#god help me and my wallet when new banners drop

[m0nswoon]

i'm a sucker for gatcha

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, vyxynheartssterek!

For @vyxynheartssterek. I hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Forward Motion

Claudia rocked back on her heels and brushed her hair out of her face. “Well, I think that was the last box.”

Stiles admired their shelves, the glossy dark wood lined with dusty tomes that they’d finally hauled from home. They’d been in the attic, the basement, the kitchen and the living room for longer than Stiles had been alive, and seeing them on display, all together and organized neatly instead of piled haphazardly on a box of old baby clothes was surreal and a little thrilling. “It looks great.”

She gave him a sideways look. “We still have stock to put out, pal. Don’t get comfortable.”

He laughed, knocking their elbows together. “Yeah yeah. It still looks good. I told you it would.”

She snorted. “Save the “I told you so”s until after opening day. Why don’t you go get us some caffeine to power us through until lunch, then we’ll get your dad to help us with some of this?”

“He said he’d help this morning, too.” Stiles stepped over a crate of crystals, around two stacks of boxes, and through a maze of shelves they’d yet to fill. “Usual order?”

“Yes, please. Oh, can you move that shelf to the window on your way out? It’s where I want to put the potted herbs.”

“Sure. Be right back.” He maneuvered the herb shelf—still empty for the moment—over to the window, adjusting it until it was lined up with the window, before he stepped outside. It was chilly out, just on the edge of cold, with a breeze that smelled like wood smoke. He turned and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, balancing his sneakers on the curb so he could admire their sign.

It’d just arrived the day behavfore, and installation had only taken minutes. The Beacon’s Raven curled in the deep red Claudia and Stiles had chosen weeks ago. The window had a beautifully painted raven with its wings outspread on it, front and center, and off to the side, a neat list of their hours. A banner hung over the glass door: “Grand Opening: 2 Days!” It was satisfying to see people passing by, peering in the windows on tip toes to see deeper into the store, chatting about how soon they could go in and poke around.

Stiles headed for the coffee shop down the road. He’d finally talked his mom into opening a real, actual store after years of her (and, eventually, him once he’d gotten old enough to grind herbs and mix potions) operating out of their house. The supernatural community of Beacon Hills had known and trusted Claudia and her family for generations, trusted and knew their magic and quality of products. It only made sense to finally move from backdoor sales to a real shop, where people could browse and where they could store extra potions without accidentally mixing them in with the cooking spices.

Although Stiles still thought John was overreacting about accidentally putting a sleeping potion in the chili that one time.

The coffee shop on the corner, Mocha Latte Memories, was also relatively new—only two years old, which in Beacon Hills meant it’d be referred to as “the new place” for another thirteen years—but it was doing great. It also happened to be Claudia’s favorite, so she’d dragged Stiles there as soon as he’d come home from college; they’d both been going at least once a week ever since.

Stiles caught sight of his reflection in the big bay window of the café and paused. His hair was covered in dust bunnies and cobwebs. “Gee, thanks, Mom,” he grumbled, using the window as a mirror to bat the dust away. He spent a minute combing through his hair with his fingers so he looked less disheveled.

A shadow moved beyond the glass.

Stiles reared back. “Oh! Oh, gods.”

A man on the other side of the glass was grinning at him, apparently watching while he fixed his hair.

Heat rushed to his face. “Oh my god.” He turned on his heel.

Claudia laughed at him when he told her why they wouldn’t be having coffee and why they should promptly move to the next town over. She called John to ask him to bring lunch and coffee while still tearing up with laughter.

Stiles worked through his mortification by sweeping aggressively.

“You two,” John sighed when he arrived. He took a drink of his own coffee while they were digging into their lunch. “The place looks great already.”

Claudia smiled up at him, heels bouncing off the crate she’d perched on in lieu of a chair. “You should’ve seen Stiles with the books.”

“My organization skills are legend,” he muttered, biting into his sandwich.

John snorted. “I still can’t believe you’re putting them out like this.”

She shrugged. “Beacon Hills is our town. We’ve always shared the knowledge anyway, and this way, they can look for themselves.”

The family spellbooks weren’t for sale; they’d dragged them all out and to the shop with a different idea in mind: at the back of the shop, they’d created a little reading room filled with chairs, two-top tables, and jars of pens. Witches and starter spellcasters could come to research spells and potions from their collection if they wanted, copy down instructions, or just read a while, rather than asking Claudia for a copy of a spell they’d heard she had.

And as an extra bonus, whatever they needed for most of the spells, rituals, and potions could be purchased from the shop before they left, if they wanted.

Stiles couldn’t wait to get started.

John stayed to help until well into the evening, when he made them leave for the night. “Your boxes will still be here in the morning,” he sighed. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Claudia set out one last display container, waiting to be filled, and let her fingers trail over the shelf, smiling as John led her out.

Stiles hung back, watching them hold hands down the sidewalk. He and Claudia had come in the jeep this morning, but he figured she’d ride back with John. He brushed dust off his cheek and smiled to himself. He’d missed them while he was away at school, he’d missed Beacon Hills, and being back, opening the store…it felt right.

“Absolutely not.”

Claudia grinned, shaking a box of amethyst at him. “Stiles, don’t be a coward.”

“Mom, don’t be annoying.” He ducked when she swatted at his head. “Why don’t you go get the coffee, and I’ll finish putting the crystals out?”

“I have a plan in mind, I need to do it a certain way.” She arranged the amethyst in the display box she had on the shelf, then tilted her head, studying the effect. She bent to grab some jasper.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You just want me to embarrass myself again.”

“You did that all on your own.” She set down the jasper next to the amethyst, then wrinkled her nose. She faced him, putting her hands on her hips. Her white POISON shirt was smudged with dirt and old paint stains, hair braided back with flyaways sticking up around her face. “What are the odds of seeing that same guy again? And,” she continued before he could reply, “what are the odds that he’d even recognize you? The man saw you for a total of ten seconds, kid.”

He made a face at her. “What if he works there?”

She smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you’re getting the coffee next time.”

“Of course. Next time it’ll be my turn.” She shooed him and turned to the flat carts of planters, which were filling the shop with the heady scents of jasmine and lavender.

Stiles preferred to make potions with dried plants himself, but a lot of people were into growing their own lately. He didn’t stop outside this time—he didn’t want to give himself time to chicken out and go to Starbucks further up the road.

Mocha Latte Memories was right between the breakfast and lunch rushes when he got there; there were three girls at a table posing for a picture and an older man sipping from a mug and reading a book, but otherwise, the place was empty.

The walls were strung with photographs and every other table had an instant camera set up on a bolted tripod next to it. There were also disposable cameras set on the bookshelves, the counters, some tables, the window sills, and the console by the door, with a laminated sign on the wall explaining. The cameras confused Stiles until Claudia had dragged him and John to a table, set the timer on the instant camera, and took a photo of the three of them, waving it in his face.

Patrons were encouraged to take pictures with any of the cameras so they could be displayed on a rotation—they were also just allowed to take the instant photo home, if they wished. After a week on display, the pictures could be claimed by the person who took it or who was in it.

It was cute, Stiles thought. There was potential for creepy people to abuse it, but from what he’d seen, the staff kept a sharp eye on the cameras and who claimed which photos, and the owner was an old high school friend of Claudia’s and had gotten some witchy protections against that kind of thing. Photos taken of people without their consent would show up completely blank, as far as Stiles knew. There were other protections in place, but he hadn’t gotten any further details.

“Hey, Stilinski,” the barista, Cora, called out. “The usual for you and Miss Claudia?”

“Yes please.” He used his card to pay and found two fives in his wallet. Feeling cheerful—one day until opening and they were nearly done setting everything up—he dropped one into the tip jar, making Cora grin.

Behind him, the bells set above the door chimed as someone came in.

He set the five on the counter. “Put that toward their order?”

Her grin widened. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes, please.” He moved off to wait by the pick-up counter, looking at this week’s photos while he waited.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee.”

Stiles winced. He knew Cora was quick, so he’d kind of hoped his drinks would be done before the guy could notice him. He turned. His smile froze on his face.

The guy’s eyes lit up with mirth and recognition.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed. He looked down and wondered how hard his mom would laugh at him if he filled the place with smoke and fled.

“You do remember me. I’m Derek.”

“Stiles,” he managed, strangled. “I-I—we’re—there was dust,” he blurted. “There was dust and I was trying to get it out of my hair, okay, and I don’t think it was that big of a deal, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, still looking amused. “I didn’t say it was a big deal.”

“Right.” Stiles eased back, even more mortified. “I-I-”

“Stiles! Drinks are up,” Cora called.

“Bye,” he croaked. He snatched the drinks and left as fast as he could.

Claudia was waiting outside when he returned, a worried frown on her face. “I felt you panicking, what-”

He shook his head. “I bought,” he gasped, “the guy coffee.”

Her brows shot up. “Start at the beginning,” she said, so he did.

He was right: she laughed at him.

The Beacon’s Raven opened at nine sharp on Saturday morning, doors flung wide and a mixture of orange and lavender smoking gently, filling the place with Claudia and Stiles’s favorite scents. The shelves were full, neatly organized, and inviting, the floors gleaming clean, and there was a carafe of hot chocolate and individually wrapped cookies set up by the register. Claudia turned on lively violin music and Stiles kept himself busy straightening the shelves.

“Mrs. Stilinski,” a familiar voice called out. “It looks wonderful in here, doesn’t it, Mom?” Lydia and Natalie Martin came in, arm in arm, already holding two other shopping bags.

“It does! Good job, Claudia.” She grinned, crossing to give Claudia a quick squeeze. Like Lydia and Stiles, Natalie and Claudia had gone to school with each other. “I wanted one of those wind chimes you make for Lydia’s new house and we thought we could take a look at the tarot cards—I’ve never been much of a reader myself but we think Lydia’s a bit of a sensitive.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, but followed their mothers into an aisle anyway.

Two more people, witches Stiles recognized as regulars for dream talismans and ritual potions, came in, chatting about the store. Dotty, dream talisman buyer, spotted Stiles and shot over to commend him on the choice of orange and lavender— “Peace and energy in one, what a good idea for the first day,” she said, catching his arm.

Melissa and Scott showed up after that, then Heather and her boyfriend, and a group of local witches and some shoppers who were non-magical but interested in the local-made jewelry they were also selling.

Stiles kept busy ringing people up, helping a man pick out the right set of rune stones, and bagging things, keeping up a steady chatter about the store, so he shouldn’t have noticed one more person entering the shop. He should’ve heard the bell and called out a greeting and let Claudia handle it. Something made his head snap up. His eyes narrowed.

Coffee Shop Derek waved at him.

A tall, dark haired woman stood next to him, reading from the back of a crumpled receipt.

Stiles blinked back to his customer and smiled. “Thank you, have a great day.”

Mavis smirked at him. “Oh, you too, Mischief.”

He grimaced.

Mavis had been buying ritual herb bundles from Claudia since Stiles was three. She knew too much.

Claudia crossed to Derek and the woman and, to his surprise, hugged the woman. She gave Derek a sober handshake, smiling and saying something Stiles couldn’t hear.

He didn’t really recognize them aside from some vague familiarity, but Claudia clearly did. He glanced around, but everyone was busy looking—they were crowded, which wasn’t surprising. Beacon Hills was small enough that everyone and their grandmother had heard that little Dee Gajos, no, Stilinski now, and her son were opening a shop finally, and they all had to check it out, witches or not.

Stiles flicked his fingers.

“-Mom wanted some new talismans for the house, and Aunt Nettie wanted some cleansing potions for the party we’re having,” the woman was saying. “Mom also wanted us to congratulate you and let you know she’ll be out to see the shop as soon as she can.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet. I know she’s busy. Oh, one moment.” Claudia turned. “Stiles!” Her voice boomed, making him clap his hands to his ears.

Crap. He’d definitely been caught eavesdropping.

Her smile was far too wide. “Sweetie, why don’t you help the Hales find the things on their list while I run the register for a while?” Her voice was still too loud—raised so he could hear her across the store, if he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

He had two options, and only one of them would preserve what little dignity he had left at this point. He sighed and rounded the counter.

“Hey, I’m Laura.” She smiled when he approached. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Stiles.”

“Oh, really?” He narrowed his eyes at Derek, cheeks going red. Two mildly embarrassing run ins and the guy goes blabbing to his family.

“Yeah! You’ve met my mom Talia Hale a few times when she was picking up talismans from Claudia.”

Stiles’s gaze snapped up to Laura, then skimmed over her. “Oh, you’re werewolves. And Hales. I’ve met some of your pack.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s us.” She passed the list to Derek. “I actually wanted to talk to you about some blessed candles, Claudia, if that’s alright? I’m sure Stiles and Derek can handle the list.”

“Oh, sure. Here, we can go up to the register and talk.” Claudia smirked over her shoulder.

Stiles turned his back on her. “So.”

Derek lifted a brow. “You aren’t going to run away this time?”

“I’ve got nowhere to run,” he muttered, making Derek laugh. “Besides, I didn’t run. I just—I had things to do.” He cleared his throat. “Your mom buys talismans from my mom. I’ve helped make them before,” he added with a grin, deciding that he could push past his embarrassment. “She likes her bases covered, huh?”

Derek chuckled. “You have no idea. She’s going crazy over having the whole family at the house for our winter gathering. That’s why she wants to replace the talismans now.” He checked the list. “Four talismans, a house cleansing potion for Aunt Nettie,” he yawned widely, “new bells for the windows and,” another half-stifled yawn, “my uncle wants bloodroot.” He made a face.

“For what?”

He lifted that brow again.

Stiles flicked a hand at the shelves behind them. “I just mean if he’s making something for protection, we can make a bundle that’ll help more than just one plant.”

He shook his head. “No idea. He just came in and scribbled down bloodroot when we told everyone where we were going.”

“Ah.” Stiles shrugged. Not his problem. “Well, if they’re all concerned about the house, we can get some herbs to help with that, too.” He glanced at Claudia, but she and Laura were still talking. “The talismans take three days to make—they’re specific, so we don’t typically have them ready-made.”

“Oh.”

“Everything else is ready though.” He led Derek down the prepared potions aisle; already-made potions were popular with werewolves, shifters, and regular humans who couldn’t make potions themselves. He handed him the teal-colored cleansing potion. “There’s a tag with instructions on the cap, but I know Annette Hale buys this every few months.”

“She does.” Derek yawned again as they made their way to the herb aisle, stifling it in his elbow and shaking his head, like he was annoyed.

Stiles scooped bloodroot into a bag, avoiding eye contact. “Did you have a…long night?” he asked, and cursed himself for being so awkward.

Derek shook his head. “I just keep having these weird, vivid dreams, and when I wake up, I feel like I haven’t slept. And then I can’t make sense of the dreams.” He shrugged self-consciously.

“Have you tried-?” Stiles paused and frowned at him. “Sleep potions don’t work for werewolves.”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Stiles touched some vervain thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No. What about an herb bundle?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never tried any of this stuff,” he admitted. “I don’t usually have trouble sleeping, either.”

Stiles dropped his hand and wandered over to the bells. “Maybe you should put a bell on your bedroom window instead.” He examined the smallest bells they had on display and picked out a silver one with a raven carved into the side; some of the bells had symbols or animals carved in them for extra protection, and others had nothing, a blank slate, but Stiles thought Derek could use the raven for some clarity. He held it out with a smile. “If anything is causing bad dreams, the sound will ward it off, and it should help make the dreams clearer so you can figure out what’s going on.”

Derek held the tiny bell in his palm. “Thanks.”

Stiles nodded, then looked back at the others. They had sets and singles. “Did Talia say what colors she wanted?”

“Oh, uh, no. Just some basic, uh, bells for us to string above the windows this winter.”

“Hmm.” Stiles chose a brassy gold set and a few tiny yellow gold chimes, and added a coil of delicate, triple braided twine. “Your mom will know how to string them.” He helped Derek carry everything to the register. “We’ll get the talismans started today.”

Claudia smiled as they set everything on the counter. She was wrapping up a full set of candles for Laura already. “One of you can come back to get them on Tuesday,” she assured them. “Oh, bloodroot alone? But-”

“Uncle Peter only asked for bloodroot.” Laura shrugged. “Nettie tried to get him to explain but he wouldn’t.”

“Huh.” She shook her head. “Maybe he’s got something in mind.” She rang them up while Stiles carefully bagged the rest of their purchases.

“Maybe.” Laura poked at the silver bell.

Derek snatched it and put it in his pocket. “That’s mine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh-kay. Thanks again, Claudia. We’ll be back on Tuesday for the talismans.”

“No problem, thank you guys for coming in!”

Derek turned back so he could wave and smile at Stiles one more time as they were leaving.

By the time they closed at seven, Stiles was dead on his feet; the plan was for them to open again the next morning at the same time, and be closed on Mondays and Thursdays, but he wasn’t sure they’d make it to Monday at this point. They needed to hire some more people.

Claudia was sprawled in a chair in the reading room, beaming and as exhausted as Stiles. “That was…better than I had hoped for.”

Stiles flopped into a chair across from her. “I told you people would come.”

She shrugged. “It’s different, selling little mixtures and plants from my kitchen and selling it in a store.” She flung her hands out over the arms of the chair. “I expected…well, you know how people here can be.”

“Assholes.”

“Fickle,” she shot back. “Supportive one second, and then the next saying I’m thinking too highly of my skills.”

He snorted. “I would love to see anyone from Beacon Hills claim that. They know you, Mom.”

She smiled. “They can be assholes, a little bit,” she admitted, and he laughed. “I was thinking of hiring some part timers, to cover us when we need breaks and a day off. Thoughts?”

“Yes, please.” He dropped his head over the back of the chair. “If we have more people here, we can close a little later, stay open most days without working everyone twenty-four seven, and be able to help more people. Also, we have to get the Hale talismans going.”

“Right.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the chair. “What did Derek Hale need one bell for?”

Stiles lifted his head. “Hmm?”

She shot him a look. “Don’t play dumb. One silver bell.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Well, he kept yawning while we were finding the stuff his pack asked for, so I asked him if he was having trouble sleeping. He said he was having vivid dreams that were keeping him from resting, so I thought a bell would help, you know, in case it was something coming in.”

She frowned. “But they’re not nightmares?”

“Apparently not. Just vivid dreams.”

“That’s odd.”

“Maybe the bell will help.”

She nodded. “Okay! Let’s go straighten up, count the till, and get started on the talismans for the Hales.”

Because they’d known they would be brewing potions on-site, they’d picked this building in part because it had a kitchen already, so they wouldn’t have to have one built.

“We really need more people working here.” Stiles rocked to his feet.

“I’m working on it. Natalie Martin was interested already, but I’d like a few more witches on staff, too.”

“Dad can help out.”

She smiled as they headed for the kitchen. “He’s bored now that he’s retired.”

“He needs a hobby.”

“Please.” She handed him a broom. “Sprinkle some orange and violet ashes for luck first.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

It wasn’t quite as busy the next day, although they were making an almost equal amount of sales—fewer browsers, Stiles guessed. Around noon, Claudia left him alone to get some coffee and lunch, which was when Derek wandered in. Stiles straightened from the counter and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he replied uneasily. “Um, your talismans are still soaking in the first potion.”

Derek looked blank. “Oh, no, that’s not why I’m here, but thanks. I actually—the bell didn’t help,” he blurted.

Stiles frowned.

The woman over in the reading room sneezed, making Derek jump.

“Alright…let’s try an herb bundle.” Stiles rounded the counter. “Something to promote deep sleep, good dreams, some peace….that could help.”

Derek followed him. “I’m willing to try, I’m exhausted and the dreams don’t even make sense.”

“Hmm.” Stiles picked up a mesh sachet and skimmed through the dry herbs, letting his magic pick for him. He sprinkled in lavender, which was an obvious first, a tiny bit of valerian followed by peppermint mostly to disguise the foul scent of the ashes, chamomile, a tiny bit of eryngo, and some gardenia to tie it together, then sealed the bag. “Okay, there’s enough in here for you to sprinkle a tiny bit around your room, and keep the rest in this bag under your pillow while you sleep.” He put the sachet in Derek’s hand.

“You didn’t look at a recipe,” he pointed out.

Stiles frowned, plucking at the hem of his shirt. “Well, I don’t need one for that. I was just…feeling out what seemed right for you.”

“Do you do that for all of your customers?” he asked, smirking. His hair was damp from the chilly rain turning everything gray outside, curling over his forehead.

Stiles focused on a drop forming just above his eye. “No, not really. But none of them have asked,” he added defensively. He crossed his arms. “I was trying-”

“Excuse me. How much is this journal, young man?”

Stiles held his finger up at Derek and went to help the guy in a patchy tweed jacket with the journals. To his surprise, Derek was still waiting when the guy had paid and left. “Yes?”

He lifted the sachet. “I haven’t paid.”

Stiles blinked. “Oh, I—I was giving that to you.” They stood, blinking at each other for a prolonged moment.

Slowly, Derek’s cheeks reddened. His eyes went wide. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Thank—you?”

“No problem.” He smiled. “Did you ever figure out what your uncle wanted the bloodroot for?”

He shook his head. “He just took it and left, didn’t even thank us. He’s been annoyed all day, too, which for Peter means he’s been insufferable.” He turned the sachet over in his hand, then lifted it closer to his face to sniff.

Stiles glanced around the store, but the only person there was the witch in the reading room still. “We have some cookies left from yesterday, want some?”

“Sure.”

Stiles went to get them from the kitchen and poked at the talismans that were gently simmering in a warding potion. The first of three; the next would be applied later that evening. He scooped up the cookies.

Claudia had returned when he got out to the front, asking Derek how his parents were. “The cookies are still good,” she added with a quick smile in Stiles’s direction. “Why don’t you two eat in the kitchen while I watch the store? I can eat after you’re done.” She smiled again. “I got an extra sandwich.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

She winked at him and looked at Derek again. “You have time, don’t you, Derek?”

“I…uh, sure.”

“Great!” She thrust the sandwiches at Stiles. “Derek, I hope you like roast beef on rye with mozzarella and onions?”

Derek looked between her and Stiles. “Yes…that’s…my favorite.”

“How lucky,” she chirped.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, “lucky.” He glanced at Derek, who looked surprised but not suspicious.

He clearly hadn’t spent enough time around witches.

Stiles took the sandwiches to the kitchen anyway. “You don’t have to stay,” he told Derek. “She’s just…” He didn’t know what she was doing. Teasing him for his two embarrassing encounters with Derek? Being overly friendly? Trying to help Stiles make friends like a shy five year old?

“It’s okay. I was just going to get lunch when I left anyway.” Derek looked around the kitchen, the glass front cabinets and the crockpot simmering on the counter. “I guess customers aren’t really meant to be back here.”

Stiles shrugged and set the sandwiches on the table. He grabbed some napkins, gesturing at the seat closest to Derek. “It’s only our second day open, we don’t have rules yet.”

Derek tucked the sachet into his pocket before he sat and unwrapped his sandwich. “You guys have been selling potions and talismans and stuff for a while though, right?”

“Yep.” Stiles licked mustard off his thumb. “Mom’s been doing it her whole life—before she and my dad got married, she and her parents sold supplies and stuff from their kitchen.” He rotated his wrist. “Beacon Hills is getting bigger and it was getting harder to run all this from our kitchen without overrunning the whole house with it.” Stiles took a minute to eat a few bites, watching with his head lowered as Derek did the same. “Your mom and your brother Sean, your dad Leo and your cousin, I think, Connie, I’ve met them all in passing. Annette, too. Amulets, talismans, potions, herbs, crystals—Connie bought a crystal when she was doing her midterms, more for a worry stone than anything, I think.”

“She still has it,” Derek said with a smile. “She wears it on a chain.”

Stiles smiled, too. “See, I’ve met several of your family members—your pack mates. But you’ve never come for anything.”

Derek shrugged. “Everyone else always had plenty and I never really needed anything.”

“Until now.” Stiles nodded at him, indicating the sachet in his pocket.

Derek flashed a grin. “Until now.”

After Derek left, thanking them for lunch and smiling at Stiles an extra time before he left, Claudia whirled on Stiles, beaming.

“What are you up to?”

“Absolutely nothing, how dare you accuse me of being up to something.” She wiped the counter with a damp rag, a smile playing on her lips.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was accusing her of quite yet, so he fell quiet. He’d bide his time and get her back later. Three giggling high schoolers came in to ask about love potions and, having already been subjected to the Love Potion Lecture at age seven, and then twelve, Stiles made himself busy straightening the shelves and checking the plants for dry soil.

Claudia went into the back to eat after the girls left, so Stiles was left to deal with Mrs. Howard’s very particular taste in rose quartz for her daughter’s birthday. It wasn’t so bad, not nearly as bad as the PTA parents wanting “luck” potions for a bake sale.

John wandered in when things died down, while Stiles was drawing mindlessly on a legal pad. He leaned over. “Anything good?”

Stiles studied the shape. “Not sure yet.” He added another line. “I think it might need…copper. Amethyst.” He tilted the pad. “Some spirit quartz for an added layer, maybe, to clear things up.” He rubbed his finger over the top curve thoughtfully.

“Who’s it for?”

“Dunno. It just keeps coming to me.” He finally looked up and grinned. “What’re you all dressed up for? I thought you were strictly into jeans these days.”

John ran a hand down the neat button down shirt that he’d paired with a completely wrinkle-free pair of khakis. “I’m here for a job interview,” he said grimly. “Think I got a chance with the boss?”

Stiles grinned. “I dunno, she’s pretty strict.”

Claudia came out of the back wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes widened. “Well, now, Sheriff, don’t you look handsome.”

Stiles, still grinning, shook his head and hopped off the stool behind the counter to hunt up some of the materials he needed for the amulet he was going to make. Chips of amethyst and flint were his first ingredients, and the rest, he figured, would come to him as needed. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just copper wrapped around three very small stones in the shape he couldn’t get out of his head.

He rang himself up after he’d gathered a few more things, then put his supplies aside—his tools and the other things he needed were at home.

“What’re you making?” Claudia asked after watching him tuck his bagged purchases away.

“An amulet, I think.”

“Hmm.”

John was across the shop enthusiastically helping a witch select a chain for her new pendulum.

She looked amused despite the fact that John clearly had no idea what to direct her toward.

“He always was better with herbs,” Claudia mused. “I can’t believe he hasn’t picked up more from us after all these years.”

“Maybe he should just run the register.”

“He’s got it.”

Stiles shrugged and went back to his rough sketch, tracing the spirals with his finger.

He spent the evening coiling copper wire at the kitchen table, carefully wrapping it around the smallest piece of pearl dolomite he’d been able to find, then spirit quartz, and finally a tiny piece of flint. The amethyst chips went along the wire, and after that he sprinkled gardenia and lavender ash on it to sit for the night. He studied it; it wasn’t his best work, but not his worst, either. The amulet would need to be charged with his magic to bind it together, and he’d need a chain for it before it could be worn. The amulet itself was small, about the size of a silver dollar.

He left it overnight and took it to the shop the next morning. Stiles and John were handling the front while Claudia retreated, with a miserable growl, to do the accounting.

Her day job, after all, used to be the head of an accounting firm, and she had the most experience. Besides that, she wasn’t ready to hire someone else to take care of it.

“I’m still not sure, this one over here is really beautiful.” The customer indicated a hand painted tarot deck made by a local witch Claudia had grown up with.

“If you’re just starting, a basic deck is the best way to learn how to read the cards.” He smiled. “You can get fancy later, I promise.”

“Well…I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. “My mom said the same thing, and I definitely knew that was the right way to do it, but the hand painted deck is so…” She picked up the deck Stiles had pointed out to her. “Do you guys carry altar cloths? I would like to get a new one.”

Stiles grinned. “We do, actually. Dominic Birch embroidered them, his work is unbelievable.”

