of memories, remembering the night his Quirk activated, leaving him with the image of crying in the middle of a circle made of his family’s corpses. Sometimes it’s a horrifying scenario in which Decay works on him, where he wraps his arms around himself and feels himself disintegrate piece by piece. Sometimes it’s his literal worst nightmare, a scene where he touches his friends or his S/O and they turn to dust in his fingers. Sometimes he wakes up screaming, his hands balled into fists so hard his nails are digging crescents into his palms and drawing blood, just so he can’t hurt anyone he cares about. Having his S/O take him in their arms and hold him close, kissing his face, whispering that he’s safe, reminding him that they’re here for him… he might not get back to sleep, but he finds comfort enough to stop crying within an hour.

There is one lone, solitary, singular way (Name) can get him to wear lip balm. That would be… to apply a surplus of it to their own lips, and proceed to give him as many kisses as he’ll allow them to in one go. Sure, the chapped lips aren’t unattractive ― but they’ve gotta hurt like hell. Just let your loving S/O lessen your pain a little, Tomura, you gigantic baby!! Also, they should pick a novelty flavor when they do this. It increases the number of kisses he’ll accept when their lips taste like vanilla frosting or Dr. Pepper.

Is like… the worst at any kind of self-care. He forgets to wash/comb his hair, he definitely doesn’t shower quite enough, he’s had at least one infection from not taking care of the wounds on his neck. The only reason he isn’t dead is Kurogiri, and later gains another reason; his S/O, obviously. Whenever he’s not working on his and All For One’s plans, he’s playing video games, and trying to get him away from that is like pulling teeth. However, his S/O has turned out to be very good at doing that. They can easily entice him with a warm shower together, and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt something as amazing as their fingers massaging his scalp as they wash his hair. Even though the ointment they want to put on his neck smells like medicine, he tolerates it simply because it feels nice when they rub it on. They’re always so gentle with him, and it just about breaks the poor man.

When encouraged and left in a non-stressful environment, Tomura is actually not terrible with children. He’s awkward, sure, he’s grumpy, sure, he doesn’t suffer brats, sure, but all things being equal, he does alright. Most of the time he’s not too scary around kids, or at least doesn’t act scary. (His appearance freaking some of them out, ah… that’s another story.) Though he’d have to do a lot of preparation, he might actually put an incredible amount of effort into learning if he found out he was going to be a father. How the man can’t manage to muster up the motivation needed to wash his clothes before wearing them a second time, yet can summon the will to read a ton of different parenting books, the world will never know. The point stands ― having a child combined with his love for his S/O would be a huge catalyst for his realizing that he doesn’t hate everything and everyone, and the world isn’t all bad.

Whenever he wants to touch his S/O in a sweet, intimate way but doesn’t feel comfortable or safe using most of his hand, he’ll use one finger. He might curl his fingers in to run his thumb gingerly over their cheek, or trace his knuckle down the side of their arm, or use the tip of his index finger to draw down their spine so he can see them arch their back. Tomura has never, ever had this before. Despite knowing he has to be careful, that he wants to be careful with them, there’s something endlessly fascinating to him about seeing how they react pleasantly to his touch when all his touch has ever done before is destroy. This also works in reverse; he wants to experience every possible touch of theirs that they’re willing to afford him.

TOYA

When he sleeps with his S/O, he really, really loves to be the little spoon. (He’s pretty well convinced that anyone who says they don’t, at least from time to time, is a liar!) It makes him feel safe and secure, like everything’s okay, like his S/O cares about him and wants to protect him. If he’s not being the little spoon, and sometimes when he’s the little spoon but facing them, he tends to cling in his sleep. His arms wrap tightly around their waist, his head buried in their chest or their neck or their back. It’s a product of his depressingly possessive nature; he loves them so much, they’re the best thing in his life, and he just… doesn’t want to lose them. Even while he’s asleep, he never wants to let go.

There are times Toya thinks about letting his hair grow out a little longer, to his shoulders maybe. The biggest thing that stops him is that he doesn’t know how he’d look with long hair. He isn’t sure he’d look that great or that he has the face for it! He’s a little afraid that with his more delicate features, having hair longer than it is now would lead to him being mistaken for a woman. If he mentions it to (Name), he might be a little startled by their enthusiastic, “Oh, that would look so charming on you!” coupled with a reassurance that they love his appearance no matter what he decides to do with his look. As far as they’re concerned, even if he ends up not doing it, they’re still going to think he’s the most handsome man ever. Knowing they’d support it, though, makes him think about actually doing it.

He rambles a lot, particularly when he’s feeling anxious. He rambles a lot. That goes along with his hands fidgeting and sometimes his leg bouncing a bit if he’s sitting down. For some reason he finds it hard to sit still or be quiet. He feels the need to fill the silence with something. So he talks, about anything and everything and occasionally about nothing at all. Most of the time only his S/O (or sometimes a friend) placing a hand over his, threading their fingers together, can calm him slightly. Often a gentle kiss when he’s doing the motormouth thing will get his mind to slow down and focus… at least to the point where he kisses back, and happily drowns in them for a while.

While not ‘on the job’, Toya… is usually kind of unsure what to do with his time. He reads, he watches TV a lot, he… sleeps. God, he sleeps. He seems to spend his life in a weird state of either being asleep or seeming wired as hell. There’s not really an in-between for him, at least not for a long time. He has trouble finding balance, especially since he’s so depressed. It seems to other people that he’s got too much energy and doesn’t fit the profile of what many people think a depressed person looks like. In truth, this is probably more accurate than people would like to think ― he hides the fact that he feels numb or sad by masking it with upbeat, happy, sometimes crazed behavior. Thankfully, he can sometimes find real happiness with his S/O, and it’s because of them that he might seek any kind of treatment so that he can feel better more often. Good thing, too, because not only will he be chasing a healthy life… his smile, genuine, painless, unaltered by any kind of forced joy? His true smile is the most beautiful thing.

Okay, but the man… has a serious sweet tooth. Most of the Hassaikai have their own room, and they can fill it however they choose. Toya’s cabinets are filled with nothing but sugary snacks. Even though he does eat regular meals, or at least tries to, he has to have something with sugar nearby to eat between. Chocolate is his favorite; he’ll eat almost any kind of candy, pastry, or even fruit snacks. If his S/O is very lucky, he will share! Pro tip: playing the pocky game with him is guaranteed to end in a cute, maybe steamy makeout session. And kissing any leftover chocolate that gets stuck to his lips? Oh, he’ll blush so hard.

[chipper9906]

Bound To You - Chapter 3: Internal Talks

<--- Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 6,133

Overall Word Count: 17,730

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (3/?)

Chapter Preview: 

“You know, just once it’d be nice for the Universe not to screw us over. You’d think we’d earned a break by now-,”

Dean was interrupted by a splash of holy water hitting his face, about half of it getting into his mouth. He scrunched his eyes shut against the onslaught of water, swinging his mouth closed and leaning his head to the side to spit the holy water onto the floor.

“Fair enough…” Dean mumbled, pulling up the bedsheets and drying off his face. “Pretty sure soaking a cripple on his first day earns you a one-way ticket to Hell, Sammy.”

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Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

Seeing his older brother like this was heart-breaking.

They had both had their fair share of injuries. A few stints in hospitals across the country over the years. Of course, the introduction of Castiel into their lives had dramatically reduced those visits, having their own personal angel who was willing to heal up any scrape or… potentially life-threatening injuries.

Dean had always been a pillar of strength in his life. Only in rare times did he ever see his brother look so broken, so dependant on another. Now, seeing his frail body in this hospital bed, surrounded by multiple beeping machines with countless wires coming out of him… it was a sight he almost couldn’t bear to see.

Eileen’s gentle touch on his shoulder pulled his gaze away from Dean. He turned on the uncomfortable plastic chair to face her, giving her an appreciative smile as she handed him yet another cup of coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try and get some sleep?” Eileen asked him, rubbing her hand across his back soothingly. “I can stay here and watch over him.”

“I’m okay,” Sam brushed off her concern, though made sure to brush her arm by his back to show his thanks for her worry. “I don’t want to leave him yet… I’ll have to get back to the bunker soon anyway to pick up some stuff for him. Ah, and... I’ll have to try and find a pet-friendly motel nearby…”

Eileen’s hand paused on his back. “…Why?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” Sam said with an amused huff. “We, uh- Dean actually found this dog after… after Chuck wiped everyone off the board. She got wiped away too shortly after because Chuck… well, he’s Chuck. She was brought back when everyone else got brought back and… Dean couldn’t leave her there.”

“Didn’t you say Dean wasn’t really a fan of dogs?”

“I think Miracles an exception. Don’t tell him I said this, but… I think Miracle is the only thing keeping Dean together after what happened to Cas. He’s not doing great even with her, but if she wasn’t here with us…” Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head as the awful memories flooded back. “You didn’t see him when Cas died right as Jack was being born. Mom was gone, and we had to see Lucifer shove that angel blade right through Cas, and… he couldn’t move. He dropped down by Cas’s side, and… He wasn’t the same until Jack brought Cas back. It was scary to see him that way. The anger I could deal with, you know? It was how Dean coped, finding something to blame, and… he directed all that at Jack. But when he wasn’t angry… it was like a part of him died with Cas. Like he wanted to just… give up.”

“They really mean a lot to each other, don’t they?” Eileen said wistfully.

“You have no idea,” Sam chuckled. “According to Cas, he and Dean ‘share a more profound bond’.”

“A what?”

“Cas’s words, not mine,” Sam raised his hands in the air with another short burst of laughter. “I assumed it was because Cas rescued Dean from hell, but Cas did the same for me and we never formed a ‘profound bond’ like Cas has with Dean.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous,” Eileen teased him, giving his shoulder a light squeeze with a playful smile.

"Oh, trust me – I’m glad Cas directed most of his attention towards Dean. Do you have any idea the number of times I’ve been caught in the middle of the conversation between the two of them with just their eyes? Cas got better over time, but the staring? He was always kind of awkward with stuff like that, but with Dean… they somehow managed to talk to each other entirely with looks.”

“It makes sense,” Eileen noted. “Cas probably learned a lot about humans from Dean. He’s probably able to get a better read from Dean on how he feels by looking at him than just listening to him. I know I haven’t known Dean as long as you guys have, but I get the feeling Dean isn’t the kind of guy to tell the truth when it comes to how he feels?”

“It’s a rare occasion…” Sam mumbles. “I made the mistake of asking him what actually happened to Cas. He told me and Jack that Cas died to save him, but that was it. I know it’s painful for Dean, but… I miss Cas too… He’s one of my oldest friends, and I don’t even know how he died.”

“What happened when you asked?” Eileen pried.

“Just repeated what he told me before. Said ‘Cas saved my life, Sammy. That’s all you need to know’. Next morning, I found him slumped over the library table with books about the afterlife splayed about the place and an empty bottle of scotch in his hands.”

“Afterlife? You think he was trying to find a way to get Cas out of the Empty?”

“Must have been. I’d done the same… but there’s barely anything about the Empty in any of the documents the Men of Letter’s keep. It’s been so unknown for so long there’s just… nothing about it anywhere.” Sam told her, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

“Hm… I know if our roles were swapped, and it was you trapped in that place? I don’t think I’d be coping much better than Dean is.”

Something about the sentiment behind Eileen’s words sparked a realization within Sam’s mind. His gaze switched from Eileen to his brother, his face slipping into an expression of pity as all the strange moments between his best friend and his brother connected in his mind. “Oh, Dean… you’re never going to get over him, are you?”

“No, he won’t,” Eileen said, her words getting Sam to turn and face her again. “What Dean’s lost… you never really get over it. The pain never truly lessens, but… you get used to it.”

* * *

Sam had been slumped over in his chair, dead to the world when he was woken abruptly by Eileen roughly shoving his shoulder.

“Sam!” She called his name urgently. “Sam, it’s Dean! I think he’s waking up.”

Sam snapped back into consciousness at that, blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room. His gaze landed on Dean’s form, his breath hitching in surprise as Dean’s eyes flutter open. He sees the moment Dean truly comes to, eyes widening in panic at the unfamiliar surroundings. Dean raises his hand to his nose immediately, very nearly tugging out the IV line in his hand as he attempted to remove the nasal cannula wrapped around his face.

The doctor from before was by Dean’s bedside before Sam could even fully stand from his chair, who was forced to stand awkwardly behind the Doctor as he looked over Dean.

“Mr. Winchester? I’m Dr. Sullivan, I’m a surgeon here at Aultman Hospital in Canton, Ohio,” Dr. Sullivan told Dean as he gently pried Dean’s hands away from the fragile medical equipment. “Do you understand what I’ve told you so far?”

Dean’s panicked eyes fixated on Dr. Sullivan, giving a quick nod of his head at the doctor's question.

“Where’s Sammy?” Were the first words Dean croaked out.

“Your brother is right here, Mr. Winchester,” The doctor stepped off to the side, placing Sam into Dean’s line of vision. The panic visibly dropped away from Dean’s expression the second he caught sight of Sam. Then, Dean’s gaze slid over to where Eileen hovered nearby Sam, his face quickly twisting in confusion as he took her in.

“Now, I just need to perform a few quick checks on you, Mr. Winchester.” Dr. Sullivan continued on, not privy to the dumbfoundment Dean was currently trying to work through. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Dean,” Dean answered, knowing there was no point in giving a fake name seeing as the Doctor already knew his last time. “My name is Dean Winchester.”

“Fantastic,” Dr. Sullivan commented with an encouraging smile. “And we’ve already gathered that you know your brother and what his name is, so I guess we can skip that one. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Dean turned anxious eyes over to his brother. It was very unlikely that Sam told the Doctor what actually happened. Otherwise, the Doctor wouldn’t be holding together his professionalism quite as well as he is right now.

“I was attacked,” Dean went with something safe. “I… there was this metal bar… it went through me.”

“Good,” Dr. Sullivan said. Dean almost laughed. How was that good? “How do you feel?”

“Like I got impaled by a metal pole…” Dean responded dryly, wincing at the pulsating ache that sat within his back.

The Doctor cracked a sly smile at Dean’s comment, pulling a clipboard off the end of Dean’s bed. “Sense of humor’s good, a good way to cope. But to be more specific Mr. Winchester, I need you to rate your pain on a scale from one to ten. One being mild discomfort and ten being the worst.”

“Probably around a six,” Dean answered truthfully. Sure, the ache in his back was painful, but he knows it could be worse.

