#i am not supposed to be working fridays anyways. i ought to stop asking if ppl can cover my shifts its like im invisiblr

[waywardsalt]

yeah sure guess ill go in. dont know why we need 8 fucking people

[sirphillipcranestanaccount]

Modern AU teaser under the cut. Let me know what y’all think!

“Ugggh” Eloise said, dropping her forehead onto the textbook that lay on the table in front of her. She looked at her phone, 10:30 on a Friday night and she was still in the library. “How did I get myself into this situation?” she raised her head and looked across the table at Penelope, “Pen, when I said ‘oh I think I’m going to get a master’s in English’, English of all things, why didn’t you talk me out of it?”

Penelope shifted her eyes from her laptop screen to Eloise without moving her head. “Because,” she began to reply, never once stopping her typing “I believe your exact words were ‘Pen, I’m going to grad school and there’s no way you can talk me out of it’.” 

“She’s right, El,” Edwina said not bothering to look up from her computer, “I have it on video.” 

“How many drinks had I had up to that point?” Eloise’s head was once again in her textbook making her words difficult to hear. “And was I aware at the time that I would have to read The Canterbury Tales again?”

“None and yes,” Penelope replied.

“Ugh,” Eloise repeated, “what are you two working on?” she wanted to distract herself from Chaucer for a moment,

“I’m writing a paper about the works and political activism of Susan Sontag,” Penelope answered.

“I’m writing a reflection on a trip I had to take to the Met,” Edwina stated, “so I’m attempting to be engaging about statues I have seen on what must be at least a hundred occasions.”

“Do you guys remember in undergrad when we used to do fun and interesting things on the weekends?” Eloise asked. 

“I don’t think that emptying 4 bottles of Barefoot Riesling and eating buffalo wings while watching Golden Girls re-runs could be deemed interesting in any sense of the word,” Penelope said, “plus, judging by the frequency with which Eddie’s phone has been vibrating, she certainly has an interesting weekend ahead of her,” she smirked.

Eloise’s head popped up in interest. Finally a distraction! “Are these texts from a gentleman?” she asked with a tone of overstated interest.

Edwina started to flush “Do you guys remember that TA I had last semester for my archaeology class?”

“The one who’s so smart and funny and cute and always replied to your e-mails right away?” Eloise replied, “I’m not sure if you mentioned him.”

Edwina’s eyes narrowed at Eloise’s teasing, “Well, we went out and got coffee the other week and we’ve been texting ever since, and long story short I think I’m going to marry him.”

“Marriage?” Eloise scoffed, “have you two even…?” she let her words trail off, but let a rude gesture with her hands finish the statement.

“I was being facetious,” Edwina replied, “and no, I haven’t slept with him,” she returned to typing just before adding, “Very ladylike hand gesture by the way.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve never once tried to be ladylike in my life,” Eloise retorted.

“The blouse and pencil skirt you’re wearing at the library would state otherwise,” Penelope teased.

“Pen, you know I have to wear this when I tutor,” she shot back “apparently I have to look professional when I’m trying to help freshmen comp lit majors figure out what Candide is about.”

“What is Candide about?” Edwina asked.

“Hell if I know,” Eloise replied with a shrug. She looked back at her phone, “can we go home now?” she asked, “I hate walking through the park after 11.”

Penelope closed her computer, “I was about to suggest the same.”

As the 3 women walked out of the now-empty library Eloise spotted something on a bench in the vestibule between the library doors. It was a leather-bound notebook with a snap closure. Eloise couldn’t help but be curious, so she opened it.

“What on Earth are you doing El?” Penelope asked, “we are in New York City, god knows where that’s been!”

“Calm down Pen, it’s not street trash,” she replied. She opened to the first page of the notebook and read: property of Phillip Crane. If found, please contact pcrane282@nyu.edu

Phillip got home and all but went straight to sleep. Well, first he thanked and said goodbye to his Aunt who had been kind enough to watch his children after their most recent nanny had quit.

It appeared that the final straw for the most recent young lady–in what seemed to be a revolving door of unfortunate women (and some men)– was when the twins had decided to put a layer of cream cheese on the deodorant that they found in her purse. Phillip was more bewildered by his children’s antics than anybody, but even he had to admit that someone who decided to pursue a career in child care ought to be made of sterner stuff. 

But today had been a long day, and he needed to sleep before he went back to the lab tomorrow. He peaked his head into Oliver and Amanda’s room to make sure they were asleep. Or, if not asleep, not causing trouble. Then he went to his room and simply fell face down on the bed.

Phillip woke up the next morning to his alarm at 6 am in the clothes he had worn the day previous. He cursed under his breath, he was planning to wear that pair of khakis again today, but now they were all wrinkled and so was his shirt. Phillip went out into the kitchen and started making coffee when he heard a small voice from behind him.

“Daddy, you’re not going to wear those clothes to work are you?” He turned around to see Amanda in her pajamas. 

“Don’t I look good?” Phillip joked with her.

“You look like you slept in your clothes,” she said flatly, moving a chair to the side of the cabinet to reach for the cereal that was a bit too high for her to reach on her own. 

“That’s just the look I was going for,” he smiled and took a sip of his coffee, “do you want me to pack your lunch for you?” he asked. He didn’t have to be at the lab until 9:00 this morning. 

“No thanks,” Amanda said passing him to get milk from the refrigerator, “Me and Oliver packed our lunches last night.”

Phillip felt his stomach knot. He was proud that both of his children were self-sufficient, but he hated the fact that they had to be. Ever since their mother died–and frankly, before–they had needed to be like little adults, in spite of being 8 years old. Phillip tried the best he could to be a good dad to them, but working toward a Ph.D. and having the pressure of a research fellowship on one’s shoulders made active fathering somewhat difficult. 

“What did you pack, is it healthy?” Phillip asked, trying to make up for his dead-beat ways.

“Sandwich, apples, yogurt, and cheez-its,” she said matter of factly “I don’t know what Oliver put in his.”

As if on cue Oliver walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “I made the same thing but with chips instead of yogurt, because yogurt is gross.” He joined his sister at the countertop and poured cereal into a bowl that Amanda had already set out for him.

“Alright, kids, what’s on the schedule for today?” Phillip said, putting down his coffee, “anything after school that I should let Aunt Gertie know about?”

“I have piano right after school,” Amanda stated.

“And I have a hockey game at 5,” Oliver said with a mouth full of cereal, “can you come, Dad?”

Phillip’s heart sank, he knew he probably wasn’t going to be able to make it, but he decided to try and humor his son anyway. 