After she’d paid and left—with two new journals, an altar cloth, and her tarot deck—John helped a guy pick out a potted aloe plant and Stiles sold three necklaces and a ring.

The bells chimed as he was restocking with more jewelry. “Hi,” he called out, turning.

Derek waved awkwardly and held up a piece of paper. “Peter wants some more stuff.”

“Ah. Did he say what it was for this time?”

“Nope. He’s just as irritated today, too.” He passed the list to Stiles, thumb brushing the back of his hand. He was wearing a blue sweater in concession to the chill hanging in the air, and the fact that the sleeves were just a little too long for him was too much for Stiles. “Oh, hey, I think those herbs you gave me worked, last night I barely had any dreams at all.”

Stiles smiled at him. “That’s great.” He flipped the list over. Buchu, rose, dandelion—dried and ground. Huh. “Did he say how much of this stuff he wants?”

Derek shook his head. “But he did send his debit card, so feel free to ring up as much as you’d like.”

Stiles snickered. “I’d love to, but I think we should try to keep our reputation good, you know, since we’re so new and all.”

Derek snorted. “If he noticed, I doubt he’d say anything anyway. There’s so much going on at home, though, I don’t think he would notice.”

Stiles bagged the herbs as they talked. “What’s going on?”

“Just the usual holiday madness. For our winter celebration, our extended pack—that’s everyone who’s moved away and joined or formed other packs—comes to visit. All three houses are overrun for days.”

Stiles laughed as he tipped a scoop of dried dandelion into a bag. “That sounds awesome.”

“I guess it is, sometimes. That’s why everyone is freaking out, though. It takes a lot to prepare for all those werewolves.” He rubbed the back of his head, sighing. “I’m gonna have to share my room with a couple of my cousins.”

“Aw, didn’t you miss your cousins?”

“No.” He scowled, then sighed. “Yeah, a little bit. There’s just a lot of them—we all end up completely sleep deprived by the end.” He took the bags Stiles held out. “But it is fun. You guys should stop by. The festivities start on the twentieth.”

“You make it sound like a carnival,” Stiles laughed as he walked him to the counter.

“More like a circus,” he muttered. “But I swear it’s fun, and there’s enough food to feed at least three armies.”

“Won’t your family mind if we crash a family gathering?”

“No, I’m pretty sure my mom invites Claudia every year, only she always had plans.”

“Yeah, we usually do year end rituals and stuff, but I can probably, uh, stop by. If you wanted.” He studiously avoided the way John was looking at him while he rang up Derek’s purchases.

Derek beamed at him. “That’d be great.”

Stiles smiled. In his pocket, the amulet grew warm, then hot. His hand jumped to it, closing around the wire, and his eyes widened. “Should—should I bring…anything?”

“Just yourself. Maybe some earplugs. Aunt Nettie’s sister-in-law just had triplets.” Derek grinned at John. “Sheriff, you and Mrs. Stilinski are more than welcome, too. My mom will probably be calling sometime tomorrow or the next day to invite you herself.”

John smiled. “Maybe we’ll stop by this year.” His gaze inched over to Stiles and his smile stretched into a grin. “Just to make sure Stiles stays out of trouble.”

“Very funny,” Stiles muttered. “I’m an angel.”

“Lying is a sin, angel.”

Stiles, unable to flip him off, stuck his tongue out, and got a pitying look in response. He remembered Derek a second later and flushed, whipping around so his back was to John. “Uh, uh—let me know how—if the weird dreams come back,” he stammered. “We can try something else.” He cast around for something else to say as they inched away from the counter and noticed Derek’s bag. “Your uncle isn’t…trying to see the future, is he?”

“No idea.” Derek peered into the bag. “Why, is that what this stuff is for?”

Stiles tilted his hand side to side. “They can be used for a few different things, but yeah, divination and visions are some of the more popular things.” He shook his head. “Not that it matters, it’s not a big deal. Plenty of people use herbs for prophetic visions,” he assured him. “Us, we prefer crystals if we’re trying to see something.”

“Do you look into the future often?”

Stiles shook his head and met Derek’s gaze. “I prefer to be surprised. The future can change, so what’s the point in worrying about one vision you saw once, by chance, that might not even happen?”

Derek’s lips quirked. “Speaking from experience?”

He glanced back at his dad automatically; Claudia had joined him at the counter, their heads tipped together as they spoke. “Yeah, I peeked and I didn’t…” He shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter, it’s already changed.” He smiled at Derek.

“What kind of magic do you use, if you don’t try to see the future?”

He lifted his shoulders. “All kinds, I guess.”

“What are you good at?”

He laughed. “You want me to brag about my skills?” He waggled his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Stiles laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I’m pretty good with water-based magic, and my telekinetic prowess is, if I do say so myself, pretty awesome.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration sometime.”

Stiles nodded and lifted his hand, palm up. Water formed on his fingers and slid down, gathering into a ball. He flexed his fingers. It froze solid.

“Okay, that was impressive.”

“A Stilinski, flirting by showing off, why am I not surprised.” Mavis’s voice made Stiles jump, the ice ball flying out of his grasp. “How utterly predictable.”

Derek snatched the ball before it could hit the ground and shatter.

“Mischief, you are just like your mother, I swear. You can do better than that to impress the man. Claudia,” she called in her croaking voice, “did you see what Mischief was doing?” She shuffled away from them.

Stiles covered his eyes. “Good gods.”

Derek mouthed, “Mischief?” but dropped it when Stiles shook his head. “Well, I thought it was impressive.” He held out the ice.

Stiles closed his hands over it. “There’s no reason to do big spells indoors, Mavis.”

“Balls of ice aren’t impressive, Mischief.”

He rolled his eyes at Derek. “I’ll see you later, I have to go chase an old lady with a broom.”

He laughed. “Good luck.”

Stiles finished the amulet on his break, holding his hand over it and binding the ingredients together, all the pieces, the copper, the flint, the quartz, the dolomite and amethyst, with his magic. He found a black chain he thought went well with the copper triskelion and attached it, then stared at the completed piece. It’d come to him for a reason, amulets usually did, but he just couldn’t figure out who it was meant for.

Claudia put the Hales talismans in the last potion while he was still staring at it. “Looks good. What made you use a triskelion?”

“I’m not sure, it just…came to me.” He shrugged. While Claudia had always had an instinct for talismans, Stiles had the same instinct for amulets, the shapes and materials often coming to him and hovering in his mind, behind his eyes, like he’d stared at a light too long. She’d found him making them enough throughout his life to know he hadn’t made it for himself.

“Have you figured out who it’s for?”

Her tone made him look up, eyes narrowed. “No…why?”

She poked at the talismans, then covered them again. “Well, the triskelion is the Hale pack’s symbol. They use it to identify their pack.”

Stiles looked at the amulet. “Huh.”

“Maybe you made it for Derek,” she teased.

“Mother, are you implying something?”

“Just that he keeps coming here…daily…and that he invited you to his family gathering.” She shrugged. She had an ivy leaf caught in her hair from that morning.

“He’s just being friendly.”

She snorted. “Laura, maybe, Nettie absolutely, but from what I’ve noticed, friendly is an optional trait in the Hales and they don’t bother unless they think you’re worth it.” She held her hands up. “Could be he just likes you as a friend, that’s true.” Her eyes gleamed. “But I say you take that amulet over on the twentieth and see if he says no when you ask him out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“If he turns you down, I will admit I was wrong, somehow.”

“Not good enough.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “If I’m wrong, what would you like?”

“Grandpa’s book of charms.”

“Oh, Stiles.” She shook her head. “They’re messy.”

“Blood?”

She held her fingers a half inch apart. “But it’s more in the mud and clay and wet ashes way. Trust me. Messy.”

“I want them.”

She put her hands up. “Fine, since I’m sure I’m right, if Derek shoots you down, I will dig out your grandfather’s book of charms. Only if I’m wrong. If he accepts, you do Laura Hale’s interview. She wants to work here,” she added with a smile.

“That’s absolutely not on the same level.”

“Those are my conditions.”

“Ugh, fine. Are you and Dad going?”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her black and pink dress, smiling serenely at him. “We have to be there, dear, it’s only polite.” She turned on her heel, ponytail swishing as she left.

“You’ve got ivy in your hair!” he shouted after her. He looked down at the amulet. “Damn it.” He needed to find a box for it now.

The twentieth arrived before Stiles was fully prepared. They’d been busy with people coming for ritual kits, herbs, potions, and gifts, enough that they could consider their first two weeks of being open a resounding success. Stiles found a decorative cherry wood box with a small raven carved into the side to put the amulet in, on a bed of gardenia and lavender, and dressed casually for the party.

Cora at Mocha Latte Memories turned out to be another Hale that Stiles hadn’t met and had told him to just show up whenever. “The dress code?” she’d repeated blankly when he’d asked. “Uh…casual. We’re a mess, don’t worry about it. Some of the littler kids probably won’t even be dressed.” She’d shrugged. “Shifters, you know.”

So Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect as he headed to the Hale property. It used to be just one house, but they’d added two more to accommodate their growing pack. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a while—not since he was a teenager, wandering the preserve at night with Scott and Heather, being stupid—so the sight of about twenty extra cars and a camper clogging the long driveway and part of the yard, plus about six people on the wrap around porch just chatting, was something of a surprise.

Stiles parked behind a blue SUV and turned the jeep off deliberately slow. He stared at the little box on his passenger seat and sighed.

John and Claudia had come over earlier, just after noon, but Stiles had managed to procrastinate so long that he now had to arrive alone. Maybe he could just sit here until he spotted Derek and act like he’d just arrived.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Coming in at any point, son?’

Stiles scowled. He figured blocking her wouldn’t work, so he just shoved it back in his pocket, swiped the box, and got out. He had to weave through several cars to get to the yard, where he could see a flattened path from everyone walking the same route.

Behind him, someone shouted, “Quit it!”

He turned.

Fifteen feet away, Derek got tackled by a tall, skinny werewolf with short dark hair.

Stiles tensed, but it wasn’t until another werewolf, shorter, partially shifted and snarling through long fangs, joined in that he started running. “Hey!”

Derek snarled and rolled, but the shifted werewolf bit his ear, making him yelp, while the other sat on his legs to pin him down.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted again. He stopped before any of those flailing claws or fangs could hit him and studied the ball of werewolves.

Someone up on the porch noticed them and snickered.

Stiles flinched when blood spattered the grass, a yelp coming from the bottom of the pile. He rolled his eyes and put his free hand out, then swept it aside.

The taller werewolf tumbled aside, landing on his butt a couple feet away.

Stiles caught the other one and flicked him away, too, leaving Derek disheveled and a little bloody. Stiles turned to the two that’d tackled him and shook his head. “Two on one is shameful,” he scolded. He could see now that they were teenagers; their partial shifts had made them look older, but as the fangs and tufted ears melted away, they looked young.

The taller one looked petulant while the other simply looked mortified.

“He drank our hot chocolate!” the tall one snapped.

“Uh—what?”

Derek sat up. “You can’t prove that.” Blood trailed down his cheek, but the cut had, thankfully, already healed.

“It’s always you,” the embarrassed one piped up. “Uncle Peter says you keep stealing his coffee, too.”

Derek’s ears went red. “He’s exaggerating.” He looked up at Stiles sheepishly. “I always refill the cups after. I’m just useless in the morning.”

“You’re always useless.”

“Markus,” a man on the porch snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” He looked at Stiles. “How’d you do that?”

“He’s a witch, dummy.”

“Todd,” the man scolded.

Todd held his hands up. “But he is.” He squinted at Stiles. “Right?”

“Right.”

Todd smirked at Marcus.

Stiles held his hand out to help Derek up. “Brawling with teenagers?”

“They hit me first.” He smiled. “I thought you’d decided not to come when your parents showed up without you.”

Stiles shook his head. “Just running behind.”

Derek nodded, fighting a huge yawn that nearly wrenched his jaw apart.

He lifted his brows. “Dreams again?”

He nodded. “They came back a couple days ago.” He looked toward the house, ears going red. “You were in them this time, even though they still don’t make sense.”

Todd rolled his eyes and pulled Markus to his feet. “Stop stealing everyone’s drinks!”

“I thought it was Peter’s coffee,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to steal your hot chocolate.”

Markus rolled his eyes. “Make your own coffee, jeeze, Uncle Peter’s right. You are nose blind.”

“I am not!”

Stiles prodded Derek’s shoulder. “Excuse me, did you just say you’ve been drinking your uncle’s coffee?”

Todd nodded, aggrieved. “Derek steals everyone’s drinks, every year.”

He looked guilty. “Only when it’s really early, and I always refill the mug, brats.” That last bit was directed at his cousins, who were clearly unconvinced.

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“You can sleep in Cora’s room tonight,” Derek hissed.

Stiles shared an exasperated look with Todd, though he was sure Todd was more bothered by the hot chocolate theft than he was. He had a bigger problem. “Derek.”

“Yeah.”

He tried to think of a nice way to phrase it, but… “Are you, possibly, nose blind?”

Todd and Markus cackled.

Derek looked insulted. “No!”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uncle Peter is the uncle who’s been sending you to get potion ingredients from my shop, right?”

“Yea—ah, fuck.”

Markus’s mouth opened in a wide, wide grin. “I’m telling Aunt Talia.”

Todd’s hand shot out, catching his shirt. “Derek can buy our silence.”

Markus’s eyes went even brighter, delighted.

He glared at them. “What do you want?”

“Take us to the potion place.”

“Excuse me?”

“We never get to go to witch stores, we want to buy magic potions.” The boys looked excited by the mere idea, breathless at the power that was just in their reach.

Stiles leaned around Derek. “If you go find Miss Claudia in the house, she’ll tell you all about magic potions. That way when Derek takes you, you know which one to pick.”

They looked at each other, smirking, then ran for the house.

He straightened up. “That lecture should keep them busy for at least twenty minutes.” He swung back around to Derek. “You’ve been drinking coffee laced with potions.”

“Apparently.”

“Potions for prophetic dreams.”

“Yep.”

“Then refilling the cup before anyone noticed the coffee was gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means your uncle has been drinking regular coffee thinking it was laced with potions, and probably getting annoyed that it’s not working—stop laughing!” But Stiles was laughing, too. “This is serious, you could’ve poisoned yourself.”

He shook his head as he wheezed. “Peter’s been so pissed lately, and it turns out it’s because his experiments aren’t working—because I’ve been drinking them.” He shook his head, overcome.

“Didn’t he—no, you said he didn’t tell you guys what it was for.” Stiles rolled his eyes. The cold was starting to seep under his jacket finally, chilling him.

“No, he didn’t. Serves him right for not telling us what he was making us run errands for.”

Stiles lifted a brow at him.

“Hey, I got my payback by losing sleep.”

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to compare.” Stiles looked at the box in his hand and sighed. “When was the last time you drank his coffee?”

“Yesterday morning,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. They were barely an arms’ length apart, over the muddy disturbed grass where he’d been wrestling with his cousins. He scratched drying blood off his temple.

“You’ve probably got another couple nights before the dreams wear off.”

He nodded. “Hey, I’m—I’m glad you came over.” He smiled shyly.

Stiles smiled back. “Me too. Now I know why none of my usual tricks worked for your weird dreams.” He tapped his finger on the box. “You don’t remember any of them?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” He shrugged.

Too bad. He shook it off and held the box out. “I brought this for you.”

“Thank you.” He took it carefully, tilting it so he could see the carving on the side. He traced it gently with one fingertip. “You guys are fond of ravens, I guess.”

“They’re a thing with my mom’s family. And they’re good friends.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to wait ’til sundown to open it, you know.”

Derek made a show of examining every inch of the box before he pried it open. His lashes fluttered. “You made this.” Not a question, no surprise. A fact.

“How’d you guess?”

He lifted his gaze. “I can feel it. You weren’t kidding about your magic being powerful. Can I wear it now?”

“Of course, I made it for you to wear.” Stiles had to look away, his neck prickling. He normally didn’t make a big deal of his amulets and the receivers of them typically followed his lead. He didn’t know what to do with such gravity. When he looked up, Derek was wearing the amulet around his neck, the triskelion resting just beneath his collar bones.

“How’s it look?”

Stiles nodded. “Pretty good,” he squeaked. He looked over his shoulder, but everyone who’d been on the porch was gone. He took a deep breath. “Well, now that I’ve given you fancy jewelry…”

“A protective amulet,” Derek corrected, cupping his hand over it as if he was shielding it.

“Right. I was—I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date. Maybe get coffee from somewhere your sister doesn’t work.” He caught his breath and reminded himself that either way this went, he would get something he wanted.

He just, maybe, wanted to date Derek more than he wanted that book of charms.

Derek smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.” He lifted his gaze and winced. “But, uh, first we have to survive this.” He pointed.

Claudia and Talia were watching from the door, both grinning, while noses pressed against nearly every window around them.

“We could make a run for it,” Stiles said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think I can hold the door closed from here and we can make it to the jeep.”

“You can’t run from every problem.”

“I am fast enough to out run most of them,” he pointed out.

Derek caught his hand, twined their fingers together, and tugged him up toward the house. “There’s not that many of them in this house—most of them are out in the backyard.”

“Your mom is in there,” he whined.

Claudia winked.

“My mom is in there,” he added under his breath.

They laughed together and moved out of the doorway, linking arms and heading toward the kitchen, by the looks of it.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand. “Because you didn’t shoot me down, I have to give your sister a job interview.”

“If you can survive this, interviewing Laura will be nothing.” Derek kissed the back of his hand, making him flush all over, before he went into the house.

“Derek!” a man growled, followed by a yelp and a thud.

Stiles shook his head and went inside to save him from Peter’s wrath.

[khoicesbyk]

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 3,680 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

Song And Story Inspiration: In The Still Of The Nite-Boyz II Men | Give Me One Reason-Tracy Chapman | Nobody’s Supposed To Be Here-Deborah Cox

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @choiceslady @queenjilian @bebepac @txemrn @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @hopefulmoonobject @lucy-268 @pixie88 @otherworldlypresents  @choicesficwriterscreations

TW: kidnapping. Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 5.) In The Still Of The Night.

In the still of the night.

I held you.

Held you tight.

'Cause I love.

Love you so.

Promise I'll never.

Let you go.

In the still of the night.

As she slept peacefully in her new bed, Naia dreamed that she was running through the forest. She felt strong. She felt invincible. She could feel the wind on her face as she ran. It was exhilarating. She felt free. When she came out of the woods, she was a wolf. And when she looked up, she saw him. It was the wolf she had seen in her dreams before. It was him. When he howled she did the same.

That’s when she woke up. She sat up in bed, panting with her heart thundering in her chest. She looked around her room in order to get her bearings. That’s when something compelled her to look out her bedroom window. And when she looked out the window she saw a wolf staring up at her. When she shook her head, the wolf was gone. The image of the wolf was still in her head when she went back to sleep.

After waking up later that morning and taking a good hot shower, Naia couldn’t get Roman out of her head. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped her again. He was seductive and mysterious and she wanted more. She could still feel his warm breath on her neck and the closeness of his body to hers. She thought it was insane but never actually questioned why she thought that way.

When she went to the kitchen for breakfast, she noticed a note on the counter. It was from her uncle.

“Good morning. Gone fishing. Be back later. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. Uncle Z.”

When she opened the fridge, she grimaced because there wasn’t much in there to begin with. When her stomach rumbled she knew she had to change that.

“Okay well since a home cooked breakfast is out of the question. I think I’ll try the breakfast place I saw when I drove into town. Also I’ll do some grocery shopping while I’m at it. Because this right here ain’t hitting on nothing.” She thought to herself.

With keys and wallet in hand Naia set off for town. After shopping at Banner’s Family Market, she was just about starved and stopped by Tucker’s diner.

After getting a table she sat down and looked over the menu. As she looked over the menu, someone was watching her. Or so it looked that way.

I remember.

That night in May.

The stars were bright above.

I'll hope and I'll pray.

To keep.

Your precious love.

At another table, Trent was eating breakfast with a few members of his team when Naia walked in. He felt a pull towards where she was sitting.

“Yo T! What is it?” Jenkins, one of his team members asked.

“I don’t know. Something weird just happened. Like she just walked in.” He replies shaking his head.

“Man! Please tell me that you’re not talking about that so-called dream girl again!” Sergei said to him.

“If you must know, yes I am.”

His crew collectively groaned.

“Dude it’s been almost a whole 2 months! Let it go already!” Hugo told him.

“As I’ve told you idiots before: I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t? Which one is it T?” Jenkins asked him.

Trent never answered. He just sipped his coffee. Even though he’s blind he could feel her presence. After going over the menu for a solid 20 minutes, Naia decided on the Lobster Eggs Benedict and a sweet tea. Just as she was about to put her order in, Layla walked in.

“Layla! Over here!” She called out to her new friend.

Trent nearly dropped his cup of coffee. Hearing her voice in real time both scared and excited him.

“You almost dropped your cup. You okay man?” Jenkins asked him.

“Huh? Yeah! I’m…I’m good.” Trent replied, while trying to hide the crack in his voice. With his hearing being better than most, he tuned into her conversation

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Layla asked Naia as she sat down across from her.

“Since my uncle has gone fishing, I decided to do some grocery shopping and I was starving so here I am. What are you and the little one up to?” Naia replies.

“The same thing as you. Have you ordered yet?” Layla asks.

“Just about to. What about you?” Naia replies.

“Oh girl! They already know what I want. A pitcher each of cranberry juice and ice water, their triple berry cheesecake parfait, double blueberry pancakes and a ham, spinach and swiss omelette.” Layla replied.

Naia’s eyes went wide.

“You’re actually gonna eat all of that?!” She asked.

“I mean…I am eating for two, ya know?” Layla replied, rubbing her belly. The two shared a laugh as they continued their conversation.

Trent turned his attention back to his team just as the twins came strolling in. His boss Bernard Sayre is a blowhard who only cares about 3 things. Making money, being powerfully unstoppable and his twins Dylan and Tyler. The twin terrors as they’re known around town, just love getting their way no matter what they do or say. And although it annoyed Trent, he was powerless to stop them.

“Heyyyyy boys!” Dylan called out to Trent and his team. Her voice sounded like banshee screech.

“And here comes daddy’s two brats…” Jenkins groaned as the twins approached.

“So what are you guys up to?” Tyler asked.

“We’re eating. Why?” Trent asks.

“Because we were hoping that you’d join us at Buck’s for the Friday night sing a long and pool.” Tyler replies.

“You’d have to ask Layla if we’re allowed back in. Especially after what happened the last time.”

The twins groaned.

“Well she’s sitting at a table with some girl. So I guess it’s worth a shot.” Dylan said with a sigh.

Naia watched in amusement and shock, as she watched Layla polish off everything she ordered with ease.

“I can not believe that you ate EVERYTHING!”

“Told you!” Layla replied as she swiped her finger on the inside of her parfait cup.

“Uhhhhh Layla…”

“Huh?” She asked.

“It’s all gone! Put the cup down!” Naia replies.

The two laughed as the twins approached.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii Layla!” They say in unison causing Layla to groan.

“Ohhh and hi Layla’s friend!”

“What do you two want?” She asked the twins.

“Weeeeeellllllllllll…we were hoping you’d let us have Friday sing a long and pool.” Tyler said in a cloyingly sweet voice.

“After the shit you pulled the last time? NO!” Layla hissed at them.

“Come on Layla! Our dad paid for the damage!” Tyler whined.

“Yeah he did…after I threatened to sue his sorry ass!”

“Please!” The twins begged.

Layla rolled her eyes then replied, “fine! You can come tonight.”

“Thank you!” The twins squealed.

“Whatever. Go away!”

“You don’t have to be rude!” Dylan said.

“Which would you rather: me be rude or me ban you two from ever stepping foot into MY bar?” She asked them.

The twins stood stuck.

“I thought so. Now again: go away!”

The twins turned on their heels and stomped away. When they were far enough away for her pleasure, Layla turned her attention back to Naia.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who are they?” Naia asks.

“Tyler and Dylan Sayre. Their dad Bernard owns Sayre Energy and Power. They’re a public nuisance.” Layla replies.

“They look harmless to me.”

“That’s because you haven’t been around them when they’re drunk.”

“Touché.”

“I guess since they’re having Friday sing a long and pool, you should come too.”

“Me?” Naia asks.

“Yes you! It’ll be fun as long as those two aren’t drinking.” Layla replies.

“I don’t know about all of that.”

“Also there’s normally a $1,000.00 cash prize for first place.”

“Why didn't you lead with that?!” Naia asks.

“Because Dylan normally wins because no one wants to challenge her.” Layla replies.

“Well as someone who’s still paying off student loans: Count me in!”

So before the light.

Hold me again.

With all of your might.

In the still of the night.

So before the light.

Hold me again.

With all of your might.

In the still…of the night.

That night at Buck’s the party was in full swing. People were dancing, drinking, playing pool and mingling amongst themselves. Naia stuck close to the bar and Layla as they watched the crowd. And like clockwork, Dylan was drunk and ready to sing her heart out.

“Alright you party animals! Let’s get this sing a long on the road! Now all of you know the rules. First place gets $1,000.00! And since that first place is always me I have nothing to worry about! So hit the music!”

“Ohhh God…” Layla groaned.

“What?!” Naia asks.

“Little Miss Banshee is about to assault our ears and sing Deborah Cox Nobody’s Supposed To Be Here.” Layla replies.

“It can’t be THAT bad, Layla.”

“Wanna bet?” She asks just as Dylan grabbed a mic.

After clearing her throat, Dylan began to sing. Sorta.

How did you get here?

Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

I've spent all my life on a search to find. The love who'll stay for eternity. The heaven sent to fulfill my needs. But when I turn around, again, love has knocked me down. My heart got broken, oh it hurts so bad. I'm sad to say love wins again.

So I placed my heart under lock and key. To take some time to take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here.

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

This time I swear I'm through. But, if only you knew how many times I've said those words. Then fall again, when will I ever learn? Knowing these tears I cry, this lovely black butterfly. Must take a chance, and spread my wings. Love can make you do some crazy things.

So I placed my heart under lock and key. To take some time to take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here.

Standing here…

When Dylan got to the bridge, Naia thought her ears would bleed out.

No, nobody, no, no, no, no, no, no, ooh!

No, no, nooooooooo...

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

When she was done, Naia was ready to run out the door screaming.

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! That was fucking horrible!”

“Told you.” Layla deadpanned.

“She has to be stopped! What other songs are on that karaoke machine?” Naia asks.

“Hundreds! So if you’re gonna sing, pick one and make it good! That way ears will stop ringing.” Layla replies.

Naia left her seat at the bar and walked over to where the karaoke machine was and went through the list of songs. Doing so, caught the ire of a very drunk Dylan.

“Ummmmmm what do you think you’re doing?!” She asks.

“Picking a song obviously.” She replies over her shoulder.

Dylan huffed.

“You actually think you can beat my melodious voice?” She asks.

“A dead horse can beat your voice. And just like that I found my song.” Naia replies.

“Good luck beating me!” Dylan sneered.

“Watch and learn young grasshopper.”

Naia took the mic and began to sing Give Me One Reason by Tracy Chapman.

Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

Baby I got your number. Oh and I know that you got mine. You know that I called you. I called you many times. You can call me baby. You can call me anytime, you got to call me.

Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

I don't want no one to squeeze me. They might take away my life. I don't want no one to squeeze me. They might take away my life. I just want someone to hold me. Oh and rock me through the night.

People started to gather around Naia as she sang. When she looked towards the bar, she winked at Layla. Layla mouthed the words “next drink is on the house.”

This youthful heart can love you. Yes and give you what you need. I said this youthful heart can love you. Oh and give you what you need. But I'm too old to go chasin' you around. Wastin' my precious energy.