“Okay…” Dr. Sullivan mumbled under his breath as he scribbled away at his clipboard. “Your IV drip is attached to a steady supply of morphine right now; It should help to dull some of the more intense pain, but the effects may begin to wear off after some time. If the pain gets worse, let us know and we’ll up the dose for you.”

“Eh… I’ve been through worse, Doc.” Dean let his head drop back into the scratchy hospital pillow, closing his eyes against the bright ceiling lights.

“I’m not too sure I believe that Mr. Winchester. Though I can tell you you’re a lucky, lucky man.”

“Yeah? I don’t feel too lucky…”

“I’m not sure what else you’d call surviving a rebar to the chest other than ‘lucky’. How it missed all of your organs…” The doctor’s voice trailed off as he shifted off to a table to the side, plucking up a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on his hands. “Now, Mr. Winchester… during your surgery, we discovered some severe damage to your thoracic lumbar-,”

“My what?” Dean interrupted Dr. Sullivan.

“It’s the section of your spine just below your shoulder blades, running to the center of your back,” Dr. Sullivan answered. “When the rebar entered your back, it was forced in between two of your vertebrae. Those two were shattered, and a few above and below were fractured and pushed out of alignment. The damage to the vertebrae themselves, we were actually able to fix for the most part with the help of some titanium pins. Unfortunately, we noticed some evidence of trauma to your spinal cord.”

Sam’s heart twisted in sympathy at the way his brother's face fell. Perhaps Dean had been expecting to hear this, for he didn’t look shocked by the doctor’s words, but he most definitely looked crushed.

The doctor peeled back the sheets covering Dean, exposing his lower body to them. The doctor stepped down to the end of the bed, pressing a glove covered finger into the middle of the underside of Dean’s foot. “Can you feel this, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean couldn’t only weakly shake his head side to side, not trusting his voice to keep steady right now. He followed the doctor’s movement as he straightened back up, taking a step forward and placing a hand over Dean’s lower leg, giving his calf a gentle squeeze. “How about this?”

Again, Dean shakes his head no.

“Can you try moving your legs for me? Nothing too strenuous, just a small shift to the side will do.”

Dean stared down at his legs lying motionless on the hospital bed, certain he had never concentrated on a part of his body so hard in order to get it to move. But… no matter how hard he tries to get his legs to move… they don’t. Nothing happens, not even a twitch of his muscles. They just… lay there.

Dean doesn’t have to say anything for them to know he couldn’t do it. His face said it all.

“I’m going to touch your upper body now, okay Mr. Winchester? We just need to get an idea of where the paralysis starts.”

Paralysis. That single word bounced around in Dean’s skull. It… it couldn’t be possible. That happened to other people. It… it couldn’t happen to him, could it?

Dean’s thoughts are interrupted by the doctor’s prying fingers pressing against his ribs. Dean instinctively hisses at the pain – healed, but still sore- raising an arm to swat away the Doctor’s hand.

Wait a minute… He could feel that.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, it seems you are just full of surprises,” Dr. Sullivan said with a pleased smile. “We assumed that, with the damage, you would have lost all feeling below the injury. Seems like you still have some sensation of touch in your upper body, and we’ve already seen that you still retain full control of your arms. I think we’re well past calling you ‘lucky’. It’s a damn right miracle.”

“And what about my legs?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. “Will they… will they be like this forever? Could they heal?”

Doctor Sullivan sighed, peeling the gloves off his hands. “I want to be honest with you here; it’s very unlikely for you to regain feeling in your legs. I’m not one to say never however, and with the rapid advances of modern medicine, we really never know. But I also don’t want to give you false hope, Mr. Winchester.”

“So, this is it?” The defeated tone in Dean’s voice crumpled what was left of Sam’s strength. “I can’t walk?”

“For the time being… no. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. I truly am,” Dr. Sullivan shifted his sympathetic expression over to Sam and Eileen, giving them a respectful nod as he began shuffling over to the exit of the room. “I’ll be back later to run some more tests. I’ll give you three a moment.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Sam just about got out before Dr. Sullivan slipped out of the room. Dean was staring dejectedly down at his legs, willing them to suddenly fix themselves and start moving again. Sam shot an anxious look over to Eileen, who looked torn between comforting Dean or comforting Sam.

“…You okay, Dean?” Sam asked, taking a few awkward steps closer to his brother’s side. The glare Dean shot up at him answered his question in more ways than words could. The glare quickly dropped from Dean’s face, crumpling in on himself, trying to hide away from his brother’s woeful gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean assured them, putting on a clearly fake smile. “I’ll get used to it… ‘s gonna take some adjusting, is all.”

“Do you need anything?” Eileen offered timidly, hanging by Sam’s side. “Some water, maybe?”

“Could use a stiffer drink than that,” Dean joked. “Could also use an explanation as to how you’re here? You were gone when Chuck snapped everyone away.”

“Well…” Eileen said uncomfortably, sharing a worried look with Sam. “I don’t actually know…”

“It’s one of many things we’re trying to figure out. Shortly after I got you here, Eileen was dropped back where she was.” Sam said.

“What, two weeks after everyone came back?”

“Seems like it,” Sam said.

Dean leaned his head back, closing his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Sam took the opportunity of Dean averting his eyes to reach into his pocket, pulling out a metal flask and quietly unscrewing the lid.

“You know, just once it’d be nice for the Universe not to screw us over. You’d think we’d earned a break by now-,”

Dean was interrupted by a splash of holy water hitting his face, about half of it getting into his mouth. He scrunched his eyes shut against the onslaught of water, swinging his mouth closed and leaning his head to the side to spit the holy water onto the floor.

“Fair enough…” Dean mumbled, pulling up the bedsheets and drying off his face. “Pretty sure soaking a cripple on his first day earns you a one-way ticket to Hell, Sammy.”

Before Dean could crack another joke, Sam had slid the angel blade out of his pocket, advancing towards Dean. He could see the moment Dean recognized what was in his hands, eyes widening in alarm as Sam moved closer.

“Woah, Woah, wait – Sammy!”

Sam didn’t let him say anything else, He grabbed his brother by the arm, pulling it straight and slicing across the tender skin. To Sam’s horror, the cut that appeared quickly flared with a bluish light, stitching up the small gash instantaneously. Sam’s eyes flickered up to see that same blue light appear in Dean’s eyes, completely overtaking the green of his irises until all Sam could see was that dazzling blueish white light.

“Sam, stop!” Dean’s posture had changed completely. He had straightened up as much as his damaged spine would let him, his movements stiff and uncoordinated as he reached out a hand to stop Sam. His voice had dropped a few octaves, impossibly deep in tone to the point it sounded like Dean’s vocal cords were being shredded apart.

Sam pressed the angel that was possessing his brother into the bed with one hand on its shoulder, holding the angel blade against its neck. The thing using Dean’s eyes glances down anxiously to the blade, the angel’s hand on his arm insistently pushing him away. Eileen stood nearby, checking the door to make sure no one would come into the room.

“Stop cutting Dean,” The angel commanded urgently. “I don’t have enough grace left to keep healing him like this.”

“Which one are you?” Sam spat at him, pressing the blade even closer as a threat. “Why the hell are you possessing my brother?”

“To save his life,” The angel insisted. “And to save mine. Sam, it’s me. It’s Cas.”

Sam blinked in surprise, lessening the pressure on Dean’s neck without really thinking about it. “Cas? No, that’s… that’s not possible… Dean said, he… You’re dead.”

“And so was Eileen,” Castiel pointed out, giving a small nod of his head towards the woman in question, careful not to catch himself on the blade against his neck.

“I don’t believe you,” Sam said with a shake of his head. “You can’t be Cas. You just… you can’t be.”

“When we first met, Dean had to stop you from shooting me,” Castiel began, the statement catching Sam off guard. “You were rather star-struck upon meeting me; having been the first time you had met an angel. My opinion of you at the time was rather harsh: the boy with the demon blood. But Dean helped me to see you in a different light. In the way he sees you. It was enough for me to be willing to dive back into Hell and recover your soul after you sacrificed yourself for the world.”

Sam was frozen in place, gaze fixated on the eyes that were his brothers, but also weren’t.

“Once, years after meeting you, I realized just how similar we were. Our fear of failing those we love, of letting down those we lead. Our willingness to sacrifice ourselves for the ‘greater good’. You nearly got yourself killed trying to make things right, to track down Gadreel and bring him to justice. But I wouldn’t do what you asked. I had to make you see your life was more valuable than that.”

The blade slipped away from Cas’s neck, held loosely in Sam’s hand as he stared down at Dean Cas in disbelief. “…Cas?

Castiel visibly relaxed as the blade dropped away from his neck, giving Sam a firm nod in response. Sam stood agape for a few more seconds before throwing himself forward, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and pulling Cas into an awkwardly angled hug. Sam knew it was definitely Cas when Dean’s hands come to rest at his back, giving Sam a few clumsy pats before committing to the hug and squeezing Sam closer.

Yep. That’s Cas, alright.

“How the hell are you alive?” Sam asked once they broke apart, glancing over to Eileen to gauge her reaction. Eileen was still stood by the door, looking unsure as to what she should do now. Sam tucked the angel blade back into his jacket, sitting back down in the chair next to Dean’s bed. “Dean said you were gone?”

“I was,” Cas answered. “I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or your brother. Dean knows now of course, but… I had made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Eileen asked warily from beside the door, eyes flickering between Sam and Castiel. “A demon deal?”

Castiel shook his head. “I have no soul to barter with a Demon, so, no. This was shortly after Jack had succumbed to his illness, you see. When I found him in Heaven, we were being chased by the Empty.”

“The Empty can get into Heaven?” Sam asked.

“Apparently so. It believed that, since Jack was part angel, he belonged to the Empty after death. However, Heaven had already claimed Jack, because of his soul. I didn’t have a choice, Sam. I offered myself up to the Empty in exchange for Jack’s life. The Empty took that deal.”

“But… it’s been over a year since we lost Jack,” Sam questioned, brows furrowing in his confusion. “Why hadn’t the Empty taken you? Why now?”

Castiel tore his gaze away from Sam, looking at anything in the room other than the two pairs of peering eyes. “The Empty added an extra part to our deal. It would only take me… once I experienced a moment of true happiness.”

Sam glanced over to Eileen at this, matching expressions of wonder on their faces. It was rare to see Castiel this uncomfortable during a conversation.

“Billie was dying, and she wanted to take me and Dean with her,” Castiel continued before Sam could add anything.  “Dean and I had barely just escaped her for the moment, but I could only buy us a few extra minutes before she got to us. So… I did the only thing I could. I summoned the Empty by fulfilling our deal, and it took Billie with me.”

“And… you fulfilled your deal by… experiencing a moment of true happiness?” Sam timidly asked.

“Yes,” Castiel was still refusing to meet Sam’s gaze, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“…You’re not going to tell me what that was, are you?”

“No.”

Castiel’s answer wasn’t all too surprising to Sam. While it was true that Castiel had opened up to him more over the years they’ve known each other, he was still quite reserved when it came to these kinds of things. Probably something he picked up from Dean… And yet, Castiel’s hesitation actually gave away more than he was probably intending to. A moment of true happiness. Castiel had managed to experience a moment of true happiness – with Dean. And now, as Sam thinks to the extra bottles of beer he found lying around the Bunker, and Dean’s sudden urge to be all cuddly with Miracle… he’s beginning to understand why Dean had been mourning Cas just a little differently than he had last time.

“Cas… if the deal was fulfilled, then… how did you get out?” Sam asked.

Castiel was grateful for the subject change, some of the tension in his posture slipping away. “Your brother, I believe. When Dean was… when he was dying, he began praying to me.”

“He reached you in the Empty?” Eileen asked, voice alight with incredulity.

“Dean and I… our bond is rare. There aren’t many angels that know humans on a personal level. Most prayers to angels are of the common ones we get: asking for help, for guidance, for a show of faith. They’re rarely ever directed at those individual angels. And they’re never usually packed with so much emotion. Especially not… not…”

“Not what?” Sam pressed on.

“Those emotions aren’t typically for that angel. Jack was able to reach me in the Empty with a combination of his powers, and his desire to have me back. Dean was able to reach me through his fear of death, his desperation to have someone save him… and his longing to see me again.”

Sam didn’t really know how he was supposed to respond to that. This was a conversation about his brother that seemed a bit more… intimate than he’s comfortable with. Especially when he knows Dean is sat somewhere within his own body, perhaps even listening into their conversation right now.

“Wow… Uh, I mean - - I’m still a little shell shocked at the minute… Don’t get me wrong, I’m… I’m thrilled to have you back, Cas. I missed you. You and Jack. Except, at least with Jack I knew he was still here, but… you were dead, and Dean wouldn’t talk to me about it, and… it’s all been a bit much.”

“I can imagine,” Castiel said with an understanding smile.

“What’s the deal with… you know-” Sam gestured to Dean’s body. “-This. Why are you possessing Dean? What happened to your body?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when an odd look twisted across his features. It almost looked like he was trying to listen for something, his eyes dull and unfocused.

“Uh… Cas?” Sam asked, snapping his fingers in front of Cas’s face. “You there, man?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, a bit more clarity coming into his eyes. “Apologies, but Dean is getting rather uncomfortable being ‘forced into the passenger’s seat’.” Castiel raised his hands to place quotation marks over the words.

“Okay… what does that-,”

Dean’s body straightened up again, eyes flashing with angelic grace before returning to the usual soft green eyes of his brother. Dean blinked in a daze as he came back into his own body, giving a little shiver to try and clear the odd feeling.

“Man, that’s gonna take some getting used to,” Dean muttered, his voice raised back to his usual tone. “I’m kinda glad Michael placed me into that fake dream world while he was possessing me…”

“You say that like this isn’t going to be temporary…” Sam noted.

“For the time being… this is all we’ve got,” Dean replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Cas is too weak to jump into another vessel after using up nearly all his grace to keep my dumb ass from dying. So yeah, for the time being, Cas is shacking up in my head.”

“For how long?”

“No idea. Current plan of action is to find a way to recreate his body again.”

“Recreate?” Eileen spluttered, interjecting into the brother’s conversation.

“Doesn’t sound easy, does it?” Dean replied gloomily. “The Empty pretty much deleted Cas’s body when it took him. No way of getting it back…”

“Well, what about his grace?” Sam threw out the suggestion. “Isn’t there a way we can ‘recharge’ it back to normal levels?”