“Let me check my book,” he said walking over to his bag. He looked in the brown satchel to find that he couldn’t find the familiar brown leather datebook.

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, “shit shit shit shit shit.”

“Are you okay dad?” Oliver asked, once more with his mouth full.

“Yes,” Phillip said with a sigh “I just can’t find my datebook.”

Phillip grabbed his phone to check the schedule he tried to maintain electronically and saw that he had an e-mail.

Dear Mr. Crane,

Hello! I just wanted to contact you because I believe I found your datebook outside the library last night. At least, this is the e-mail that was written to contact in case it was found. What is the best way that I can return it to you? I know I’m personally lost without my planner. Let me know how I can get it back to you and I will be sure to do so ASAP.

Sincerely,

Eloise Bridgerton, B.A.

Student | NYU Graduate School of Arts & Science

ebridge240@nyu.edu

(212)995-3422

P.S. I suppose I should ask you to describe it, just to make sure I’m handing it off to the right person. Once you’ve done that I will promptly return it to you.

[flowerbloom-arts]

Diggory Hodgkins ran up to his older brother, Samuel, after school had ended, he was rather excited because Samuel seemed to have been working on a new thing they'd be doing come after school on a Friday.

"Hullo Samuel!" He cried "We ought to do that thing we spoke of doing on this fine day?"

And a fine day indeed it was, not a single cloud in the sky, though the skies never seemed to appear that clear blue hue as depicted in illustrations or paintings, still, it was better than totally grey, atleast the sun was quite visible. Diggory would often get excited whenever the weather was anything other than dreary, though pathetic it may sound to some people, he enjoyed what little sunshine the heavens gave them.

"Hmh!" Samuel hummed with a nod.

"Yes!" Diggory exclaimed with a sense of victory, the two brothers started walking out of the school's campus, with Samuel in the lead "So what is it, might I ask? Excuse me! I know you like keeping secrets until the right moment but could you atleast spare a morsel of detail about it? My mind has been racking at what it could possibly be! But of course, one could never figure out what may be going on in that head of yours, oh goodness no."

"You'll see." Samuel stopped to pick up a wooden plank and some rope that he hid in a bush.

"Oh! Are those what you'll be using for the project?" Diggory guessed rather quickly.

"Yes." Samuel confirmed.

"Oh goody!" Diggory clapped "Perhaps I could guess what it is?"

"No." Sam answered harshly "How was school?" he asked and continued walking.

Diggory seemed a little deflated but understood that he shouldn't pry for answers to something he'll see quite soon, he adjusted his school satchel in a huff "Well." he started before following behind his brother "Quite the same actually, you know how it is. Teachers rambling academic nonsense for hours on end, peers picking on eachother, bland everything else. Seriously, I'm sorry but school is just so boring, yeah? How could anyone manage to sit down and listen and expect us to pay attention when there's nothing that even could be interesting!" He started to complain "What could possibly be so enticing about figuring out the third angle of a triangle? What would possibly motivate me to be invested in figuring out such a trivial conundrum to me personally? The teacher certainly never provides a solid motivation, it all becomes forgettable hogwash that has nothing to do with what I want out of life. Though I may possibly be rude, I'm sure you found that sort of thing fascinating given it may pertain to engineering in some way, right?" He paused for an answer from Samuel but then continued anyway "I guess you always were the academically inclined one, I'm over here 'daydreaming my school days off 'and 'being distracted' and whatever else people might say. It's interesting, really, how unlike eachother we are despite sharing the same blood, so to say." Diggory crossed his arms and started kicking a small pebble as a temporary companion on their journey "Some might even use the word funny. All I know is that we're stuck together until something or other separates us, and I believe that's what brothers ought to do. Shame we have a four year difference between us, wouldn't it be cool if we were twins instead?" He looks up at him eagerly, but then looks down again "Ah, you probably find it ridiculous that such a thing would be important. The prospect is rather poetic in my mind but I don't suppose you would endorse it, sorry. We do appear to live in two separate bubbles that might converge into a venn diagram with little in common... Excuse me, we must've had this conversation before, I must sound like a verbal equivalent of a merry-go-round... Have we had this conversation before?" Diggory paused a little for an answer "Samuel, I am genuinely asking this time."

"Ah. Yes, I think so." Samuel said thoughtfully, sometimes it was hard to tell when Diggory was actually looking for an answer or just pausing before continuing his rants, so it was often that he needed to clarify so Samuel can answer. Samuel stopped at a tree in front of a cliff side view and laid down his wooden plank and rope.

"Oh, all right, I suppose that sounds correct... Goodness these aren't actually conversations, really, I should stop calling them that." Diggory saw that Sam had stopped and looked at the sea "By my tail, that looks gorgeous! Does the ocean always sparkle like that?" He said in awe.

"Only in shining daylight, I believe." Samuel replied, inspecting the branches of the tree.

"Well, that's simply another reason to hate the drowsy weather. I can not wait until we get to travel across the ocean and get to live in country where there's more sun and less imbecilic grey clouds overhead, oh, the dream." Diggory continued staring at the sparkly waters before the pebble he was kicking before had landed on his head, thanks to the aim of his brother no less.

"Think you can climb?" Samuel asked, pointing a thumb at a nice-looking tall branch of his tree.

"Oh yeah! Hold on just a moment!" Diggory dropped his satchel and took off his shoes in a hurry. He ran up and started climbing the tree "It's a real shame you can't do this sort of thing, brother."

Samuel leaned against the tree and made a disinterested hum of confirmation, he didn't actually care much for it. He lifted his ears up as he waited, ready for another rambling.

Diggory continued climbing "Like in all seriousness, climbing trees is rather fun. You get to the tippy top on a tree and you get to see the world from a whole new perspective! Everything is alot smaller and perhaps at the right view you could pretend everyone is a tiny little creature that you can squash between your index and your thumb," he reached the last branch of the tree- the one he needed to get to, of course "Like this!" Diggory closes one eye and pretends to squish his brother's head between his fingers "But I suppose someone of your size already gets that sense, big blue."

"Yep. Which is part of what drives everyone away, I suppose." Samuel looks up at his brother and throws the rope up to him.

Diggory catches the rope in his paws "Well it's not just that, atleast from what I hear of you from others." He looks down at the rope "What am I to do with this, exactly?"

"Tie it to the branch." Samuel says as he takes out a knife from his own school satchel.

"Hm." Diggory ties a knot and started pondering what this latest contraption could possibly be again. "Is this another one of your 'practical joke' inventions for your enemies?" Samuel always liked building pranks for anyone he happened to dislike, it used to be a big habit years ago but later the amount of them dwindled as he matured, but even at his current age it's still not out of the realm of possibility.