Give me one reason to stay here. Yes and I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Give me one reason to stay here. Oh I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

Baby just give me one reason. Oh give me just one reason why. Baby just give me one reason. Oh give me just one reason why I should stay. Said I told you that I loved you. And there ain't no more to say.

When she finished the applause was thunderous. She had everyone on their feet. When she looked out on the crowd, she saw a visibly angry Dylan. Naia smirked and winked at her, which further infuriated her.

When Naia walked back to the bar, she got the feeling someone was watching her but she didn’t know who that someone was.

“Soooooo…how was that?” Naia asked Layla as she reached the bar.

“AMAZING! Now if you can beat her brother at pool, the bar is on the house.” Layla replied.

“Sold!”

“Well get to it girlie! Because you’ve been eyeing that bottle of tequila over my shoulder since you got here.”

Naia snickered then took off towards the crowd gathered around Tyler. As she went to WB w the crowd was she got the same feeling that she was being watched. And she was indeed being watched. Trent was tuned into her movements even through his blindness.

“Well this looks like fun!” Naia says as she reaches the pool table.

“Go away! Nobody wants you here!” Dylan hissed.

“What’s the matter princess? Scared I’ll beat your brother like I beat you?” Naia teased.

“You can’t beat me!” Tyler huffed.

“Wanna bet?” She asked him.

“Sure. How much are you willing to lose?”

“Since I beat your sister:  $1,000.00.” She replies. She didn’t think he’d take her seriously.

“You’re on! Best 2 out of 3?” He asks.

“Then you’ve got yourself a game.” She replies.

Once the balls were lined up and it was up to her to break. She got stripes while he got solid.

“Let’s go!” She tells him.

The two were evenly matched with the first game going to her and the second going to him. And it all came down to the last game. Naia had an impossible split. Or so that’s what Tyler and the crowd that was gathered around them thought.

“I’ll make you a deal new girl. If you bank this shot, I’ll up the bet from $1,000.00 to $3,000.00.” He said to her.

“Deal!” Naia replies.

Naia tucked a hair that out of place behind her ear, lined up her shot and sank both balls. Beating a very stunned Tyler.

“TAKE! THAT!” She squealed.

“But! But! I…we…” Tyler stammers as he goes pale.

“You lost just like your sister? Yeah I know. Now pay up!” She told him.

That’s when Dylan jumped into Naia’s face.

“You cheated!” She screeched.

“No, your brother ran his mouth and lost. And now he has to pay up. So give me my money!” Naia yelled back.

When Dylan reared back to slap Naia, Trent caught her hand.

“Hey! Let go T!” Dylan yelled.

“We’re not doing this again. Now Tyler pay the lady her money. You know you have it.” Trent said in a stern voice.

There was something about him that caught Naia’s eye.

“My dad will kill me if I pay her!” Tyler whined.

The twins looked at Trent with puppy dog eyes. But he didn’t budge.

“You’re no fun, T!” Tyler whined.

“Don’t care. Now pay her!”

Tyler groaned as he pulled money out of his pocket then handed it to Trent.

“Here!” Tyler pouted.

Trent took the money and handed it to Naia. When their hands touched, it set off a spark inside her. The same kind of spark she felt with Roman.

“Sorry about those two. They don’t know how to lose gracefully.” He said to her.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for getting my money.” She replied.

Trent turned to the twins then said, “beat it you two! We don’t need anymore trouble.”

The crowd dispersed after the twins huffed then walked out. And Naia found herself back at the bar gushing with Layla.

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! Look at this! I just won $3,000.00!”

“I can't believe you did that! No one has ever beaten the twins. Their dad will be so pissed that they lost that kind of money.”

“In the words of T.I. ‘it ain’t tricking if you got it!’”

They two laughed.

“Okay but in all seriousness, thank you! It’s about time that someone brought those two out of the clouds. So here’s your brand new shiny bottle of tequila!” Layla said as she gave Naia the bottle.

“Thank youuuuuu!” Naia squealed.

Just then Trent called out.

“Layla! Another round?”

Layla groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Who is that?” Naia asked.

“That’s Trent. He works for the twins dad.” Layla replied.

“Is he their bodyguard or something?” Naia asked.

“No but he’s always around when those two cause trouble. Let me go fill their orders.” Layla replies.

“Okay. I’ll be here with my brand new bottle.”

Layla shook her head and headed off towards Trent and his crew. Naia couldn’t help but look the same way. Her eyes instantly went to Trent. He was beautiful and there was something about him that stuck with her.

He enchanted her and what she didn’t know was she did the same for him. After the bar closed, Naia began walking back to her uncle’s house. She got halfway down the street when Trent caught up with her.

“Hey!” He said to her.

“Hi! How are you?” She replied.

“I’m good. You must be new in town. I’m Trent.”

“I know. Layla told me your name. I’m Naia.”

“It’s nice to meet you Naia.”

“Likewise. It’s nice to meet another friendly face outside of Layla and my uncle.“

“It’s dark out here. Mind if I walk you home?” He asked.

“Sure. Especially when I’m not sure which way to go.” She replied.

“Where does your uncle live?” He asked.

“Just outside of town. His house backs up to the woods.” She replied.

Even though it was nighttime, he flashed a smile at her that made her heart leap. As they walked they talked about what their lives were like growing up, what college life was like and past loves. She had just met him but she felt she knew him her whole life. When they got to her uncle’s front door, they weren’t ready to say goodbye.

“So this is me…”

“So it would seem. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

“No thank you. Because I probably would’ve gotten lost and would’ve wandered around the woods for days.”

“I think you would’ve found your way home.”

There was a magnetic pull between them that neither could deny. Before either knew what they were doing, they kissed. It was a slow, sensual and deep  kiss. And when it ended both were desperate for more.

“Wow!”

“What you said.”

“I better get inside.”

“Will I see you again?” He asked.

“Of course. I’ll be here for a while.” She replies.

“Good. Have a good night Naia.”

“Goodnight Trent.”

When she went inside her heart was racing. And she wanted more. She wanted him. This was the exact same way she felt when she kissed Roman.

The next morning after showering, she was in the kitchen fixing herself breakfast. 

Her uncle still hadn’t returned from fishing. She had just sat down to eat her breakfast when the front door swung open. It was a man and a woman. They were two of the people she’d seen with Roman.

“Come! The ceremony awaits you!” He commanded.

“1.) no. 2.) WHAT THE HELL?!” Naia replies.

“We’re wasting time! Come now!” The woman demanded.

“What the hell? Get out!” Naia screamed.

When the woman went to grab Naia, she danced out the way. That’s when the man grabbed Naia and threw her over his shoulder. He dragged her out of the house, with her kicking and screaming.

“Let me go!” She screamed.

She struggled to get free but he was way too strong. She was thrown in the back of a van and a hood was placed over her head. Naia had no idea where they were taking her. And she was terrified of finding out.

[hellas-himself]

More Than Enough

Remember that self indulgent crack ship holiday fic I was writing about Cassian and Feyre? And how I couldn’t seem to mix the past with the present? 

It’s a fic now. Still in the same AU just like... the year before. Leading up to the cheesy ass nonsense it is now. Originally it was going to be angsty at first but I think we have enough of that in our real life. If you haven’t read the crackship holidays featuring these two dumbasses, start here or on AO3.

Also. I promise all my other fics are not being abandoned. 

I’ve had a playlist to listen to when writing them but it is so incredibly inappropriate if you understand spanish. and i haven’t made it onto spotify yet. But this song reminded me of them and that’s where the title comes from. Which is funny because Alina is who i put beside Toni Mafud as Rhys and Feyre whenever fan casts come up. ANYWAY. 

Let’s follow Feyre as she thirsts after her best friend. 

.

.

.

I blame it on the music.

Cassian lost his shirt about half an hour ago and is doing pull ups. The garage door is open, letting in the cold winter air. My fingers are cold but I don’t like wearing gloves when sketching. I had been working on hands and eyes but once he tossed his shirt… It’s not like I’ve never seen Cassian without a shirt on before. Between him and his brothers, they seem to always find an excuse to not wear one. But the difference is I don’t find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to run my fingers down their backs.

It’s definitely the music.

Even if I didn’t understand the words, the beat itself is way too sensual to not be about anything else but sex. But the lyrics and Cassian’s sweaty, half naked body mixed with the fact that I haven’t had sex in months is probably the worst mix. I am not supposed to be imagining sleeping with my best friend.

I clear my throat, startling Valo who was falling asleep at my feet.

“Sorry, baby, I need a drink.”

I set my sketch book and pencil down on the crate beside my chair.

“Would you get me a drink, bunny?” Cas breathes out and my face flushes all the more. I didn’t need another detail to this stupid daydream.

“Yeah,” I squeak and head into the house. I already know his post workout drink recipe by heart. I drink ice cold water while the blender is going.

Cassian is suspended in the air, holding his entire body parallel to the floor with his hands. Goddamn him. He drops his head back so that he’s looking at me upside down and he smiles.

“I love you,” he says and I roll my eyes.

“I’ll love you more if you don’t bust your ass.”

He chuckles and just to drive the nail in the coffin that is my desire to be the reason he’s making noises like that, he slowly lowers his body and resumes his pull ups. I set his cup on the table where he has his tools and go back to sit down.

Cassian drops down and walks over to his mat to do his cool down stretches. A new song comes on and the words are so filthy that I find myself staring at him. His tattoos. My ex-boyfriend had always believed I was into Cassian- and I wasn’t. But I wasn’t blind and I’ve been at his house almost every single day since Thanksgiving- he is always without a shirt.

It’s just the music.

“Plan on drawing me?” Cassian asks and I blink. I look away from his tattooed chest and to his face. He is smirking. Shit.

“Uh. Yeah. What better way to do anatomy studies than with a living reference?”

“Anatomy, huh?”

He flashes me a grin before he walks over to the table for his drink.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner?”

His question distracts me from looking at his ass.

“Uh, whatever you want… I’m not really craving anything.” Except you. I sigh and cover my face with my hands and lean over. I need a cold shower.

“Hey… You alright?” he asks softly.

I nod and slowly sit upright.

“I’m just… I’m fine. I promise.”

He doesn’t believe me but he walks over to grab his speaker.

“I love this song,” he says and starts to sing along to it as he gratefully goes back into the house.  

Cassian meets me in the living room now dressed in a white tee and grey sweatpants. He lifts both my legs up so that he can sit down. This is normal. I always use his lap to rest my legs.

“I ordered Greek, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I told you, I’m not craving anything except-”

Fuck my entire life. Cassian raises a brow and I toss him the remote.

“Why don’t we finish your show so then we can watch my movie?”

This pacifies him and thankfully, his stupid show is so violent and bloody that all thoughts of fucking my best friend fade from my mind.

*

Our annual Christmas party is tonight and I’ve found an outfit. It is the kind of outfit Tamlin would have told me not to wear. It’s blood red and insanely inappropriate for winter with its spaghetti straps and super low neckline. Mor says it’s the perfect thing to wear after a break up and just the thought of all the pictures we’ll take with me and Cassian together makes me believe it.

I hang the dress up in the closet of Cassian’s bedroom. The heels are set beside his dress shoes and I can’t help but think about his reaction. Of dancing with him all night and coming back here and-

“Bunny!” 

“I’m in the closet!”

I hear him chuckle. 

“Shut up,” I call out and walk into the bedroom to find him pulling off his shirt. I feel my face go hot.

“I’m going to shower… do you want me to use the other bathroom?” 

“What? No, this is your house,” I say far more casually than I feel. “Besides, we’ve got time, we can share.” 

I want to punch myself in the face. Cassian starts to grin. 

“The shower might be a little too small for the both of us but I’m sure we could find a way to-”

Cassian laughs when I smack his arm. 

“Not exactly where I like being spanked but I’ll take it.”

“Oh my god, Cassian.”

He laughs and disappears into the bathroom. I force myself to leave the room when I hear the water.  

*

Cassian walks into the kitchen in nothing but a towel, his hair wet, water dripping down his chest. He walks over and takes the sandwich from my hands.

“Fuck, we’re out of beer,” he mutters as he opens the fridge. I grab the second sandwich I made, expecting him to steal from my plate and force my gaze up. On his stupidly gorgeous face.

“I can go get some,” I say but he shakes his head and walks over to take my cup of iced tea.

“Are you cool with us taking a cab tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” 

Cassian drinks from my cup and sets it down before pinching my cheek. 

“It’ll just be you and me,” he says softly. “So don’t worry about it.”

I blush at this and Cassian kisses my forehead. 

“I’m gonna go get dressed. Thanks for the snack,” he says with a wink and walks away.

*

I keep my makeup rather muted; lip gloss and the usual winged liner. Nude eyeshadow. Cassian picked out the highlight and I have to admit, he chose well. My hair isn’t going to get any better, so I leave it in loose waves rather than the curls I’d wanted. I’ll leave that to Mor. I feel nervous, this is the first time since the breakup that I’m going out with all of our friends but Cassian will be there, and that’s enough to ease my nerves. Almost.  

“Our ride is here,” Cas says as he walks into his bedroom. He stops and just stares. I approach him and hold out my ID card and debit card, needing to ignore the way his attention has me feeling.

“I don’t have pockets.”

“What?” He blinks and looks down at my hand. He laughs and pulls his wallet out. “You only need your ID.”

“Maybe so,” I say and reach out to smooth down the collar of his shirt while he puts my cards away. I remember my lip gloss and put it in his back pocket, giving him a wink.

Cassian holds my hand when we go outside, helping me down the steps and the driveway. It’s a regular occurrence, but I blush when he opens the door for me. And when he slides an arm around my shoulders when he sits down beside me. We take a bunch of pictures and call Cassian’s parents to check on Val- as if we hadn’t seen him an hour ago. 

When we get to the club, Cassian holds my hand as we walk inside. Cassian and the boys are all friends with the owner, so we get to skip the line.

“Where are we going?” I ask as Cassian leads us up to the VIP lounge.

“Meeting up with Rhys.”

“What’s he doing up here?”

Cassian chuckles. “You know Rhys never passes a chance to be extra as fuck.”

I can’t argue with that.

Upstairs, Cassian helps me out of my coat. His fingers brush my skin and my mind takes a swan dive into the gutter.

“What do you say to a few drinks before we go downstairs?” he asks as he takes my hand. The bouncer outside the lounge acknowledges us with a nod.

“Yeah, I could use it.”

Cassian flashes me a grin and then opens the door.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouts and I find all of our friends standing under a Happy Birthday banner.

I am at a loss for words and Cassian laughs, bringing me further into the room. I’d completely forgotten about my birthday, I hadn’t cared enough to even think that anyone else would. But Elain is here with Az. So is Rhys and Lucien, Amren, Varian. Viv and Kallias, too. I’m separated from Cassian as I’m hugged and kissed by everyone. I realize Tarquin and Cresseida are here as well. Rhys is the one who breaks open the first bottle and we all stand around the little table to take shots.

“There is a cake,” Elain says as she hands me another shot. “But that’s later.”

“Later?”

She winks at me and shouts for Azriel.

“That’s my favorite song!” she exclaims and her husband happily ditches his brothers to go out and dance with his wife.

Lucien and Rhys pull me in for another hug as the others begin to trail down to the dance floor.

“You look good enough to eat,” Lucien mumbles and I laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’re already drunk, Luce.”

“We may have pregamed at the house,” Rhys admits. “But we took an uber! It’s okay.”

I roll my eyes.

“You both suck. I’m going to go find me two other cute boys to dance with. Boys who would have invited me to pregame with them and no amount of flirting is going to fix that.”

They begin to whine and I laugh, holding onto Rhysand’s forearms as they keep me caged between them.

“Alright! You win!” I say with a laugh and look over to find Cassian looking my way. He smiles.

I want to ask him to dance but Mor pulls him away before I can open my mouth.

We drink and dance and drink and dance and drink some more. I feel light headed and everything makes me laugh. But I haven’t danced with Cassian yet and that’s enough to dampen the mood. I push my way through the crowd until I find Cassian at the bar. I take the empty barstool beside him and sit down. I order myself a margarita before turning to face him.

“And where have you been all night?” I ask and Cassian smirks.

“Enjoying the night,” he says and takes a sip of his drink.

“Without me?”

I don’t understand the look in his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. He sets the glass down and leans forward. I didn’t really understand just how short this dress was until he lays his hand on my thigh. If I turn my chair completely, if he moves his hand just an inch more…

“Yes,” he says and kisses me cheek. “But I think I’m about to enjoy it more now.”

“Why?” I manage to say. Cassian’s hand brushes my thigh as he sits upright.

“I’m about to go dance with my best friend.”

“Are you now?”

My drink is set before me and I grab it, chugging it down as Cassian slides off his chair. He turns mine so that I’m facing him completely and puts his hands on my hips.

“If she says yes, of course.”

I finish the last of my drink and set down the glass.

“When have I ever said no to you?”

Cassian grins.

I have danced with Cassian many times. At parties, at the beach, at clubs and bars and festivals. At his parents’ house. I should be used to the feeling of his body against mine, of his hands on me while we dance but not like this. I want nothing more than to take him back up to the lounge and push him down on the sofa or go find an empty bathroom stall.

But I don’t.

Birthday cake and alcohol isn’t the best mix, but I haven’t felt this alive in months. My face hurts from laughing, from smiling. My vision is spotty from all the pictures we’ve taken but I don’t care. Everything is right in the world.

“My feet hurt,” I complain and sit on Cassian’s lap.

“Want me to rub your feet?”

I shake my head and lean into him.

“No. Not until I’m showered.”

He laughs. “Okay.”

I sigh when he wraps his arms around me. He is so warm and smells so good, I want to stay this way forever.

“I think the birthday girl is done for the night,” Rhys says teasingly and I realize I was dozing off. I look up to see Rhys standing there with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Fuck you,” I say and curl up in Cassian’s arms. I feel his hand holding my dress down from showing everyone else my ass.

“Tempting,” Rhys says and then shoves his hands in his pockets. “But I think I’ll pass.”

I don’t think much of the look Rhys gives Cassian in favor of playing with his hair. I take way too much satisfaction in the knowledge that not everyone gets to do this, and that he enjoys it. Cassian seems to win whatever silent staring contest he and Rhys were having and Rhys rolls his eyes and goes after his boyfriend.

“You’re making me sleepy, bunny.”

“Good thing we’re going home together then,” I say before my mind catches up. But Cassian only chuckles and hugs me a little closer.

*

Cassian and I are a laughing mess as we stumble into the house. I lean on him to step out of my heels and he laughs as I shrug off my coat and toss it at him. We’re both trying to catch our breath, and I swat his hand away when he tries to tickle me again.

“I’m taking a shower,” I breathe out and walk off but he stops me.

“Wait,” he says and I turn to find him smiling.

“What?”

“Happy birthday,” he says softly and pulls me in for a hug. “I promise I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Hm… you really know the way to a girl’s heart, Cas.”

He pinches my side and I yelp.

“Go shower,” he says and kisses the top of my head.

“I won’t be long.”

My shower is clumsy and not at all relaxing. My feet hurt. So I put lotion on my body and grab the bottle of perfume that is on the dresser, except it’s not perfume but cologne. I shrug and put on Cassian’s Nirvana tee shirt and double check I actually have underwear on before I go looking for him.

“Cas?” The house is dark save for the light coming from his room. “My feet fucking hurt.”

He says something but I don’t understand it. His room is open and I step inside, finding him lying on his bed. He’s got basketball shorts on and his hair is loose.

“Bunny!” he says as if he hadn’t seen me all day. “I almost busted my ass in the shower.”

“Me, too.” I say with a laugh. “Maybe we should’ve showered together. It would’ve been safer that way.”

“I like the way you think, Archeron.”

He holds his hand out to me and when I’m close enough, he pulls me into bed with him. “You smell good.”

I snort. “I smell like you.”

“Exactly.”

I swat his arm but he ignores it, putting his arms around me.

“My feet hurt,” I complain, hoping he’ll make good on his promise.

“Just stay here,” he says simply.

My heart stops and starts too fast.

“Like… sleep here?” I ask too quietly.

“Mhm.” He goes quiet for a moment and then groans. “I forgot to turn the light off.”

“I can do it,” I say.

“No… Stay here.”

He goes quiet once more, and I let myself relax. We haven’t shared a bed since we were kids, playing video games until Adela would force us to go to bed. I smile at the thought and rest my head against his chest.

“Goodnight, Cas,” I say quietly, my eyes getting heavy.

“Goodnight, bunny,” he says and lets me go to stretch. Then he wraps his arms around me again and moves us so that we’re on our sides. He presses a kiss to my forehead and I close my eyes, letting the warmth of him lull me to sleep.

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@mythicaitt @bookloveaffair @nalgenewhore @candid-confetti 

[esoanem]

VIII.

“I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t“

Major Content Notes:

None!

Wikipedia Synopsis:

The hunt for the Urca de Lima begins when Silver divulges the schedule to Flint, taking them to the ship's location. Rackham stops paying Ms. Mapleton, which causes her to threaten to blackmail Rackham. She threatens to tell the locals what really happened to Mr. Noonan. Meanwhile, Vane makes his way back to New Providence with his new crew. Eleanor's situation changes when a small band of men take over Hornigold's fort and start sinking supply ships in the bay. Gates threatens to call off the attack of the Ranger, so Flint kills him. The final scenes of the season show that the Walrus has beached itself upon the same isle as the Urca de Lima.

This is the final episode of the season so quite a lot goes down, but for the first time I don’t think we’ve needed any major content notes. There is some blood & gore, and nudity at various points, but nothing especially graphic

Summary:

Rackham is docking Mrs Mapleton’s pay because of her skimming. She threatens to tell all the merchants that he murdered Mr Noonan, saying that they’ll band together and see Jack hanged for it. Jack calls this insubordination and fires her. As she reiterates her threat, Max arrives, and points out that the merchants are all enjoying steep discounts (affordable now the books are in order) right now and that because of that, they won’t much care what Mapleton has to say

At sea there is a terrible storm, with the Walrus and Ranger climbing waves as tall as their masts. Belowdecks, as the crew play music and card games, Dr Howell has made a peg leg for Randall and is trying to get Silver to convince him to wear it, saying that a crutch is too big a risk in this weather. Randall is reluctant. Silver tries to convince him by sarcastically pointing out how he’s helped Randall in the past, before throwing the peg leg to him, but Randall just tosses it to the floor and goes back to eating his apple

“Oh, Mr Silver, how can I ever thank you? First you save me from ending up as a stain on the Walrus’s underside, then you secured my position on the crew on the verge of an historic haul, and if that weren’t enough, you’re still trying to find something comfortable to put at the end of my stump. From the bottom of my heart, thank you“

Two crewmen come down from the deck saying that a launch from the Ranger has arrived with Captain Gates. Logan wonders “what could be so fucking important that he has to row through all that shit out there for it”. Silver hears this and hurries to Flint’s cabin

He sits down, and Flint pushes an inkwell over to him saying they’ll make landfall in the morning and need the last part of the schedule. Flint compares what Silver writes out to a book of his own reconnaissance, of bays and inlets in the right area that could reasonably be used for the Urca to take on water. Flint tells Silver to take the information to de Groot and set a course for Division Bay. As Gates says he better get back to the Ranger, Flint says it’d be better not to tempt fate and pulls a bottle up

“Talbot Rhodes’ private stock. I’d been waiting for an occasion. My reckoning is, tomorrow we’ll be able to afford a lot more of it or -”

“- we’ll be too dead to care”

Mr Scott comes into Eleanor’s office to tell her that Captain Lawrence is almost ready to leave. She is worried by the storm, calling it a ship-killer and wondering if God is on Mr Scott’s side in opposing this plan. Mr Scott reassures her, saying that the trouble might have happened anyway, with or without the schedule

“Tomorrow, a thing that you conceived out of thin air becomes real. A thing that will give this place a chance to find some small measure of peace. That is not nothing”

Back on the Walrus, Gates & Flint are finishing the bottle, and reminiscing about the man who found it, Mr Cregg, the carpenter’s mate who could sniff out booze on a prize ship like a bloodhound. Flint tells a story of one time he found a bottle hidden behind a baseboard on a prize and, thinking it was the captain’s best booze he took a big swig in front of everyone, only to realise it was piss.  Gates is trying to seem friendly, but in cutaways he seems melancholy, mourning his lost friendship with Flint, whilst Flint seems to be acting as if nothing has happened between them. Gates remembers that he brought Cregg over with him, having both served under Avery together as kids, before getting up to leave, a tear in his eye

"For years, he went on how he’d got this huge stash hidden away, and I should live to survive him because one day, I will be a rich man. As you know, we lost him on the Pembroke. 

So I open his locker and what do I find? 

Twelve pesos, a busted pocket watch, and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in New York.

Lying sack of shit was Mr Cregg!

So I bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in New York, trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. Looked high and low, never found her. So on the way home, I waited until we were in open water and I could see no land in any direction and I dropped it over the side. Return to the sea. 

There are no legacies in this life, are there? No monuments, no history. Just the water. It pays us, and then it claims us, swallows us whole as if we’d never been here at all”

Anne bursts in on Jack whilst he’s taking a bath. She yells at Jack for cutting Mapleton loose without telling her, saying she could tell the entire island about them killing Noonan. She then says the fact he’s keeping council with Max is bothering her even more, and accuses Jack of fucking her

"Jesus H Christ I can’t win with you. She’s in the camp with the men and it’s ‘come on Jack, let’s go kill everyone see if we can’t get around there, hope you don’t mind, made that decision on your behalf’ and now she’s out making us a small fortune by the way and you’re pissed off about that too, might you consider making up your fucking mind about her, please!”

After telling him to fuck himself she leaves, and sees Max standing by a mirror naked, drying her hair. Anne looks bashful, and hurries downstairs as Max turns around and puts on a dressing gown smiling

Vane arrives at Nassau with a few rowing boats full of the men from the lumber camp. They row past a series of lobster pots before beaching the boats and stepping ashore

The Walrus & Ranger are sailing along the coast flying Spanish colours, Division Bay is just past the next headland. Flint gives a brief speech to the crew, before ordering full sails for their final approach

“Llisten here! When we clear the point ahead and spot the Urca at anchor, we’ll begin our final run at her. The Spanish banner may earn us a few hundred yards of confusion before the captain identifies us and opens fire so we’ll close fast on her, hammer her well with our guns, and then take the fight to her decks. That fight will be the fight of our lives make no mistake. But on the other side lies paradise!”

As they round the point though, there is no ship to be seen. The entire crew, including Flint are dumbfounded, and after asking de Groot if he’s sure of their position, Flint storms into his cabin leaving the crew bemused on deck

Eleanor meets Naft, Frasier, & Lawrence at the end of the pier, where she hands Lawrence two manifests, one true, one false, and a substantial purse and wallet for bribery. Lawrence is impatient and wants to leave. As Eleanor comes off the pier she is met by Hornigold & Scott. She tells them that she still needs to remove her father entirely, that she knows he’s on the Underhill estate scheming to undo everything they’ve done. Hornigold reacts in disbelief

“You’re truly amazing, in the moment when stability is at hand and the world is at your feet, your first instinct is to go out in search of someone new to fight”

Scott asks for a moment with her but is interrupted by cannonfire, the shot landing near Hornigold’s ship. After a couple more shots, they realise the cannons being fired are from the fort. Hornigold realises someone other than his men must be in the fort and, as we see a mast break Scott says they need to get off the beach. As they march towards the tavern, Jack comes out of the brothel to ask what’s going on, when he’s told that someone’s taken over the fort he looks over at Anne who swallows anxiously

Gates comes aboard the Walrus and is led to Flint by Dufresne who tells them that the crew have agreed to Flint’s plan. They will land the Walrus and then he has two days to send out scouts to find the Urca. Flint gives the order and heads into his cabin. Dufresne tells Gates that de Groot is bitter that they didn’t listen to him about the cook, that he says there’s no Urca out here, that justice has been delayed long enough, he wants Flint tried immediately, and he believes that for all his talk Gates is just protecting Flint

“I’m protecting all of us! These men are right on the edge, and he wants to rile them up more by talking about a lying thieving captain, then stand on a deserted beach and talk about elections? Before you know it, half a dozen men will have laid claim to the captaincy, council will divide. it won’t be dark yet before the fighting starts

We’ve got to see Flint pay for his crimes, but we’ll do it at home, and we’ll do it like civilised men and that’s how we avoid the abyss!”