‘Not without potentially throwing Heaven into chaos, no.’

Dean startled so harshly at the voice in his head that it got Sam to his feet in seconds, ready to sprint out of the room and find a Doctor in the fear that his brother was having some sort of seizure.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean spoke out loud to the room, only confusing Sam and Eileen more. “How the hell did you do that?”

‘Do what? Talk to you? Like this.’

‘Yeah, but you’re talking in my head.’

‘As are you.’

‘What?’

‘You’re not speaking out loud, Dean. Only I can hear you when we talk like this.’

“Dean!”

Dean snapped back to reality at his brother’s distraught voice. Sam was shaking his shoulder whilst Eileen had seemingly teleported to his side, an equally anxious look on her face.

“What the hell was that, Dean?” Sam demanded. “You just zoned out on us!”

‘You’ll have to work on diverting your attention between what’s happening and what I’m saying, or you might freak out the doctors and we’ll have to stay in the hospital longer.’

“Whoa…” Dean exclaimed, raising a hand to his head. “This is weird…”

“What’s weird?” Sam asked, voice growing more agitated at Dean’s elusiveness.

“Me and Cas have got this weird Vulcan mind mend thing going on,” Dean answered, tapping at his head. “He’s talking in my head; and apparently… I can talk back to him too?”

“Uh… you sure you didn’t… imagine it?” Sam asked.

‘I can assure you Dean that you aren’t suffering from any brain damage that would lead to hallucinations of my voice.’

“Cas says I’m not crazy, so yeah - I’m pretty sure, Sammy,” Dean answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, does that mean Cas can hear and see everything you’re seeing?” Eileen sounded genuinely fascinated by all of this.

‘Yes, so long as you want me to, Dean. With enough effort, you would be able to block me out. Although, at my currently weakened state, it likely wouldn’t take much effort at all.’

‘Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you, Cas. Makes it easier this way anyway – you could probably point out stuff I don’t usually pick up on. And this way, you can still be part of the conversation; though guess I have to be your translator to pass on the message.’

‘Thank you, Dean… Eileen and Sam are looking worried again, you might want to refocus yourself.’

Sure enough, when Dean focused back into reality, Sam looked about ready to slap him back into the conversation. “Sorry, I promise I’ll get better at listening to Cas and talking at the same time. And yeah, Cas says he can hear and see everything I do.”

‘With your permission.’

“With my permission,” Dean adds.

“Huh… must be weird for Cas to be possessing you.”

“Why’s that?” Dean asked with a questioning frown.

“Well – I assume you’re the one that’s going to be in control most of the time, right?”

“That’s the plan, yeah,” Dean answered.

“Then it’s probably going to be weird having it the other way around.”

‘I have experienced this before when Lucifer was possessing me. You are a much better companion than Lucifer, Dean, so it’s not too weird.’

‘Is that a compliment? I’m assuming it’s a compliment. Doubt it takes much to be a better companion than freakin’ Lucifer, though.’

‘I suppose not. But there’s no other human I would want to share a body with than you, Dean.’

“Alright, Cas is getting weird so I’m going to cut him off,” Dean told them with a strained smile. “Cas said he’s cool with it.”

“Uh-huh… That all he said?” Sam pressed his brother for more.

“Hey, I’ll tell you everything Cas directs to you. Everything Cas says to me, is my business.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched as he fought hard to keep his laughter from bubbling out. “Dean, that… you’ve got to realize how that just sounded.”

‘I don’t understand… how did it sound?’

‘Sammy probably thinks you’re talking dirty to me in my head.’

‘Oh… I’m… not?’

‘I know you’re not, Cas. Sam’s just being nosy.’

“Good job, Sam. You embarrassed Cas,” Dean scolded him.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, but you implied something, and it made Cas uncomfortable.”

‘Maybe it would be best if I left for a bit…’

‘What? No, Cas – you don’t have to do that. I’ll change the subject.’

“I made Cas uncomfortable? You sure it’s not you that’s uncomfortable?” Sam continued to tease.

“Whatever you say, Sammy,” Dean conceded with hands raised in the air.

“Isn’t there more important things we should be talking about?” Eileen cut into their childish sibling argument. “We still don’t know what brought me back, or why. And rebuilding Cas’s body? Do we even know if that’s possible?”

“We won’t know until we look into it further,” Dean answered, turning cautious eyes over to the door, unsure as to whether the footsteps he heard were heading towards their room. “And we can’t do that until we get back home to the bunker…”

‘Dean… I think the doctors are going to want to keep you in the hospital for a few more days… And I’m inclined to agree with them.’

‘What? I feel fine-,’

‘We’re sharing a body, Dean. I know you’re not ‘fine’. You only feel fine for the moment because of the painkillers you’re on. You need a few extra days for your body to heal and adjust to its alterations.’

‘If the only problem is me handling pain, I can assure you I can do that from the bunker, Cas.’

‘It’s not just that, Dean. I… I can’t heal you anymore. At all. If something were to go wrong, if you re-damaged your back and began bleeding internally… there’s nothing I could do. Please, just… a few extra days here is all I ask.’

‘Dammit… Alright, fine, Cas. Only because you asked so nicely…’

Dean decided not to add his crippling fear of what would happen to Cas if something happened to him.

’Thank you, Dean.’

‘Yeah, yeah… Besides, it’s not like we have to worry about a time limit this go around. You’re good so long as you don’t use any of your grace, right?’

‘Oh, um… yes. Yes, I should be fine if I don’t use any.’

“Alright, clearly you and Cas want some alone time,” Sam teased Dean mercilessly, giving Dean’s leg a light slap as he stood from the chair.

“What? No! That’s not-,”

“I’m joking, Dean,” Sam said with a smile, much too pleased with himself for Dean’s liking. “I need to go talk to the doctor about how long they think you need to stay… Then I really need to head back to the bunker and check up on Miracle; find a place that’ll take her while we’re here.”

“Oh, I see. The dog’s more important than your poor injured brother, huh?”

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t kick my ass for leaving her there alone.”

“You two have a very weird sibling dynamic…” Eileen said with a shake of her head.

‘Can you tell Eileen I couldn’t agree with her more?’

‘Don’t you start sassing me in my head, Cas.’

“Cas said he agrees with you…” Dean mumbled dejectedly, passing on Cas’s message.  Sam embarrassingly signed the message to Eileen who couldn’t make out Dean’s mumbles, cracking into laughter at the two brother’s shame at being called out.

“You want me to pick up anything from the bunker while I’m there?” Sam asked over the last of Eileen’s giggles. “Some books, maybe?”

“Could use my laptop for research – and no, not the ‘sexy’ type of research, before you say it.”

‘Sexy research?’

‘Porn, Cas. Porn.’

‘Oh… Um, if you could warn me in advance before you watch such content, I’ll put myself to sleep-,’

‘Stop talking, Cas. Stop talking right now.’

Dean already knew his face was burning a bright red. Sam and Eileen’s questioning looks were enough evidence of that

“…Laptop, got it,” Sam said after quite the gap in their conversation. “Uh… anything else?”

“A new change of clothes for when I get out of here… Don’t really fancy struggling out of here in this hospital gown with my ass hanging out in the wind.”

“You could have stopped at the first sentence. I really didn’t need that image in my head.” Sam said, face scrunching with disgust as he pulled the Impala’s keys out of his jacket pocket. “You gonna be okay here on your own for the night?”

“I’m not on my own. I’ve got Cas, remember?” Dean said, a smile creeping onto his face at the thought. Sam rolled his eyes as he turned away – for what reason Dean didn’t want to think about – gesturing with head to Eileen to follow him out of the room.

‘Ain’t that right, Cas? You’ll keep me company for the night, won’t you?’

The silence Dean got from his head was enough for the light-hearted smile on his face to slip away.

‘…Cas?’

‘You told me to stop talking.’

Dean snorted out loud, the sound catching Sam and Eileen off guard just before they stepped out from the room, sharing knowing looks and sly smiles with one another.

‘Damn… You have no idea how much I missed you, Cas.’

* * *

Next Chapter --->

[shhhlikeme]

Nin’s Matchup!

(SFW + NSFW)

Matchup Profile: Sfw+nsfw matchup pretty pls! (1/5) Name: Nin>Female>5’4>Film & sfx/theatrical makeup freelancer>V athletic in MS-HS: ballet, was in volley ball, soccer &Basketball teams>Miss my prime days>Scared to start workout again b/c I’ll get lightheaded>If sum1 helps push me through initial fear, I’ll keep growing from there> Likes chilling in ballet stretch poses>paints, photographs&draws as hobby>draws a pic a day (mostly portraits)>writing a comic atm >Always plan contingencies.🦄

(2/5) >embarrassed of my loud laugh(it’s like Kuroo’s)>introvert>not afraid to lead a team tho> V shy & quiet most times>8/10 times, feels awk in public,like idk what i’m saying, but others told me I seem social>Once I’m comfy w/ u, i joke a lot(occasional mum jokes 2 annoy+Sassy dirty ones w/ S/O)>hides behind ppl who likes 2 talk, but not when they’re 2 loud>laughs @ mistakes/when embarrassed>Will stop mistreatment, even if I get in trouble>values communication&genuine discussions🦄

(3/5) Sings when home alone>competes @ Street Fighter tournaments, trains everyday 4 it>Sings “Hit Me W/ Your Best Shot” when fighting bosses in game&swears melodically when i lose>eats chips w/ chopsticks >make hats out of my cat fur when bored>Workahokic night🦉>likes 2 teach >full convos w/ my 🐱>LIVES in oversized hoodies & flip flops, regardless of weather>no pants@home!>Feels incompetent sometimes, but keep practicing 2 improve>Analytical fast learner>idk why ppl think i look innocent🦄

(4/5)>Forgets 2 speak eng when tired (Thai 1st lang.)>Headrubs 4 s/o every night b4 bed>will miss u but is bad@texting>yelps like puppy when I’m surprised>Unconventionally resourceful: Wire hangers’s fixes everything! >stress bakes & will gets pouty if it didn’t turn out well.>overwhelmed to water my 50+ 🌱 >Doodles on smt (always have a pen on me)when i feel socially anxious> 2 dance sober @ clubs> Wants a stable relationship where we work tgt like a team to bring out the best in one another🦄

(5/5) I like a s/o who is lovable, kind, genuine, mature, independent and caring, but can also joke & be silly with like best friends. NSFW: open 2 try new things>❤️restraints, blindfolds & sensual tickle sex (as lee+ler) but had always been too shy to share it with any1>occasionally self conscious of food baby+stretchmarks>🥰edging/teasing >has a thing 4 height differences (likes to feel smol lol!) & primal play.>Is a switch. I’m so sorry if it’s too much info! Thank you for doing this!🦄

————————————

A/N: HI LOVE @crushzone !!!! I SMILE WHEN I SEE YOU IN MY NOTIFS GIRL I WORKED HARD ON YOURS OF COURSE💖 But no matter whaaaat I’m going to be very authentic in my matchups bc they’re based on compatibility and therefore, without further ado, lemme introduce you to your NEW BAE:

————————————

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO 🦉

SFW:

so you’re a theatrical makeup artist.

Aight.

Mind if I offer you a word of advice? :

RUN

“DUDE THAT’S AMAZING IT LOOKS SO SICK!”

Startled by someone’s loud booming voice, you smudged the eyeliner you were applying to your actor’s face all over their forehead. Whipping around to see who had disrupted your work you were faced with a beautiful black and grey haired owl. A rather tall... and very attractive ‘beautiful black and grey haired owl.’

He started walking around the dressing room like he owned the place, touching everything.

“Excuse me, you don’t have a badge. You can’t be backstage—!”

“Pretty obvious don’t you think, Miss ________?”

You didn’t take his bait, refusing to give this stranger your name. Bokuto shrugged.

“Well since I don’t know your name I shall label thee—Miss HOT GIRL of the 9 Kingdoms!” He nudged the knight actor who was sitting in your makeup chair with his elbow. “Did I sound 15th century ish or what??” The owl turned to you expecting to be praised. “I had to meet the person who made the medieval vampire look so scary in the last act. But that guy with the lights didn’t tell me anything about you being so hot.”

You were speechless because he was hot too

But he shouldn’t be back here so you tried to shoo him out anyway

He allowed you to try to shove him out but he was way bigger than you so nice try sis

When he yawned while you panted because you weren’t able to budge him an inch....

Bokuto wagered that he would leave if you agreed to make him look like the Hulk with your makeup skills for a Halloween party he had to go to

You didn’t really want to because you were a professional and you had no idea who this owl was but because you had 15 minutes until the second act and you needed peace and quiet if you were going to finish your job!!! ....

( This boy was not peace NOR quiet )

You agreed.... but because you answered so fast Bokuto kicked it up one notch

Prince of pushing his luck (king is reserved for Shōyo‘s extra ass)

He pretended to allow you to push him out of the makeup room a few steps but before you closed the door he stuck his foot between the door so it couldn’t close.

Smiling, he peered back in, looking down at you:

“AND...... you have to agree to go on a date with me. Tomorrow night?”

“Ugh FINE!”

Bo removed his foot and let himself out with a bounce in his step.

SERIOUSLY WHO LET THIS MAN BACKSTAGE......

Needless to say, after a few dates, mans won you over like he wins EVERYONE over

It surprised you how comfortable you became with him but he just has that affect on people

***

In terms of your athletic relationship Bokuto does many things:

He pushes you to go to the gym with him for one

He signs the two of you up for impromptu Beginner 30-day challenges that you both must stick to

So every morning for 30-days straight he jumps on you in bed to wake you up:

“NIN BABY TIME TO HIT THE GYM. BABY NIN TIME TO GET IN SOME SEXY GYM SHORTS. MON BÉBÉ NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNN—“

“Kōtarō, please shut up.”

he doesn’t

He drags you there and eventually you get back into the swing of things.. killing it in the weight room with your supportive man cheering on your every rep!

You don’t even need him to wake you up during the second challenge!

Your volleyball player boyfriend also signs you up (without permission) for the neighborhood soccer team that Akaashi’s girlfriend is already on

You hated it at first because it was uncomfortable going back after not playing for so long but you soon realized that all the girls there were ex-athletes too and not stars

You formed amazing new girl friendships (especially with Akaashi’s gf) and double dates with them were one of your favourite nights of the week!