"Nnnnnope." Samuel said, he put up the wood plank against it at a certain height and chopped off the rope with his knife accordingly, then threw the cut off rope up at his brother again "Tie that one about..." He uses the plank as a reference and placed his hand at a certain spot "Here."

"Well if it isn't a practical joke then what else could it possibly be?" Diggory adjusted the position of his rope to his brother's hand placement and tied a knot on the branch.

"Be patient, will you?" Samuel cut off the excess rope, he put the knife back in his satchel and took out a hand drill to use it on the ends of the plank.

"You know carrying those sorts of things on you is part of the reason why everyone thinks you're weird, right?" Diggory said.

"Mphm." Samuel replied as he's finished drilling the holes of the plank "By the by, you can come down now." he put one of the ropes through one of the holes and tied a knot under it, he did the same for the other one. After he was done he put his hands on his hips rather proudly.

Diggory climbed down enthusiastically to see what his brother had just created "A... Swing?" his enthusiasm seemed to turn into a rather puzzled expression toward his brother "Sam, I love you dearly, but I have to admit you have created far more impressive things than this. Unless this isn't all of it?"

"Eh. That's just about it." Samuel answered with a shrug.

"Really? But- why?" Diggory was absolutely bewildered by this.

"It's for you. You like looking at the sea, thought you'd like something a little more convenient." Samuel was still relatively proud of this small achievement.

"Ah, for me?" Diggory lightened up a little and went to sit on the newly built swing "Hm! I guess it is rather convenient for me!" He started swinging on it lightly "Such a nice view today, too. Suppose I should thank you, then!"

"No need." Samuel sat on the grass next to him and took off his own shoes "Rather exhausting. School. Possibly other things aswell. Nice to take a step back and make something like this with you." He slouches over and rested on his knee to view the ocean.

"Heh. Yeah..."

The two brothers sat with eachother until the sun came down, it was rather peaceful that day, the greyish blue skies just seemed to look like regular blue.

[l-o-g-l-a-d-y]

The Short List

Summary: 

“Kid, you know that I have a very short list of people who I would move heaven and Earth for.” With his flesh hand, he began to tick off names. “Pepper. Morgan. Rhodey. Happy...and you. You made the cut, Pete. And honestly? I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that you made the list." Iron Man is retired but Tony Stark will never stop playing superhero for his kids. Or Peter Parker has a high school diploma and not a lick of common sense. Set three years post- Endgame. Featuring retired Tony and walking disaster Peter Parker.  

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970351

Tony did not know what he did in a past life to deserve the sort of hell Peter Parker was putting him through.

It had been a normal Friday night when, for the first time in a long time, he was awoken by his AI with an urgent message.

“Boss, I am receiving an incoming message from Karen. Peter Parker is experiencing a medical emergency.”

Well, that woke him up. Beside him, Pepper stirred awake, brow furrowed in concern.

He threw the blankets off himself and scrambled to get out of bed “FRI, what happened?”

“He appears to be suffering from a severe cranial injury. Karen’s scans are reading a 7mm epidural hematoma. The bleed has stopped but the pressure against his frontal lobe and optical nerve is increasing.”

Tony felt the blood drain from his face, slapping the long unused nanite arc reactor on his chest.

“Where?”

“The midtown safe house.”

Tony whirled back around to share a confused look with Pepper. The safe house had been a byproduct of his post Battle of New York paranoia, a place to regroup nearby should the tower be overrun again. He had never dismantled it, but he had forgotten it among newer, safer, alternatives. He knew for certain he had never told the Spider-Kid about it.

“The midtown safe house?” he pressed a kiss to Pepper’s head.

“Correct, Boss.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., get me a flight plan. Don’t wait up for me, Honey!” He called over his shoulder while rushing out the door.

Tony had hung up the suit following the final Snap, all but forced into early retirement by the loss of his arm and the desire to settle down with his family. In doing so he never bothered to re-establish himself in New York City. Instead, Peter and Harley came out to the lake house on a semi-regular basis. Peter had recently graduated high school and was still adjusting to college life at NYU, so he saw his arach-kid a lot less than he would like. It was all a part of growing up, he knew, so despite the distance, Tony had eliminated some of the training wheels protocols to give the boy some space to grow. Something he was deeply regretting right then.

“How far out am I now?”

“10 minutes 42 seconds.”

“Call Peter.”

Tense seconds past before F.R.I.D.A.Y could respond “No response.”

“Fine, have Karen do another scan and get me there in five minutes.”

***

It was 12 hours later and a clusterfuck later that he found himself helping his beloved idiot walk out of the ER where they had met Dr. Cho. When Tony had first arrived on the scene, Peter had been in no shape to make the trip to the compound medbay. Tony had directed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get him to the nearest hospital and do whatever it took to have Dr. Cho meet them there as soon as possible. It had been touch and go for the first hour. The hospital was ill-prepared to treat an enhanced patient that metabolized medications as fast as they could be administered. They didn’t exactly have protocols for letting an unfamiliar doctor commandeer the operating room or for letting a patient walk out the door eight hours after having their skull cracked open.  It had taken a lot of bluffing and abuse of his privilege as that guy who saved the universe to get it done. He was getting a headache thinking of all the paperwork he would have to fudge to keep the kid’s secret identity intact.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Peter was still behind him and rolled his eyes at the sad picture he made. Peter was trudging up the hallway to the safehouse, now sporting a six-inch-long bald spot behind his left ear and approximately 20 staples.

Shouldering the door open Tony allowed himself to take in the safe house in greater detail than he had that morning. All in all, it looked like any large, empty, upper-class apartment, except for the Spidey suit on the floor of the bathroom, a backpack with a duct-taped strap, and Peter’s laptop perched at the kitchen bar.

Tony gestured to one of the barstools by the counter and let Peter sit while he proceeded to the hall closet. It was stocked with mostly expired medical supplies and a few emergency odds and ends. He popped an instant icepack, wrapped it in a washcloth and handed both to Peter to place over his swollen cheek with a wince.

“Do you want to tell me what you were doing here?” Tony started. His tone was sharper than he had intended. He saw Peter tense but he left the floor open for him to speak.

“I told you, I had heard about some messed up drug being distributed to clubs across the city. When I looked into it I realized they weren’t just peddling drugs, but weapons,-“ Peter looked away guilty “and people.” That should have been the first clue that he was in over his head.

“So, I’m just supposed to be thrilled you decided to take down a drug cartel and human trafficking ring all by your lonesome?” Tony interjected.