Dufresne asks how they can trust Gates, as they know the two of them spent the last night together drinking. Gates hands him a letter asking if it’s good enough, which Dufresne reads and seems surprised by

Sails are spotted, a Spanish man-o-war, and it will be on them in half an hour. Flint signals the Ranger to raise the black and fire two shots off the Walrus’s bow, as well as rigging a spring to the foreward anchor and dropping her immediately. Below you can see, the main anchor cable connected to the bow of the ship running straight up, with a second line, the (slightly slack) spring tied onto this and connected to the stern. By tightening the spring, he can pull the stern out to windward, and turn the ship without moving

De Groot is astounded that Flint means to fight the man-o-war, but Gates shouts to the crew that they have their orders before dragging Flint into his cabin. Dufresne and de Groot share their concerns

"If he engages that ship in battle, we’re dead!”

"I know”

"I know you know, but does Mr Gates?”

Gates tells Flint he can’t let him go down this road. Flint ignores this and explains his plan to Gates, the man-o-war will see them as a Spanish merchantman under attack by pirates, the Spaniard will pass them by to give chase and, before she realises her error they’ll turn and have her trapped, the Walrus raking her stern to bow, and the Ranger raking her bow to stern, and that the warship shows that the Urca is here after all

"all I see is an empty bay, a gardacosta warship, and a captain that’s lost his fucking grip on reality!”

Flint says that the ship isn’t a gardacosta (coastguard) here on patrol, that the only explanation for it being here at this time is that it’s an escort. Gates points out that the entire justification for the venture was that the Urca would have no escort. Flint suggests that they changed their plans, at which point Gates says he’s leaving with the Ranger, leaving Flint dumbstruck in disbelief. They hash it out, furious at each other

“What did you just say?”

“I’m going to weigh anchor, I’m going to make a run for it, and if I can keep ahead of her before dark there’s just a chance we could slip away”

"Without the ranger, I have no chance against that ship”

"I know”

"So you’re deliberately challenging my authority here? Deliberately violating you duty?”

"My duty? My duty is to them, not to you! Although I have violated it more times than I can remember in your defence. Helped you deceive good men, who put their trust in me because I was convinced they would be better off for it! But not here! Not this! This is fucking madness!”

"Mr Gates, if you walk through that door with the intent of subverting my plans, I will have no alternative but to interpret that as an incitement of mutiny”

"You think I’m inciting mutiny?

"You are inciting mutiny!”

"I’m managing one! There are men out there right now that know about Singleton, the book, the cook, all of it! They know! And they mean to see you hang for it!”

Flint goes quiet, asking if Gates told them

"After Billy, I just, I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t. That’s when I realised that this has got to end.”

"So what then? You preside over a trial that sees me hanged?”

“No. I’m going to go home. And I’m going to see you and Mrs Barlow secreted away before anybody knows you’re gone. You’re going to go to Boston. You’re going to take the pardon that she’s offered you and that is the last that you and I will ever see of each other”

Flint looks ashamed, and downcast, and begs Gates not to do this. Gates tells him to take a moment, that he’ll deal with the crew, and goes to leave. Flint looks up, and stares intently at the back of Gates’ head, his lip quivering into a snarl

He starts up, slams Gates into the door, and chokes him from behind, repeating “this is not what I wanted, I’m sorry” before snapping Gates’ neck. He repeats “I’m sorry” as his snarl softens and he starts crying, cradling the body of the closest thing he had to a friend

The door creaks open, Flint’s face immediately hardens again and he draws his pistol. It is Silver, saying he came to back Flint up in his case that the Urca can still be won. Flint drops his arm, looking exhausted. Silver comes in and hurriedly closes the door behind him, locking it, before checking Gates’ neck for anything incriminating. Flint bats his hands away, asking “what the fuck are you doing to him” before telling Silver to stop. Flint is utterly defeated, but Silver tells him there is still a way out

"There’s no way out of this”

"Take it from me. There’s always a way”

A letter is delivered to Hornigold and the rest of the consortium, saying that a small band on men were seen approaching the fort from the west that morning, but no-one could identify them, and all the local crews are accounted for. Mr Scott asks if the fort’s great guns could be repositioned to aim at the street. Hornigold’s only response is that he hopes whoever it is won’t be mad enough to consider that and proposes to retake the fort when he is interrupted by Vane & his men on the street outside demanding to speak to Eleanor

Flint steps out of his cabin and, looking Dufresne straight in the eyes tells him that Mr Gates’ heart gave out. He gives orders to signal the Ranger with the plan, telling Mr Thompson he’s in charge, to sail North and, when the Walrus fires on the target, to tack hard to port and join them. Dufresne barges past de Groot into the cabin. As he looks down at Gates’ body, Silver starts speaking

“The question you need to ask yourself is what good can I do. 

You can call this murder, a number of the men might even believe you, but will that be enough to stop this fight that is about to happen? 

Because if it’s not, a fight we might win becomes a battle we are doomed to lose because the men went into it infected with your suspicions, with your doubts.

 So, Mr Quartermaster, is that truly what’s in their best interests?”

Dufresne steps out and walks straight past de Groot again, over to Flint.

"When the warship draws close, she’ll ask our last port of call. Saint Augustine is the closest and as she’s likely a customs ship, we must identify our cargo as anything but tobacco; Seville regulates the trade heavily”

Vane is Eleanor’s office, his boots up on her desk, rolling a cigar as she comes in, and sweeps his feet off asking what the fuck he did

"Spend enough time on an island, you begin to forget there’s a whole world out there. A world where the rules are different” he puts his feet back up and goes back to rolling his cigar “I went out there and found men who don’t know the rules here and who don’t much care to learn them. They helped me surprise Captain Hornigold’s men, we took his fort, and not once were any of them burdened with the though ‘what if this were to upset Eleanor Guthrie’”

He threatens to keep sinking ships, and maybe even sink the Walrus when she comes back with the Spanish gold, just out of spite. He says that because the fort controls the bay, Hornigold was her partner when he controlled the fort and so now, he should get to be her partner. He says being a tenant didn’t work out so well, and now he’d like a stake

He then describes the first time he saw her, when she was thirteen, and sneaking out despite Mr Scott’s rules. He says that despite her age she walked between the camps like she owned the place, completely fearless. He then suggests that all she really wants is to not have any men bossing her around, and that he has no intention of telling her what to do as long as he gets what he wants. She begrudgingly agrees, but promises that she will drive him out once he inevitably gets comfortable

“I know you. Better than your father, better than Scott, maybe better than anyone. You don’t give a shit about money, or respect, or the things you’ve built here. I think you’re just tired of fathers telling you what to do and so I’m offering you a life free from them. With me in that fort, you do as you like as long as it doesn’t cross me you’ll hear no complaints”

"You know I have no choice but to say yes. But before I do, know this: you’ll sit in that fort for a while, you’ll get comfortable, and that’s the day I’m going to push you and your men right into the fucking sea”

As Vane saunters out, he dismissively nods at Hornigold, calling him “Ben”. Eleanor tells him that Vane now has his seat on the consortium. She tells Hornigold that it’s no use him trying to take the fort, because she told Vane about the tunnels he’d have used to launch a surprise attack. She defends this as acting in everyone’s best interests and Hornigold leaves, promising that this won’t be the end of this

“You told me to keep emotion from clouding judgement, to act in everyone’s best interest. I believe that’s what I’m doing”

Vane enters the brothel and is met by a nervous Jack. He says that in some ways it had to come to this: him deciding if Jack lives or dies. We see Mapleton standing behind Vane’s men. Vane confronts him about killing Hamund and his men, and we see Jack speechless, and Anne wearing a frightened expression for pretty much the first time

“Hamund brings you out of bed, marches you down to the wrecks to look for a stash of stolen pearls and somehow only you and your dog make it back alive?”

“Quite a moment. Jack Rackham with nothing to say. Had I a shrewd quartermaster right now, he would tell me that I can’t let what you did stand, he would say that an offence like that demanded an example be made of both of you, the bloodier the better, but today I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be. As long as I own that fort, it doesn’t really matter, so the street will know what you did, they will know that you betrayed your brothers for a woman. That story will spread far and wide, and you’ll never sail beneath the black again. You’ll sit in this place and rot with the rest of the whores. Something tells me that will sting worse than dying”

The man-o-war comes alongside the Walrus, and Silver shouts across, with Flint behind the rail next to him feeding him lines. He says that they were attacked by pirates, that their last port of call was Saint Augustine, and that they are carrying tobacco. De Groot questions Dufresne about this

"If I’m not mistaken, you told him to state us as anything but a tobacco trader did you not?”

"II did. He means to prove that ship is not gardacosta, that it’s here for the same reason we are. If that ship lets us pass, he will have both renewed the men’s lust for gold and their faith in his judgement”

“Time and again he gambles with our lives, that is when he’s not taking them in cold blood and once more his influence grows. We’re at his mercy with no way to challenge him”

The Spanish ship sails on and Flint orders all hands to quietly go to their stations, and to fire at 300 yards. The Walrus starts pulling on its spring line to bring the stern out slowly, so the Spanish ship thinks they’re just drifting. At 100 yards, he orders the gunports opened and sights down a gun saying “we only get one shot at this. If we miss, we die”

Just after 200 yards Dufresne pulls his pistol on Flint, accusing him of piratical crimes against his crew, that he murdered Singleton, Billy, & Gates, and that he planned to steal a portion of the treasure fleet for himself. Flint gives the order to fire, but the crew do not. Belowdecks, de Groot is taking Silver into the Surgeon’s cabin. Dufresne hands the letter to Logan saying it is a confession from Mr Gates of his knowledge of & complicity in Flint’s crimes, and Logan confirms that it is written in Gates’ hand

Flint continues to repeat the order to fire growing frustrated at the crew’s inaction, shouting that they’re going to lose the enemy and don’t have time for this. Eventually he strides down and grabs one of the slow matches used to fire the cannons and goes to light the touchhole firing the cannons, but is shot in the shoulder by Dufresne

Silver wrestles with de Groot, but is knocked to the ground. As de Groot readies his pistol, he is knocked out by Randall who has hit him on the head from behind with the peg leg. Flint is pressed against the side by a gunport watching the Spanish ship slip away when one of the Walrus’ cannons fires, taking him, and the entire crew by surprise. Silver looks out at them, saying that it had to be done. Flint tells Dufresne to fight

“There’s no running now. Fire, Mr Dufresne. Everything you’ve got. Don’t waste this moment”

Dufresne hesitates, and the Spaniard’s sternchasers fire, hitting the Walrus. At this, Dufresne and Flint both start shouting orders to hire, and the crew slip into battle. Both the Walrus and Ranger get some volleys in, scoring several hits and causing a small explosion and fire onboard the man-o-war

The man-o-war comes about, her gunports open, and she fires. The Spanish broadside tears into the Walrus sending yard arms crashing down, and gun carriages flying. We see the Ranger’s magazine explode, and more and more holes be shot into the Walrus. As Silver tries to help an injured man, crying out for the doctor, Flint is knocked into the water. Seeing people and debris continue to be sent flying from the Walrus, he stops treading water and allows himself to be dragged under by the weight of his clothes and equipment

Eleanor is on the bridge between the tavern and brothel and Max comes out to meet her halfway. Eleanor starts to apologise to Max, but she tells her not to, saying she was “standing between you and your dreams for this place, you did what you had to do” and Eleanor reminds her of her words, that Nassau is just sand and cannot love her back but Max pushes back

"Sand has its virtues. On sand nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. Fates change so quickly. 

Yesterday Captain Hornigold was immovable from that fort and Captain Vane was a beggar, now look at them today. 

Yesterday I was a whore of little consequence, easily dismissed, easily forgotten, today I am a madam with an income and allies, and a woman who has learned the most important of lessons, never let anyone stand between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching it to me”

Vane sits in the fort as we see Lawrence push off, Hornigold’s damaged ship still in the bay, and Hornigold and Scott look on. Eleanor watches in the shallows, teary-eyed over what her ambitions have lost her

Flint wakes up on a beach, topless, a bit of cloth pressed to his wound as a dressing. He sits up and we see Dufresne, Silver, several other pirates, and the Walrus next to them on the beach with several holes clean through her hull. Flint asks why he’s still alive and Dufresne tells him to get up. As Dufresne leads them over the island they’re wrecked on, Silver says he was certain about his information regarding the Urca

“Unfortunately, you & I failed to take into account the weather. The Urca de Lima wrecked at sea last night. Dashed by the storm”

As we peek over the brow of the hill and see the Urca broken in two on another beach, the Spanish sailors unloading her onto the beach with the man-o-war at anchor in the bay, Flint seems to regain his resolve

[gallivantingheart]

actions + consequences

who?: woozi/jihoon x reader

word count: 2159

genre/s: fluff, watery af angst

warnings: some mild language

synopsis:  jihoon learned quick that you meant every threat that passed your lips, the consequences looming overhead always until one of you followed through. the bitter taste of your own medicine.

Your avengers nursery rhyme ringtone sings at 9:40, fairly early for him. He glances down to it, finding a few messages along with it. Three missed calls later, he picks up.

“Hey, what is it?” he's a bit curt, irritated his train of thought has been broken.

“Where are you?” you bite off, a snarl rumbling in the back of your throat.

“The studio, where else?”

You huff. “How about at our date at our favourite chicken place over an hour ago?”

His heart sinks. “Damn it. I'm sorry, I lost track of time. Our deadline for drafts are close and-”

“Ji, it always is.” you sound exasperated, another tense sigh puffing free. He hears the jingle of the door as you leave out onto the street. “But we made plans for this weeks in advance so you knew and had a chance to clear your schedule. Or at least time to change it. Because you've skipped out on too many before! Sure, I could have brought it to you, but the point was to get you away from work. An hour, half - dammit Jihoon, five minutes to pop in, pick it up and piss off!”

You were trying your best not to take it out on him. You'd kind of accepted that no matter how much he tried to refute it, music was his first love - always has been, always will be. You were just kind of hoping he would manage his time better between you and it.

He cringes as your voices rises momentarily, glad that it wasn't because of dance practice - taking this call alone was humiliating enough. Still, he purses his lips fondly as you take a moment to breathe to try and rein it in. His phone tucked against his shoulder, he starts packing up.

“How about I come down now? If only for a little bit? Would that fix some of this?”

He knows as soon as he's said it, it's wrong. Your breath hitches and he can feel the clench of your teeth through the phone.

“No, it wouldn't. Not when you put it like that. Like I'm an inconvenience. You're there, stay.” He tries to cut in but you talk over him. “I would have been fine with a proper sorry and a rain check but you know what? I'm suddenly very busy.”

He gets a hasty good night and that’s that. Slouching back into his chair, he sighs, rubbing at his face. He didn't like the tone of how you said that. It meant more than just something little. Jihoon groans and finishes up anyway.

You're right. Suddenly, his phone calls are missed, messages replied to just before your bedtime. Jeonghan and Jun are your new best friends, out with you multiple times that week. You call still, but conveniently when he can't pick up - during practice and just before your class. When he's too tired to roll over and pick up at three in the morning and you're hacking away at an assignment. He knows he's in trouble. Jeonghan even goes as far to say it.

“You're not happy. Neither is she.” Jeonghan says, plopping next to him.

The compact producer sighs. “I...I miss her. Really. I didn't mean to. Time just...gets away from you, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. So, are you going to make this up to her?” he says during stretches, voice airy as usual.

“I - I don't know how.” Jihoon mumbles. “You've been with her a lot, what do you think?”

If you wanted advice, you went to Jeonghan. He was easy to talk to, always listened and offered up something straight to point, even through his jokes. Even secrets - there was something about his angel face that made you want to talk to him.

“Do something that fits with her schedule. Surprise her. God dammit, feed her, she eats like a horse! No, like Mingyu!”

Jihoon smiles fondly at Jeonghan’s complaint, ducking his head under his twisting arms. “I know she does.”

All through practice, his mind churns, ideas on backburner. Food, surprises. Something obviously enjoyable for you. But for him too or else you would feel selfish and pout all the way home. They're on their way back to the dorms, Seokmin asking for the long way, past the nearby uni campus - he doesn't ask for much, so he's easy to indulge. There are signs and banners for an anniversary fair. Jihoon’s eyes light up.

To: y/n 💕

Let me know when you're not busy. We should go out.

He's a little pensive over his message. When and how you would receive it. He wanted to do this on your terms, but it still had to happen.

It's organised on a saturday in a week’s time. He can feel the unspoken threat in her text confirming it - I'm making time, so should you. He clears out his schedule on the friday and the sunday, just in case. Better to be idle for a bit that bogged down with work.

Seeing as this would be a bit more showy on his part, he decides to dress the part, opting out of sweats for jeans and a dark tee under an equally dark hoodie. Sneakers, cap and glasses. He stares at a navy mock varsity jacket, considering it. Finally, he shrugs it on, jamming his phone and wallet in the pockets - you would get cold, you always do. Nondescript but still together. He agrees to picking you up, putting his licence to use.

You're waiting on your front step in frayed ankle jeans, heeled sandals and a tan oversized tee. You have a jumper slung over your forearm, hair whipping in the wind and your purse hanging at your side. He can't help but smile at the sight of you. He missed you, so much. The studio too quiet and empty, his nights monotonous and draining without that little reminder and support - radio silence was hard.

Jihoon hops out to greet you and open your door. You're smiling too, a lot shyer than he. He knows you've made more of an effort than usual from the way the edges of your eyes shimmer with eyeshadow, lashes long and fluttery and your nose doesn't shine so much.

He reaches out to peck a glance of a kiss, as restrained as he can. He would let you dictate boundaries, in case you're still annoyed. But for you, it's like withdrawal. The lack of his compact warmth and piercing laugh down the phone line. You missed his quiet company as you wrangled with your studies. You bridge the gap and hug him tight, burrowing into his thick hoodie and slipping your arms under his jacket, round his waist. He smells like coffee and fresh linen.

“Hi. Nice to see you.” You murmur.

If it weren't for the time apart, you would have cared a little more about his aversion to pda or affection at all. He returns the gesture, bringing you in tighter.

“Hey. You ready?” he says.

You nod, pulling back. Pulling a page from Joshua’s book, he opens the door for you to the little car. Making sure you're settled before doing it all himself again. You cruise off, your eyes watching him and the world outside.

“So, where are we going?” you ask.

“A surprise.” he says simply, trying to bury the smirk at your pout.

The way you lip juts out, bringing the edges of your brows down with it is adorable and always gets you your way. You turn the radio on, playing low while you talk for some background noise.

“Am I going to like it? Can I have a clue?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Of course you'll like it! I wouldn't be taking you there otherwise! And no, you cannot have a clue. All I'll say is that we'll eat and come home with more than we arrived with and hopefully some good memories. Unless you throw up - you don't get motion sickness, do you?”

You laugh and shake your head, more confused than before, but still with a bubbling excitement. It simmers down a little when you look at the time - early evening.

“What time do you have to be back by? When's work?” you murmur.

“I'm sorry, but you're stuck with me till tomorrow night. My phone is on do not disturb and I have no schedules at all. Just in case.” he replies - from the way his eyes glitter and his nose points up in his profile, you know he's preening.

You squint, bitterness tinging the edges of your taste buds. “Really?”

He drops a hand from the steering wheel to squeeze your hand. He glances at you, eyes warm and a firm set to his brows.

“Yeah. Really.”

You pull up at a field, tents and lights flashing. Parking out on the grass, you're bouncing in excitement.

"A fair!"

He nods. "Saw it the other week. I thought it would be perfect." He looks at you. "This okay?"

You nod, hand slipping into his as you pull him along to the ticket booth at the gates. In your heels, you're a little bit taller than him, but he doesn't mind. It sort of makes it a bit easier to watch your face light up at the attractions and stalls. You direct him to the fairy floss stand, begging for a rainbow one in the shape of a flower. It's not hard to say yes to it, seeing the content gather in your eyes from the fluffy sugar rush. You pluck bits of fluff off, tickling them over his lips to entice Jihoon into consuming.

He convinces you to go on a few of the more daring rides, like The Tornado and The Kraken, your hand shaking in his as you stand in line on the wearing grass. He's never heard you swear so much from the fear and panic. After Electric Shock, you request a break, knees shaking as you walk down the metal stairs. Jihoon graciously gives you his arm for support.

He smiles as your heart still thunders in your ears. You plonk down on a bench, not too far from a photo booth and hall of mirrors. Your eyes are dazed and he tentatively moves his hand from yours to wrap around your shoulders.

"You okay?" He says softly, barely heard over the roaring crowds and music of the attractions.

You look at him and nod. "Yeah, I'm good. Just...need a minute. The rides are…"

Jihoon nods back. "I know they're a lot for you. I’m proud of you giving them a go. I wanted to - are we - I just - hey, are we good?" You look over at him, head tilted in question. Jihoon is a little too shy and guilty to look at you, instead hanging his head and looking at your knees. "I'm sorry about the other week. I've got no real excuse. You're just as important to me as my music and the guys, I should’ve appreciated you more. I have time for you, always. I swear I've learnt my lesson."

You beam and laugh a little, shuffling to press yourself against his side, resting your cheek against his neck. "Good. I'm glad. I really missed you."

The two of you take a minute to absorb each other’s presence and let your own heart slow down. When your hands have stopped their nervous shaking, you pull back and pop up to eye your boyfriend, pulling him standing.

“You know what we haven’t done yet?” You chirp.

He tilts his head. “What? The haunted house?”

You scowl. “Yes, but please no. You haven’t won me a soft toy yet.”

Jihoon’s impassive expression morphs into a laugh as he stoops over at your demand. Standing next to you, he slips an arm around your waist and leads you down sideshow alley, stall owners harassing the crowds with flashing lights and carnival music. The two of you are jostled by sugar-filled fair goers, the crowd’s ebb and flow turbulent.

“Now I want a big one. Biggest you can get, all cute and fluffy too. You’ve got all the other dads and boyfriends here as competition, so get your game face on.” You pep talk him through what you think is well-buried shiver.

With a knowing grin, he shrugs his jacket off in favour of putting it round your shoulders. “Since when have you been so competitive?”

“Since there’s a teddy in the mix. You know I’m a sucker for the cute stuff.” You smirk and poke his cheek. “Like you.”

He screws his nose up, but beams shy through a blush. “Shut up, that was gross.”

He stands at a stand of shooting ducks, bending forward to pay for a game and you wriggle closer. “Kiss for good luck?”

“You’re getting worse. Stop or I won’t play.”

(He wins first round.)

(You also get the biggest bear.)

[louhooo]

Hello My Old Heart | Chap. 1

Chapter Summary: Your first night back in town

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU]

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, mentions of smoking, angst 

A/N: I’ve been writing this for a while, and I’m finally pushing myself to actually post something. I really wanted to make a fluffy firefighter Bucky, but then I started writing and it got a whole lot angstier real quick. Oops 😬 This’ll be a series, but how many chapters is undetermined at the moment. Also, this chapter is long, but I don’t expect every chapter to be this long. 

Feedback is very much appreciated! Let me know what you think! 💘

There’s a very specific thing that happens when you return to the town you grew up in. Every change that happened since you left comes barreling to the forefront, making sure you know that life still went on without you there to witness it. The gas station on the outskirt of town finally updated the pumps from the analog to digital. A new stop sign was put near the elementary school, this one equipped with a flashing red light. And it looked like the siding on Peggy’s was new. Or, at least, painted to look new.

But, even with all of the transformations, the old still called out to you. 

The marquee was still bright red and flashed the name of the movie that finally made its way to town. You’re pretty sure that movie came out on DVD a month ago. The blue and white banner hung on the back of the bleachers, reminding you that high school football was still the most important thing to the town. And the speed bump two blocks north of the city park reminded you that you were, once again, driving way too fast.

You still weren’t sure if you were sold on any of it, though.

You had taken the long way, opting to take the old highway over the interstate. The old highway was notorious for being the only road anyone over the age of 70 would take when they needed to leave town. The slow traffic always added another half an hour, at least, to the commute. But, for the first time in history, you’re sure, every senior citizen in Esterwind decided not to go anywhere today, and you got into town quicker than you would have if you took the other way.

You had tried killing time in your room at the hotel, but Clint started blowing up your phone, asking when you were going to head to Fury’s. You were tempted to feign fatigue or an upset stomach from the long car ride, but you knew better. If you didn’t drive yourself, a whole group of people would show up at the hotel and drag you out, and claim it was for your “own good.”

A soft rap on your door pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw black aviators and a cheeky smile beaming at you. You grinned back, pulling the keys out of the ignition. One final deep breath and you grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and got out.

“Well, hey stranger.”

“Hi, Clint,” he adjusted his hearing aid and you let out a sigh, “I thought when I talked to you last, you promised to get them looked at?” You raised your brows at him, “Or did you already break them... again?” He laughed and took a step before enveloping you in a hug.

“I missed you, smart ass.” You laughed and wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tighter, all of your stress melting away. At least for the time being.

“I missed you, too,” he pulled the two of you apart.

“C’mon. I promised Nat I’d get you inside, so don’t bolt on me,” he started pulling you towards the bar that you’d spent way too much time at as kids. Never to drink, just to hide in the back room and bother Nick. Well, he says you all bothered him, but he also always let you guys in whenever you came around. He said it was better to keep us inside where he could keep his eye on you and keep you all from “terrorizing the neighborhood.”

“Is…?” You swallowed and Clint wrapped his arm around your shoulder and slowed his pace.

“Him and Steve are still at the station, but they’re comin’ later,” you let out a quiet sigh. “It’ll be alright, kid.” You chewed on your cheek. Easy for him to say, you thought. You stepped onto the curb and Clint pulled open the dingy red door. The distinct smell of beer and stale cigarette smoke greeted you. Nick always complained that no matter how many times he painted, it always smelled like smoke. 

You joked once that it might have been karma getting back at him for letting people smoke at his bar. He just stared at you until you stopped laughing. You weren’t surprised when he informed you the next time he needed to paint, you would be helping him.

You and Clint both slid your glasses to the tops of your heads, taking in the room. It was loud; people were laughing and Jim Croce was playing on the jukebox. It was bar policy: if you wanted to listen to something from this century, you could take yourself to another bar.

Clint led you towards the back where two familiar faces were already waiting. Sam shot up and gave his charming-as-ever smile.

“Well, shit! Y/F/N Y/L/N!” Clint moved just enough out of the way to make room for Sam. You smiled as Sam wrapped his arms around your waist, unexpectedly picking you up and spinning you.

“Oh my god! Sam!” You let out a surprised laugh as you held onto to him. He set you down and you steadied yourself, “Sammy! What was that for!?” He laughed.

“I’ve only been able to see ya on FaceTime, you’re lucky that’s all I did. My idea for a parade got shot down. Was even gonna make up shirts with your face on ‘em.” You grinned and rolled your eyes.

“Oh, glad to see you’re still dramatic. Here I was thinkin’ it was all for show.” He laughed, making your smile grow.

“Sam, move.” There was very obvious ire in her voice. Sam moved out of the way and Nat came into view, her hair seemingly redder than the last time you FaceTimed her 72 hours ago. She had a brow arched and you gave her a soft grimace.

“Hi, Nattie….” you spoke softly. You had gotten used to just ending the call whenever she started lecturing, but now you were face-to-face and slightly terrified. She rolled her eyes, her shoulders relaxing in the process.