You owed that happiness in your life all to your Owl 🦉🥰

He and Akaashi came to every soccer game y’all had and you and the three of you went to all of Bokuto’s games, obviously

Btw you all were FITTTTTT OML

***

In addition...

You already know that your man finds your artistic talents insanely fascinating

On your first anniversary together Bokuto gifted you with a new paint set and new French stand:

Because he admires you Bokuto also tries to draw and paint seriously just like you

You stand over his shoulder and give him corrections and baby owl learns so fast it’s amazing

You two make ‘paint night’ a thing when you move in together and it’s always the most fun event!!!!

Bokuto CONSTANTLY and I mean CONSTANTLY asks for you to add him to the comic you’re writing but you say no because he wouldn’t fit in

He sulks but one day you surprise him by showing him that you drew a cute soaring black and gray owl in the background of almost every outdoor scene in your comic,

you pointed out that it was him

BOKUTOOOO WAS SOOOOO HAPPY

HE WAS SHOUTING FROM THE ROOFTOPS

He called Akaashi right away and almost cried tears of joy hahahahaha

***

Your contingent based lifestyle has saved your reckless boyfriend’s life and career many-a-times

It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

Also, it is important to mention that he is in LOVE with your laugh

Bby owl does anything to hear it and showers your face with kisses when you laugh to draw it out

He loves you so freaking much

When you don’t make sense and speak gibberish in public because your awkward side randomly comes out......your boyfriend loves to make fun of you:

“Huh? Nin, that wasn’t Japanese, that wasn’t Thai and that definitely wasn’t English. What planet is my adorable baby girl from, again? And how do I return her in exchange for a floating space car instead?!”

suh cute

All of Bokuto’s teammates really like you because you work in conjunction with Akaashi which means you actually have the magic ability to get Bokuto out of emo mode even faster than his best friend 🤯🤯🤯

When he’s at an away game in emo mode his teammates will literally FaceTime you and point their phone in his general direction

“Hey, Kōtarō!!!! Look, Nin’s on the phoneeee!”

Bby owl turns around slowly when he was sulking in the corner and when he sees you on the screen he’s running and jumping on whoever is holding your phone.”

“Kōtarō baby. You’re going to stop this emo mode right now. If not I won’t let you paint me nude like we discussed.”

mans was like: 😨😨😨😨🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

YEP the next second you see him hitting his best practice spikes and his teammate thanks you profusely

You do this several times until Kōtarō just knows to not go into emo mode anymore because you won’t be happy

A year into his professional volleyball career The Black Jackal’s coach sent a surprise fruit bouquet to your work one time:

With a note that read:

To Nin,

Thanks.

Thanks a lot.

Love,

The Team

***

I know you don’t really like people who are considered “too loud” and Bokuto is like...... “MEGA LOUD 🎙 “ but you and Akaashi work together to quiet your boy down as he gets older

He’s perfect

And you love him

***

OKAY THIS IS THE FUNNIEST day THING:

You know how you like standing up for people (even strangers) and stuff?

Well one day, you and Bokuto get caught on a show called WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Where the two of you cussed out this cat-abusing actor on the show in a convincing scenario!

It was PRICELESS

Bokuto literally tells everyone that y’all are movie stars because of it 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

***

More in the relationship:

Bo is always singing with you 💞 when y’all make breakfast it becomes a national sport to sing at the top of your lungs!!

And when he sees you eat chips with chopsticks he’s pulling a Hinata “🤩🤩🤩” face .

He begs you to teach him how

So you try

......and try

..................and try

He can’t do it bruv 😞

You see bby Owl’s emo mode return for the first time in like a year when the chip shatters between his sticks again

This time, you have to enlist Akaashi as the FaceTime saviour and Keiji just tells him:

“Bokuto. You should prefer eating chips with your hands anyway. It gets to your mouth faster.”

cue Bo’s 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 face

........And all is well again

There’s more:

So you’re a workaholic?

Bokuto is fine with that. He just makes you promise that he gets to take you out on your lunch breaks a few times a week or whenever he can

He’s so sweet and your coworkers are BIG jealous of your relationship

Your man BEGSSSSS you to teach him Thai but you find it too hard so when he’s travelling on a long flight he spends the time learning the language on YouTube (and actually get decent at it) so that he can understand you when you’re sleepy😴🥺💕

When Bokuto surprises you by wishing you goodnight in Thai before he falls asleep (while you’re giving him head rubs), your heart explodes BECAUSE why is he the cutest thing in the world ?!?!?!

RELATIONSHIP COMMUNICATION:

You don’t text/you’re bad at texting? That’s fine, mainly because bby owl is so busy with volleyball anyway, but if you don’t text him back when he is feeling needy the boy will call you 20 times in a row

When you finally pick up, your heart is beating like thinking it’s an emergency

But he will answer saying:

“Oh, no emergency. I just want booty pics. Please, Nin babyyyyy?”

you’re like: 😑

ANOTHER CUTE THING YOUR MAN DOES?????

AIGHT:

It’s cringey but.......

When you’re at work all day doing makeup and he’s home he will send you pics throughout the day of him taking care of your plants like they are y’alls newborn children:

His text:

Baby look!!! Ollie the Orchid grew to 7 inches today!!! Yesterday he was 6.8 inches!!!!! They grow up so fast 😭😭😭”

Your reply:

Not quite as long as your dick, Bo

His reply:

I hate when you get me horny when I’m trying to take care of the kiiiids 😭😭😭😭

Dkm

Of all the factors you look for in a man, Bokuto has all of them

Like I said he becomes much more mature when you and Akaashi are his closest compadres

What people don’t know is that Kōtarō is actually very mature he is just a hardcore optomist (besides emo mode lmao) so people often mistake him as immature or dumb

But He’s far from it and you see that everyday

It’s why you fell for him

When dealing with serious issues that life has to handle, you see a different side of Bokuto, a real side, the side he shows in every tough volleyball game when he makes you metaphorically step behind him so he can deal with any problem that comes your way

He would literally withstand all your battles if that meant you’d remain happy forever

We stan a relationship like yours💞

NSFW:

okay so you know how you chill in ballet 🩰 stretches sometimes?

THAT DRIVES KŌTARŌ WILD.

It turns him on so much and he is constantly testing how flexible you are in the bedroom

When you keep meeting his expectations he is POUNDING you cause he is so turned on

He fucking loves it

It also turns him on when you’ll be acting shy and stuff but then randomly you’ll lead your neighbourhood soccer team like a BAD BITCH

When he sees that he’s already asking Akaashi how long until the game ends because he’s horny:

Akaashi deadpans. “Too much information. And the game just started 3 minutes ago. Get a water and calm yourself.”

Bo is sad but it makes for one hell of a I’m-proud-of-you sexscape when you get home from your game!!

Your dirty jokes also turn Bokuto on.

A lot.

A lot a lot:

“Bo.....I was joking.”

“I know but if I hear the word ‘dick’ coming out of your mouth I automatically think of you blowing me so now I want us to go home.” He whines.

You sigh. He’s lucky he’s so fucking hot.

When you’re playing street fighter every night this boy will not leave you alone until you cockwarm him

“Nin can you pleaseeeeee warm my cock while you train? I miss you.”

Your concentration turns him on so he has to ask nicely 😊

You love his dick so of course you oblige

Bby owl is so happy just sitting there being in your company and in your warmth but sometimes or every time he ends up thrusting into you

Sometimes while he’s giving you deep slow thrusts he orders you to keep playing or he won’t get you off

Damn 🤤

Let’s not forget also that you drive your man wild by walking around the house in hoodies all the time and nothing else

Every day, another hoodie will be found in various RANDOM places in the house because Bo flings it off you before he makes love to you wherever, and they go missing

Finally, when you get all sad and pouty because one of your baker trials goes to shit (ruined chocolate brownies this time, boo 💔), your boyfriend is taking your hand gently in an instant, leading you to the bedroom:

“Don’t be sad my beautiful girl, you know how much I hate seeing you sad. It makes me sad.! Here, come in the room and sit on my face—I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

WELL DAMN—😳💦

Maybe you should screw up brownie recipes more often.

————————————

A/N: do you know the show what would you do??? Watch it on YouTube if you haven’t haha I couldn’t stop thinking about you and Bokuto being on it after reading your matchup profile!!!! I hope you liked it bb! Give me all your reactions, I want all the smoke 💞💞💞

[kaleidescope-writes]

Heart of Audrilluria- Chapter IV; Tipsy Intel

Modern Fairytale AU

Prince!Tom Hiddleston x Theif!Reader

A few sun rays peaked through the curtains made of  expensive materials. The room was lit in a soft orange glow. There was a moment of peaceful silence in the room, only partly filled by the distant chirping of birds. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, taking in the bronze designs that littered the cream ceiling of the fairytale room she found herself in. It was peaceful. 

Peaceful until the high pitched ringing of the vintage telephone filled the air. She groans,  turning to her left and reaching for the phone. “Hello,” her voice groggy. “Good Morning sunshine,” Edmundo greeted with a voice too cheerful for this early in the morning. “I hope you are well rested. For today, you have breakfast at the castle with the royals and nobility. After that, you have five hours of recreational time before you have to get ready for the Welcoming Ball. I’ll have both of your dresses in your room and a hair and makeup team ready for your return later this afternoon.” 

Y/N sat up against the bed frame, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Do we have a say in what we wear?” she asked, hoping there would be an option. “Sadly, all your ball-wear has been pre-picked in order for you to fit in at the events.” She sighed, “What time does the breakfast start?” “In an hour,” came the response, “You have thirty minutes to get ready, no more. I’ll see you then.” with that, he hung up. Y/N took in the room from this new angle, appreciating all its fascinating details. Unfortunately, she had to cut her admiration of the room short and get up to start yet another day in the modern fairytale island. 

She jumped off the bed, going towards her suitcase to pick out an outfit for the day. Placing it on the bed, she opened it and began to look over her options. After a few minutes of deliberation, she settled on a black, fitted blazer with a sky blue blouse and navy leggings. Tying her hair up in a bun she left a loose strand on either side of her face. Something simple yet classy for the first breakfast meeting. 

“Good Morning, sunshine!” Amelie greeted as she entered the room. Already dressed and ready, she looked to the vanity her sister was using to get ready. Leaning against the door-frame, she smirked at her sister in a teasing manner. “You too?” Y/N, questioned with a small groan. Amelie chuckled, “I know you’ve never been a morning person, but we can’t be late! So hurry it up!” With that, she stood up straight and left the room as suddenly as she entered.”Y/N sighs deeply, the dread of starting the day this early consuming her thoughts once more. No she’s not a morning person, but whatever was left of the jet lag she felt made it worse. 