Peter bit his lip the way he always did before spilling his guts. “Uh, well no, technically not. Uhm…It turns out that Deadpool had been tracking the leader of this group too, so we teamed up to-“

Tony held up his hand.

“I’m sorry did you say Deadpool?” he said in mock disbelief “Am I going deaf in my old age? I know I couldn’t possibly have heard you say Deadpool, because I know you have been explicitly warned about that guy by S.H.I.E.L.D., by every hero operating in New York, and me.”

Peter frowned the way he always did before giving a heartfelt and utterly stupid argument.

“Look, I know he has a bad past but he’s really trying to turn over a new leaf! And I’ve been helping! He hasn’t killed anyone in months and Ms. Nat did it so- ”

“Hey, tt tt tt! Let me stop you right there. Natasha’s mental health and loyalty were carefully vetted over a period of years by a massive intelligence agency. You have been kadoodling about with a contract killer on the basis of a pinky promise to do better. There’s a difference.”

Peter gritted his teeth at the word kadoodle but figured he ought to pick his battles if he was going to get through the story.

“We teamed up. Apparently, someone from Sister Margret’s, which it turns out is NOT a school but a really gross bar that Deadpool hangs out at, had leaked that Deadpool and Spider-Man were onto them. It was basically an ambush, except we didn’t know it was an ambush, and Karen couldn’t tell that it was an ambush, but my spidey senses warned me at the last second. But by then, Deadpool had just charged right in! Before I could stop him! I couldn’t just leave him in there!”

Tony’s snort of derision made his opinion on that matter perfectly clear.

“So, I had to get him out.  They had way too many guns, and this ridiculously big dude in there. He was some kind of ‘enhanced’ situation though, ‘cause when he hit me it was like being punched by a rhino or something. He got a lucky shot to the back of my head when I was trying to yank Deadpool out of the line of fire. I think I greyed out because the next thing I know, Deadpool had me over one shoulder and he was shooting over the other. He managed to get us out onto a neighboring roof but I couldn’t swing us anywhere” He gave a weak attempt at a self-deprecating grin “it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Tony scoffed. Peter watched the knuckles of Tony’s right hand whiten and heard the minute whir of his mechanical hand tighten and quickly forged ahead.

“Anyway! I knew something was wrong but I hadn’t wanted him to know where I lived or make him try to get me to  the compound, so I had him help me get here and I figured I should probably have a friend around to keep an eye on the situation so-“ Ohhh that was the wrong thing to say. A fire seemed to flare in Tony’s eyes.

“EXCUSE ME? I think you mean a MERCENARY! A very dangerous mercenary who you should not even know!”

“Mr. Stark, I know Wade is sorta-“

“Oh, Wade is it? You had your good buddy, Wade, drop you off at a safe house I haven’t even used in a half dozen years to do what exactly? Sleep off a brain hemorrhage!?”

Peter had not seen this level of ire out of Tony since the Ferry Incident of 2017. It seemed a little unfair since he had called Tony once he realized he was out of his depth.

“Mr. Stark, I swear, I didn’t know how bad it was! And I called you, didn’t I?” Well, Karen called. And not so much once he saw that he was out of his depth so much as he when he started losing time and puking.

“I’m technically 23! I thought it was time to try- “ Tony cut him off.

“No! Functionally, you are 18, you’ve said yourself you don’t remember the Snap so none of that counts! 18 means you get to go to big boy prison and vote.  It does not mean you know jack crap about head injuries!”

Pick your battles, Peter… “Besides, Wade stayed until Karen said you were coming. He wanted to make sure I didn’t die, but I had told him not to stick around for you to get here.”

“You should have called me! First! Thing! Or Dr. Cho! Hell, call Dr. Strange!”

“I’ve been hit in the head loads of times! I thought it was not so bad!”

Tony threw his hands up and turned around in exasperation then rounded on Peter again.

“Not so bad? I’d ask if you were brain damaged, but oh wait “Tony held his finger to his chin in a pantomime of thought “ that’s right YOU ARE!”

“Mr. Stark! C’mon-“

“You didn’t know your ass from your elbow when I got here.” Tony seethed. “You couldn’t form a sentence. Didn’t know who I was! Where we were! By the time we got to the hospital, you were completely non-responsive. It took sawing off part of your skull and scooping the blood out like jello for your healing to get enough of a head start to matter.”

Peter gulped but Tony wasn’t done. “What about May? What about me? Don’t we matter, kid?”

“You’re retired! I thought I could handle it! By the time I knew it was this bad it was too late. I’m sorry!”

“Retired!? Are you kidding? UGH!” Tony wanted to punch a wall but instead, he walked a few paces away and rubbed at this face exhaustedly. When he turned around, he took stock of what he saw. Peter looked a mess with a swollen face, pilfered MIT sweatpants, a worn out 2011 Stark Expo shirt, hospital socks, and a line of staples down his scalp like a Frankenstein monster.

Who let this idiot out into the world unsupervised? Uh-he did, apparently.

“Kid.” Peter looked up from the tile grout he’d been inspecting. “You know that I have a very short list of people who I would move heaven and Earth for.” His voice had dropped to something more like his normal timbre.

With his flesh hand, he began to tick off names.

“Pepper. Morgan. Rhodey. Happy.”

He emphasized each name with another finger leaving his thumb tucked against his palm. His eyes met Peter’s desperate to get him to understand “and you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, wagging the thumb of his now open palm.

He rubbed his hand over his face again in an attempt to force a semblance of calm.

“You made the cut, Pete. And honestly? I don’t know what else I have to do to prove to you that you made the list. You’re right, I am retired. Iron Man is the Earth’s absolute last line of defense, but no matter how old I am or how old you are I am always going to be the first line of defense for Peter Parker. Capisce?”

Peter felt his eyes start to burn. He didn’t know what to say. He was sorry?  He had felt like he was handling it responsibly at the time?

He didn’t trust his voice but swallowed against the ache in his throat to say “Maybe some of the people they were hurting are on someone’s short list too.”

Despite his best efforts, Tony saw right through the rapid blinking and Peter saw his shoulders drop as the last of the fight poured out of him.

Tony was way past the point in his life where he could hold this kid at arm’s length. He crossed the room in three steps to wrap his arms around Peter’s shoulders. Immediately he felt the kid shift to lean his weight against him, trusting him to hold him up while he clutched the back of his mentor’s jacket. He briskly kissed the top of Peter’s head and rested his chin atop the matted curls. Under all the bravado, the kid had scared himself too.

Silence passed between them except for the occasional sniff as Peter tried very hard to not cry. Tony held in a sigh. Pete still didn’t get it, he had nothing to prove to Tony.