“Oh, come here,” she stepped forward and you hugged each other tightly. “I missed you,” she whispered into your ear. Tears welled and you returned the sentiment.

“Oh, great, you got her crying, Nat,” Clint teased. You dropped your holds and gave each other an understanding look. Nat turned to Clint.

“Don’t be an asshole, asshole.” Clint let out a hearty laugh and slid into the booth section of the table. Nat followed and leaned into his side just like she always did. You watched Clint kiss her temple, and sighed involuntarily.

“I’m gonna get something to drink, you guys good?” You were met with a chorus of “goods!” and Clint telling you to get him a beer. You walked over to the bar and leaned against the counter while you waited. Happenstance had you glance down at the bar top, instantly making your stomach drop. Carved into the wood were the initials JBB and Y/I with a jagged heart etched around it.

“Ya know, if you two hadn’t of done that, I’d probably have a perfectly graffiti-free bar top,” a burly, but kind, voice reverberated in your ears. You looked up and slowly smiled at Nick. He raised his brow, “Let me guess: Bud Light for Clint and… one of those wine coolers for you?” You chuckled softly.

“Clint’s is right, but I’ll have a long island and a shot of tequila.” He gave an amused look and went to make the order. “How ya been, Nick? Any teenagers you givin’ empty threats to?” He chuckled and turned to face you.

“They weren’t empty. Ask Wilson or Romanoff how many times I called their folks. You were just roped into the bad behavior, so I let you off the hook. ” You laughed and faintly shook your head.

“Don’t you know, Nick? It’s always the quiet ones.” He grinned and slid a lime and a shot glass towards you. You shot it back as soon as he was done pouring it, then bit into the lime, putting the rind in the empty shot glass.

“How’s everything for you?” You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the beer bottle in front of you.

“Work is good.” He gave a pointed look while he mixed your drink.

“You know that’s not what I mean….” Your shoulders slumped.

“I… haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know once I do.” He didn’t say anything, just letting out a deep sigh, much like a disappointed parent, and finished making your drink.

He slid it to you, “How long you stayin’?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll see how long Nat can convince me I should.” You grabbed your wallet, “How much?”

“For you… $9.” You grinned and laid down a twenty.

“Thanks, Nick. Keep the change.”

“$11 for a tip?” He asked amusedly.

“Well, think of it this way: the more I drink, the more likely it is that I’m gonna forget to pay, let alone tip.” He chuckled and grabbed the bill. You grabbed the drinks after stuffing the wallet into your bag, “See ya in a bit, Nick.” You headed back to the table and saw that a blonde had joined. You handed Clint his beer and sat down beside Sam.

Sam slung his arm around you. “So, any chance of you buyin’ me a drink now?” You pinched your brows and looked up at him.

“Dude, I asked if you needed anything and you said no.”

“Yeah, but that was before I finished my drink.” You snorted.

“Sounds like a “you problem” now, bud.” He reached and tugged on your hair, making you gasp. You turned and glared at him.

“Sounds like a “you problem” now, bud.” He parroted back like a bratty kid. You crossed your eyes and glanced at Sharon.

“Hey, lady,” she said with a grin. You huffed out your nose and grinned as you both stood up and hugged each other. “We’ve missed you.” You exhaled softly and squeezed her once more before pulling back and sitting back down. 

“I missed you, too, Shar.” You took a sip of your drink, and then another, trying to get a small buzz before the inevitable.

Conversations flowed effortlessly. It was almost like the universe was taunting you with how easy it could have been if you hadn’t left.

Nat passed around her phone and showed off the still-in-progress tattoo she’d given to a group of bikers who passed through today. Her work had improved tremendously since you were 16, when she gave everyone the same star tattoo, effectively branding you all into some off-brand cult. 

Sharon recounted the patient who heaved all over her that morning. The story didn’t go on for very long before Clint and Sam started to lose color and made her stop talking about it. You had planned on being a nurse with her, way back in high school when everything in the world was still bright and shiny.

But plans change.

You hadn’t eaten much of anything all day, not wanting to eat in the car and too stubborn to stop for food, so the one drink had already started to affect you. You giggled and smiled, almost having forgotten how it felt to be that light.

A new song came on the jukebox and it was like a movie: the door opened, illuminating the inside of the bar, drawing everyone’s attention, and time stood still. Steve led the two men over, but your eyes were focused on the brunet’s. You saw a look of shock wash over his face as you stared at one another. You looked down at your lap, suddenly finding your nails much more interesting. As if on purpose, Sam slid in next to you as he got back from the bar, effectively trapping you in between him and Clint. Well… you could always crawl out from under the table if need be.

Steve approached the table first, a dazzling smile on his face. “Hey, guys! Sorry we’re late; had to finish training the newbies,” you glanced up at him and he gave a stunned look. “Holy shit! Sam move,” Sam chuckled and moved out of the way and Steve took his spot, wrapping his massive arms around you in a bear hug. He smelled like Irish Springs and the same Crew shampoo he’d been using since discovering it in high school. You let out a surprised laugh.

“Hi to you, too, Steve.” You patted his back with the limited arm movement you had.

He chuckled in your ear, “You’re lucky you aren’t standing up, or I’da picked you up.” You laughed and he pulled back, his hands on your biceps.

“Sam already did, so might as well.” Steve laughed.

“How you doin’, sunshine?” You chuckled at the nickname that came so easily from him.

“I’m good, Steve. I’m good.” Steve turned his head towards the bar and then looked back at you.

“Come with me. I wanna get a beer.” He didn’t give you much room to argue before he was pulling you out of the booth. He sat at one of the stools and patted the empty one next to him. “So… how ya really been?” You glanced at him as you sat. That asshole had always been too perceptive when you didn’t want him to be. You sighed softly.

“Steve… I really don’t think now is the time to talk about this. Let’s just get through the night and--”

“And what? As soon as it’s all over, you’ll run out of our lives like last time? Oh, wait. Not everyone, just me and Buck.” You shouldn’t be shocked by his anger, you had been anticipating it since you told Sharon you’d come to the wedding, but the sting it left wasn’t something you had imagined.

You stared down at the bar for a few beats before Steve let out a deep sigh, “Things have been shitty without you here, ya know? We’ve all missed you, Buck most of all…. Obviously.” Nick came over and Steve ordered some local beer you hadn’t heard of, and another drink for you.

“We all made choices that night, Steve.” He turned his head and you slowly met his eyes.

“You two need to talk. This has gone on for long enough. I don’t think you both have all sides of the story.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, thanking Nick as he slid your drink to you.

“And you only have his,” you grabbed your drink and stood up, and headed towards the back exit. You went down the narrow hallway, past Nick’s office, and opened the black metal door, the cool spring air a welcomed greeting.

You sat on one of the milk crates stacked by a pallet of wood and sighed. You set your drink on the ground and leaned back against the wall, staring up at the dusk sky. It was stupid to think you could ever come back and have things be normal while you were here. Things were definitely not normal.

The door popped open and you glanced over, making eye contact with Bucky. He gave you a half grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he let the door fall shut, and moved to sit on the milk crate across from you. You forced yourself to go back to looking at the sky, even though you could feel his stare on you.

“Hey.” It had been years since you heard his voice, but it felt like just yesterday. 

“Hey.”

“So... Steve’s obnoxious, huh?” You looked at him and saw a small smirk on his face. Your own smirk formed and you huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah, just a bit.” Bucky chuckled and kicked out some of the rocks under his foot. You sat in silence, the sound of the AC thrumming softening the tension in the air.

“You look good, Y/N.” You finally took Bucky in. His hair was cut shorter, and he had a few days’ worth of stubble on his face, from the looks of it. He wore jeans and a grey shirt with a black jacket, and his arms looked like they were about ready to bust out of the material with one good flex. 

“You do, too, Bucky.… Even with short hair.” He chuckled and shifted on his feet, nervously running his fingers through his hair. You picked up your glass and rubbed your thumb over the rim, “How’s the firehouse?” His eyes flickered over your face.

“It’s good. Made lieutenant last fall.” Half of your mouth turned up in a grin. 

“That’s great, Bucky. I’m happy for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a small grin.

“Thanks. Steve’s captain, so he’s a bit of a hard ass most days, but somehow I manage.” You laughed softly. “So, Clint was saying you work w-with kids? H-How’s that goin’?” Of course he did. 

“I do. At an elementary school. The kids I work with are pretty great, so I can’t complain.” You slowly stood after what felt like an eternity of staring at one another, cradling your drink in your hands. Bucky straightened, standing up, and you noticed he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. A nervous tick he’d had since the sixth grade.

“We don’t--” “Can we--”

You both chuckled nervously, and you motioned for him to go first. He cleared his throat, “Uh, I was just gonna ask if could meet for lunch tomorrow? Maybe talk where there isn’t alcohol involved.” You gazed over his face.

“Okay,” you whispered. Bucky’s brows raised with surprise. 

“We can go to Peggy’s? She’ll be happy to see ya….” You grinned at how eager he sounded. “So, uh, what were you gonna say?”

You glanced down at your feet, “Oh…. I was gonna say we don’t have to talk here, but you beat me to it.” You looked up at him, chuckling. His face shifted slightly.

“You still can’t lie for shit….” Your grin fell slowly, and you looked back down at your feet. Bucky could always tell when you weren’t telling the truth. Even after all this time, it seems.

“I was gonna say that we don’t have to talk and be nice about it. It’s not like things got left on the best note.” He scoffed and you looked up at him, “Yes, James, I know I’m the reason for that, thank you.” He took a couple steps towards you, and it felt like you were going to drown in those eyes all over again.

“Then, let’s fight; get it out of our system.” You gave him a bewildered look and set the glass on the stack of pallets.

“Really? You wanna get into a screaming match outside the bar? Probably wouldn’t look too good for a firefighter to get cited for domestic disturbance, don’t ya think?”

“Don’t even wanna fight when I’m bringing it up…” He shook his head and scoffed humorlessly, “Of course ya don’t. You don’t wanna talk about it, or fight about it, but you’ve got no problems up and disappearing for four years without so much as a fucking heads up!” Bucky’s voice gradually got louder and louder.  

“That’s not just on me, Buck! You didn’t wanna talk either, and you just ignored the conversation until I told you I couldn’t do it anymore, and then--!”

“Do you have any idea how fucking miserable I was when you left?! Jesus… Steve and Sam had to drag me out of the house just so I wasn’t holed up in our home--”

“I was miserable before I left, but that never got brought up, did it? No, of course not. ‘Let’s just blame Y/N. She’s the bitch that left good ol’ Bucky Barnes high and dry for no reason at all. How could she do that to him!?’” You scoffed and threw your hands up, your palms coming back and slapping your thighs, “I was fucked up, too! It wasn’t like I actually wanted to leave, but we were kids, Buck! We didn’t know a goddamn thing about life.”

“We knew plenty! We--”

“No, we fucking didn’t! No, we fucking didn’t... Tell me, did you figure out I left, or did someone who actually cared hafta tell ya?” Bucky’s jaw clenched, his knuckles going white. You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose. The door popped open, and you both snapped your heads in the direction. Sam came out with a wary face.

“Uh, hey…Steve and Sharon want a group picture…?” You grabbed your drink.

“Great!” The sarcasm was palpable. Sam moved to the side and let you pass. You quickly gulped the drink and pointed to the empty glass and held it up for Nick as you walked past him at the bar. You discarded the glass on the table, “So, who’s takin’ the picture?”

“Well, let’s get one of just us girls first, then we’ll do the guys, then we’ll ask Nick if he can take the group one for us,” Sharon handed Steve her phone and grabbed you and pushed you into the booth so you sat in the middle between her and Nat. You squeezed together and smiled while Steve stood up and turned the phone sideways to get the picture.

“Alright, one, two, three,” Steve put the phone back down and started moving towards Sharon.

“Steve, take a few, and actually tell us when you’re taking it,” Steve put his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay….” He put the phone back up. “Everyone say ‘Cheese!’”

Bucky was going to hit something, and that something was going to be Sam Wilson if he didn’t wipe that look off his face.

“Buck, you--”

“For both of our sake’s, don’t.” Sam’s jaw ticked and Bucky brushed past him.

He’d known you were coming for only about 36 hours. Steve had been talking to Sharon on the phone and hadn’t noticed Bucky come into the kitchen. Bucky was refilling his mug when Steve asked if she knew where you were staying. Bucky’s knees almost folded under him, and since then, he’s been pestering his friends with information.

Sam and Steve had been the only ones who encouraged him to talk to you tonight. They even gave him pointers for how he should do it. 

The conversation he planned to have with Y/N had gone a lot smoother in his head on the drive over.

When you were all satisfied with the picture, the guys sat down, Sam and Bucky coming back over as you were standing up. As Sharon took a picture of the guys, you went over to Nick and picked up your drink and handed him a five.

“Can you take a group picture of us?” He gave a look. “I know… trust me, I know. But do it for Sharon. Think of how happy it'll make her.” He rolled his eye and you knew you had him. You always had a way of finding the cracks in Nick Fury’s heavily guarded heart, even if you those cracks were left there on purpose. He grumbled and came from behind the bar and walked with you back over to the table.

“Listen, you’re all lucky I’m such a generous person,” Nick deadpanned. You all laughed and Sharon handed him her phone, “Guys, in back, girls up front.” You let out a relieved sigh and sat down next to Nat. You just needed to smile and try to convince everyone you were happy. 

How hard could that be?

You were about four and a half drinks in and having a great time. Nat had snuck over to the jukebox shortly after pictures and selected a song that resulted in you and Sharon both gasping and joining Nat to dance. You were even able to get Clint and Sam on the floor for a song or two.

Song after song played, each one more upbeat than the last, and you danced with whoever was closest. You had to do whatever you could to avoid dealing with your problems. Obviously, it was the mature and adult way to handle the situation.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky watched from the table.

“You’re staring. It’s creepy.” Bucky side-eyed the redhead next to him.

“I’m not staring.” Nat raised her brows.

“Right…” Bucky ignored her and took a sip of beer. Every time Bucky tried to focus on whatever bad joke Clint was telling, his eyes somehow lingered to wherever you were. He missed the way his heart beat with you around. “Also, couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been nursing that beer for a while. It’s gotta be piss warm by now.”

It was. “It’s fine. I’m on call tonight, anyways.”

“No, you’re not, otherwise none of you would be drinking….” Nat moved closer to him, “Ya sure it doesn’t have to do with the girl over there that’s had a few too many?” Bucky clenched his jaw and finally turned to face Nat.

“Natasha…”

“James…”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Nat shrugged, “Too bad.” Bucky rolled his eyes and turned forward just in time to watch you and Sharon spin into each other. He couldn’t hear you over the chorus of the song playing, but the crinkles by your eyes told him you were laughing. 

Nat squeezed his knee and leaned into him, “Don’t be afraid to show her how you’ve changed, too.” His eyes snapped to hers, and she just grinned. It was really fucking annoying how she could always read him.

Sam came over to you while you were trying to find a new song on the jukebox. His arm draped over your shoulders, “Hey, we’ve gotta head out. Fury wants to close up for the night.”

Your brows burrowed and you whined, “But, why…?” Sam chuckled and glanced at his watch before looking back at you.

“Because it’s almost one and we’ve gotta go?” Your brows stayed pinched. You didn’t realize how empty the bar had gotten. “Are you staying with Clint and Nat tonight?” You exhaled and shook your head.

“No, I’m staying at the hotel,” you spoke louder than really necessary in an empty bar.

Sam pinched his brows, “Really? Why aren’t you stayin’ with someone?”

“’Cause no one would want me to. I was an asshole, Sam, and you guys are too nice to me….” Sam helped you stagger over to a chair so you could sit.

“Oh, kid….” He looked over you and nodded his head just enough that you noticed. You turned to where he was looking and saw Bucky walk your direction.

“Hey, Buck-o!” He raised his brow.

“Hey….” Bucky glanced at Sam and they whispered things to each other. You stood up and Sam and Bucky both immediately reacted, “Y/N, you gotta sit down.”

“I'm fine!” You tried walking back to the table where your friends were, but the room kept spinning and your coordination betrayed you. A strong hand gripped your arm and held you upright.

“Up you go,” Bucky scooped you up like it was nothing for him.

“Hey! Put me down!” He didn’t respond, and simply walked over to the table.

“Sharon, can you grab her purse?”

“Yeah,” Sharon grabbed your purse from the table and put it on your lap. She gave you a warm smile, “Lady, you gotta stay with someone tonight. Who--?” You shook your head.

“No, I don’t! I’ll be fine! I’m not even that drunk!” She gave you a look. You didn’t even believe your lie.

Sharon glanced at Bucky, then back to you, “Y/N, that’s not true, and you know it,” her voice was gentle, but firm. She tucked your hair behind your ear and you felt Bucky’s fingers dig just a little deeper into your flesh, “You need to go home with someone. You’re too drunk to be alone. I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself if you don’t.” You snorted.

“Well, you’re a nurse, I’ll just call you if I sprain my ankle again.” Sharon ignored your comment and started to get Steve’s attention.

“I’ll take care of her; make sure she’s safe. I… I’ll text you guys tomorrow.” Sharon stared at Bucky.

“Is that a good idea?” Bucky had to fight back his desire to scoff. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?

“Yeah, I think so.” Sharon studied him before slowly relaxing.

“Don’t make me regret this, Barnes.” 

Bucky ignored her remark. He murmured goodbyes to those nearby and started walking out of the bar with you balanced in his arms.

“Bucky! Put me down, I weigh too much!” He let out a sigh.

“Babe, you gotta stop screaming, I’m right here.”

“I’m--” he looked at you, and you shrank into yourself, “sorry.” Maybe you were talking louder than you needed to. He sighed softly.

“You don’t weigh “too much”, Y/N. I’m gonna set you down, can you keep your arms around my neck so you don’t fall over?” You nodded and grabbed your purse as Bucky slowly started to set your feet back on the ground. He opened the door to a vehicle, “Be careful of your step. The lift’s still there.” You looked and realized it was Bucky’s truck that you were getting into. One whiff of the air freshener, and you were sixteen again, and driving all over kingdom come with Bucky. You slowly stepped up and plopped into the passenger seat. 

“Do you need help buckling up?” You shook your head and grabbed the seat belt and clicked it across your body. Bucky shut the door and you watched him walk around and get into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t help but notice the two silver and blue ribbons that were still braided together, hanging from the gear stick. He buckled up and turned the engine over.

“What about my car?”

“We’ll get it in the mornin’.” He looked at you, chewing on his cheek, “I was gonna go through drive thru, would you eat somethin’?” You gasped and grabbed his arm.

“French fries! Oh my god, can I get french fries!?” He glanced at your hand on his arm and before giving you a soft smile.

“Sure, babe.” You smiled and leaned back so you were resting against the door. You folded your arms and stared out the window as you drove. Bucky started talking, but you couldn’t hear him. You lolled your head towards him.

“What?”

“Why do you think no one would want you to stay with them?” He flicked his eyes over you quickly, like he didn’t want you to notice him looking at you. You sighed loudly.

“’Cause I left, and haven’t been a very good friend. ‘Cause I hurt you like you hurt me,” tears slid down your face freely. “I really didn’t wanna hurt you. Well… I kinda wanted to, but not as much as I did. Not really! I was just so scared, and hurt, and sad, and--”

He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers before he brought the back of your hand to his mouth. Bucky knew you were too drunk to be having this serious of a conversation. He also knew sober Y/N wouldn’t be saying any of this right now, so it was probably a good idea to make you stop talking. 

He did, however, think it might be easier to get it all out there, so that when the time comes to have the real conversation, he’d have a better idea on how to do it.

“I know, Y/N… I know. I’m sorry for… everything. I was shitty to you, and I-I should’ve done more for you. I hate myself for not bringing you back home that night. For not being there for you like you needed,” he kissed the back of your hand tenderly, goose bumps rising in his wake. “I missed you, Y/N,” his voice was barely loud enough to hear over the thrum of the engine. He let out a deep sigh, “Let’s get some food, and go home, yeah?” You nodded and wiped away the tears with your other hand, too drunk to truly process what was being said.

 Bucky pulled up to the drive-thru speaker and rolled down his window.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, can--”

“I want hamburgers, too!” you shouted at Bucky. He untwined your hands and tried to cover your mouth without looking at you, but you quickly moved his hand away. “Don’t try to shut me up; I want hamburgers!”

“Okay! Jesus!” He whispered with wide eyes, trying his best to get you to stop screaming. “Sorry about that, can I have…” You could hear Bucky ordering the food, but all you could focus on was his hand that rested between you both.  Maybe if you laid yours down beside his, he wouldn’t notice, and would hold it again? Or, maybe--

“Will this complete your order?”

“Yeah.” You shifted in your seat, moving your eyes to the dash in front of you.

“Okay, we’ll have your total at the window,” Bucky slowly drove forward. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a twenty.

“I’ve got money.” You attempted to open your purse, but a big hand stopped you. You glanced at him.

“I got it,” he pulled up and the worker gave the total and Bucky handed them the money. They handed him back his change and he put it away before putting his wallet back in his jeans. They handed him the bag of food a few minutes later, “Thanks. Have a good night.” He set the food in the middle console and pulled back onto the street. You grabbed the bag and started looking for the fries. “Hey, wait until we’re home,” he tried reaching for the bag but you batted his hand away.

“I want some fries.”

“Y/N, just wait five minutes,” you pulled out three fries and popped them in your mouth, chewing happily. Bucky let out an annoyed sigh.

“You said I was the only one allowed to eat in your truck, so here I am… in your truck... eating,” you popped a few more in your mouth. You looked at him with a ‘gotcha’ look.

God, did Bucky miss you. “I guess I did say that…. Fine. A few more, then you gotta wait. You’ll just get upset when you don’t have any when we get home.” You laughed and pulled out a long one before you rolled the bag close and put it back on the console.

“Jokes on you, I’ll just steal yours.” Bucky grinned, but kept his eyes on the road. He’d gladly give you whatever you asked for, whether you knew that or not. 

You pulled onto the gravel road that you knew like the back of your hand. The lilac bush came into view and Bucky turned up the drive way, the headlights casting over the blue farmhouse. Bucky parked and grabbed the bag.

“Hold on, I’ll come help ya.” You unbuckled just as Bucky came around and opened the door. You grabbed your purse, and as you went to step out, your foot slipped out from the lift and Bucky grabbed you to stop you from falling on your ass. Your hands landed on his biceps and you slowly looked up at him with a bewildered face. “You okay?”

Concern. 

Genuine concern for the drunk girl almost falling out of the truck, was all you could hear in his voice. Both of his hands were around your waist, keeping you safe from falling. 

“You smell good.” He blinked and tilted his head slightly before slowly grinning.

“Thanks…. You smell good, too. Ya know, once you get past the tequila.” Your cheeks flushed and you chewed on your cheek. He chuckled, “C’mon. I’ll carry you, just to be safe.” You were sure he’d make up any excuse to carry you again, even if you weren’t drunk. He kept a hand on your waist and bent down to pick up the bag of food he dropped. He handed the bag to you, and before you could stop him, Bucky picked you up as he’d done in the bar. You held your purse and the bag of food in your lap with one hand and the other wrapped around Bucky’s neck for dear life. 

He walked up the few steps to the porch and maneuvered the door open. Once you were inside, he used his elbow to flip the light switch. The light grey couch and matching love seat you had picked out together were still here, and so was the leather recliner his parents had given you when you moved in. The walls had been painted navy blue since you left.

“So, you painted, huh?” His eyes flicked to yours as he sat you down in the recliner.

“I had a lot of time on my hands.” You hummed and opened the sack and started pulling the food out. Bucky continued to look at you. 

He wanted to tell you that you were right, that navy was better than the teal he had insisted on. But he didn’t. There were a million and one things he wanted to tell you, and paint choices were the least important. He exhaled and went into the kitchen. 

You heard the fridge open and set his food on the coffee table and tucked your feet up and opened a burger. “Here,” Bucky handed you a bottled water, “drink this.” You set the burger back in the wrapper and took the water from him. “Thanks,” you swallowed and twisted the bottle open, taking a small sip. You were thirstier than you realized and drank more as you watched Bucky sit down and open up the box with his food. He had his own water sitting on the coffee table. These positions used to be reversed years ago.

You looked around the room, taking it in. It seemed almost exactly like it did when you left… except not, at the same time. Just another reminder that time didn’t stop just because you left. You noticed a pink sweatshirt on one of the hooks by the door. “You got a girlfriend?” It wasn’t accusatory, you were genuinely just asking, your drunk brain blurting out your thoughts for you. Bucky choked on his food and quickly reached for the water and took big gulps.

“What?!” He coughed out. You pointed to the sweatshirt and he followed, “Oh, that’s Bec’s! She left it here the last time she was in town.”

“Oh, Becca! I miss her…! How is she?”

“She’s good. She’s comin’ home for the wedding, so you’ll see her next weekend.”

“Don’t let her kill me,” you spoke with a mouth full of food. Bucky raised a brow and picked his burger back up.

“I won’t let her, but she won’t want to. She’ll probably cry when she sees you.” 

You fell into an awkward silence, both of you trying to find a way to start a conversation. You were finishing your fries when Bucky cleared his throat, “So… uh, are, are you seein’ anyone?” Bucky hated himself as soon as he said it. What if you say yes? What if--

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’. You didn’t finish the other burger and offered it to him. He glanced at it and stared at it for a beat, debating on if he really needed another burger, before taking it. He’ll just eat a light breakfast. You put the leftover fries and wrappers into the bag and stood up. Bucky tensed like he was ready to catch you. “Relax. I’m just throwin’ this stuff away,” you picked up his wrappers and walked into the kitchen and pulled out the drawer that had the trash can. You stumbled back into the living room and could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. 

“Uh, I’ve got some clothes you can wear so you don’t have to sleep in jeans and…” He moved his finger around, pointing at you, his cheeks getting redder. You glanced down and realized you had more skin showing than you intended. Your cheeks got hot and you adjusted your top and nodded.

“You could’ve just taken me to the hotel, ya know? I would’ve been fine.”

“You’re too drunk to go to a room by yourself. Somethin’ coulda happened.” You rolled your eyes, but didn’t say anything. You rested your head on the back of the recliner and slowly felt yourself start to drift to sleep. You felt an arm go under your knees.

“Bucky, stop carrying me. I can walk,” you rolled your head and looked at him.

“You think you can handle stairs?” You stared at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Yes.” He snorted.

“Well, then let’s go, toots,” you rolled your eyes and scoffed as you pushed yourself up.

“Call me ‘toots’ again and I’ll deck ya.” Bucky chuckled and walked behind as you went upstairs. He guided you to a room and flipped on the light. He walked you to the bed and had you sit, and you watched him go to the closet and grab a white v-neck and grey sweatpants and set them beside you.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch. Do you need anything?” You blinked and slowly shook your head as you looked at him. “Alright. Well, if you do, holler. Uh, I’ll let you change. Goodnight.” He walked out and shut the door swiftly. Bucky stood in front of the door as he collected his breaths. He steadied himself and went downstairs to finish eating and try and get a grip.

You looked around the room as you toed off your shoes. The Ikea dresser you picked out sat in the corner still, along with the mirror hung above it that you just had to have. Bucky wasn’t surprised when you came home with it; he’d long accepted your need to decorate with second-hand items. He was, however, surprised when you didn’t get the groceries you had told him you were getting. The whole purpose for going into town in the first place. You told him you were just too excited to show him the mirror. He just laughed and told you to get into the truck, and you went to the store together.

You stood up and touched your fingertips to the small hardened pink nail polish stain on the white comforter. You remembered being so mad at yourself when it happened. You changed into the white t-shirt of Bucky’s and pulled back the covers. You turned off the lights and sank into bed, softly inhaling Bucky’s scent that clung to the sheets.