Y/N looked in the mirror one last time, before deciding she was satisfied with her look. Putting back the contents of her suitcase, she grabbed some essentials; her minaudiere, phone, wallet with the information of her alias, earphones, external charger and wire, and a digital voice recorder with discrete microphone. She put the items in her purse and headed to the main room. Amelie looked up from her seat as Y/N entered the room in a confident stride. “Let’s do this.”

~~~~~

Thomas looked over his appearance once more in the mirror. Satisfied with his look, he turned and made his way towards the door. Turning the doorknob and opening it slightly, he prepared to walk out into the hall, only to be stopped mid step by a familiar face preparing to knock on his door. 

He took a moment to process the situation before speaking, “You’re not the person that normally bothers me this early.” Augustus lowers his hand down slowly, an expression of confusion gracing his features. “I suppose I’m not?” Thomas smiled at his old friend and chuckled internally at his confusion. “ Well I guess I should explain myself,” Augustus started, “ I’m here to say good morning. So good morning. And to ask you for advice.” Thomas changed his position, stepping out to the side and closing his door as he listened to Augustus talk. “It seems a bit early to have messed up enough to ask me of all people for advice,” Thomas teased, “And if we must do this, we have to walk towards the breakfast hall.” 

Augustus began walking down the hall with Thomas by his side. “It’s not that I made a mistake recently. It’s advice to avoid future mistakes.” Thomas chuckled, shaking his head, “Once again, I wonder what compels you to ask the king-to-be for help.” Augustus turned to his cousin, rubbing his neck with his left hand while continuing to walk. “Your advice hasn’t led me wrong yet,” Augustus said, “And besides, it was you or the person this concerns.” 

Thomas’s steps faltered slightly, realizing what type of advice Augustus was going to ask for. Dawning a teasing smirk, Thomas turned to his friend, “OH, so you are finally going to assert your feelings for a certain relative of mine?” Augustus stopped walking suddenly. He knew? Of course he knew, it was obvious. Especially for someone as intuitive as Thomas Hiddleston. Thomas stopped walking as well, turning to look at him expectantly with the same teasing expression on his face. Breaking the silence between them, Augustus cleared his throat. “So you know?” he asked shakily, slowly continuing his stride down the long hallway. 

He knew the answer long before he asked. Still, a small, simple-minded part of him wanted to confirm the obvious. “Of course I do!” Thomas asserted, genuinely smiling, “I’ve known you for as long as I can walk. I’ve known for a while. I figured you liked him since secondary school.” Augustus smiled sheepishly as both men continued down the hall at a slower pace. “I suppose we can skip over the awkward confession and hope you won’t want to kill me for it, then,” He laughed cautiously, “I’ll get right to it. How would-- or rather, should-- I go about asking him if he feels the same?” Thomas’s face shifted to a grave expression, “You have to fight another potential partner to death in the dungeon deep beneath the castle in order to prove your worth for courtship.”

Augustus looked to his best friend worriedly for a moment before catching on to his joke. “Why do I bother with you sometimes?” He asked, letting out an oddly anxious breath. Thomas cracked a smile, putting his arm around Augustus's shoulder. “All jokes aside, I’ll help you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The breakfast gathering consisted mostly of nobles discussing diplomatic actions they’ve taken in recent times and  how that has improved their country’s politics. Every once in a while, the attention of the crowd was diverted to the prince and other members of the royal council, but the nobles would go back to mingling with each other as soon as they’d said their peace. Y/N and Amelie juggled between answering the questions of the ever interested nobles--using the false and true information they were given respectively--and asking for information themselves. All the while, the recorder in the minaudiere stored every word spoken to use later when they put their intel together. 

For the most part, every person in attendance would evenly distribute their attention, but there were some--namely Charles and Augustus--that would notice Thomas sneaking looks at a certain daughter of the Spanish Marquess. 

The breakfast ended and the guests continued to mingle in the castle grounds. Y/N and Amelie seemingly attracted as much attention as the prince himself. Despite this, however, they had little conversation with his highness--mainly due to Y/N’s subtle refusal to do so. Having little direct contact with him decreased the chance of being found out, she reasoned. 

Meanwhile, Augustus tried to work his way into a confession using Thomas’s advice. Approaching Charles with new found confidence, he inserted himself into the present conversation. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say that our job is never easy, but it is truly an honor to be in our positions,” Augustus commented, standing right next to Charles. Charles turned to look at him with playful confusion, “I wouldn’t expect that from the man who does little more than smile and pose for the press.” The group of nobles laughed while Augustus sheepishly rocked on his feet. “To be fair,” a Count interjected, “He has a pretty face.” The group laughed some more. “In fact I wouldn’t mind welcoming him into my family,” he continued, “If only I had a daughter amongst my three sons to present to you.” Augustus shifted his feet slightly. “These are progressive times. Does it matter whether or not a nobleman marries someone of the opposite gender?” He asked, looking at each noble hopefully while keeping Charles in his peripheral vision. Another noble scoffed, “It’s a policy as old as time. Noblemen should marry noblewomen. It’s tradition! We can’t throw it away simply because changes around us occur. Our stability would be thrown out the door.” The others nodded in agreement, some whispering a confirmation of their standing. Augustus turned to look at Charles, a small hint of hope still remaining in his eyes. “When you put it like that, I can’t argue with you,”Charles said simply. 

Augustus felt his stomach drop to his knees. He nearly lost his footing as the ground beneath him felt like it shook. Keeping a soft, counterfeit smile, he fixed his foot-stance and looked down momentarily. All he wanted at that moment was for the earth to swallow him whole. 

It was time for everyone to go their own way and prepare for the ball. Y/N had mixed emotions, but it was part of the job. The upside to this was that the ball was the perfect opportunity for the false-bond to be formed. Finding the ‘fall-guy’ would be the most crucial part of the night. They had their plan, now they had to put it into motion. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom was absolutely marvelous. The ornate walls were lit brightly, making every golden glow, spreading an indescribable feeling to every inhabitant of the room. Once more, the sisters were reminded of a fairytale. Their feeling was stronger this time, considering their expensive gowns. Both gowns were elegantly decorated and made them look like true royalty--or so Edmundo said. They fit in perfectly with the crowd of expensive formal wear and jewelry fit for, well, royalty. Soft, classical music filled the ambiance, making everything seem like a pleasant dream. It was magical. But there was work to be done. 

“We have to focus. Let’s get over the glitz and glamour and get to work. This is an important night,” Y/N commanded, pulling her sister to a small, isolated corner of the room. Amelie snapped out of her awe and became focused on the objective at hand. “Ok, we’ve talked to every noble at breakfast, but none of them seem like a good ‘fall-guy’, Any ideas on how we proceed?” Amelie asserted, “Any ideas on how we proceed?” Y/N looked around the room, scanning the face of every noble and connecting it to a name. “Every noble we’ve spoken to knows very little that can help us. The only thing we can do is get close to someone in the royal council, but that’s too risky. We have to find someone close enough to the crown for information but not close enough to be a risk,” Y/N recounted. 

“Let’s split up,”Amelie suggested, “It’ll be easier to find someone matching that description that way.” Y/N turned to her sister, a confident smile gracing her features. “Report back with each other at the end of the night. No leading anyone on.” she declared. Turning on her heel, she was preparing to take a step away from Amelie before she heard “And don’t get attached.” Y/N smiled, walking away as she spoke in a confident tone, “I never do.”

Picking a spot in the room in which everyone was easily visible, Y/N began her search. Looking for someone that matched what she was looking for would be challenging, but in order to proceed with the plan, she had to find the perfect mark. Looking around the room full of mingling nobles, Y/N tried to find someone suitable to form the false bond with. Every duke, earl, duchess, baron, and viscount she saw had already been deemed inadequate for the job. This was going to be difficult. She was close to giving up her search in the main room and move on to the balcony area. Her search stopped when her eyes came to look upon a familiar face, one she’d recognize from their welcoming arrival. He was helplessly leaning against the bar area, already drowning himself with his choice of poison. Y/N’s face lit up, realizing this was her ticket to get close to the target. She began her stride towards the man, meticulously planning her approach as she made her way through the well-dressed crowd. 

~~~~~

The party was in full swing. Everyone in the room seemed to be enjoying the moment. All except one. Augustus looked aimlessly around the room, subconsciously searching for the one person that could make everything feel better. He didn’t notice when Thomas walked up to him until his solemn silence was broken by his best friend’s voice; “What happened? I expected you to be happily dancing around the room by now?” Augustus sighed, still looking out to the harsh critiques that discouraged him, “I didn’t even try. It’s hard to confess when you’re surrounded by nobles who all agree that a policy as old as time shouldn't be broken, even for love.” Thomas put his hand on Augustus’s shoulder, a look of sympathy etched into his features. “I’m sorry Gus. I--” “Please, spare me your pity,” Augustus interrupted, “I don’t need that from you.” Thomas nodded, standing in front of him and placing both hands on his shoulders to provide a distraction from the people that wounded him. “Tell me what you need and I will gladly comply.” he proposed. Augustus removed both of Thomas’s hands from his shoulders, eyes fixing on the bar across the room. “I need a drink. Don’t worry about me, worry about the party. All these people are here for you.” With that, he made his way to the bar, ready to drown out his sorrows with a bottle. 

As soon as he reached the bar, he asked for his favorite drink, hoping it would help him feel better even slightly. The bartender handed him the drink and his mind began to race. 

Leaning against the bar, he drank his whiskey on the rocks. Reflecting on what happened earlier that day, he kept his head down and focused on nothing but his glass every time he put it down after taking a sip. Things could’ve gone better, but of course, they didn’t. How did he think it was going to go? It was destined to end in disaster, why was he hopeful? Traditions can’t be broken, especially not when defended by old, close minded men. It was hopeless. He sighed heavily, downing the rest of his drink. Before he was able to ask for another, he noticed someone approach him on his left side. 

“Getting a head start?” a female voice asked. Augustus rolled his eyes, putting his glass aside. “Don’t. I’m not the type of person you think I am,” he said, already rejecting whatever intentions she had. Y/N shifted in her seat slightly, “I didn’t say you were. I’m not here to try and start something with you.” To this he sighed finally turning to face her; “Then why are you here?” “I know this might sound cliche, but I know the look of a broken heart. You don’t need a drink, you need someone who’ll listen,” she said, “That, and I’ve pretty much met everyone else here and none of them are interesting enough to be around for longer than a few minutes.” 

Augustus chuckled, turning in his seat to face her and leaned his head in his hand. “You think you’re the friend I need?” Y/N scoffed playfully, “Look, it’s either me, someone too busy to deal with your problems, or a bunch of old-fashioned nobles that love to brag about how great of a job they’re doing.” Augustus laughed, preparing to argue with her before he realized she was right. “So, who was the asshole that broke your heart?” she asked, ordering a drink for herself as well as a refill of his. “It wasn’t an asshole, it was a situation,” he clarified, “I could never call him an asshole.” Y/N takes a sip, raising her eyebrow and nodding slightly, “So I was right. This is about a broken heart.” 

Augustus sighed, looking down at his feet as he nodded. “Yes, I suffer from a broken heart. He wasn’t the only cause.The other noblemen started the conversation. He just gave the final blow.” Putting her glass down, Y/N looked attentively at the sorrowful man in front of her. She took his left hand in hers, softly keeping it near him in case he wanted to pull away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think those uninteresting individuals were capable of saying something that didn’t make them seem self-righteous.” Augustus huffed, not removing his hand from her hold, “Yes, well, you never really know until something brings it up.” For a moment, both of them sat in a comfortable silence. Thinking about what to do next, Y/N downed the rest of her drink and looked briefly out into the ballroom. 