“You know I invented time travel. Not to save the universe, mind you, but for your scrawny ass.” He paused “I couldn’t live in a world without you in it. I tried. For five years, I tried, and I couldn’t do it. Not when there was still a chance.”

“That’s a low blow, Mr. Stark” Peter’s voice sounded scratchy and wet but amused.

Tony huffed a laugh. “And I’m never gonna let you forget it.” He smiled and let Peter pull back a bit. He brushed sweaty hair from the kid’s face and winced at the swollen edges of Peter’s normally handsome face. He felt his smile turn sad.

“There are lots of ways for me to lose you faster than you can heal, Underoos.”

“I know ...I’m sorry.”

Tony blew out a frustrated breath. He knew what it was like now. From both sides. Peter was a hero. He was never going to stop trying to save lives. There was never going to be a day where Peter Parker could just sit idly by while the world went to shit.  He also now understood how a woman May’s age could have so many grey hairs and why Pepper blamed Tony for her Xanax prescription.

“You know, every day you remind me that I owe Pepper about a billion apologies.” He shook his head. “The things I put her through.” Peter smiled up at him bashfully.

“Speaking of Pepper,” Tony continued handing Peter the hoodie he’d left on the counter. “I gotta go back upstate. I have a lakeside dinner date with two lovely ladies.”

Peter stood as well “Tell them I say hi, will you?” Tony watched the kid pull a denim jacket on over the hoodie. He was pretty sure it belonged to Harley but Peter probably nicked it the last time he’d been to the lake house. The kid started triple layering as soon as the air turned the slightest bit brisk.

“I can do you one better. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Gee, I don’t know if I can go up there tonight. I have work tomorrow and-“

“Looking like Frankenstein? I don’t think so. How are you going to explain to triple-J how that mess is gone by Wednesday?”

“Frankenstein’s monster.” Peter corrected shoving his laptop into the ratty backpack. “Besides, I don’t want to upset Morgan showing up looking like this.”

Tony shrugged. “She’s a tough cookie. She’ll probably want to play doctor. I should warn you her medical case is fully stocked with holographic Iron Man band-aids.”

Peter laughed “I should be so lucky as to receive such quality medical care.” He shook his head “Sure why not? But I gotta be back to pick May up from the airport Tuesday night.”

“Deal.” He glanced down at Peter’s socks “Ya still need shoes, bud.”

Peter trotted off to the bathroom to grab his shoes and spidey suit. Everything back to normal. As normal as they got anyway.

Tony called after him “Doesn’t Hot May know I owe her a thousand favors for encouraging her nephew to pursue a career in vigilante justice? She literally has access to a private jet.”

Peter shrugged as he did a once over of the apartment to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind.

“I don’t think that’s her style.”

“She could have Happy be her chauffeur,” Tony replied in a sing-song.

“Ughh! Mr. Stark, don’t encourage them! It’s bad enough they like to do date night at our apartment. Where does Happy even live?”

Tony held the door for Peter, laughing, and basked in the light-hearted glare Peter threw over his shoulder.

Once inside the elevator Peter gently brushed his shoulder against his mentor’s. “Thanks for bailing me out, Tony.”

The elder wrapped his arm around his kid’s shoulder. “Any time, Underoos.”

[delicatelyherdreams]

Separation Anxiety

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Summary: When Natasha has to leave for a lengthy mission, you feel her absence deeply. Some might say you even have a little bit of separation anxiety. 

Warnings: language; drinking; Tony’s a bit of an ass

Word Count: 2193

“Naatttt,” you whined hanging upside down on the couch with your legs against the backrest and your head dangling above the ground. “Pay attention to meeee.”

She didn’t even look up from the papers sitting on the table in front of her.

You frowned. “Natasha!”

Nothing.

A low growl emitted from your throat as you pulled yourself up onto the couch. You reached over to the arm rest and grabbed the pillow sitting on the cushion. You looked between your girlfriend and the cushion before making a calculation and chucking the pillow at her head.

Without glancing up, her hand shot up and caught the pillow. She sighed and turned to face you. “I’m working, Princessa,” she said in a pleading voice.

You pouted. “You were supposed to be off today. We were gonna go mini golfing!”

“I know, but this came up last minute and it’s really important.” Her smile turned sympathetic. 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

She sighed. “It’s only two weeks, Princessa.”

Your eyes widened. “Two weeks?” you demanded, your voice growing in volume. “You mean you’re leaving me here with these people for two weeks.”

“I have to. It’s an important mission and I’m the only one who can do it.” She stood up and padded her way over to the couch. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back as soon as I can and when I’m home...” She sat down next to you and wrapped her arm around your waist, “You can have me all to yourself.”

You looked up at her with your puppy dog eyes. “Promise?”

She chuckled and leaned over, pressing a loving kiss to the side of your head. “I promise.”

You hummed and closed your eyes, leaning into her. “You’re the best, Nat.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by a loud and boisterous voice.

“Well!” Tony exclaimed as he walked into the room. He smirked at you and Nat. “If it isn’t our two favorite lovebirds.”

“Well, if it isn’t the most annoying billionaire,” you said, exasperation filling your voice to the brim.

He grinned as he sat down at the table Natasha had just been at. “And how are you, our little toddler?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not a toddler,” you corrected. “I’m twenty years old.”

“Todd-ler,” he said in a singsong voice.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Lay off, Stark,” she said coldly. “She’s an adult, she’s legal, it’s okay.”

“But she acts like a child, Nat,” he argued. “Honestly, she’s so clingy that, if I didn’t know any better, I would guess you’re her mother.”

You pouted at him. “I have my own mother and she’s not Natasha. Natasha is better.”

“I am, aren’t I?” she asked with a grin.

“You are,” you said pecking her on the cheek.

Tony gagged. “Ugh, you two are so sweet you’re going to make me sick.” He rolled his eyes. “Natasha, your flight leaves in T-minus-three hours.”

She shot him a dirty look but you had heard enough. Your head shot up and you stared at her. “You’re leaving when?”

Natasha sighed. “Three hours from now. I was going to tell you here soon but somebody had to spoil that.”

“Sor-ry!” He laughed nervously before exiting the room.

She rolled her eyes and turned to face you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I thought it’d be easier this way.”

You scoffed. “Yeah. It’s easier just to leave me with no warning?”

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t my brightest idea,” she admitted with a frown.

“No joke,” you mumbled as you buried your face in her side. “I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon.”

“But the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back,” she said as a reminder.

You bit your lip. “Fine... Just don’t take too long.”