Bucky finished eating and cleaned up. Maybe he should go check on you and leave some water for when you wake up. He grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. He walked upstairs and lightly tapped on the door.

“Y/N?” He waited for a response, but when he didn’t hear anything he opened the door. 

You were laying on his side, hugging his pillow with your face buried in it. Half of his mouth tugged up in a grin when he heard your soft snores. He used the hallway light to see and set the glass down on the nightstand. He went into the adjoining bathroom and grabbed two blue pills for the hangover you’d absolutely have when you woke up. Then he took one last look before heading back downstairs, turning off the lights as he came down. 

Bucky sent Sharon a text that you were asleep in bed, and that there was nothing for her to regret. You could have gotten a hangnail and Sharon would have found a way to blame Bucky. 

He kicked off his shoes and grabbed the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and laid down. His mind was racing as he stared up at the ceiling.

How are you gonna get her back, Bucky?

How are you gonna not fuck this up?

How?

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Masterlist  // Next

[avengerscompound]

Those Little Words - One

Those Little Word:  A Iron Man Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 2214

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warnings:  Age difference (not used as a kink), Dirty talk, Smut (M|F, oral sex, vaginal sex, public sex), unsupportive parents.

Synopsis:  Everyone knows that Tony Stark is the textbook definition of a narcissist. So what happens when he meets someone just like him.

Those Little Words

Tony Stark is the textbook definition of a narcissist.  Everyone knows that.  He even knows that.  He prides himself on it.

The day you met him, you had no doubts.  The person this man loved most was himself.  You’d just started your post-doctorate.  You were an evolutionary biologist studying the sudden random mutations that had started springing up in humanity.  Doctor Banner had taken you on for your first postdoctoral position.  He was supervising you through Columbia.  It was complicated because he didn’t technically work there, but the University had been excited having his name to your papers and he was excited because your Ph.D. thesis had the potential to be adapted to help cure his condition.  You weren’t so sure, but he was the best in the field.  The fact he took you under his wing was a big win for you.

So three days a week you worked directly with Bruce in his lab.  A lab where you had access to blood and tissue samples of a number of different supers.  They were more than happy to provide them under the proviso that they never left Bruce’s lab.  Which would be fine with you, except that there was something else that wouldn’t leave Bruce’s lab.

That thing was Tony Stark.

He had come in, seemingly mid-sentence, while you were being shown around by Bruce.  You were already pretty star struck.  You were working with a world leader in your field who just so happened to be an Avenger.  In the Avengers Tower.  You’re pretty sure in the lobby you saw Captain America and now the Tony Stark just waltzes into your lab like he owns the place.

Which of course he does.

“So I thought if we just recalibrate the system to push back any time polarity is reversed, it should stabilize the core.”  He says and tips a handful of raisins into his mouth. The yogurt covered kind.

You turn to look at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  It’s like your brain just short-circuited.  Here you are at work and Iron Man is just strolling around.

“That might fix the problem we’re having with Quantum Flux.  You’d need to adjust for the tunneling effect.”  Bruce adds.

“Who’re you talking to?”  Tony says as he walks straight for you.  He pokes you in the ribs with the box of raisins his holding.  “Who’s the new meat?  And what’s wrong with her?”

Bruce laughs and introduces you.  He uses your full name plus the Doctor.  You haven’t had the Doctor long and hearing it come from Doctor Bruce Banner’s mouth fills you full of pride.

“Oh yeah.  Your new little protege.  I heard about you.  I read your papers on induced mutations.  Really inspired stuff.”  He says.  “So are you gonna cure our little Bruce here?”

You go to speak and for a second all that comes out is a croak.  You clear your throat and try again.  “Thank you.  That certainly isn’t the aim.  I’m just trying to get a better understanding as to why these events that should be resulting in the individual’s death or at least cancers are instead giving them enhancements.  If I can find a way to reverse the results the way you might cause cancer to shrink; that’s just a bonus for Doctor Banner really.”

He offers you his hand.  “Tony Stark.”

You take it and shake firmly.  “Never heard of you.”

He laughs.  “I like her.  Where are you living?”

“Columbus and West 102nd.  Near the University.”  You answer.

He shakes his head and gets out his phone.  You see your photo for a brief moment and you think even your address.  “Not anymore.  The rent’s ludicrous.  You’ll live here at the tower.  Your own apartment of course.”

“But I can't…” You begin to protest.

He cuts you off.  “It’s done.  Welcome to your new home.  Come see me when you’re finished in the lab and I’ll give you the tour.”

He then just strolls out of the lab like he hadn’t just thrown your life into upheaval.

“Sorry about him.  He gets ideas.”  Bruce says like that explains anything at all.

At the end of the day, you go to find him like he asks.  The buildings AI guides you to his engineering lab.  There are unfinished projects littering workbenches and suit after suit of Iron Man armor lines the walls.  He’s alone and tinkering on something.  “New meat.”  He says, not turning around.

“Mr. Stank.”  You reply.

Tony laughs and spins his chair to face you.  “Did Rhodey put you up to that?”

“Rhodey?”  You ask genuinely perplexed.  “I just figured if you can’t use my name, fair’s fair.”

He laughs again.  “What about something more familiar then?”

“What like Toby?”  You ask, walking over close to him.

He puts the thing in his hand down on the bench and looks up at you.  “I thought you were intimidated when we first met.  You’re not at all are you?”  He asks, toying with the hem of your jacket.

You feel like that should bother you.  It doesn’t though.  It makes a pleasant buzz creep through your skin and your scalp prickles.  “Why would I be?”

He stands and assesses you.  You can’t help feeling like he’s a predator circling his prey.  “You can’t sleep with me you know.  Since my ex, my therapist told me to take some time for personal growth.”

“Who said I wanted to sleep with you?”  You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.  “You’re not exactly my type.”

“Handsome, genius, billionaire, playboys aren’t your type?”  He asks, getting even closer to you. “So what exactly is?”

“Men who are younger than my Dad.”  You answer.  Which isn’t exactly a lie.  He is way out of your comfort zone for an acceptable age gap.

Only, he’s so close now.  You can feel his body heat.  Your body is actively betraying you.  You’re tingling all over like there’s electricity passing from one of you to the other.

“Ouch.  That was a low blow.”  He says, his arms sliding around your back.  He is so close to you now you can almost taste him.

“I can’t help the fact my dad had children young.”  You reply.

He lifts you suddenly, placing you on the workbench.  You start kissing.  It’s wet, graphic kissing.  All tongues and teeth.  He bunches your skirt up and pulls your body flush against his so you can feel the press of his cock through his jeans.  You drop your bag to the ground and it makes a dull thud sound.

“I thought your therapist said no sex.”  You breathe, as he starts sucking a hickey on your neck.

“They’ll just make me do an extra Hail Mary,”  Tony says, grinding up against you.

“That doesn’t sound like something a therapist would say.”  You retort.

Tony smiles against your skin.  “Did I say therapist?  I meant priest.”

You laugh and start unfastening his jeans.  You kiss his throat, trying to match the mark he just gave you with one of his own.

“What about your dad?”  He asks.

You push his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock.  It springs up and he grinds against you once more.  “I just won’t introduce you.”  You assure him.

He grabs his wallet from behind you on the bench.  He pulls a condom from it and you snatch it from his hand, tearing it open.  “Why would you even have this if you’re celibate?”  You ask, rolling it on.

Tony kisses you, his tongue plunging into your mouth.  As he kisses you he pulls you that little bit closer to you and thrusts inside of you.  You gasp at the sudden invasion.  Your hands go to his hair, tugging on it.

“I’m like a scout.  Always come prepared.”  He says.  He holds you in place, his hands on your ass as he thrusts into you.

You wrap your legs around his waist.  Hooking your ankles around his back.  “Nice pun.”  You say.

“Totally unintentional but I liked it too.”  Tony agrees.

You run your hands up under the well worn Black Sabbath t-shirt he’s wearing.  Your fingertips slide up his abs and onto his chest.  You feel the scarring from where his Arc Reactor once sat.  He flinches and you take your hands away returning them to his hair.

The chatter stops and you become two bodies, sweaty and desperate.  Both chasing your release.  You can’t seem to stop kissing him.  Your lips start going numb from the scratch of his beard.  The few times you break your kiss you just start kissing his throat instead.

You both start to pant and Tony pulls back to look at you.  “You’re not going to come for me?”

“Not if that’s all you’re bringing to the table.”  You pant.  “And if this is your A game; people have been faking it with you a lot.”

“You are such a brat.”  He scolds, pushing you back so you’re lying over his bench.  Something digs into your back. You have no idea what and you don’t care.  His fingers are on your clit and expertly work it, sending a jolt right through you.

You arch up suddenly crying out.  “Oh fuck yes.”

Tony smirks down at you and holds you tightly by your hip.  “What was that?  You’re a sex god, Mr. Stark?  I thought so.”

You reach up and grab his shirt dragging him down into another kiss to shut him up.  You feel your orgasm crest and when it breaks your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and you tighten around him.

He growls into the kiss and bites your lips.  His thrusting picks up pace.  He braces his hand onto a shelf above you and everything on the bench starts shaking like there’s an earthquake happening.  His hips jerk into you suddenly and he comes with a grunt.

For a moment you just stay like that.  Looking up at him as he bends over you panting, his cock pulsing still inside of you.  He slips out and helps you to your feet with almost no warning.  You readjust your clothing as he quickly disposes of the condom and pulls his pants back up.

“Follow me.”  He says, putting his sunglasses on.

You grab your bag and follow him out of the lab.

“That can’t happen again. Total one-time thing.  I meant it before.  I got issues.”  Tony says as you both march through the hall to the elevator.

“Are you kidding me right now?  I give you my virginity and this is what I get?”  You say, faking offense.

Tony falters and looks back at you.  You stare at him deadpan not allowing him to tell if you were joking or not.  He pushes your shoulder.  “Nearly got me then.  Nice one.”

He calls the elevator and when you’re inside he turns to face you.  “Are we cool?”

You nod.  “I meant what I said.”

“Which bit?”  He asks.

“That I was a virgin and now you’re honor bound to marry me.”

He starts laughing.

“The you being out of my acceptable age range for dating bit.”  You clarify.

He quirks his eyebrow at you.  “How old are you?  30?”

You laugh.  “Try 27.”

Tony takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose.  “Right.  Good.”

“My dad’s 46.”  You add.

“What the hell?  How old was he when he had you?”  Tony yelps.

“19.  That’s basic maths.  I thought you were a genius.  I feel like I didn’t get my money’s worth just now.”  You tease.

The elevator pulls up and Stark gets out and leads you down another hall.  This one is less industrial and warmer.  The walls are cream and the lights are set into them, giving off a soft, yellow glow.  “Yeah, we’re definitely not doing that again.”

“Suits me, old man.”  You agree.

“Even if it was great.”  He adds, opening the door at the end of the hall.  He walks in and spreads his arms out.  “Here you are. Home sweet home.”

You look around in shock.  All your stuff is here, set up like you had it in your old apartment.  Only the bits of furniture that had been really old and needed replacing has been.  Also, there’s a little more, because this place is huge.  It has floor to ceiling windows and you can see the Chrysler building out of them.

“This is… this… I … what?”  You babble.

“No need to thank me.  FRIDAY knows you.  The doors you’re allowed in will open.  There’s a common area that all the Avengers hang out in two floors up.  We sometimes eat as a group.  You’re welcome up there too if you like.  But otherwise, this is just yours.  Pets are okay.”  Tony says.  He’s taken his glasses off and is moving around your room and rummaging through your stuff.  “My only rule is if you start dating Bucky you need to tell him I was there first.”

“Thanks, old man.”  You say.

“I said, don’t thank me.”  He starts, heading for the door.  “We cool?”

You smile at him.  “Yeah, we’re cool.”

He puts his glasses back on and grins.  “Welcome to the family, new meat.”

// NEXT

[science-hoes]

CPR Training

Prompt: That Scene from the Office. 

Characters: Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Loki, Thor, Nick Fury, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: None

Peter Parker followed his colleagues into the conference room with his video camera on. He sat down next to Tony and pointed the lens towards him.

“Mr. Stark, why are we doing this?” He asked.

Tony took off his sunglasses and sighed. “We found ourselves on the less prepared side of things when Fury had his…when his heart went off. And I knew exactly what to do, but in a much more real sense…I had no idea what to do. So I thought we should have a CPR training class.” He answered, motioning to the room, where the table had been removed and on the ground was a CPR dummy. “And Dr. Banner is the only one who is CPR certified. So he has to teach us because I said so.”

Peter panned the camera to Bruce Banner, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, clearly irritated that he had to take time out of his research to teach this course. “Is everyone here?” He asked, scanning the room for empty seats. “Good. So I’m going to begin with teaching the ABC’s of CPR. And that stands for Airway, Breathing, and Circulation.” He explained.

Clint Barton raised his hand. “You know, that can be a little confusing, because in archery, my teacher told me that ABC stands for Always Be Consistent.” He said.

Loki threw his pamphlet down and stood up. “This is a farce. I should be teaching this course!” He exclaimed.

Thor shook his head. “Shut it, shut it.” He replied to his brother.

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood away from the wall he had been leaning on. “You caused this, Loki. Would anyone like to demonstrate their prior knowledge of CPR?” He asked.

Scott raised his hand. “I learned CPR while I was under house arrest.” He said before standing up and kneeling in front of the dummy.

Everyone watched as Scott began to compress the dummy’s chest at a steady pace. But soon he began to slow down as he was getting tired.

“Man, I can’t keep doing this forever.” He panted.

Bruce checked his watch. “It’s been 20 seconds…” He responded.

Scott sat back on his knees and took in a deep breath. “Call it then.” He said.

Peter focused in on Bruce’s concerned face as Scott returned to his chair. Bruce looked to the group of Avengers and co. to look for another participant. “Loki, would you like to try?” He asked.

Loki crossed his arms. “Absolutely…I would not.” He muttered in response.

Peter looked up. “You know who I really think should go? Fury.” He said, focusing on the tired man sitting in the corner.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Fury said.

Maria Hill looked to Peter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He needs to rest.” She advised.

“No rest for the sick.” Natasha quoted, incorrectly.

Steve rose and knelt in front of Fury. “Sir, we’re not always going to be there to coddle your heart back when it disappears to be working. What are you going to do if you’re by yourself and your heart stops?” He asked.

“I would die.” Fury answered simply.

“And you’re okay with that?” Bucky asked.

“I’m okay with the logic of it.” Fury replied.

Bruce interrupted the conversation. “Okay, I need someone to actually try and perform CPR.” He said.

Thor raised his hand. “I can do it. There’s nothing you little humans can do that a god cannot.” He said before kneeling in front of the dummy.

Bruce returned to leaning against the wall. “Okay, assess the situation, Thor. Are they breathing?” He asked.

Thor looked to Bruce. “No, Bruce. They are not breathing.” He answered, and then looked to the dummy. “And they have no arms or legs.” He motioned to the CPR dummy’s body which only needed a head and chest for simulation.

Bruce shook his head. “No, that’s not part of it.” He said.

“Where are they?” Thor asked. “You know what? If we come across somebody with no arms or legs, do we bother resuscitating them at all? I mean, what kind of quality of life do we have there?”

Scott shrugged. “I would like to live with no legs.” He said.

Tony looked to Scott. “How about no arms? No arms or legs is basically how you exist right now, Thumbelina, you don’t do anything.” He responded.

Scott narrowed his eyes at Tony. Bruce rubbed his forehead. “Alright, let’s get back to it, Thor. Because you’re losing the victim.” He said. Thor immediately began rapidly compressing against the dummy’s chest. Bruce shook his head. “Okay, too fast. Everyone, we need to compress at a pace of 100 beats per minute.” He announced.

Thor stopped and tilted his head. “Okay, that’s hard to keep track. How many beats is that per hour?” He asked.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “How is that going to help?”

“I will divide and then count to it.” Thor responded confidently.

“Well, a good trick to staying steady is compressing to the song Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees.” Bruce noted.

Thor nodded. “Oh, yes. I love that song. At first I was afraid, I was petrified.” He sang.

Bruce shook his head. “No, it’s: ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” He corrected.

Steve interrupted and pointed to Bruce. “You were in the parking lot earlier, that’s why I thought I’d seen you wear that shirt before.” He said.

Bruce stopped for a moment to look at Steve before returning his attention back to the simulation. Thor began to compress again to the beat of the song.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” He sang.

Then Scott joined the song. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” And then Thor stopped compressing to hear Scott sing.

“Mmm, well you can tell by the way I walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk. Music loud and women warm, been kicked around since I was born.” Scott sang by himself, and then Clint stood up to join him by dancing. Thor began to clap to the rhythm of the song. Then Tony, Natasha, and Loki joined in the singing. “And now it's alright, it's okay, and you may look the other way. We can try to understand, the New York Times' effect on man.”

“Ba na num a num a num a, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” Thor sang along, once everyone got to the chorus and no one really knew the lyrics anymore.

Bruce whistled loudly over the singing. “Hey! You didn’t maintain 100 beats per minute, and the ambulance didn’t arrive because nobody called 911. So you lost him.” He scolded.

Thor made a sad face and sat back down. Loki stood up and made his way to the front of the room. “Okay, he’s dead. Does anyone know what we do next?” He asked. “Anybody? Bruce?”

Bruce shook his head slightly. “I have no idea.” He replied.

“Anyone else?” Loki asked.

Maria raised her hand. “We bury him.” She suggested.

Loki shook his head. “Nope, wrong. Check for an organ donor card. If he has one, we only have minutes to harvest.” He explained.

Bucky looked up. “He has no wallet, I checked.” He responded.

Thor pointed to the dummy. “He is an organ donor.” He said.

Loki pointed to Fury. “Get me some ice and a bucket.” He said before pulling up his pant leg and revealing a knife that was concealed on his ankle. “Here we go.” He added before stabbing the dummy in the center of his chest.

Tony’s mouth dropped. “Loki!” He exclaimed.

Loki made the cut all the way down the dummy. “We’re searching for the organs! Where’s the heart? The precious heart?” He said.

Fury rolled his eyes and started making his way back to his chair. “I need to sit down.” He mumbled.

Maria and Steve stood up to help him get back in his chair. And just before Bruce could stop him, Loki began turning in a circle, making clicking noises with his tongue. When he faced the chairs, it was visible that he had cut the face off the dummy.

“Clarice.” He whispered, similarly to the villain in Silence of the Lambs.

Bruce snatched the plastic dummy face off of Loki and hit him with it. “These dummies cost 3,500 dollars!” He yelled, slightly turning green.

Tony stood up quickly to make his way over to Bruce. “Alright, meeting is adjourned. If you need to perform CPR, just call Bruce.” He said before separating Loki and the angered scientist. Then he turned to Peter, who had still been recorded. “Kid, turn that thing off.” He whispered.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “The Dangers of Self-Medicating” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt gets sick on a business trip, and everything he does just to get home makes it worse. (2024 words)

Notes: So, I have been feeling a little blue and entirely unmotivated, so I started editing some old work and came across this one. It's the first thing I've laughed at in a couple of days, so I re-wrote it for Klaine (just in case it looks familiar, now you know).

Read on AO3.

“Sir?”

“Mmmrrr … hmmm?”

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Here?” Kurt’s eyelids flutter slightly, opening a sliver. But when the mid-morning sun hits their dry, red surface, he immediately shuts them again. “Where’s here?”

“15-22 Mulberry Place? It’s the address you gave me.”

“The address I … wha---?” Kurt pries open his eyes. The address sounds familiar, but the voice speaking to him doesn’t. There’s a lot of mud and fog cluttering his brain. The last thing he remembers is being in his hotel room, packing his bag. No, it was losing his breakfast, and lunch and dinner from the day before, in an airport toilet. No, no, it was waiting by the curb, clutching on to the handle of his carry-on for support while he waited for his Uber to arrive.

Uber! He’s in an Uber! Which means he must be …

“Home?” he says in a raw, grumbly voice.

“I guess.” The man puts his car into park. “Do you need any help with your bag?”

“Nah.” Kurt grabs the handle of the bag he’s been cuddling awkwardly since he fell asleep in this poor man’s back seat. At least he didn’t vomit in his car. As far as Kurt can remember, he’s baptized nearly every toilet and trash can from the airport, to Manhattan, to home. “I’ve got it.” I’ll just pour myself onto the pavement and slither up to my front door, he thinks. “Here …” Kurt fumbles a hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Squinting, he fishes out three tens and clumsily hands them to the driver. “Thanks for everything.”

“Good luck,” the driver says, mentally snickering at the intoxicated man doing his best to exit his Prius. Ten sheets to the wind at barely eleven in the morning?

Well, it’s five o’clock somewhere.

Kurt backs out of the car butt-first, searching for the ground with his feet to make absolutely certain that it’s there. Once they make contact, he extricates the rest of his body, his Samsonite bag landing on the curb with a thunk when his arms fail to support its weight. It takes him longer to stand up straight, the compact blue Toyota gone before Kurt gets his head balanced on his shoulders.

He blinks his eyes and looks around, wondering why his husband isn’t there to meet him at the curb. Blaine and Tracy drove him to the airport, but he took an Uber home. And thank God he did. There’s no parking anywhere on the street this morning. Of course, he lives here and, hence, has a driveway to pull in to, but still. Strange, but Kurt doesn’t have the brain capacity to speculate about that just now.

Kurt has been traveling for most of the morning, voluntarily switching flights twice when a technical malfunction bumped travelers off their plane. He went from first class to coach, then back to first class again. He misses his family, but he came out of the deal with two travel vouchers, a slew of frequent flier miles, and a thousand dollar refund back to his credit card.

Not too shabby for a Sunday afternoon.

He’s a stone’s throw from home, but the way he’s feeling, it might take him the rest of the afternoon to get there.

Kurt turns, taking baby steps, one tiny shuffle at a time with breaths in between to keep the sidewalk underneath his feet. He does the same for the journey up his driveway – shuffle-shuffle pause, shuffle-shuffle pause, bending at the knees on occasion to ground himself and keep from collapsing.

The walk up his driveway to his front door on this beautiful Sunday afternoon is the most excruciating thing Kurt has done in ages.

Correction – pulling out his keys, listening to the God awful things jangle loudly, the noise ricocheting like bocce balls inside his skull, is the most excruciating. Walking up the driveway, and then up the front steps, each movement sending a dull ache searing from the soles of his feet to his forehead, was simply a precursor to this pain.

Kurt doesn’t understand how he could have gotten sick. He’d been on top of his Echinacea and his Vitamin C game for a week before he left. He kept his mouth and nose covered with a scarf on the plane, and no one he spent any significant time with looked particularly ill. Then again, he’s learned from having a child that sick people are often contagious way before they show any symptoms.

Plague-ridden bastards and their ninja germs bombarding him with their unseen illnesses! He did everything in his power to keep from catching anything, and now he’s standing at death’s door.

In reality, it’s probably from traveling back and forth between coasts after all these years of calm, suburban living. Living in the boonies, away from the dirt and the grime and the smog of the city has lowered his immune system, made him weak on a microbial level.

Clean air and sunshine – it will do you in every time.

His key ring raised to an inch from his eyes, he isolates his door key and pinches it between his thumb and index finger. He tries to stab it into the lock, but he keeps missing, his triple vision causing the end to veer away from the hole at the last minute and hit the door instead.

“Get … in … there,” Kurt snaps. “Get … in … that … hole … you stupid … little …” Kurt hears the door unlock and lets go of his key, assuming it made its way into the lock somehow. But the ring falls to the ground with a phenomenal bang. “Shoot!” he mutters, realizing he’ll need to bend over to pick it up.

If he does, he may never stand straight again.

The door swings open, the momentum of it almost dragging Kurt forward with it.

“Well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Blaine coos, his body blocking Kurt’s way, saving him from falling on his face.

“He-ey!” Kurt says, bright but slow, sounding as drunk as he looks.

“Hey, honey.” Blaine gives his husband an enthusiastic, lovesick once-over, but raises a brow at his wrinkled clothes, his unbuttoned collar, his flushed face, and his severely disheveled hair. “How was your trip?”

“Regrettable, to be honest. Ooo, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Kurt throws a hand over his mouth, diverting Blaine’s kiss from his lips to his cheek. “I think I contracted bird flu somewhere between Broadway and 75th Street. Or maybe syphilis.”

“Is syphilis an airborne disease? Because, if it isn’t, I have some questions.” Blaine opens the door wider. Grabbing Kurt’s bag in one hand and his elbow with the other, he leads him inside.

“Hmm, so do I.”

Blaine walks his husband to the sofa and helps him onto a cushion. “So did you miss your plane and walk home?” he asks, retrieving Kurt’s keys and closing the front door.

“Very funny.”

“I don’t want to say you look awful but …” Blaine takes a few steps back to get a good long look at Kurt sinking into the sofa, his head finding the arm and leaning against it. He doesn’t look like himself at all – from the hair to the clothes, and beyond his flushed cheeks, his skin actually looks green “… you look awful.”

“It’s not my fault. I took an Ambien last night to help me sleep off this …” Kurt waves a hand in front of his nose “… whatever I caught, but it didn’t help. I was coughing and sneezing and tossing all night. By six a.m., I was afraid I’d crash before I made it to the airport, so I took some DayQuil to keep me alert. But I guess DayQuil and Ambien don’t play nice together.”

“I guess not.”

“To top it off, since my plane was delayed, I dropped into what I thought was a Dunkin’ Donuts. I mean, the banner over the door looked the same and everything. Turns out, it was some new boutique place called Drunkin’ Donuts. I ate two blackberry wine donuts before I realized I was feeling tipsy.”

“Uh, but wouldn’t the alcohol in the donuts cook away?” Blaine asks, digging his phone out of his pocket and logging on to WebMD to see how much trouble his husband might be in.

“Yeah, in the donut, but not the jam filling. I’m amazed I made it home. After that, everything was kind of a blur.”

“Like what?”

Kurt swallows. This was the part he was hoping he wouldn’t have to get into until he was better … or sober. “Okay, don’t get mad, but I may have tweeted David Beckham and told him he had, and I quote, a very bite-able bod?” Kurt admits, eyes begging his husband to please tell him that that was just a dream.

And even though Blaine is quietly panicking over the fact that his husband might need his stomach pumped, he can’t help laughing at his man’s expense.

“Alas, you did,” Blaine confirms. “But in case you didn’t see his reply tweet, he claims that you do, too. And his wife concurs, so there’s that. Of course, Isabelle jumped on the whole thread and posted it to every social media account Vogue owns. I think you may have raised your stock value with that snafu.”

“Thank God!” Kurt moans. He knew that tweet wouldn’t cost him his job or anything, and he was only mildly worried about what it might do for his home life. But more than that, he was afraid what might happen next time he and Victoria Beckham crossed paths.

She might be petite, but he’s heard she’s a hair puller.

“What else?” Blaine asks, keeping Kurt awake while he stalls for time.

“I may have ordered everything from pages 23, 24, and 25 of the SkyMall catalogue.”

“You do that even when you’re not under the influence. I mean, so do I, but ...”

“And I …” And this is the one that may have Kurt crawling beneath the sofa out of sheer embarrassment “… I may have emailed all of our friends and family … using your email account … and invited them here today for, and again I quote, a surprise party in honor of the wonder that is me?”

“Right again.” Blaine chuckles, laced with concern. “And by the time I checked my email, they had all RSVP’d. They’re in the kitchen waiting to yell surprise the second I open the door.”

Kurt’s eyes pop, his gaze shifting to the door beside him, terrified by this new knowledge that seventy or more people might be on the other side, ready to scream at him.

That alone makes his stomach flip.

That explains the lack of parking on the street.

“And you couldn’t just cancel?” Kurt groans, putting his hands over his ears in preparation for the cheer that’s about to run him over like a freight train.