“I know how to help you forget about this for a while,” she said, finally breaking the silence. Augustus looked up at her expectantly, silently hoping it would help. Y/N stood up, bringing Augustus with her. “It’s a party. People are dancing and having the time of their lives. Let’s join them.” Augustus tried to sit back down shaking his head as he pulled his hand away slightly, “No, no. I’m a terrible dancer.” Y/N smiled, laughing lightly at him, “So am I! C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Augustus didn’t budge, she had to try harder to get him to agree. “Forget about your broken heart just for tonight. Let’s show your lost love what he’s missing out on. No judgement.” Augustus smiled up at her. Unable to refuse any longer, he gave in and let her drag him to the dance floor. This was going to be one hell of a night.

~~~~~

“Where’s your head, Thomas?” Charles asked, turning away from the foreign duke he was talking to earlier. Thomas had his eyes fixed on the owner of a sky blue dress with golden adornments littering the fabric. “Among the crowd,” he replied. He didn’t turn away from the woman dancing near his best friend. He couldn’t look away. She was beautiful and seeing her dance around made her care-free spirit light up the room. Y/N was all he could see. 

Charles followed his line of sight, only to be met with the pair. He knew Thomas was looking at her, it was obvious. The way his feet were pointed in her direction. The way he leaned towards her slightly when it looked as if she was going to slip. Every part of him was there with her. It made Charles chuckle, finally earning the attention of Thomas. “What is it?” Thomas inquired confused as to why he found it humorous. 

Charles looked directly into his eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “You, my friend, are absolutely smitten!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: FINALLY!!! To make up for lost time, I will post one chapter everyday starting with this one. Thank you guys so much for your patience! I’ll try to do a better job to get on top of things! Thanks Again, I love you all and I hope all is well in these trying times. What do you guys think about the dress? As always, feel free to give me feedback, like, I seriously want to know what you think!! Let me know if I missed anyone in the taglist and I’ll see you tomorrow with chapter 5!!

Taglist is OPEN

@ladyblablabla @tvdplusriverdale @pipolaki @myraiswack @shockwavee @harringtonb-blog​ @cynic-spirit​  @ochizokulevy​ @swifitiedaylight  @little-moonbeam-666

[overdrivels]

The Way to a Heart (17)

<<Chapter 16

The night breeze comes rushing at you, salt and morning dew enveloping your senses the moment you throw open the warehouse door. Greedily, you breathe it all in, the chilly air waking you up, confirming that this is all real.

Taking the first few steps onto uneven earth, you gaze up into the night sky. Thousands of stars, vaster than your eyes can contain, wink, welcoming you back beneath their presence. You open your arms as though you could embrace the half moon that hangs in the air, unobstructed by wires or bed frames or the sticky guilt that suffocates you. Blood runs wild through your rusty veins, your muscles sing, and your weary joints pop at the stretch. The rush almost makes you lightheaded, but the air, the space, the freedom is just too delicious.

Slowly, you exhale, allowing the night settle on you.

You’re free.

“Thank you, Agent Hanzo.”

The man in question stands just a distance behind you, watching from the doorway of the warehouse that had hidden the entrance to the Cellar. He walks up beside you, unbound hair tossing in the wind.

“Did you forget the second condition, Chef?”

You smile sheepishly at him. “Right. Hanzo."

He nods, a strange sort of half-smile on his face that you don't think you've ever seen before. "Just Hanzo," he reiterates.

The name still sounds empty in your mouth without the "agent" in front of it. It sounds too personal, too much like you're...equals. But it is a necessity for going out incognito. So no matter how uncomfortable you were with the prospect, it's still a deal. Besides, it and the other two conditions were nothing compared to what you gained. No matter the deal, anything was much better than being stuck in a bed, useless, while everyone else toiled.

Dr. Ziegler had prohibited you from leaving her care until she deemed you healthy enough to resume work. As of now, she still hasn’t given the all-clear, nor does she know you’ve disobeyed her orders. But you couldn’t abide by them. Not when Age—Hanzo offered to bring you outside where your help was still needed.

While you received an endless stream of visitors since your conversation with the former Strike Commander, all of them were evasive in answering your questions. You wanted to know what was happening with Cœur d’Artichaut. You wanted to know what you could help with. You wanted to know if the agents had the funds they needed, if they were eating properly, if—

No one answered.

All of them dismissed your concerns, telling you not to worry about it and to focus on your own recovery before returning to their previous point of conversation, their previous attempts at distracting you. Even the worst of liars did not reveal anything.

But how could you not worry when the idleness ate at your skin, burrowed into your sleep, kept you awake? What is the purpose of your being there if you were not made to work? Why did you return then if they did not need you? Why do they let you stay when you serve no purpose except to eat up their resources and time?

Even in your sleep, you searched for answers.

It was a gut-wrenching mystery.

So gut-wrenching in fact that when Hanzo came to visit for the first time well after everyone else had already done so, you grabbed him by the arms, not letting him speak, forgetting for a moment that he was one of those heroes you had looked up to and deeply respected, and begged for answers. He was the only one you hadn’t spoken to, the only one who hadn’t had a chance to tell you no. He was your only hope.

To anyone else, it may have been very amusing to watch Hanzo Shimada attempting to console you, clearly unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the process. But for you, it was of utmost importance that you had at least someone who wouldn't lie to you. Question after question spilled from your mouth until Hanzo put down his foot (figuratively).

“Since you are so curious.”

You’re not sure if he’s unafraid of Dr. Ziegler or if he just didn’t care to keep it from you like all the others, but he told you more than anyone else was willing to.

Overwatch contacted the staff at Cœur d’Artichaut and worked out some deal to allow them to break cleanly from this business. Without your permission or knowledge, they essentially cut ties, unable to continue working as a conduit for an illegal Overwatch’s funds, and too afraid for their lives and the lives of their customers to openly defy Talon. You couldn't make a decision as to whose side you stood by, so they decided for you.

It made you laugh, bitter and so terribly sad. The charity restaurant you’ve spent years building up with the other two, taken, just like that. Without a word. With the very last things you’ve said to them, an argument.

What would Overwatch do without them as a cover? What happens to the funds? What about all the events they were preparing for? Who will be running the charity now? What about the results of the audit?

Hanzo seemed to hesitate before he leaned in to tell you, the words awkward in how delicately they were delivered, “They did not do so without thinking of you kindly. They said...they were leaving you in our care, and you are free to do as you liked."

Sound, light, your breath—everything swept into a slow stop. The words echoed in your head, sinking in like falling snow just as it becomes water and seeps into the roots of your heart.

Those words should not have hurt as much as they did. You couldn't pinpoint what part of them made it feel like a knife landed in your chest and began to twist, but warm tears filled with several years of grief came pouring out and it was so hard to not make a sound, to keep your dignity, to not feel like something precious was taken away. There was definitely more that Hanzo did not, or could not, tell you.

Even when you're told you're free, why did it feel like you were more cornered than before?

Gushing sadness was quickly overrun by a dark, sticky anger—an anger born from time and tiny pebbles of resentment that would become an avalanche. A yell tore from the deepest recesses of your being and you couldn't stay still, throwing your pillow across the room, clamoring to get out of this bed, get out of this room, get out of Gibraltar—

How dare they.

How could they decide for you? When you wanted both? When all you wanted to do was to help? How much did you sacrifice to make all of this happen? How could they take a whole company and half a decade's worth of work from you without your input, without a warning, without—

Those selfish thoughts made into words poured from your mouth. Words you couldn't take back. Words that, luckily, only had Hanzo and Athena as witnesses.

"Chef."

A solid hand landed squarely on top of your chest, shocking you back into reality and nearly knocking the breath out of you.

Heaving, bed made a mess by you tearing at it, you stopped and looked straight at the agent who had just seen you at your lowest, tear-soaked face and running nose, made all the more ugly by the black-hearted words that had laid dormant behind a facade of excellent customer service. He only looked back.

"I know."

It was all he said, it was all he had to say. The look on his face, undecipherable but undoubtedly haunted, quickly shut down your brief tirade.

The heat in your skin began to settle, evaporating, leaving nothing but the dregs of shame and exhaustion. His hand slowly lifted from your chest, letting it hover in the air for just a moment before he drew back completely, but the heavy phantom of it still lingered, holding you down.

Where did it all go wrong?

Before you could even ask or apologize for being so unsightly in front of an agent, Dr. Ziegler put an end to it all, rushing in like a right mess.

Even as the doctor shooed him out, Hanzo turned back to tell you, "I will see you tomorrow."

"Not on my watch," Dr. Ziegler grumbled none too quietly. She rubbed her forehead, muttering unpleasantries underneath her breath before tending to the mess you've made of your bed.

You didn't really notice, the rest of the night passing in a daze. Questions that plagued you for so long, your inner monologues silenced when you remember that look Hanzo gave you.

—"I know."—

Somehow, those two words were more reassuring than any of the platitudes anyone else had offered so far.

No other visitors came that night, likely in no small part due to Dr. Ziegler.

Luckily, for the first time in a long, long time, you were able to have a deep, quiet sleep.

Hanzo returned the next day despite Dr. Ziegler's vague threats. It's impressive.

He asked, "Do you still want to know?"

The conversation the previous day was exhausting, but strangely, you feel a little lighter, a little less anxious. The walls no longer felt confining, nor did they seem to echo your worries back at you as loudly.

With resolve less manic and more rational than yesterday, you answered firmly, "Yes."

Everything else he told seemed tame by comparison. Even when you learned the agents were taking turns cooking. In the kitchen. Without permission from a chef. When there's a chef right here.

Strangely, the red-hot irritation that you had become accustomed to feeling boil up inside did not come. Instead, a small, barely there simmer aimed more at yourself than any of the agents burrowed into you.

What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you doing here? If neither the restaurant nor Overwatch needed you then why the fucking hell were you here?

He also told you about the state of the kitchen and how it fared during the attack. Due to Fareeha's insistence and out of sheer necessity, Overwatch had to make their way into the Cellar and connect those systems to Athena. They tried to respect as much of the space as they could, but the security concerns overshadowed any history or arbitrary rules that were created by a person who is no longer here.

There was also the matter of money. While Cœur d'Artichaut pulled their support, Hanzo assured you it wasn't an issue and there were other methods of acquiring the funding and supplies Overwatch needed to operate. The specifics were glossed over, but it sounded like they had a solid plan to get what they needed.

After some time, Hanzo concluded his report, asking, "I have told you all this. What will you do with this information?"

The question filled your head with static. Your mouth went dry. There was no clear path, no purpose, no answer.

"I don't know."

"What is it that you want to do?"

"I don't know."

Everything he told you invalidated everything you've ever done for them. It was cruel of him to tell you so and it was foolish of you to have thought otherwise. You had just wanted to help.

Head in your hands, you asked, "What would you do? If everything you worked for meant nothing? If your reason for being isn't there anymore?"

A strange look passed through his face, jaw going the slightest bit slack and eyes glassy but alarmed. Bewildered might be the best way to describe it, but as close as the word was, this wasn't it completely.

He stroked his beard a few times, a deep inhale and silent sigh flowing out of him.

"That is the past. What do you want to do now?"

"That doesn't—" You bite off the rest of your retort.

What do you want to do now? There's nothing for you here nor at the restaurant, which means there's no reason for you to be in Gibraltar anymore except for Dr. Ziegler's orders. Instead, you could probably do something else like begin your search for Head Chef Richard in earnest again and ask him to return. Once he does, you'll fall back into the shadows again, be useful with someone to be able to tell you what you should actually be doing.

"...I want to get out of here."

As if waiting for you to say that, Hanzo offered, "If that is so, I want you to come with me. I must go shopping for ingredients."

"Ingredients?"

He grumbled, "It's my turn to cook tomorrow. I have...no experience with cooking for crowds, so it may be best to have the assistance of an expert like yourself."

You don't know if it was to humor you or if the request was genuine, but you agreed anyway. Anything to get you out of here. Anything to be useful again.

It was agreed that Hanzo would meet you early in the morning to avoid the others and so he would be able to make it back in time to cook breakfast. While it would only be for a few scant hours, the promise of freedom was irresistible, even when he added three conditions to your freedom, it was a small price to pay.

Present day, Hanzo jerks his head. "We should not waste any more time. Let's go."

"Right."

Even though he said that, he did not seem to be in any particular rush, walking beside you as you got used to your legs again after being bedridden for so long. While Gibraltar was modernized, the residents preferred to keep the city as natural as possible even if it made walking up and down the Rock difficult. The paths are still uneven and only lightly paved. It's so minor, but you smile to yourself, knowing that he is at least considerate enough to match your pace.

He's not such a bad person.

But you knew that already. Anyone who enjoys food as genuinely as he does can't be a bad person.

The trip to the street market is filled with idle conversation.

"We threw away the leftovers."

"What a waste! This is why we don't do buffet-style for such a small group."

"Hah. You consider this group small?"

"Compared to the old days, yes. It's too unpredictable with so few agents. It's just not cost-effective."

"Who knew chefs thought about that cost effectiveness?"

"It's vital! I don't want to feed you all leftovers."

"I am sure some of us will eat anything that's placed in front of them."

The walk takes longer than you would have expected; all the best picks for today are likely already gone, but you find that you don't mind.

A steady stream of people pour in and out of the mouth of the market when you both arrive, the spoils of their haggling and eagle-eyed pickings carried out proudly in their hands and dollies. Vaguely, you wonder if you should've brought a hand truck for yourself, but the thought is quickly banished. It would just be too cumbersome to bring back without your truck.

"Where to first?" Hanzo asks, eyeing the map placed at the entrance.

"Follow me."

The tents are packed tightly together, merchandise flowing out of the white flaps. Lights hang off every tent, illuminating the way for you. The air is alive with shouts of the freshest catches and orders from trucks, it is made fuller with the smell of food and herbs.

It's a nostalgic sight—one you haven't seen since Overwatch formally existed. You were once a part of the crowd leaving this place at this time, rushing to get the ingredients back to the Watchpoint well before the morning shift began. It was almost a ritual: with the change of every season, a team would be sent out to buy samples from nearly every stall, enough for half the staff to experiment with and allow the Head Chef to sample and decide if it made it on that season's menu.

Your dishes were never chosen—never quite creative enough or nutritious enough or well-balanced enough—but it was fun seeing and sampling everyone’s attempts. The Head Chef always had constructive comments, and the competitions fueled fierce knowledge transfers.

“Where are we going?” Hanzo is right at your elbow, carefully stepping through the crowd with a ridiculous amount of grace.

“There’s a grain seller nearby.”

“Grain?”

“We're short on rice, right?"

“I was told there was not much of anything.,” he answers, shrugging.

A frustrated groan rumbles in your chest. "I wish we had a chance to check the inventory."

"We were in a rush, and you had to change."

"You told me to!"

The two of you couldn't just go out the front door of the Watchpoint. It has never been an option since no one wanted to draw unnecessary attention while Overwatch attempted to reorganize themselves. Even if it were an option, you had to get a change of clothes. Going around in a hospital gown is the furthest thing from inconspicuous, and even though McCree gave you his serape sometime during your stay, it was still an unacceptable disguise, so Hanzo had to escort you to the Cellar where you kept your belongings.

You did not have the time to dawdle and see the damage the kitchen took in your absence, not with the way Hanzo ushered you straight through the Cellar door. It was kept open, a bundle of wires flowing out of it and down the halls while several of Agent Symmetra's turrets sat stop the doorway, watching. It should feel like a betrayal, that a place you knew inside and out was now overflowing with so many unfamiliar things, touched by people that so many chefs have attempted to defend from, but with you as you are, there's nothing that could be said or done.

As you changed in your dorm room, you mentally apologized to the Head Chef, hoping that when he comes back your punishment won't be too harsh.

Though, you could argue that you've received your fair share of punishment. You ran your hand across the stippled skin of your stomach, still pink and a little tender. Thanks for Dr. Ziegler’s care, you no longer needed bandages and she said it was unlikely to leave any marks as long as everything goes well.

Flashes of that poorly timed night returned, and you shuddered to think what would have happened if the agents weren't there to help.

Would it even have mattered?

The agents would have figured their situation out. They were already cooking for themselves. It wouldn’t be long before they’re able to walk around, free, touting their status and lavished with more love and money than they could ever ask for.

What did they need you for?

In this dark room, alone with the memories of your colleagues and your job surrounding you, the doubt began to creep in again, seeking gaps in your wounds. Festering. Feeding.

A sharp knock at your door put a quick end to all those thoughts. “Chef. Are you finished?”

“Two seconds!”