“I’ll try not to.”

———

The first week without her was absolute hell. You missed waking up next to her each morning to the feeling of her arms tightening around your waist. You missed her laugh and the way she would smile at you when you told a stupid joke. This was greatly reflected in your mood.

You began to sulk around, going through the daily tasks with such a melancholy attitude that even FRIDAY was starting to worry about you. Every day you were in a poor and sour mood, the only remedy being to have your beloved Natasha back in your arms. 

Finally, half way into the second week, Tony had had enough of the sulking and suggested that everyone have a few drinks to loosen up.

“Come on,” he goaded. “Drinks are on me!”

It took a little bit of convincing, but eventually everyone agreed.

Tony broke into his liquor cabinet and began to serve out drinks. Soon, every Avenger had a glass of alcohol in their hands... Everyone except you, that is.

After all the heroes had a glass in hand filled with their preferred drink, they all slowly downed the liquor, falling under the influence.

Tony was the first to succumb, his eyes drooping and his words becoming slurred. He turned to look at you from his spot on the long couch. “Hey…” he started, a lazy smile on his face. “(y/n), why don’t you have a drink? Oh, right, you aren’t old enough to have adult drinks.”

You kept a straight face, your sobriety allowing you to try to keep a level head. “I’m almost twenty-one,” you reminded him with no emotion. 

Tony snickered. “Twenty… You’re practically a baby!”

You clenched your fist. Why couldn’t he just leave you be about your age? It’s not like you could help being years younger than everybody else there. 

His smile widened as if he had just gotten a brilliant idea. “Or maybe, not a baby, but like a toddler.” 

You let your head tilt back as you bit your tongue. “It’s just the alcohol, (y/n),” you told yourself. “Just let it go.”

Tony’s head lolled to the side as he grinned. “You’re such a toddler, so young and tiny. What are you doing here with the big boys?”

“Lay off her, Tony,” Steve chided from across the room. “She’s plenty old enough.”

Tony groaned. “You’re sounding like Romanoff.” He shook his head and turned his attention back to you with a shit-eating smirk. “You’re so young. Don’t you have a bedtime?”

You were starting to get fed up with him. “Stop it, Stark,” you threatened.

Tony laughed, the alcohol reaching his head. “Oh chill out, Princessa.”

That was your breaking point. No one called you that but Natasha. You looked at the man, your eyes ablaze. “Don’t. Call me. Princessa,” you hissed in a low and threatening voice that would make even the bravest man shake in his boots.

Steve looked at you warily. “(y/n)...”

Your head snapped up and you glared at him. “No! you snapped.

He jumped at your sudden outburst.

So did most everybody in the room.

Your glare didn’t lessen. “You all just keep picking on me, and I’m done. Just because I’m younger than all of you does not mean you can treat me like a child! I am a goddamn adult for god’s sake, and I ought to be treated like one!” You rose to your feet and shot the Avengers a dirty look. “But whatever. You all are going to treat me like a child anyways, and it doesn’t matter what I do. Nat is the only one who will treat me like I am...” You shook your head. “Thanks for trying, but I’m just going to my room. Call me when Natasha gets back.”

And with that, you turned your back on them and left the little soiree.

You found yourself in yours and Nat’s bedroom suite moments later seated on the bed, your phone in hand with Natasha’s contact pulled up and calling her.

The phone rang on and on until she finally picked up on the last tone.

Nat’s crackly voice answered on the other end of the line. “Princessa?” she called, her voice thick with strain.

You sighed in relief at hearing her voice. “Nat...” you said, a small smile crossing your lips.

“What is it, (y/n)?” she asked before grunting immediately after.

You bit your lip. “I don’t know. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

There was a scream in the back round and Natasha mused, “Aw, baby I miss you too, but now is not really a good time. Can I call you back a little later? I’ve got to finish with this guy.” Queue another panicked scream.

You chuckled. “Sure.”

True to her word your phone was ringing several minutes later. Her face, which was contorted into a silly expression, was flashing on the screen.

“What’s going on, Princessa?” she asked after you picked up.

You laid back onto the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. “I miss you, Nat. And Tony’s mocking me again and making me feel bad.”

She hummed on the phone. Even without seeing her you could tell she was frowning. “He’s just being an ass. Do I need to smack some sense into him when I get back?”

“Yes,” you mumbled as you turned onto your side. “When are you coming home?”

“Hopefully tomorrow, Princessa. We've finished a little earlier than expected and are on our way back to base to be shipped out tomorrow morning,” she said. “I can’t wait to see your beautiful face again.”

You smiled softly. “I can’t wait to see you too...”

“I’ll tell you what,” she started, a smile present in her voice. “When I get home tomorrow, we can just stay in. We’ll order pizza from that place you like and spend all day in bed watching movies. Sound like a plan?”

You could just imagine it. All bundled up in your favorite pajamas with your favorite girl at your side... It sounded like paradise. “Yeah,” you finally said. “Just don’t keep me waiting.”

She breathed a laugh. “I’ll try not too. You can yell at my pilot to get us off the ground here.”

“Oh don’t tempt me, Nat,” you said, warning heavy in your voice. “I might actually ask you to put me on speaker so I can scream at him.”

“I’m sure you would,” she responded.

Your lips were tugged up by a small smile. “Nat?”

“Yes, Princessa?”

“I’m going to go to bed now, but would you stay on the line? You know, just to talk to me while I fall asleep?”

She breathed a sigh. “Of course.”

And she did. You put the phone on speaker and set it down on the pillow next to yours as you got comfortable. You continued to lie down on your side as you stared at it’s dark screen. “Tell me a story?” you requested in a childlike voice.

She chuckled. “Which one?”

“Any one will do.”

You could imagine her pondering your request. “Hmm. Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a house with her wicked stepmother and evil stepsisters.”

You cracked a smile. “Is this Cinderella?”

“Yes. You wanted a story so you’ve got one. Now shut up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine.”

She chuckled in return. “Now this girl, Cinderella, was very beautiful and...”

———

The next twenty-four hours were quite possibly the slowest ones you had ever experienced. The wait for Natasha was so mind numbing that you swear your brain was leaking out your ears. 

But finally, that night, after the sun had set, the elevator dinged signalling an arrival. The doors slid open, revealing a certain redhead.

You practically threw yourself at her when you saw her. “Natashaaaaa!” you wailed as you wrapped your arms around her torso in a tight hug. “Don’t ever leave me like that again, you here! I can’t do it again! Everyone here is mean without you and I miss you too much!”

She chuckled as you rested your head on her chest. “Aw, did you have a little bit of separation anxiety?”