“Of course not. I invited them. And I’m nothing if not a considerate host.” But Blaine doesn’t open the door. He hits send on a mass text and shoves his phone back in his pocket. From beyond the white-washed piece of wood, Kurt hears the muffled trickle of text alerts going off, accompanied by a rumble of voices muttering in confusion. Someone who could be Mercedes says, “Hey, Bun-Bun! How would you like to go play mini golf with me and your Uncle Sam?”

“Would I?” Tracy squeals, followed by the patter of her footsteps racing to her bedroom upstairs, presumably to get her coat and shoes.

“Wha---what are we doing?” Kurt mumbles as Blaine helps him off the couch, wondering if they’re going to go play mini golf with their daughter and her mom. He’d love to, but he’s not sure he’d be able to make it farther than the fourth hole. “Where are we going?”

“I thought it might be a good idea if we turned this welcome home celebration into a party of two. And we’re holding it at the emergency room.”

[smoochcal]

numb without you (part three)

a/n: I’m so thankful and genuinely pleased with the amount of you that want me to continue this series. last night I actually had a dream about this series (weird I know) and once I’m done with this POV (which isn’t gonna be for a while lmao) then I might do an alternative version with a different point of view if you guys would like :) anyway I’m trying my hardest to write and update this series as soon as possible so if you like what you’re reading please let your friends know so they can go on this wild journey through this series along with us. also please please please let me know how you like this update! love hearing what you guys think and my inbox is always open!!!

pairing: readerxluke

word count: 2.2k

summary: after luke leaves you are left alone. or so you thought. discussing everything that is going on with someone else...

playlist: sucker by the jonas brothers, numb without you by the maine, pity party by lovelytheband, 2 / 14 by the band camino, someone to you by banners

rating: PG-13

warnings: swearing, implications of unsafe sex, mentions of blood

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Y/N’s POV:

You let your ringtone go on for another minute, staring at your phone contemplating what exactly you should do. He can’t know what’s going on. He can’t be calling for that reason. In fact, you don’t even know how Calum got your number in the first place. Probably Luke but this all seemed a little too coincidental. If you didn’t answer though he would know something was up. You sigh and press accept hoping that he calls you for some entirely unrelated thing.

“Hello?” you say, surprised that your voice sounds as confident as it does.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen Luke?” Calum asks on the other end.

“Yeah, he just left my place,” you respond, the corners of your mouth quickly turning into a frown as you remembered why he left.

“Okay. I usually wouldn’t bother you with something dumb like that, but he left the studio earlier in a hurry about something, and he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong and now he won’t answer my calls,” Calum states sounding rather defeated.

“Hmm…well I hope you can get a hold of him or he returns soon. Sorry I’m not more of a help,” you reply trying to sound oblivious to the awful situation you recently put Luke through.

“Thanks anyway Y/N. I’ll see you around,” he hangs up immediately after muttering those few words.

You sigh, thankful that Calum kept the conversation short and sweet. You can’t even begin to imagine what exactly you will say to him when the time comes. I mean if your timeline of everything is correct, which it should be because Calum was the last fuck you had, then you’re already three months along. Meaning the baby will be here in six months or less. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You’re going to be a mom. In less than a year. Soon. Fuck.

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Calum’s POV:

You know something’s up with Y/N. You hate to admit it, but you know her pretty well. Not like it is something to brag about, you’ve just been around each other for a while. You’re almost 100% sure she’s the reason Luke ran out of the studio earlier that afternoon. He’s always had a soft spot for her, which you find pretty admirable. You could tell something was wrong though. First of all, she took forever to answer your call. You know she loves her ringtone, but not enough to almost miss your call. Usually you wouldn’t be so observant, but you were worried about her since you took her home that night after the club. You know getting close to her probably isn’t for the best. Luke is very protective of her and you don’t want to intervene more than necessary between the two of them. But if she doesn’t even know where Luke is, maybe I should just drop it. If Luke left her and she’s still sounding upset, you should probably stop by her place.

You finish up at the studio fairly quickly, especially without Luke there to finish up his part of vocals. Once everything is said and done for the day, you grab your car keys and head out to talk to Y/N and make sure she’s okay. Her apartment is about a 20 minutes drive, give or take with traffic. You turn on the radio to ease the drive and immediately start humming along. You recognize the song as Sucker by the Jonas Brothers. You laugh to yourself thinking about when you and the guys covered one of their songs onstage and how fun it was to be that carefree and goofy.

You finally arrive at her apartment complex, relieved that you remembered the way here. As you walk up to her front door, you suddenly feel really awkward for showing up unannounced. You swallow that uneasiness and knock on her door.

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

Y/N’s POV:

You finally thought you were alone for a little bit when you hear a knock on your door. You don’t recognize the knock, like you normally recognize Luke’s, which makes you nervous. You don’t normally get many visitors, which is what confuses you the most. Your place because a mess after Luke’s dramatic exit and you haven’t had the time, nor could you be bothered with tidying up again. You open the door, not thinking to look and see who it is first and see Calum standing sheepishly in front of you. You stare at him dumbfoundedly for a minute, not knowing exactly what he was doing here. Your subconscious brings up the thought of him knowing something he shouldn’t already, leaving you a bit scared and worried.

“What are you doing here Cal?” you ask as you mentally chastise yourself for using the pet name so soon in conversation. You can see his hesitant with finding the rights words to reply to you with, which worries you even more.

“I…uhm…sorry I stopped by to see if you were alright. You sounded a bit frazzled on the phone and I figured if Luke left then you might need someone…thinking about it now it was probably a bad decision. Fuck, I didn’t even bring you dinner or anything. Not that you can’t cook for yourself it would’ve just been a nice gesture…GOD I need to shut up I’m rambling I’m sorry I think I’m nervous but I know I shouldn’t be because we’ve had a civil conversation before…okay I’m going to stop now,” he mumbles, leaving you to raise your eyebrow at why he is nervous.

“I mean you can come in if you want. I was just about to see if I had anything to make for dinner. If not, we can order take out or something, not really in the mood to leave my apartment tonight,” you say coolly, moving into the kitchen allowing Calum to close the door.

He sits down on your couch, the one you were crying on just minutes before he stopped by unannounced. You rummage through the cupboards and you feel a sudden wave of déjà vu, like you have done this before. Which is true, you have done this before. Moments before in fact with Luke right before you two started the movie. You couldn’t find anything that seemed appetizing in your kitchen, so you sighed and turned towards Calum.

“Nothing sounds good here, is Chinese takeout okay?” you ask him as you pull up your favorite place’s website looking at their specials for the night.

“Yeah that’s fine, do you want me to go pick it up? I know I showed up kind of unannounced and I didn’t really want to intrude, just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Calum replies, getting up off your couch and grabbing his wallet out of his pocket.

“I mean if you don’t mind, I’ll hold down the fort here until you get back. Let me go grab my wallet so I can pay for my half,” you walk into your bedroom to look for wherever you placed your wallet last.

“Don’t worry about it, just order it and I’ll be on my way,” Calum yells from across your apartment.

You smile at the kind gesture, reminding yourself that it is technically the least he could do for everything that has happened. Not that he knows what all went down. Not yet at least. You come out of your bedroom to order what you like and hand your phone to Calum to order his food. He smiles as he hands you your phone back and grabs his things to go pick up the food.

The minute he leaves your apartment you let out a sigh of relief. You know you have to tell him. You can’t hide this from him forever and now seems like a better time than down the road, especially considering you are already three months along. Of course, you can’t be certain as you haven’t seen a doctor, yet which is probably something you should plan to do. In fact, you grab your phone and call your OBGYN’s office while Calum is gone. They set up an appointment for you for Monday morning, four days away. It made you nervous that you would have to be a little late to work for this, but you have to get used to it. This is your life now; doctor’s appointments and juggling work around with it until the baby comes.

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

Twenty minutes later Calum comes back with the Chinese food. He grabs everything out of the bag while you grab utensils and plates. You will never be that person that can eat your food with chopsticks even though you have made quite a collection of them over the years. You grab a plate and pile it with one of everything, even “Calum’s food” which he doesn’t really seem to mind. The two of you eat quietly at the kitchen table with the soft noise of the tv in the background. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. The silence was somewhere painstakingly in the middle.

When you finish your food, you pack up the leftovers for Calum and put your portion of the leftovers in the fridge. You rinse the dishes and throw them in the dishwasher quietly pressing the button to start a new cycle. You go to sit on the couch assuming Calum will follow you over there. It’s now or never.

“Hey Calum, can we talk?” you ask tentatively, knowing he will probably say yes.

“Sure, is everything okay?” he responds, answering your question with another.

You sigh before you start, “I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise not to get angry right away…you’re allowed to be angry later, but you have to let me say everything first, got it?”

He nods in response, a little too afraid to say anything to upset you.

“Okay, here goes nothing. I’m pregnant…I’m pregnant and it’s yours…I guess I’m not 100% sure but I’m 98% sure and I have an appointment scheduled with my doctor on Monday morning to verify everything that I’m pretty positive is happening. I skipped my period two months in a row right after we spent that night together after the club. I was pretty buzzed when we hooked up and for the life of me can’t remember if we used a condom. But if we did, it broke. I’m not on the pill or the shot or anything like that because I used to take it and I gained weight on it and I haven’t been sexually active in a year or so since my ex dumped me. So, I don’t really know who to blame. But this is happening. This is real and I’m sorry. I know you will probably be frustrated about this. Whether your anger is directed towards me or the situation at large, you’re still mad. And I get it. I didn’t find out until earlier today. I took three tests. All positive. I’m sorry. And Luke knows. He called me earlier and thought something was up, so he came over and then he found the tests in my bathroom. I wanted to tell you before him but it kind of slipped. So, I’m sorry for that too. I’m going to stop talking now so you can say something…” you spill all of this information way too fast.

Calum looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, which is honestly what you expected his reaction to be. This is a lot to dump on someone, especially at his age of 23. I mean you were only 22 yourself, how were you going to have this baby now? And after he or she pops out you are going to have to raise them. Who are you going to raise them with? Does Calum even want to be involved? Your mind is racing a million miles a minute with all of these questions, waiting for Calum to say something, anything.

“Wow…I really don’t know what to say. I barely remember that night as well, so I don’t think either of us are really to blame. But we are having a baby. Or like we are 99% sure we are having a baby. Wow. I’m sorry I’m trying to comprehend this all as fast as I can, but this is a lot. You said you have a doctor’s appointment Monday, right? I could come with you. Only if you want of course, I don’t want to intrude. But what I’m trying to say is that I’ll be there if you want me to be. I’m here to help you in any way I can. I want to be there for my child, and for you,” his words almost run together because of how fast he is speaking.

“Thank you,” you finally say, your voice quieter than you intended. “That’s all I could ask is for you to be honest. I’m scared. Scared shitless. But this is happening and god dammit I am going to be a mom whether I like it or not. So here goes nothing,” you conclude.

The way Calum looks at you is the same way he has been looking at you for the three years you’ve known him but somehow it is entirely different at the same time. This is the begin to a long journey that the two of you now have to share.

[everlarkingjoshifer]

A Different Way CHPT 3

Hello my wonderful Lovelies! 

It is I, back again with a weekly update on this crazy yet I hopefully charming story. Now I would like to thank a few people who’ve helped me to flesh this story out. First, to my two amazing and patient beta’s @titaniasfics & @javistg . Second to @mega-aulover for being the best cheerleader a friend could ever ask for. Third to my incredibly sexy husband for being the biggest support system a woman could ever hope for. And finally, to @sunsetsrmydreams for the beautiful banner. This is a continuation of @peetaisbae Xmas gift and as always please don’t forget to read, review and reblog! ;)

Anyway onto the best part. BTW You can now find each chapter on Ao3.

By the time Katniss arrived at Panem’s world office with a set of newly printed and revised article, Johanna was running behind her holding her wrist in a vice-like grip.

“Woman, you will tell me all about this Peeta dude or so help me god,” Johanna seethed.

Katniss sighed. “Jo, I’m not saying anything and no matter how much you plead and threaten, you know I won’t budge. Now, please let me go, I have to hand this stupid article to Coin.”

Having given up altogether, Johanna half sulked half walked next to her. “Why does she have us print the stupid thing when we already email it to her, not to mention why in the hell do we have to come all the way here to hand it in like a couple of school children, and why so fucking early?”

Katniss shrugged but kept on walking.

Work handed in, and new subjects handed to them by their boss, Johanna sat on her computer desk next to Katniss. Having her facebook connected, Katniss felt her phone buzz. Her messenger popped up with a little article about animal torture with a text from Jo. “PETA would disagree with this.”

Katniss glanced down at her friend who was currently shaking with laughter. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. An hour passed and again her phone buzzed. They were the only ones in the office that Monday morning and Coin was circling about the room every so often like a vulture.

Hiding her phone under her desk Katniss opened her messenger once again. This time there was just a picture of pita bread. Just the stupid bread. With half slit eyes, Katniss took a deep sigh as she furiously texted back to Johanna. “Jo, so help me god. Leave me the hell alone or I will kick your ass and you know we’re equally matched.”

Johanna, who’d been trying to hide a triumphant grin, texted her back. “Bitch, you wish.”

“Then I’ll leave you here in this miserable office with Coin micromanaging your every move since I can make the excuse that my kid is sick and you know Coin will let me go.” Katniss texted back.

Johanna looked horrified at the prospect. “No please, I’ll be good, I promise.”  

Katniss looked back at Johanna and nodded once to show that she meant business, but there she sat for another excruciating six hours in the silent office as people filed in quietly and sat to do their work. If only she hadn’t asked for a full time she wouldn’t have had to come in so early.

Days passed and Katniss had been halfway through a good week until Gale showed up at her door.

Hands on hips and wearing a frown, Katniss asked, “What’re you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I’m here to see my kid,” Gale replied leaning against the door frame.

“She’s not back from school yet, you should know that,” Katniss said walking into the living room and leaving the door open so that he could enter.

The door closed and as he sauntered as though he owned the place. “Oof, you gotta clean up in here. Is this how you’re raising my child?”

“At least I’m raising her, which is more than I can say for you!” Katniss turned, nose flaring. Gale had the uncanny ability to piss her off like no other.

Gale raised his hands. “I was on my honeymoon.”

“Oh yes, your honeymoon. I guess you were so entertained you forgot to call your daughter,” Katniss commented crossing her arms.

Gale stepped closer, his hands on his hips. “Well, what the fuck would you have me do, call her while I’m with Glimmer? You know Willow can’t stand her.”

“Gee, I wonder why?” Katniss muttered under her breath. She sighed and pursed her lips. “You couldn’t take five minutes off your day? Shit, Willow thought you’d forgotten her.”

Gale ran his hand through his hair. “Look, Katniss, I’m not here to fight.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Katniss said.

Growling, Gale took another step forward. “Do you always have to have the last word? No wonder I divorced you!”

“What the hell did you come here for?” Katniss asked after a couple of minutes.

Gale reached into his wallet and handed her a check. “It’s for the child support.”

Katniss looked down at the check and nodded. He might not have been a good husband, but at least he provided for his child. “Thank you.”

Gale nodded. “I was actually thinking that it would be better if you took part in some of Willow’s school activities.”

“What the hell do you mean? I help with homework,” Katniss asked.

“Not homework, I mean like school-based activities, like volunteer work,” Gale explained.

Katniss crossed her arms even tighter. “Gale, when do you suppose I’d have time for that? I work a full time.”

“Then make it a part-time,” Gale nonchalantly shrugged.

Katniss ran her hand exasperatedly across her face. “You’re kidding me, right? Have you any idea how long it took me to convince Coin to give me that full time? Besides, where do you think I’m gonna get the money that I’m currently getting?”

“Money’s not the problem, I’ll give you whatever is left of your earnings and then some,” Gale replied.

Katniss, who married him halfway through college, was now regretting her foolish notions of romanticism. Gale was a couple years older than her. He’d been a junior at Panem High when she had entered freshman year and things had been so rosy back then.

She’d naively fell in love with the shared interests and what used to be mutual respect until Gale went to College only to drop out almost immediately. It was at her behest that he finally settled on a career in business that he finally flourished. With it had come his constant need to control every aspect of their life, and it only got worse after Willow was born.

Perhaps things wouldn’t have been so bad if the doctor hadn’t had to explicitly explain to him that she was unable to bear any more children due to an abnormality in her uterus. If she were to get pregnant again, she had a high risk of dying. Instead of understanding, Gale simply blamed her after she had adamantly refused to carry another kid on his whim.

She knew what it was like to be an orphan, and she damn well made sure not to make her daughter one. Still, she stuck through it all, hoping that one day the situation would change. That he would change, but it wasn’t so.

Gale never wanted to change, as he thought there was nothing wrong with him, to begin with, and he refused to go to a couple’s therapist.

It wasn’t until he’d gotten drunk one evening that he pulled her next to him on the sofa and gave her a glimmer of hope. She thought things would be alright when he began to kiss her until he abruptly stopped and looked at her swollen lips, mussed hair and skewed shirt. He’d lazily frowned in all his drunken stupor and announced that he couldn’t muster the strength to sleep with her any longer because he just wasn’t attracted to her anymore. That he’d fallen in love with someone else, and then sat there laughing as she straightened her shirt with tears streaming down her cheeks carrying her humiliation along with it.

The next day he served her with divorce papers and the rest was history.

“It must be so easy for you to throw your money out there huh, Gale?” Katniss commented.

Gale rolled his eyes. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time, Glimmer is waiting out in the car. I just wanted to tell you I went to see a therapist.”

“You saw a therapist?” Katniss was impressed.

“My general doctor recommended it,” he swiftly informed, “ Anyway, she said it would be a good idea if our daughter spent more time with either of us and since I’m going to be busy at the office, I thought you could do it,”

Katniss frowned. “Gale, I don’t think that’s what your therapist meant.”

“Are you gonna take the offer or not?” Gale imposed through gritted teeth.

Taking a deep breath, Katniss shrugged. “Sure, I’ll see what I can do. There’s a parent-teacher conference coming up this week so maybe I can find out what I can do then, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Great, text me when you get something ok?” Gale replied walking towards the door and all but ran out into the sunlight.

[soldierstark]

Undercover Crush | LOKI LAUFEYSON X READER

Description: When the reader is asked to go undercover for a mission by the Avengers, Nick Fury, and Nova Corps, she obviously accepts. What she has to do, however, doesn't sit well with Loki who's confused about his newfound feelings for this mortal girl.

Author's Note: This was hella fun to write ya'll and if you want a part 2 tell me cause I'll totally write one. Let me know what you think and if you want to, vote in the survey for my 1k follower celebration.

Word Count: 2007

Fanfiction Masterlist

“Did Tony tell you anything before he sent you to get me?” I asked Pepper as we sped walked through the intricate network of hallways in the Avengers Tower. “I mean am I in trouble or something?”

Pepper merely shrugged her shoulders and gave me an apologetic smile. “No, sorry (Nickname). I’m just the messenger here.”

I let out a sigh and ran a hand through my (Y/H/C) hair, chewing my bottom lip nervously. I tried to keep my focus on the steady click of Peppers heels on the tile floor instead of wracking my brain for everything I’ve ever done wrong.

I knew that Tony along with the rest of the Avengers were having a meeting with Nick Fury and a delegate sent from Nova Corps. So imagine my surprise when Pepper barged into the lab and told me that Tony requested to see me.

My heart rate sped up as we turned down the familiar hallway that lead to the conference room. Windows lined the hall and despite all the sunlight illuminating the modern architecture, I felt as if I were walking to my death.

Pepper and I stopped in front of the conference room door, me taking a deep breathe in an attempt to gather my thoughts.

I put my hand on the doorknob hesitantly and looked over at Pepper. “If I die, tell Loki I put him in charge of my cat,” I said before turning the doorknob and pushing the door open.

All I heard from her before I shut the door behind me was a sharp laugh and the sound of fading footsteps. I cleared my throat and walked deeper into the room, closer to the conference table that all the high ranking officials sat at.

“You requested my presence,” I stated, directing my words at Tony.

He clapped his hands together and smiled brightly. “Yes I did,” Tony replied standing up out of his chair. He looked over at Nick Fury and another man I didn’t recognize, probably the Nova Corps delegate. “What did I say? Uncanny right?” he continued, looking me up and down calculatingly.

Fury nodded his head in agreement looking rather pleased. Why? I have no clue. “I’ll admit it Stark, you’re absolutely correct,” he responded looking me in the eye for a split second. “She’s perfect.”

I raised an eyebrow and most definitely had a very confused expression on my face as everyone else in the room chimed in with agreement. “Could someone please explain what’s going on?” I asked, tilting my head to the side slightly and scrunching my eyebrows together.

“Ah yes,” Bruce replied raising his hand slightly, signaling that he’d explain. “So there’s been words being thrown around the block about this guy… what’s his name…” he trailed off, looking down at the file in front of him, flipping through the pages.

“His name isn’t important,” the Nova Corps delegate piped up, continuing the story. “All you need to know is that he’s been negotiating contracts with various enemies of ours in an attempt to steal the orange infinity stone.”

“The Chitauri Scepter?” I asked in disbelief. “Why?” It was quiet for a moment, everyone looking around at each other for an answer.

“Well, the things is, we don’t know why yet,” Tony replied slowly. “Maybe it’s his favorite color or something. I mean he’s probably just another power hungry crazy person like your boy Loki.”

I scoffed indignantly as the rest of the Avengers began to snicker at my expense. “Loki isn’t my ‘boy’,” I retorted using air quotations for last word, a steady stream of pink color rising to my cheeks.

“Right,” Natasha drawled out, nodding her head in agreement sarcastically. “But we need to get back to the point.”

I snorted loudly and crossed my arms over my chest. “Which is?”

“We’re having a hard time keeping tabs on him because we can’t seem to get a permanent tracker on him.  We don’t want to arrest him because his allies might go into hiding, never to be found again. Once we’re able to have unlimited updates on his whereabouts, we can dig deeper into the investigation. But until then, all of our resources are going towards extra security and the constant investigation of his movement,” Fury said with his normal stoic expression.

I pursed my lips and pushed a stray stand of hair behind my ear, taking another look around the room. “This is uh… great… and all, but I’m still failing to see how all of this involves me,” I admitted, shifting around on the balls of my feet. “I mean, this all seems pretty high profile and I’m… well… not high profile. I’m just a chemist who happens to work for Stark Industries.”

Tony let out a slight chuckle and looked down at his hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “(Y/N) don’t take this the wrong way, but we chose you to do this purely because of your appearance.”

“Okay now I’m even more confused…” I trailed off shaking my head.

Banner cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Since all the trackers we’ve tried using before have either been removed or stopped feeding us information, we’ve decided to try again using a permanent tracker that needs to be implanted onto a mucous membrane.”

“And through our extensive research on this man, it’s become inherently clear that he has a very specific type when it comes to women,” Fury added, tapping his fingers against the conference table.

“The thing about his type is that… well to put it bluntly, they all look very similar to you (Y/N). They all have your (Y/H/C) hair, (Y/E/C) eyes, body type, and facial structure,” Natasha explained, wringing her hands together.

That’s when it hit me. That’s when I realized exactly what they were asking me to do. I began shaking my head in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me,” I grumbled with wide eyes. “You want me to seduce a man who’s wanted by S.H.E.I.L.D and Nova Corps, the literal intergalactic police?”

“Well you don’t need to seduce him necessarily,” Natasha started.  “All you really need to do is kiss him long enough, and you know… deep enough, to make sure the tracker is implanted well into the inside of mouth.”

I chewed my bottom lip in thought as I contemplated my options. For one, I really didn’t want to make out with a stranger, or more specifically, anyone who wasn’t Loki. But that didn’t matter because things between us didn’t seem to be going anywhere anyways. No harm no foul.

Secondly, though the whole situation is kind of gross, when the Avengers, Nick Fury, and Nova Corps ask you personally to do something, you do it. Especially if it means securing the safety of the galaxy.  

With a long drawn out sigh, I nodded my head in agreement with a slight smile. “Fine… I’ll do it. When do I start?”

The conference room erupted into cheers as everyone expressed their gratitude for my service. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, digging through it before pulling out a VISA card. “Here, take this,” he said throwing it in my direction.

I caught it with ease and looked it over confused. “What do you want me to do with this?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed. The credit limit on the card I was holding was no doubt crazy high.

“Go buy yourself some clothes to go clubbing in tomorrow. That’s where your assignment will be. It’s on me,” he responded, pocketing his wallet.

I ignored the voice in the back of my head telling me that what I was doing was borderline prostitution and left the conference room with Tony Stark’s credit card. There was a certain god of mischief that I felt like speaking too.

    Loki’s mood immediately improved when he saw (Y/N) enter the room. She looked around for a moment and sighed in relief when her gaze fell upon the Asgardian Prince who was sitting on the couch reading a book. As per usual.

“Good, you’re alive,” he teased her, closing his book. “I was beginning to worry about how I’d be able to take care of your cat.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully and began walking in his direction. She sat down on the couch next to him and leaned backwards with a sigh. “I just agreed to do something that I’m not sure I’ll be able to do,” she mumbled, picking at her nails.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with why my brother and his posy wanted to speak with you. Or so I heard from Pepper,” Loki replied looking down fondly at the girl beside him.

He admired her sparkling (Y/E/C) eyes that complimented her (Y/H/C) hair in the best way. Her full lips were colored pink, probably because she was biting them again.

She nodded her head and tilted it upwards to look him in the eye. “They want me to make-out with a criminal who’s trying to steal the Chitauri Scepter.”

An odd feeling overtook Loki as he processed what (Y/N) was saying. From his time spent on Earth he’s come to learn that ‘make out’ means to kiss. Like, actually kiss, not just a quick peck on the lips.

Loki couldn’t explain why the idea of her kissing someone didn’t sit well with him. His stomach felt empty as if it had simply dropped out from under him. It was completely foreign to him.

The only possible explanation he could come up with was that he didn’t want (Y/N) kissing a criminal. Though that ideology would prove to be hypocritical because Loki himself was a criminal, and the only thing he wanted to do at that moment was kiss her.

But he wouldn’t dare admit that to anyone, even himself.

Loki cleared his throat and shook himself out of his reverie. “Why the Chitauri Scepter of all things?” he asked trying to change the topic slightly.

(Y/N) shrugged her shoulders and gazed out of the nearby window and into the New York Skyline. “Stark thinks orange might be his favorite color.”

He couldn’t help but let out a deep chuckle at that speculation. “Oh really? And all of this involves you how?”

She merely stared at his face for a moment before looking away. “They want me to put some fancy tracking device on him and to do so I either need to kiss him or shove a finger up his nose which might get me killed so…”

Loki nodded his head in response. “Good choice,” he responded simply, that weird sensation in his stomach flaring up again. “But why you? No offense….”

“Apparently I look very similar to every girl he’s ever had relationships with. They think it’ll be easier for me to seduce him because of that,” (Y/N) explained further, sitting straight up. “And speaking of seducing, I have some shopping to do,” she said standing up off of the couch.

(Y/N) turned around and put a hand on the back of Loki’s neck, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. “Bye Loki,” she bid farewell with a smile before turning on her heels to leave.

“Bye (Y/N),” Loki responded, his eyes following her retreating figure until it was out of sight.

When she had finally left the room, Loki leaned back into the couch and rubbed his face with a groan. He couldn’t be developing feeling for (Y/N). Could he? She was a mortal after all while he was the somewhat Prince of a galactic empire.

They were literally from 2 different worlds which only meant things between them would end in flames and heartbreak. Much like that of his brother’s relationship with that girl Jane.

Despite all this however, Loki couldn’t help but hope that things would be different between them. Because if anything, Loki was persistent and now that he set his sights on (Y/N), he wouldn’t rest until he successfully managed to seduce her.