Hastily, you yanked down your shirt and pulled on a stale jacket that likely haven't seen sunlight in a year. There hadn't been much of a reason to wear anything other than your work uniforms, and working in the kitchen, it's usually much too hot to wear a proper jacket.

"I'm ready," you announced as you yanked open the door. You could see Hanzo's eyes drift past your shoulder and into the room. Curiously enough, he seemed struck by something not unlike a revelation that made him chuckle to himself.

"Is that what it is?" he muttered, leaving you very much in the dark. Again, he laughed, the sound bouncing off the stone walls of the tunnels. It felt like you were being left out of a very important joke, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask. Not when it seemed like the agent might go into hysterics.

It should have unnerved you. You had never seen him like this before, hand over mouth, head throw back, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. It was genuine laughter and you couldn't help but smile at the unabashed display of mirth. As long as the agents are happy, you're happy even if you didn't quite understand what was happening.

Eventually, Hanzo calmed down, still pink in the dim light, but his eyes seemed to be sparkling. "Excuse me. We've wasted enough time, let's go."

Quietly, you followed behind him as he navigated through the halls with the confidence of someone who has been here multiple times. He didn't even have any trouble with the forks in the tunnels or operating the lift.

What happened in the few days you were stuck in bed?

“Here we are!”

Sacks of rice are piled up atop each other, an open bag in front of each different type for customers to scrutinize.

“Did you say one of your dishes was Japanese curry?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, we should probably go the traditional route and get the short-grain.”

“What’s the difference between all of these?” He points to the open sacks along a wall that seems to hold all the white rice.

"They're just different types of rice for different types of cuisines." Pointing to each one, you explain, "There's basmati, Jasmine, coconut, sticky; normally I'd keep at least four types of rice on hand and two other rotating types, but since we don't have a truck, I think we should just get the one you need for now."

It doesn't take you long to find the rice you're looking for: short-grain rice. Your hand sinks into the bag, a cooling cascade of rice calming your heart. Lifting a small handful, you bring it up to your face, drawing shapes in the rice.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh. Here, give me your hand.”

He complies, watching curiously as you pour the contents from your palm onto his.

Slowly, you drag a finger through the pile as you explain, ignoring the way his fingers twitch. “We’re checking for a few things. Firstly, we’re looking for anything that looks out of place. Like dark-colored grains or insects or mold.” You sort through the pile a few times, accidentally grazing the man's palm.

“There doesn’t seem to be any here, but you never know. We also look for any holes or insect bites.

“If it smells funny, it’s safe to say that it’s not good to eat."

You both unconsciously lean in closer and for a second, your eyes flicker up at Hanzo's face, far closer than you've ever seen him before. His hair curtains most of his face. There's a notch in his brow, focused. But more superficially, his eyelashes are very long. Dark.

A jolt of shock rushes through you when his eyes raise and meet yours. Embarrassment warms your face. Your eyes dart down, heart thumping as you try to rush through the rest of your explanation.

“Oh an—and, if the rice isn’t hard, then that means it’s been exposed to water and shouldn’t be used. But looking at this rice, it seems to be pretty good quality. They usually are."

He drops it all back into the bag, attention clearly elsewhere.

That was a little improper. Taking a moment to catch yourself, you smack one of the rice sacks closest to you. Then again. And again.

With each strike, something feels like it's settling inside your chest. The sounds of the rustling grain and the feel of things sliding into place as you flatten the sack soothes and flushes out the grime that sticks to your veins.

"What are you doing?"

"Slapping the rice." You give the sack another light smack. "You should hit it once, too."

He crosses his arms, a puzzled look on his face. "Isn't this disrespecting the food?"

"I always slap the rice bags. It feels good."

Slap, slap.

"Are you going to buy or just abuse my rice all day?"

From behind the mountain of rice, an omnic shopkeeper appears, arms crossed and, despite the neutral faceplate, exuded irritation.

Heat crawls up your face and you can't help but laugh sheepishly, embarrassed, raising two fingers. "We'll take two."

The shopkeeper nods, uncrossing his arms. "Which will it be?"

Hanzo, ever so quick, grabs the bag you were hitting and the one beneath it, carrying them over one shoulder to bring to the table where the card system sat. You're rushing right behind him as he takes out his card.

“Wait, let me pay—”

“You don’t have any money.”

You splutter, patting at your clothes. “Of—of course I do, I’m…”

“The one who provided us with the necessary funds. I am aware. I am also aware you did not pay yourself while working with us," he counters coolly.

Your jaw drops. Even though you were CEO of Cœur d’Artichaut, your paychecks went to a dummy account to be used by Overwatch and for Winston to reallocate the funds as necessary. There should’ve been no one who knew about this except...

“How did you…?”

“Winston informed me of the financial situation.” He smiles a little devilishly, handing the card to the shopkeeper. “In great detail.”

Stunned speechless by his confession, you could only watch as he finishes up his transaction and hauls the sacks of rice onto his shoulder like they don't weigh anything.

“Oh.” You pat at your clothes again, panic bolting through you as you realize they’re all flat and devoid of any bank cards. “I think I left everything back home…”

"Hard to expect a chef to think of anything else but cooking."

"I don—wait, are you making fun of me?"

You barely see the grin on Hanzo's face before the wind blows his hair into his face.

Unable to control yourself, you burst out laughing.

As though contagious, he begins to laugh, too. It’s a quiet laugh, a personal one meant for enjoying jokes. Even though it’s directed at you, it makes you smile a bit as well despite the circumstances.

It’s nice to see him so relaxed.

Adjusting the heavy sacks on his shoulder, Hanzo asks, "What's next?"

"Eggs."

"I believe there is still a carton from Dr. Ziegler's...attempt." You ignore the way Hanzo's voice trails off in disgust.

"We can never have too many eggs. You can make them soft-boiled, hard-boiled, sunny-side, poached, scrambled. You can make omelettes, huevos rancheros, egg tarts, egg custard, pancakes, waffles, cake..." You continue your list on your fingers as you walk with Hanzo, unaware of how he smiles as he patiently listens to you ramble about the different application of eggs.

"—duck eggs which are great for poaching because of how thick—ah, here we go!"

You make a sharp turn into a tent, nearly missing it and knocking your face into a sign that says in huge letters, “HUEVOS,” with some scrawling graffiti on it that looked like it said ‘splash’ or ‘squash’. It seems that not everything remained the same. Hanzo sets down his purchase, eyeing the delicate products before shuffling the bags carefully around the tiny space.

Carefully, you check the contents of the cartons. Some are laid out in clamshell cartons, others are pillowed on hay in solid containers, allowing the different colors to show like a box of jewels. Should you go for larges or the extra-larges?

Hanzo makes a face. "Chef. Why are these green?"

"Different breeds of chickens lay different eggs."

"Are they safe to eat?"

"Yes! The color itself is just an indicator of the genetics of the chicken. Depending on the breed, there's different properties like a richer yolk or a runnier white. But you can't just tell from the shell."

"I see." He picks up a particularly blue egg, inspecting it like he doesn't believe you. "And these are all natural?"

"As natural as selective breeding goes, I guess."

"Do they taste different?"

"Sort of. Different eggs taste different but it's not the color that decides the taste, it really depends on the type of feed and environment the chicken is in." Maybe you should just go with eggs that the other agents are familiar with.

You inspect a few more eggs until you come upon some gorgeous dark brown eggs, medium in size.

"Are you interested in our Penedesenca eggs?" The omnic tips his sunhat, a smile in his mechanic voice. "They're very good this season."

There’s a momentary back and forth where you interrogate the omnic, asking about the conditions of their chickens, the specifics of the feed, the farm, the history of this business. The merchant was only too happy to reply, going into great detail that fueled more questions from you. It would’ve gone on forever had Hanzo not reminded you that you were both short on time.

"Fine. We'll take four dozen."

"Isn't that too many?"

"We want this to last. It's a lot of trouble for everyone to keep coming out, isn't it? And everyone eats a lot."

"There are other items we must purchase. We should be wiser in our selections."

"Fine." You acquiesce, waving at the merchant. "Excuse me, could we have three dozen instead?"

Noticing the judgemental look Hanzo is giving you, you throw your hands up. “It’s less than four dozen!”

“Two dozen.”

“That’s too little!”

“And whose card is paying for this?”

You both know immediately that Hanzo has won this round, and you curse your own inattentiveness and haste. Having nothing else to say in response, you sulkingly turn back to the merchant and raise two fingers.

“Two dozen, please.”

“Certainly.”

The omnic hands you your purchase just as Hanzo gives his card, flashing you a smug look.

"If we find our final haul is lacking, we will return and get the other two dozen."

You grumble, holding your eggs close to your chest. You’ll get him for this. “I thought you wanted me here for my ‘expert’ opinion.”

“You are. I am making executive decisions.”

You barely manage to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him, choosing to continue tent-hopping for the ingredients. Hanzo doesn’t seem too offended, following after you with the rice sacks back on his shoulder.

You take your time with the selections, explaining to Hanzo, who listens attentively to your endless stream of information. Hanzo eventually takes the initiative to look into other tents, asking for your opinion on different items. New products fill your arms with every tent you both visit and you begin to trail behind Hanzo, the weight of the growing bags dragging you down.

Despite that, it is the most fun you've had in a long time. The visits are filled with light-hearted bickering that makes you forget everything that had happened in the past few weeks.

Freedom is sweet.

It’s not until you’ve both explored most of the market that you decide it might be nice for Hanzo to pick something for himself. It gives you an opportunity to put down your bags for a moment while Hanzo browsed a mead store near the edge of the market.

You momentarily put down your bags just to give your arms a brief moment of respite.

Dizziness strikes you as you stretch, making you stagger in place. It takes you by surprise and you shake your head to clear it, but it only gets worse. There’s a dull ache all around your body that makes itself more known with each beat of your heart which feels like it has begun to pound with more force.

What’s happening to you?

A few steadying breaths do little to help.

Vaguely, you remember your promise. The third condition.

But you’re sure you can hold on. You’ve been through worse.

Besides, what would happen if you told him? He will just send you right back to the medical bay and then you would be confined again in the bed with no one telling you anything about things you should be involved in and then what?

But he did bring you out here in a show of goodwill. It would be unfair to take advantage of it and go against your word even if it meant cutting your trip short. Sighing and resigning yourself to the promise, you squint at the crowd in the tent, seeking out your chaperone.

You find him browsing the mead, talking with the store keeper in hushed but enthusiastic tones. You shouldn't interrupt him. He seems to be having a pretty good time, if you do say so yourself.

Another wave of nausea and pain nearly knocks you off your feet, the grounds sways once, violently. Your head throbs. It's hard to focus, the edges of your vision shimmering if you leave your eyes open for too long.

Forcing another two steps, your hand reaches out, but you hesitate—what are you doing?—before your hand drops, the feeling of pins and needles immediately swarming on the limb like vultures.

Taking in a few more breaths, you shake your hand to clear the feeling, but it wouldn’t leave. The ground beneath you feels wobbly, making any attempt at walking a challenge.

You falter in your steps, stumbling two steps back and nearly knocking the merchandise off the tables in an attempt to steady yourself. No. You're a liability like this. As much as you didn't want to go back, you didn't want to cause any more trouble either.

With what little coordination you had left, you barely manage to grasp Hanzo by the edge of his sleeve.

"Hanzo."

"Chef?"

"...our last condition. To tell you...when I don't feel good." Taking a shuddering breath, gooseflesh rising everywhere, the feeling of needles pressing themselves deeper and deeper into your torso, your lungs, you admit through grit teeth, "I feel really bad right now."

You can see his body language change from leisurely to tight to liquid. Whatever he saw, he must not have liked. You’re not even sure how you look at the moment. You know you feel weird, but it shouldn’t be so bad.

A hand grasps the bottom of your elbow, hoisting you up against him. You could feel the gush of breath as he carries all your purchases with the other arm.

Faintly, you think of his hands and how strong they are. They must be from using his bow and arrows. It’s...comforting.

Just how many times has he seen you in such a poor state? How must he think of you? The unease weaves itself into the nausea. The noise in between your ears just won't stop.

"Can you walk?"

"Think so."

His steps are hurried and you're stumbling over yourself trying to keep up.

He holds your hand tight, pulling you along a sloped path. This is objectively embarrassing. You're an adult doing some grocery shopping, it shouldn't exhaust you after an hour nor should you be breaking out into sweats. It feels like your body is burning up all the oxygen it has, reducing your steps to mere shuffles and your breath to small puffs.

Eyes half closed and disoriented, you aren't sure where you both end up.

"Watch your step."

The tips of your toes skim across steps and lifting your legs feel like a Herculean effort, but you force yourself to obey. You have had worse. You can do this. You have to do this.

There's noise all around, and you can feel the rumbling of Hanzo's voice against you.

At some point, the support disappears and you sink heavily onto a surface—a plush chair—that creaks beneath you. Shivers run up and down your skin without Hanzo's warmth. It's strange, you had only leaned on him for a short while, but already you're missing the heat he gave. It was comforting.

"Drink this."

Something is pushed into your hands. It feels like a cup. Your vision is still blurred by shine and colors that are slowly swimming away from the center of your vision, but not soon enough.

You hold tightly to the cup, carefully lifting it to your lips. The motion alone saps any energy you are able to muster, forcing them down onto your lap before you are able to take a single sip.

Taking in a few bracing breaths, you try again, successfully managing to swallow the tepid water until you drain it all. Almost immediately, the cup is taken from your hands and another replaces it just as fast.

This time, you just hold the water in your hands, waiting for the unsettling feelings and colors to pass. Maybe you were too hasty in leaving. Maybe you shouldn't have left without talking to Dr. Ziegler. You don’t know what was in the drips you were being provided or the medicine she was giving you. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you weren’t so hellbent on proving something that you had no control over.

Beside you, the sound of a chair scraping and something bumping up against your knee. The jostle makes a mockery of your attempts to feel better and it sets off another wave of nausea that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. Immediately, a hand is on your back, unmoving. The weight is hardly comfortable, but it gives you something to focus on in the midst of this imaginary swaying. Among everything, it’s the only steadying force that keeps you anchored.

It’s a slow process, but everything eventually settles into place, allowing you to sit up and finally look around the small space that you had been occupying. Hanzo’s hand slides off your back, the heat dissipating and making your body feel so much lighter. Beside you, Hanzo sits on a chair, a cup in his own hands with something that looks like coffee. The interior is that of a cafe, wooden walls and shelves, the gentle smell of freshly baked goods carried by the underlying aroma of espresso. The beginnings of daylight peek in through the window on the other side of the little shop, the employees nowhere to be seen.

"Where…?"

"A cafe. It was open. They’ve allowed us to remain here until you feel better.”

Absentmindedly, you look up at the clock hanging on the wall. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here, wasting time with all the trouble you’ve brought upon everyone. Now even unrelated people were involved. "The other agents should be having their breakfast by now."

"I do not believe you are in a position to be worrying about others."

"I'm sorry."

“Do not apologize. You were just doing your job.”

“No, I mean…”

Hanzo did not say anything, nodding for you to continue.

Heat creeps up your face and you can't look him in the eye. "For what happened just now and...when I had a temper tantrum in the room. I didn't mean for you to see any of that.”

"Is that so," he says simply.

Silence blankets you both as he sips his coffee and you look down at your water. Embarrassment prickles at your skin and almost instantly, you regret having confided in him. But you're sure it would bother you more if you didn't at least apologize for it.

"I envy you."

Your head snaps up at the sudden exclamation. You must have heard wrong. Hanzo does not look at you, instead, he stares off to the side, past the windows, past the slowly brightening streets and everything they contain. He stares like he's watching something from long ago.

"That you could be like that."

"I don't usually—"

"I am aware. You are professional, and a professional. We are your customers. You attend to us because it is your duty."

"...yes."

“It is easy to follow the rules dictated by your duty, especially rules that have always been there, established by others you’ve seen as superior.”

“What would you know about that?” you hiss angrily. “I have to—”

“And what do you think I know?” he asks softly.

His words sound like a challenge, but a melancholy one, one that tells you that you are far less knowledgeable in your subject than you presume to be.

“How far would you go to please those you serve? How far will you go to complete your duties?” he continues, voice strong but so very distant.

"I…"

"If the Head Chef returned, would you take all his orders even if you disagreed with them? Even if his orders were not what your clients wanted?"

"What are you talking about?"

A short laugh makes it out of his mouth and he shakes his head. “Forget that.”

“...I’m just trying to do my job,” you offer.

“You do more than your job, chef.” A rush of humiliation floods you when he spits your title back at you. “They are not so helpless that they need so much coddling. The money, the support—leave that to us. Those matters are not for a chef to concern themselves with."