You nodded, your lips pulled downwards in a pout. “Don’t leave me again.”

She bowed her head down to press a kiss to your head. “I won’t.”

———

Bonus

A few days later you sat in the lounge, a book propped open in your hand while your eyes scanned the page. It was a nice and calm evening of reading, but it was interrupted by a loud and sickening thwack of a human hitting another human followed by an unmanly scream of a Tony Stark.

“Hey!” Tony shouted. “What the hell was that for?”

Natasha’s voice followed his saying, “That’s for picking on my girlfriend. Now, leave her be.”

You couldn’t contain your smug grin as she sauntered into the room seconds later.

She took one look at your face before breaking into a smile of her own. “What? I told you I’d smack him for you.”

“Oh I love you,” you said scooting over to make room for her on the couch.

She sat down next to you and pressed a careful kiss to your lips. “I love you too, (y/n).”

Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read @becauseismellgood @impalaimages@breezy1415 @lou-la-lou @aestheticapricity @a-book-pressed-rose @watchoutforfrostbite @dragonborn791924

Requested by: Anonymous

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It Part 10 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Catch Up Here!

A/N: Okay guys, so it's here. The big One-Oh! (which coincidentally is being published on the 10th of March -which is also Bucky’s birthday! Fate is a tricky thing) For this chapter, I wanted to do something special. But also, I'm still doing the before Endgame race with myself because I want to get to a good climax with this story before April! Which is not very far away. *Gulp!* Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy it. Ask to be added to Tags!

Remember: Reader’s alias is Helen Rushman but everyone calls you Elle! You are also an agent with the Red Room (Black Widow’s) who is acting as a double agent within Hydra.

Words: 3782

Warnings: This chapter is hella long. Like when I was editing it I was also surprised by the word count. LOL! Some angst, a lot of fast-paced scene jumping and a bit of steam towards the end... Which means!!! The next Chapter is going to be the smutty chapter! Also, sorry I haven’t proofed I want to write the next chapter quickly!!!

Tuesday Morning.

You had made sure to dress up in your more flattering clothes today. Your make-up a little more glamour than usual. You made sure to buy a magazine about with a headline to do with the upcoming Expo. When you got to work you noticed the security had been doubled and employees were now required to show their ID at the main desk. It wasn't surprising, what was surprising was that there had been no news about the break-in yesterday.

"Morning, Elle," Agnes greeted you as you boarded the elevator.

"Morning Agnes."

"What's with all the security, all of a sudden?"

The elevator had filled up with several other women and men including Kathy. She gave you a knowing look before pretending to not eavesdrop.

"Beats me," you lied. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Kathy's lip curl upwards.

When the elevator stopped at your floor, you, Kathy and a few others got off. You made your way to your desk, unpacking your magazine and displaying it in a very obvious place before heading over to the kitchen to make two cups of coffee. Once you were done, you took both cups, placing one on the far edge of your desk while drinking from the other as you read the magazine -making it seem rather obvious by having it cover half your face.

"Sir, I really think you ought to consider reporting what happened to the authorities," a muscled man in a black suit and tie urged Howard. "The security breach--"

"Security. Which is exactly what I'm paying you for. Making sure there isn't a security breach. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an office to stare blankly out of, Old Boy." Howard slapped the muscley man on the shoulder like they were best pals. Tim, the aforementioned man, simply held in an exasperated breath and walked out of the office space.

Howard walked down towards his office, glancing over at you, he noticed the magazine you were reading, he visibly stalled for a moment. "Ugh… Helen, can I have some coffee sent to my office?" He asked in a low lilt.

Before he could walk away, you stood from your seat and grabbed the coffee cup you had placed by the edge earlier replied in a sonorous voice, "Already done, Mr Stark." You gave him a charming smile as you handed him the cup of hot coffee.

"Well, I do say, if you keep anticipating my needs before me I'll be forced to give you a raise," he smirked as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Then I suppose I ought to do just that," you answered back harmlessly. Stark seemed slightly caught off guard by your oddly flirty mood today. "Anticipate your needs, that is." You picked up the magazine and sat back down at your desk. Flipping the pages absentmindedly as Stark walked to his office, every now and then stealing a glance at you through the window.

A few hours later, a call came through. It was one of Howard's countless number of dates. She was all giddy and you could practically sense her blushing through the telephone cords. You rolled your eyes, swooning was never a good look on anyone. But then again, maybe you were bitter for another reason. One reason in particular.

"So, tell Howie I'd love to go with him to the Gala," she chuckled like a love-struck puppy.

You held back a sigh, "I'll pass the message along." You ended the call and gathered up all the files you had finished sorting through. You knocked on Stark's door.

"Come in."

"Here are the files you had me sort through," you placed them on his desk. "Sir, if you don't mind my asking. What's with all the increased security today?"

"Oh," he smiled, "Don't let that trouble your pretty head. Probably a disgruntled employee trying to steal Stark secrets. Wouldn't be the first time. Won't be the last. Innovation is a lucrative business, that's why you should never keep your secrets lying about for anyone to find."

You pretended not to have a clue as to what he was saying, pursing your lips out like you were struggling with keeping a single train of thought.

"Ah, it's no worry," Starks waved his hand around dismissively. "Any messages?"

Ah, he was expecting a callback, "No, none sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes, that will be all."

You turned around to leave, making sure not to rush out too quick in case...

"Helen," Stark stood from his desk.

"Sir?"

"I gathered from your reading material that you're interested in the Expo."

"Indeed I am. The 'world of tomorrow' is too thrilling an idea to not be." You flipped your hair to the side.

¨"Ah, see there's a Gala coming up this Saturday. And the most eligible bachelor, like myself, can't be seen without a dame on his arm, such as yourself. Would you like to accompany me?"

You walked over to him, slow and suggestive, "On one condition."

"Name it."

"It will remain a strictly casual, friendly outing."

Stark laughed low, "It's a deal then. Pick you up Saturday."

Later that Day

"Report," Yelena demanded. Her cigarette stained tips rolling an unlit cigarette. This time Yelena had a tape recorder in place of a notepad and pen. The air was cold and damp, a draft kept creeping in through the ajar container door. In the distance, you heard faint sounds of trains moving past.

"Hydra made contact. Turns out they have another agent in Stark's employ. I think she's there to keep an eye on me too."

"Who is she?"

"She goes by the name Katherine. I don't have a last name."

"What's the mission?"

"Stark got a letter from the SSR. Apparently, he's meeting with a big shot within that organisation this Saturday. She wants me to record their session using a listening device."