Whatever that meant….

[anthfan]

Pre 6x01 hiatus fic

Well shit y’all. Hi! Guess news of the impending nuptials was like a cattle prod to the muse. The preference that olicity gets married over hiatus has been swirling in my head for a while. Enjoy!! 

Felicity walked quickly back through the living room, crossing to the table and unnecessarily shifting the stack of plates a half centimeter to the right as well as adjusting the large banner that read ‘Happy Birthday!’ before spinning on her heel and muttering under her breath about ice.

Heavy warm hands caught her shoulders halting her mid step and she let out a groan as Oliver’s strong thumbs found just the right spot in her too tense muscles. “You have got to calm down.” he whispered in her ear as she sank back against his chest and allowed herself a full five seconds to just relax.

“But it’s his first birthday--” she sighed, feeling the way Oliver’s hands paused for just a second.

William turned thirteen. Not only a milestone, but also his first birthday since his mother had died, since he’d found out Oliver was his father, since his entire world had been turned upside down.

“I just want everything to be perfect. I know he hasn’t made a lot of new friends yet, and he probably thinks a party with a bunch of adults is kinda lame, but I even got Barry to promise he’d drop by wearing his suit, and--”

Oliver spun her to face him, catching her chin and tilting it up before she even had a chance to look down, “Hey, it’s a great party and William knows that even if he can’t show it.”

“Are you sure? We could have taken him somewhere, or maybe just you two could have gone to a ballgame. Frak, why didn’t I think of that sooner!”

“Stop. This is great. He’s going to love it.”

He said it with such surety she had no choice but to believe him. It was a daily struggle as to whether they were making the right calls, doing the right thing. All she knew was this was a fresh start for all of them and she and Oliver were determined to make it work.

“Okay, okay. This is why I married you, right? To talk me down off the ledge?” she said low enough that no one else could hear them.

Oliver’s head dipped, his lips brushing the edge of her ear, “Pretty sure that’s the other way around.”

A month after they’d returned from the island she told Oliver she wanted to marry him, she was through waiting. An hour later they were at the courthouse with William in tow. And it wasn’t until they’d signed the certificate that they decided to keep it between the three of them. They’d talked to William, promised him and each other that there would be no more secrets. Even if it was bad, even if it was hard, they’d never keep anything quiet again. Although he didn’t say anything to them they knew William enjoyed being the only one that knew they were married, it was important to him that they’d shared something so big and trusted him.

Felicity wasn’t sure when they’d tell everyone else, she thought maybe Digg suspected but he hadn’t said anything. But for right then this was working for them.

Oliver pressed a kiss into her hair as a timer went off in the kitchen, “I need to go get that,”

“I’ll grab William and then we can literally get this party started.”

She slipped down the hallway towards William’s bedroom, rapping twice on his door, “William, sweetie, everyone’s here.”

Felicity had only just returned to the living room, about to tell Curtis he could start the playlist he’d arranged when the sound of a slamming door made her whirl around to see William stalking down the hall, his eyes locked on her.

“Don’t call me that! Don’t ever call me that! That’s what my mom called me and you’re not my real mom. You’re just my step-mom!” he spat, hurt and anger flowing from him in waves.

Everyone in the room was frozen, first from William’s outburst and then from his words as they sunk in.

Felicity’s heart cracked for the boy in front of her. He’d been through too much, and she thought she and Oliver had been doing everything they could to help him. The almost daily nightmares he’d had when they first returned had subsided. He was adjusting well to his new school, even seeking out Felicity’s help on homework when he needed it. But she’d been so focused on making his party perfect she wondered if she’d missed any signs that something else was wrong.

And when Oliver came up behind her she suddenly jolted as William’s words repeated through her head. He’d outed her. He’d outed them. Unintentionally she knew, but the cat was out of the bag all the same.

It was Thea that stepped forward, “Buddy, Felicity isn’t trying to replace your mom, she isn’t even your step-mom yet, but she’s--” she looked up just then towards Oliver seeking support or help when her face stilled in shock.

Biting her lip Felicity looked behind her to see Oliver looking guilty as hell and not even trying to hide it.

With a deep breath she moved closer to William who was staring hard at a point on the ground, eyes glittering with tears he fought hard to keep away. Slowly she sank to a crouch even though he towered over her from this angle, but she wanted to make sure he saw her.

“William, I’m sorry I called you that. I’ll do my best to remember not to do it again.” she began, but he didn’t blink so she pushed on, “It just slipped out because I care about you. You mean a lot to me. Do you remember the day your dad and I got married and what we told you? No one is trying to replace your mom, or make your forget her, or ignore who she was to you. We’re just doing our best, the three of us, to make this work. And it’s going to be different but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad.” The room was completely silent as she paused for a breath that then caught in her throat as William raised his eyes to hers.

“I was mad at myself,” he said almost so silently she didn’t hear him, “I was excited for my party and I didn’t think about my mom all morning and then--” his words choked off as the tears he’d tried to hold back overtook him.

Without a thought she rose to her feet and pulled him in close, holding him tight as his sobs shook them both. He may be turning thirteen and almost as tall as she was but inside he was a broken little boy.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for living your life, I don’t know a lot about being a mom but I know yours would never want your to feel bad. Especially on your birthday, it’s a law. And if it’s not we’ll get your dad to make it one.” she added so only he could hear, some of the anxiety that she was handling this all wrong easing away when William gave a small huff of laughter that reminder her of Oliver.

She held him another minute then slowly pulled back glad that he met her eyes and the fury and hurt that had been there earlier was gone. “Why don’t you go take a few minutes and when you come back we can do cake or presents first, your choice.”

“Thanks, Felicity,” he said quietly, snaking his arms around her for a quick hug before heading back towards his room without looking at anyone else. But she was glad to see Oliver drop in behind him, one hand on his shoulder.

Once they were out of sight it was like a blanket had been lifted off the rest of the room and for the first time Felicity really let herself recognize what had happened. Everyone knew they were married now. Everyone. And she was on her own to deal with it.

Smiling nervously she smoothed out the skirt of her dress and backed up two steps chucking one thumb over her shoulder avoiding eye contact with everyone, “You know, I should really just go check on the food--”

She didn’t even get another step when Thea’s had zipped out and caught her elbow, “Not so fast, Sis.” emphasizing the last word.

Felicity bit her bottom lip, turning wide eyes to the woman who yes, was her sister in law, “Oh. So you guys heard that? “ she tried innocently as Thea just gave her an exasperated look.

Digg stood in the back, arms crossed over his chest with a Cheshire smile and she was certain he had indeed figured them out.

Curtis was shaking his head and looked shellshocked while he opened his wallet and handed Rene multiple twenties, while Dinah merely gave her a wink and raised her glass.

“I told you Mom and Dad were hitched! But you were all like “Oh no! They’d neeeeeever do that without the team.’ Ha! This was easy money.” Rene crowed, “You too, Hoss,” he added with a glance towards Quentin, “Don’t think I forgot.”

Oliver entered just behind Rene and snatched the money from his fingers, “The Star City Food Bank appreciates your generous donation.” he said with just enough of a growl to let him know he was serious, shutting down any protests that left Rene staring after him mouth agape.

When Oliver was back at her side she looked at him with a tiny shrug and a smile. “How’s William?”

“He’ll be okay. You were great.” he assured her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

“Oh my god! If you don’t start talking I’m going to go find my bow!” Thea threatened, and Felicity smiled as his sister’s outburst only made him kiss her longer.

“I guess they know,” he whispered sotto voice before he pulled back.

“Yeah, I think they figured it out,” she replied in kind, and then watched with a swirl of anticipation and happiness in her stomach as he reached under his shirt and pulled out the chain that held both their wedding rings.

“When did this happen?” Thea demanded, “And why wasn’t I invited?”

Oliver just laughed as he undid the clasp and tipped the two rings into his palm. “I guess it’s been...five months now, right?”

Felicity thought for a second as he gently took her hand and slid the warm band where it was supposed to be. “Five months on Wednesday,” she agreed, taking the larger ring and repeating his action, giving the ring a little twist before she turned to face everyone Oliver’s left hand coming up to rest over her middle as she stood in front of him.

“And you weren’t invited because it wasn’t planned. Felicity asked me and...it just happened. With everything new with William we didn’t want to put him through the media circus of a wedding and...it just--”

“Seemed right,” Felicity supplied. “It’s changed nothing and everything,” she said with a shrug.

They were halfway through cake and presents, and an impromptu champagne toast for the not so newlyweds when the front door blew open and a red blur skidded to a stop in front of them.

“Hey guys!” Barry asked with a grin that slowly slid off his face as he took in the room. Then his eyes landed on their hands and he went wide in surprise and delight.

“It’s their five month anniversary!” William supplied, jumping to his feet at the sight of his second favorite superhero.

“Five months?” Barry repeated incredulous, “Fastest man alive and I still manage to miss everything.”

Digg grinned and dropped a hand to his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Barry it took me five days.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side, “Five days? Really John?”

Digg just shook his head and gave Oliver a look, “Your boy is an open book, he was moon eyed for a solid week, between that and him checking a hundred times a day to make sure the rings were still there it didn’t take me long to put it together.”

Oliver opened his mouth like he was going to protest then stopped himself with a sigh as she smothered a laugh and shared a wink with William, “He’s right.”

[fesahaawit]

Net Worth Update: $802,949.84 (+$93,000)

Welcome to week #2 of the new year! Woop woop!

My apologies for being a bit late publishing this net worth here, but honestly I’ve been kinda nervous to share it, just because there really isn’t a good way of doing it without coming across as an asshat, haha… Who gets an increase of $90,000 in a month and then broadcasts it to the world??

But hopefully y’all know by now that boasting isn’t my style, and we share both the goods and the bads here no matter what goes down in my financial world as part of our super-transparency mission here at the site. So while I am proud of how far we’ve come over the 10 years doing this, please know this is all for informational purposes and to hopefully inspire others to keep on hustling their hearts out too as it really does pay off in the long run!

So with that, let’s get started! But first, a look at how the past 12 months have gone overall to put things in perspective more:

And then here’s a breakdown per month, along with links to each report if you want to dive into any further. All of which shows just how powerful consistency (and a great market run!) can be towards the growth of your wealth… And most of the returns come from your MONEY doing all the work for you as you go about your life! It’s a wonderful thing.

Dec: $802,949.84 (+$93,000)

Nov: $709,372.08 (+$21,000)

Oct: $688,210.30 (+$12,000)

Sep: $675,681.17 (+$16,000)

Aug: $659,786.34 (-$600)

July: $660,442.69 (+$12,000)

June: $648,316.94 (+$5,000)

May: $643,155.75 (+$6,000)

Apr: $636,893.40 (+$4,000)

Mar: $632,301.91 (+$700)

Feb: $631,547.73 (+ $20,000)

Jan: $610,770.25 (+ $10,000)

A total increase of $190,000, or 30%. Not too bad at all… And doing my best to soak it up as I know it’ll be one of the only times I’ll see something like this, haha…  To think we had a total of $50,000 banked just 10 years ago is crazy! And really a testament to this *community* here as there’s no way I’d be close to any of this had I never stumbled across it.

Now to December’s Numbers!

(Net Worth Report #110)

CASH SAVINGS (+$61,908.38): This is the biggie right here – at least in terms of dollar amounts – and is where I parked a bulk of our profit from last month’s website sale just to enjoy it a little before we start spreading it around. Though as you’ll see in the areas below, I have already made a few moves just because I couldn’t help myself :) And keep in mind this is all profit after taxes and paying out my team @ Rockstar, etc too… If only you could keep 100% of your gains!

SPAVINGS FUND! (+$2,078.42): A record percentage increase right there! 1,619.21%!! Haha… Though this has nothing to do with the sale of the site or any hustling at all. In fact, it’s actually something pretty embarrassing!! I forgot about a $2,000 tax refund owed to me – FROM LAST YEAR! – and it magically appeared in my account last month??! Apparently one of my quarterly payments never made it over to the great state of Virginia, and therefore they held onto my refund until I guess they were tired of holding onto it and wanted to close up the books. So basically I completely forgot about TWO GRAND and woudn’t have ever missed it had they never sent it over – wow…

That being said, it was a pretty nice surprise to see when it hit my account, and of course the first thing I had to do was xfer it over into my Spavings Account to make sure it really counts as saved money :) Not the same as spaving a $0.50 coupon, but hey – this is my game and my rules! And now the shot at hitting $5,500 by the end of the year to max out next year’s IRA is looking even better – woohoo.

(Other spavings from the month totaled $5.39 – everything from discounts off at coffee shops to spare change found on the ground… Even found a quarter the other week! And had to be sly about it as it was laying in a pretty precarious position :)

THRIFT SAVINGS PLAN (TSP) (+$588.80): Another nice increase from my wife’s automated contributions every month… Nothing too special going on outside of that yet (one day we want to up her %, but not until she’s more settled with her career, as well as our living situation as we’ve decided to move this Summer but not quit sure *where* yet…. Turns out her gov’t job may not be as secure as we had thought with this administration!!)

ROTH IRAs (+$12,590.57): This one we DID add too, and a total of $11,000 at that ($5,500 into my Roth IRA, and then $5,500 into my wife’s IRA to max out the year for the both of us). Felt good to utilize some of the profit this way to get a quick rush :)

SEP IRA (+$6,318.56): Nothing new added in the SEP as yet, but once we settle up our taxes over the next month or so I’ll be taking a big chunk of the new money to max out this puppy as well… And initial estimations point it to being around $20,000’ish (SEPs are based on total profit from your business over the year, vs a flat maxing # like 401(k)s and the like).

Here’s how our investments have fared though since going “all in” with Vanguard three years ago (It’s 100% invested in VTSAX – my favorite “lazy” portfolio!):

CAR VALUES (-$1,577.00): A big drop here, but mainly because I lowered the “condition” of our cars on KBB to get a little more conservative… And also because KBB changed the way they present their values now, so I just went with the *lowest* in the range they provided and called it a day ;)

Here are the present values of them now:

Lexus RX350: $10,084.00

Toyota Corolla: $3,493.00

CAR LOAN: (-$11,670.03): On the flip side of the equation, we’re now completely debt-free as I wiped it all away last month! Woo! The very FIRST thing I did with the site’s profit :) And still cracking myself up with what I was going to send over to those guys when asked “why” I wanted to get it all paid off, jeez… Is the only way to do it these days by picking up another loan??

(I didn’t send that, of course, as tempted as I was ;))

We’ll see what we end up doing when it’s Minivan time, but for the time being we’re 100% debt-free since being a teenager! Pretty wild to think about!

And that’s it for December! And the whole 2017 year, for that matter…

Here’s an even broader picture covering all 110 net worth reports since publicly publishing it in 2008:

Again, this stuff isn’t fast, but if you put in the time and hustle you do eventually get there! And now we move on to the ultimate milestone – the $1 Milly mark :) Though something tells me this is still quite far away as I’m running out of websites to sell, haha…

Oh, and then here are the kiddos’ updated net worths too. We threw in an extra $100/each into their 529 accounts that they got from grandma (God bless her soul), but looks like our $50 monthly deposits hadn’t hit yet. I don’t plan on jacking any of this up with our profits, but I have set aside $5,000 for Baby Dime when he/she finally comes… Gotta keep things fair, right?

Lastly, a Life Update!

This is the part where I usually sign off and ask you how YOUR month/year went financially, but last month I was asked if I could share some updates on our *lives* too to help balance out all the $$$$ talk with these reports, and I loved the idea so that’s what we’ll do here real quick :) After all, money is worthless if you’re miserable every single day, right? So this is for you, Lily!

Baby Dime continues to bake nicely and is healthy all around, as well as mom!, and the due date is still set for May 3rd. Though we predict a 1-2 week early departure due to complications that came around with the last pregnancy.

My other kids are doing great too and really loving school!! Baby Penny rides the bus all by himself and doesn’t even need me in the least (*tear*) and his younger brother, Baby Nickel (this is starting to get confusing – the coins are going in the opposite direction?!), is flourishing as well and getting more adult-like by the day. God help me though if I have another boy – they are such a handful together!

Speaking of… my wife still very much knows the sex and I still very much don’t ;) Although it’s getting harder and harder to enjoy the days knowing she’s fully ready to start planning now and slowly losing patience with my antics, haha… I fear it’s either find out by my own accord, or “accidentally” find out when she slips by design – womp womp.

In work/life balance news – so far so peaceful! It’s amazing what happens when you quit filling every nook and cranny of your time with something to do, haha… it’s like my brain can finally just “be.” And I’m finding I spend much more time looking for areas to *improve* upon in my life/work vs always just *adding to it*. It’s been pretty eerie seeing Rockstar Finance live on without me, but I can’t say I’m missing any of the thousands of decisions that came along with it!

In hobby world, my love of coin collecting still roars on! In fact, I just published my first post in months over at CoinThrill.com and it felt great! I stumbled across this new “coin box” subscription where for $X/mo they’ll send you a new box of coins right to your door step and now I fear for my wallet, haha… Super clever though, and I even did some of those “unboxing” videos like the wannabe millennial that I am ;)

Lastly, I’ve been building out JMoney.biz more. It’s really only a “portfolio” site right now, but I’m tinkering with the idea of sharing thoughts on life and blogging/entrepreneurship and such things over time… I’ve never really brain dumped all my thoughts/advice on blogging before, and thinking it may prove pretty helpful for others to just lay it all out there? The goods and the bads? I’ve never done it here because I don’t want to annoy anyone who couldn’t care less about blogging, but I am interested in hearing your thoughts on it if you have any :)

So that’s life! Should we make this a new section each month here, or are you already tired of hearing me talk??

Either way, we’re wrapping it up now and I turn it over to you to hear how your $$$ has been going :) Anyone else have a banner year? Anyone cross into that glorious Million Dollar Mark??

As always, you can catch all the net worth reports we’ve done over the years here, or you can continue your financial voyeurism and scan the reports of 300+ other bloggers who share here. Whether you have $10.00 banked or $10,000,000 though, I hope you are indeed tracking it as it’s one of the best moves you can make for your money! “An investment in knowledge pays the best interest!” (Benny Franklin)

See ya back in a couple days :)

Questions, comments, concerns – drop them in the comments and we shall chat!

Net Worth Update: $802,949.84 (+$93,000) posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “The Dangers of Self-Medicating” (Rated PG13)

Kurt gets sick on a business trip, and everything he does just to get home makes it worse. (1956 words)

Notes: This actually comes before Crafting Chaos. I had a minor brain fart and finished that one first xD

Part 46 of Daddies.

Read on AO3.

“Sir?”

“Mmmrrr … hmmm?”

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Here?” Kurt’s eyelids flutter slightly, opening a sliver. But when the mid-morning sun hits their dry, red surface, he immediately shuts them again. “Where’s here?”

“Uh … 15-22 Mulberry Place? It’s the address you gave me.”

“The address I … wha---?” Kurt pries open his eyes. The address sounds familiar, but the voice speaking to him doesn’t. There’s a lot of mud and fog cluttering his brain. The last thing he remembers was being in his hotel room, packing his bag. No, it was losing his breakfast, and lunch and dinner from the day before, in an airport toilet. No, no, it was waiting by the curb, clutching on to the handle of his carry-on for support while he waited for his Uber to arrive.

Uber! He’s in an Uber! Which means he must be …

“Home,” he says in a raw, grumbly voice.

“I guess?” The man puts his car into park. “Do you need any help with your bag?”

“Nah.” Kurt grabs the handle of the bag he’s been cuddling awkwardly since he fell asleep in this poor man’s back seat. At least he didn’t vomit in his car. As far as Kurt can remember, he’s baptized nearly every toilet and trash can from Manhattan to home. “I’ve got it.” I’ll just pour myself onto the pavement and slither up to my front door, he thinks. “Here …” Kurt fumbles a hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Squinting, he fishes out three tens and clumsily hands them to the driver. “Thanks for everything.”

“Good luck,” the driver says, mentally snickering at the intoxicated man doing his best to exit his Prius. Ten sheets to the wind at barely eleven in the morning?

Well, it’s five o’clock somewhere.

Kurt backs out of the car butt-first, searching for the ground with his feet to make absolutely certain that it’s there. Once they make contact, he extricates the rest of his body, his Samsonite bag landing on the curb with a thunk when his arms fail to support its weight. It takes him longer to stand up straight, the compact blue Toyota gone before Kurt gets his head balanced on his shoulders.

He blinks his eyes and looks around, wondering why his husband isn’t there to meet him at the curb. Sebastian and Thomas drove him to the airport, but he took an Uber home. And thank God he did. There’s no parking anywhere on the street this morning. Of course, he lives here and, hence, has a driveway to pull in to, but still. Strange, but Kurt doesn’t have the brain capacity to speculate about that just now.

Kurt has been traveling for most of the morning, voluntarily switching flights twice when a technical malfunction bumped travelers onto other flights. He went from first class to coach, then back to first class again. He misses his family, but he came out of the deal with two travel vouchers, a slew of frequent flier miles, and a thousand dollar refund back to his credit card.

Not too shabby for a Sunday afternoon.

He’s a stone’s throw from home, but the way he’s feeling, it might take him the rest of the afternoon the get there.

Kurt turns taking baby steps, one tiny shuffle at a time with breaths in between to keep the sidewalk underneath his feet. He does the same for the journey up his driveway – shuffle-shuffle pause, shuffle-shuffle pause, bending at the knees on occasion to ground himself and keep from collapsing.

The walk up his driveway to his front door on this beautiful Sunday afternoon is the most excruciating thing Kurt has done in ages.

Correction – pulling out his keys, listening to the God awful things jangle loudly, the noise ricocheting like bocce balls inside his skull, is the most excruciating. Walking up the driveway, and then up the porch steps, each movement sending a dull ache searing from the soles of his feet to his forehead, was simply a precursor to this pain.

Kurt doesn’t understand how he could have gotten sick. He’d been on top of his Echinacea and his Vitamin C game for a week before he left. He kept his mouth and nose covered with a scarf on the plane, and no one he spent any significant time with looked particularly ill. Then again, he’s learned from having a child that sick people are often contagious way before they show any symptoms.

Plague-ridden bastards and their ninja germs bombarding him with their unseen illnesses! He did everything in his power to keep from catching anything, and now he’s standing at death’s door.

In reality, it’s probably from commuting back and forth to the city after all these years of suburban living. Living in the boonies, away from the dirt and the grime and the smog, has lowered his immune system, made him weak on a microbial level.

Clean air and sunshine – it will do you in every time.

His key ring raised to an inch from his eyes, he isolates his door key and pinches it between his thumb and index finger. He tries to stab it into the lock, but he keeps missing, his triple vision causing the end to veer away from the hole at the last minute and hit the door instead.

“Get … in … there,” Kurt snaps. “Get … in … that … hole … you stupid … little … prick!” Kurt hears the door unlock and lets go of his key, assuming it made its way into the lock somehow. But the ring falls to the ground with a bang. “Shoot!” He mutters, realizing he’ll need to bend over and pick it up.

If he does, he may never get up again.

The door swings open, the momentum of it almost dragging Kurt forward with it.

“Aw,” Sebastian coos, his body blocking Kurt’s way, saving him from falling on his face. “You were thinking about our wedding night, too?”

“He-ey!” Kurt says, bright but slow, sounding as drunk as he looks.

“Hey, lover.” Sebastian gives his husband an enthusiastic, lovesick once-over, but raises a brow at his wrinkled clothes, his unbuttoned collar, his flushed face, and his severely disheveled hair. “How’s it hanging?”

“In my stomach, to be honest. Ooo, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Kurt throws a hand over his mouth, diverting Sebastian’s kiss from his lips to his cheek. “I think I contracted bird flu somewhere between Broadway and 75th Street. Or maybe syphilis.”

“I told you – if you’re going to cheat, use an escort service.” Sebastian opens the door wider. Grabbing Kurt’s bag in one hand and his elbow with the other, he leads him inside. “That’s what the AmEx card is for.”

“Hmm, I should have listened.”

“Yes, you should have.” Sebastian walks his husband to the sofa and helps him onto a cushion. “So did you miss your plane and walk home,” he asks, retrieving Kurt’s keys and closing the front door, “or …?”

“Very funny.”

“I don’t want to say you look awful but …” Sebastian takes a few steps back to get a good long look at Kurt sinking into the sofa, his head finding the arm and leaning against it. He doesn’t look like himself at all – from the hair to the clothes, and beyond his flushed cheeks, his skin actually looks green “… babe, you look awful.”

“It’s not my fault. I took an Ambien last night to help me sleep off this …” Kurt waves a hand in front of his nose “… whatever I caught, but it didn’t help. I was coughing and sneezing and tossing all night. By six a.m., I was afraid I’d crash before I made it to the airport, so I took some DayQuil to keep me alert. But I guess DayQuil and Ambien don’t play nice together.”

“I guess not.”

“To top it off, since my plane was delayed, I dropped into what I thought was a Dunkin’ Donuts. I mean, the banner over the door looked the same and everything. Turns out, it was some new boutique place called Drunkin’ Donuts. I ate two blackberry wine donuts before I realized I was feeling a little tipsy.”

“Uh, but wouldn’t the alcohol in the donuts cook away?” Sebastian asks, digging his phone out of his pocket and logging on to WebMD to see how much trouble his husband might be in.

“Yeah, in the donut, but not the jam filling. I’m amazed I made it home. After that, everything was kind of a blur.”

“Like what?”

Kurt swallows. This was the part he was hoping he wouldn’t have to get into until he was better … or sober. “Okay, don’t get mad, but I may have tweeted David Beckham and told him he had, and I quote, a very bite-able bod?” Kurt admits, eyes begging his husband to please tell him that that was just a dream.

And even though Sebastian is quietly panicking over the fact that his husband might need his stomach pumped, he can’t help smirking at his man.

“Alas, you did,” Sebastian confirms. “But in case you didn’t see his reply tweet, he claims that you do, too. And his wife concurs, so there’s that. I think you may have raised your stock value with that snafu.”

“Thank God!” Kurt moans. He knew that tweet wouldn’t cost him his job or anything, and he was only mildly worried about what it might do for his home life. But more than that, he was afraid what might happen next time he and Victoria Beckham crossed paths.

She might be petite, but he’s heard she’s a hair puller.

“What else?” Sebastian asks, keeping Kurt awake while he stalls for time.

“I may have ordered everything from pages 23, 24, and 25 of the SkyMall catalogue.”

“You do that even when you’re not tripping balls ...”

“I …” And this is the one that may have Kurt crawling beneath the sofa out of sheer embarrassment “… I may have emailed all of our friends and family … using your email account … and invited them here today for, and again I quote, a surprise party in honor of the wonder that is me?”

“Right again.” Sebastian chuckles, but laced with concern. “And by the time I checked my email, they had all RSVP’d. They’re in the kitchen waiting to yell surprise the second I open the door.”

Kurt’s eyes pop, his gaze shifting to the door beside him, terrified by this new knowledge that seventy or more people might be on the other side, ready to scream at him.

That alone makes his stomach flip.

That explains the lack of parking on the street.

“And you couldn’t just cancel?” Kurt groans, putting his hands over his ears in preparation for the cheer that’s about to run him over like a freight train.

“Of course not. I invited them.” But Sebastian doesn’t open the door. He hits send on a mass text and shoves his phone back in his pocket. From beyond the white washed piece of wood, Kurt hears the muffled trickle of text alerts going off, accompanied by a rumble of voices muttering in confusion. Someone who could be Wes says, “Hey, Tom-Tom! How would you and Hepburn like to go play mini golf?”

Sebastian reaches for Kurt’s arm, preparing to help him up, but decides against it and lifts his husband off the couch.

“Wha---what are we doing? Where are we going?”

“I thought it might be a good idea if we turned this welcome home celebration into a party of two. And we’re holding it at the emergency room.”