You bite your lip several times, shrinking in on yourself. There was nothing he said that you could deny. “I’m sorry, I guess I only brought more trouble.”

“That’s—Do not—” Hanzo pinches his eyes shut, pressing his thumb and index fingers into the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “Do not presume that,” he says wearily. Hanzo makes a complicated face and clicks his tongue, the sound sending a sharp and cold shard of fear through you, pins sticking into you anew "...it is not a criticism of what you've done so far, Chef. "

Perhaps seeing how you tensed, he sighs, pressing his lips together and parting them several times.

"...what I want to say is…" Hanzo suddenly looks slightly embarrassed, a hand curled into a fist in front of his mouth as though to muffle the world and hold them close to himself instead of letting you hear; curious look. "It would do you good to rely on others more often. You've done well so far. Thank you."

“Oh.”

You didn’t really know what else to say.

Thank you.

You've heard those words many times before from many different people. Somehow, this time feels different. It’s a little awkward and stilted like it comes from someone who isn’t used to saying it. It reminds you of when you first heard it from Hanzo on a lonely night before this whole mess and before you two really knew each other.

Face now several degrees warmer than before for reasons you couldn't name, you ask, “Why are you helping me so much?”

If anything, it should be you thanking him. One should never look a gift horse in the mouth, but you couldn’t help wondering why Hanzo of all agents would help you. Not even the veteran agents would fill you in on the current situation, and neither did the more outgoing, newer agents. No one made the effort to even ask you what you wanted or get you involved when you knew that they knew you were deeply entangled in the mess that is currently Overwatch. So why Hanzo alone?

He stares back blankly at you, lips parted like he was about to say something but he doesn't.

Maybe...you didn't dare hope, but…

Hesitantly, you ask, "Is it becaus—wait, no. Are we...friends?"

Almost immediately, he replies, "Are you and McCree friends?"

"I guess?" The answer just falls out of you without much thought. It's not a lie, not really. But where did that question even come from?

"Then are we the same as that?"

You fall silent. You and McCree are, very loosely, friends. He gets you into mischief and you retaliate. But were you and Hanzo the same thing? He didn’t treat you the same way McCree does. It’s different, but you couldn’t articulate how.

"...something like it?"

"...then let it be so."

With a self-satisfied smile that seemed more lonely than anything, Hanzo closes his eyes for a moment, allowing his words to settle the conversation. You don't know why, but you didn't want this to end this way, and yet, you couldn't find the right words, so instead, you have to swallow what is unsaid with the rest of your water.

"We should be getting back. Are you able to stand?" Hanzo asks after a few more moments.

"Of course, I rested long enough." The confidence is undue and did not come from any concrete proof, but you're glad you were able to get up without falling on your face. You've embarrassed yourself in front of Hanzo enough.

Truly a kinder hero than most people give him credit for.

Especially when he grabs all of today’s purchases in his hands before you’re able to even touch them.

"I can carry something."

"It is training for me."

“That’s not fair. I can’t make you do this.”

“You’re not making me do anything. This is my choice. And what did I say about relying on others?”

You couldn’t not come up with any excuse or argument against an agent who is hellbent on doing things his own way. This isn’t the kitchen, this is the outside where you have no control.

Sighing, you resign yourself to Hanzo’s whims and follow beside him as best you can. You supposed those two dozen eggs will have to take a rain check.

The trip back is quiet, but the streets become more and more occupied with people with every changing increment of color in the sky. Hanzo does spare a glance every once a while, and each time he does, guilt pricks at you, knowing that he's carrying everything. It takes you a little while, but you notice that you've been walking a little longer than usual.

"Aren't we going back to the warehouse?"

"We should not take the same path we came," he says simply as though that explains anything. It's not very logical since it's a much quicker path to go through the tunnels—that's what they were made for, but you don't have much of a choice but to follow him.

Along the way, you notice the macaques up and about, running around without a care in the world. If only you could do the same. Smiling bitterly to yourself, you wonder if you'd ever have the chance to come outside like this and enjoy your time with another agent. Even if you managed to successfully hold everything together at the Watchpoint, there's no guarantee that when the Head Chef returns that you'd have a place here. So many rules broken and so many people troubled. It would be a miracle if you were allowed to work anywhere ever again, let alone Overwatch.

But despite all of that, you gained a friend.

Despite all your shortcoming and all the trouble you caused, you were still thanked for everything you've done. And that makes something sublime stir in the depths of your heart—maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's humility, but it's something you cannot put a name to, much like many of the expressions Hanzo has shown you today.

It wouldn't be a day you'd forget anytime soon.

The path you both walk leads you up to the backside of the Watchpoint where the space opens up to the hanger. Upon seeing the familiar sight, you both slow down. Given the time to finally relax, everything in your body throbs, your stomach wounds most of all. But you couldn't care less about it.

"Thank you, Hanzo. I had a really great time today. I don't know when I'll be able to do this again, but I really appreciate—"

Hanzo turns on his heel, a fierce sort of look on his face that makes you freeze in place.

"Chef...I will ask you again." He stands tall, staring at you with piercing eyes. Imposing like a king. His voice is loud, declarative. The sun sits at your back, shining on him. "What do you want to do? Not what would your previous Head Chef do, but you as yourself."

"I…"

"Ach du lieber Güte! Are you finally back from your adventure?"

The voice, clear as a bell, rings out across the lightening land. Zenyatta's orb zooms right by, spinning in the air before settling near your shoulder, an instant ripple of calm rushing through you that only deepens with every moment that passes. Three figures emerge from one of the doors of the hanger, approaching you and Hanzo.

"Finally. We were about to send Genji after you." Dr. Ziegler points her thumb at the cyborg behind her so gives you all a two fingered salute. Barely perceptible, Hanzo flinches beside you.

"Now then, Chef, if you're done with your trip, please come with me. We have to do a check up and make sure your trip did not have any adverse effects on your body."

Before Dr. Ziegler could escort you away, you give Hanzo a heartfelt smile.

"Thank you, Hanzo. I had a really great time today."

Hanzo's reply and expression is lost in you when both Zenyatta and Dr. Ziegler usher you back into the base, leaving the two brothers to their own devices.

Chapter 18>>

[lurafita]

Rich!Tony/Artist!Peter, part 2

Go here for Part 1

Okay. Gotta be honest, this part isn’t that much more interesting than the first part was. But I did some actual research for this one and most of the artworks described in the text were inspired (or unashamedly stolen) from this site: https://theartofeducation.edu/2017/10/26/11-fascinating-artists-inspired-science/

So, let’s get this done!

The Art of Science and the Science of Art

While self-satisfaction might not be very virtuous, Pepper couldn't help the proud smirk that spread over her face, as she watched Tony all but fawn over the different artworks.

“Are you seeing this, Pep? This is a glass model of a magnified virus cell. They installed tiny light sources in specific places and angles to show how and where the cell interacts with the human body. And then there is a whole other set of lights and mirrors that indicates which parts are targeted and gradually destroyed by an antiviral drug. Actually, the way the mirrors are positioned here... yep. If you go around the pedestal and look at it from the different angles, it's like a little movie. First you see the lights indicating the parasitic effect of the virus on the body, then the way the drugs counteract the effects, and once you reach full circle; Ah, see here? Now the lights and the mirrors and the shadows create the effect that the virus evaporated. Damn, that's clever.”

Tony walked around the pedestal once more, trying to make out the positions and calculate the angles of all the lights and mirrors used.

Pepper's previous gleeful smirk softened, as she watched her boss move on to the next exhibit, a gorgeous piece created with metals and specially coated glass. The reflected images and light created 'Sun Drawings', that moved and changed in response to sunlight and the passage of time.

Having been Tony Stark's personal assistant for almost 8 years now, Pepper had learned much about the inner machinations of the man. And at his very center, Tony Stark was an engineer. A mechanic. He could talk theoretical physics with the best of them, but he preferred practical results. Tony's work had a purpose, a direct impact.

Which was one of the reasons why he wasn't normally swayed by art.

“Okay, this here? Classic movie effects. Chemical reactions used to visualize the images of a nuclear explosion, but it all happens under a microscope.”

While the billionaire could certainly appreciate beautiful art, something that was nothing more than 'nice to look at' held no value to him. It was the same reason why he had tons of one night stands, and hardly any actual relationships in his life. He was at first attracted to a person's physical beauty, which usually led to sex. But when the sexual need had been sated, mere physical attraction wasn't enough to keep him interested in the person he had bedded the night before.

“Now this, this is art. Applied physics at its finest. Do you see how the magnets interact with and against each others polarity? This is a perfect demonstration of the symbolism behind the theory of gravitational forces.”

It was why Pepper had jumped on the chance to get her hands on the tickets to Peter Parker's first ever art exhibition. He had been steadily making a name for himself over the last two years, and the redhead had seen some of his early works while she was on vacation in Europe. The young man had been set up in a corner of a street market in Marseilles, and with the help of various visual and practical effects, had explained the complex mechanics behind aerodynamic principles, to his wide eyed and utterly fascinated audience.

“A model of Nikola Tesla's early design for a solar collector made by modern computer code. See this section here? That's programming code for data extraction. In this context, it translates to Tesla's attempt to convert the energy of solar rays into electrical power. It serves as a parallel between combining old and new resources. See? This is the kind of art one can actually talk about. Not a painting of a stupid fruit bowl.”

Whereas Tony used his genius and understanding of different areas of science to create and improve, Parker used his to teach and inspire. Parker's art was something that Tony could not only relate to, but also admire, because it had purpose beyond it's beauty.

The hour that Tony had initially given himself to suffer through the showcase had long since passed, as the billionaire found himself unable to curb any of his enthusiasm, as he grew ever more fascinated with every new piece of art. Other people milling about the rooms 'oohed' and 'aahed' as they inspected the different works of the artist, sipping on their glasses of complementary champagne. But Tony doubted they could truly grasp the idea; the genius behind it all.

He was going to buy it all. The whole exhibit. Everything. He wanted those pieces in his company, in his home, in his workshop. He wanted to have the computer coded Tesla piece in his office, as a symbol of Stark Industries work on renewable energy. He wanted to gift the glass model of the virus cell to Bruce, to celebrate the biochemist's latest break through in the field.

He wanted both the magnetic force field work and the microscopic chemical reactions in his workshop, as a source of constant inspiration. His fingers itched with the want to create, the need to pour his skills into his work.

He wanted... He wanted to meet the artist.

When they had made their way almost full circle around the exhibit, they stopped at what appeared to be the last of the show cases. This one was different from the rest. For one, it was made out of Play Dough, though that was a fact Tony only realized by reading the description. How the hell this Parker guy had managed to form a completely genuine looking circuit board out of such an inferior material as children's clay, he could only guess.

He wanted to talk to the artist.

Another thing that struck Tony was that this circuit board looked somehow familiar.

He leaned in closer.

“This one section here looks like a rather awkward welding job. The connections between the wires seem a bit clumped. I would put it down to the use of Play Dough, but the other details on the board are so clean... You know, this looks almost like-”

“-the circuit board you built when you were five years old.”

Both surprised by the new voice, Pepper and Tony quickly turned around. Just a step behind them stood a young man, dressed in a casual but nice enough suit, with deep brown eyes, fluffy looking chestnut hair and a shy smile. Pepper recognized the man she had seen in France right away, and held out her hand to him.

“Mr. Parker. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Virginia Potts. But please, feel free to call me Pepper. Everyone does.”

The artist took her hand with a pleasant smile.

“In this case, I insist on Peter. And the pleasure is mine, Pepper.”

Tony could hardly wait for the handshake to end, to insert himself into the introduction.

“So you are the surprisingly gorgeous face behind all these beauties. I'm-”

“Tony Stark. I know. I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Stark.” Parker smiled brightly (and blushing heavily) at him and eagerly reached for his hand. Then he shyly nodded to the pedestal display. “Your earliest work included.”

He wanted...

“Just Tony will do. One question, though. Why Play Dough? I may not have been very skilled with the welding equipment back then, but I do remember using the actual parts needed.”

Peter turned to his work, a helpless sort of smile on his lips, as he explained.

“When I was in my last year of highschool, and it was time to make a decision regarding college, I felt helplessly defeated. Was I supposed to attend one that focused on all the things that fascinated me about science, or one that focused on all the things I loved about art? I didn't know if I would ever be able to meet the expectations others had placed upon me, and the ones I had placed upon myself. I became wary and anxious about every choice I made. Constantly questioning myself if it was worth it to try to combine the things I loved, or if I wouldn't be able to hold on to both at the same time. Science versus art. Wanting to pursue such opposite things seemed ridiculous. But then my teacher gave us the task of writing a paper about a person that had greatly influenced our society and progress. I chose to write about you. And during my research, I found an old newspaper article, front page, about the young Stark prodigy, who was already showing the whole world how smart he was. The ordinary 5 year old makes crayon drawings and forms simple shapes out of Plasticine. A few can already read some of their children's books, but many are still more focused on the pictures in them. But the 5 year old you broke out of the limitations perceived for kids, and defied expectations. And I thought to myself ‘Hey, if Tony Stark can build a circuit board at such a young age, then maybe I can find a way that doesn’t mean I have to give up on one of the things I love.’ So, I guess I used the clay to symbolize what was expected, and your final design to show how you rose above.”

That shy little smile again. He wanted...

“In fact, you have done nothing but risen, Mr.- Tony. You have been a great inspiration for me, over the years. Quite possibly even a bit of a muse, if you will.”

Tony was a bit stumped, honestly. He had never been lost for words before. Thankfully he caught himself quickly. 

He wanted...

“So, philanthropist, billionaire, genius, muse.” (Had he just replaced his usual playboy title with ‘muse’?) “I like that.” (He did.) 

Peter.

“As your muse, I get dibs, right?”

A confused little head tilt. 

Cute.

“Dibs?”

On you.

“On the art pieces.” Tony elaborated with a sweeping gesture of his arm. “They are up for sale, right?

“Oh, yes. It’s uhm... we will hold an auction in a bit, after I have officially introduced myself to everyone here and said a few words.” Peter looked distinctly uncomfortable with that bit.

Tony was just opening his mouth to say something else, when suddenly Pepper inserted herself back into the conversation. (He had admittedly forgotten that she was there.)

“Peter, I think the woman over there is trying to get your attention.”

They turned to see a middle aged woman in an elegant dress, subtly gesturing to him. Peter grinned a bit ruefully as he turned back to his two companions.

“That’s my aunt, and also kind of my manager. I guess it’s time for my big entrance.”

He offered his hand once more first to Pepper, then to Tony.

“Pepper, Tony, again, it was a pleasure meeting you. Since it’s an auction, I can’t exactly grant you dibs, as much as I would like to.” He grinned at Tony. “But about 75% of all our revenues tonight will be donated to The Future Hope Foundation, which is a research center focused on developing cures for different diseases, speacially in children. I will be talking a bit more about that one in my speech, provided my severely repressed stage fright doesn’t hit me in a few minutes. So just know that whatever you decide bidding on, it will be worth it.”

Tony wanted to keep holding on to that hand. A hand that was just as calloused as his own, but still somehow softer and more delicate.

“I’m sure it will be.”

You will be worth it.

Just as Peter turned to leave, he cast one last look at the Play Dough model.

“Take a look at the note beside the general description before things start going, would you?”

Then he and his aunt vanished out of the room, to prepare for Peter’s introduction.

Curious now, Tony and Pepper turned back around to the pedestal and found what Peter had been talking about.

‘Of all my works, this one is my favourite, not only because of what it represents to me, personally, but also because of the person who inspired it. Unlike many of the other pieces, that are named after that which they represent, for this one, no other title than

Indomitable

could have ever come to mind. This is the only piece in the show case that will not be part of the auction. As this one already belongs to Anthony Edward Stark.’

“Pep.”

“Yes, Tony.”

“If I win every single auction bid, which I will, I would be entitled to a date with the artist, right?”

“You are probably still going to have to ask him the old fashioned way.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight. Without further ado, it’s my sincere pleasure to introduce you to the man whose art work has brought you all here.”

Tony smiled. “I can do that.”

“I proudly present to you, Peter Parker!”

_________________________________________________________

The End.

Thanks to everyone for reading and liking the story! I hope you all enjoyed it, even though the story ends before Tony and Peter’s relationship really begins.

Thanks to the original prompt giver as well, due to the research I did for this story, I was able to see quite a few amazing art works.

Tagging: @unicornpower5301 -->why isn’t this stupid tag working?