Yelena cocked a brow your way, lighting her cigarette finally as she sunk into her chair, "Did you bring it with you?"

"To a highly clandestine meeting with my handler who's not a Hydra agent?" You asked rhetorically. "No. I did not."

"Mind the attitude, tovarich," Yelena warned. After sucking in two long puffs, she continued, "If this meeting is important enough for a Hydra operative to break their cover keeping an eye on you, then this could finally lead us to Erskine's research. Do as they say and report back to us after."

As you stood up to leave, Yelena whispered to you with a hint of concern in her voice, "Tovarich, if Hydra had an agent keeping an eye on you, it means they don't trust you. Be careful."

You were stunned, momentarily, but regained your composure when you remembered who you were talking to, "It wouldn't be the first time." You left the train car with no other words spoken. The faint smell of smoke still lingering on your coat.

 Wednesday

"Come on, Buck. It'll be fun. Dancing, music, a chance to get out of your apartment!" Steve urged his best friend who was laying down on his couch in his slacks and a vest. Steve busied himself with trying to clean up the place a bit. Putting dishes in the sink and tossing any clothes laying about in the hamper. "When was the last time you went out?"

"The last time I let you talk me into doing something…" he retorted, not needing to finish his sentence.

"Yeah, but you never actually talked to Elle. It could have been a misunderstanding."

"He kissed her Steve!"

"On the lips?"

"N- No… but that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

Bucky sat up from the couch, "She broke up with me! And then when I see her after three weeks she's letting her boss give her a non-platonic kiss on the cheek!"

"Oh, Buck. You're jumping to conclusions. And even if that were true, wouldn't you want to know, beyond a doubt, how she felt. You know, before you leave for--"

Bucky chucked a pillow at Steve, "Why do you have to be such a good guy all the time. Why can't you just brood around my apartment like I'm doing?" he asked rhetorically.

"Because if both of us start brooding, we'll never leave this apartment." Steve picked up the pillow Bucky had thrown and used all his strength to playfully hit Bucky back.

"Ough!" Bucky exaggerated.

"Come on. Dancing. Music. A night out. You need it." Steve urged his friend, bringing over a cup of burnt coffee.

"When?" Bucky asked as he sipped at the bitter liquid.

"Friday," Steve said with a smile.

Bucky simply nodded, "Wipe that smug smile off your face. Guess we're going out."

When Steve got to his apartment he made sure the first thing he did was call Sally and let her know everything was in place. Steve prayed them playing matchmaker wouldn't backfire on them.

 Friday

You had spent most of your week in a rebuttal battle of flirting with Howard. To say it had been taken more of your energy than you'd have like would be an understatement. In a way, you were glad you had agreed to go out with Sally tonight.

You looked in the mirror to see if your outfit complemented your lipstick -you chose rouge. You wore a red dress with a black lace pattern over the satin red and black pumps. You chose to wear lacey fingerless gloves and a small necklace.

"Hey, darlin' you almost ready?" Sally asked from your doorway, her hands fitting in a pair of large fake pearls. "Red?"

"What's wrong with red?" You shot back defensively.

Sally smirked coyly as though she was a mastermind checking all the boxes in her to-do list, "Nothin' it's just… The blue dress is perfect for dancin'. It twirls around you like magic!" She said excitedly.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, "Alright I'll try on the blue one."

A few minutes later you called Sally back into the room and she gasped like it was the first time she'd seen the dress, "It's absolutely gorgeous. Give us a spin!"

You twirled round and as though the dress was a part of you, it flowed around you in cascades. The material breezing across your knees. You giggled like a teen.

"I suppose this will do."

"Come on then Hun. Let's go before we miss the bus!" Sally linked your arms together and rushed you out of the apartment.

***

Bucky kept running his hands through his fingers, whether it was nerves or just him not being out for a while, he couldn't tell, but he promised Steve he'd stop his brooding and have a fun night out. The Stork Club was filled with people, young and old. Somewhere by the bar cheering with friends while others were at the far end dancing to the live band. Bucky had almost missed the lively atmosphere of places like this. But every time he thought of going out and dancing with some broad, she'd always have the same face and the same laugh. She would always be Elle and it drove him crazy.

He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face. Even now, in this club, hidden amongst the crowd, he saw her. She looked beautiful as always, the blue dress complementing her figure in a cool aura. She looked like a breath of fresh air amidst all the ladies wearing brighter reds and yellows and greens. He saw her rouge coloured lips and could almost taste their kiss atop the Ferris-Wheel in Coney Island. He could almost remember the exact thoughts he had as the sun set. That was the moment. Maybe if he had told her how he truly felt… Maybe if he had fought harder and not been the gentleman afraid of keeping her from her future. Maybe…

Then she disappeared as though she was never there as the crowd of dancing people grew in number.  

Bucky closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was convinced he was starting to hallucinate her now. "I'm going to go to the bar. I need a drink." He told Steve.

"Don't get lost," his friend teased.  

"A whiskey, neat," he asked the bartender.

"Buy a girl a drink?" A woman's voice spoke beside him. Bucky turned to look at her. She was beautiful he couldn't deny, and the way she looked at him… he was almost tempted to buy her that drink but he knew it would simply be an excuse to forget about Elle and that he'd regret it the next day.

"Sorry, Doll. Some other time," he gave her a weak smile, her lips turned downwards, she was disappointed but he didn't care. He downed his drink and went back to find Steve.

***

You walked away from the dancing crowd, feeling the heat in your cheeks. You needed to catch your breath. Sally followed after you, giggling with warmth. You'd be lying if you said this wasn't exactly what you needed. Then you saw someone familiar on the far end of the room.

"Steve!" You shouted in surprise as you saw your little friend alone in a corner. "What are you doing here?" You marched over with Sally still on your heel.

"Uh… Elle, hey! Um, this is a surprise..." Steve fidgeted about.

Without warning, you wrapped your arms around him with a big smile on your face. You didn't realise how much you'd missed him in the last month.

"Wait, if you're here, does that mean--" before you could finish your question you heard that oh-so-familiar voice speak behind you.

"Elle?"

Your breath got caught in your throat and your muscles felt petrified. You were frozen there.

"Bucky..." you whispered too low for anyone to hear.

"Oh my, now this is quite the coincidence. All four of us at the same club. Must be fate!" Sally chimed in from behind you. She quickly grabbed Steve's arms -who looked a little apologetic- and rushed him to the bar. "Steve, how about we get a drink. Catch up. I'm absolutely parched!"

Sally dragged him away as she mouthed an insincere "Sorry," before winking and disappearing.

After a few breaths, you finally had the courage to turn around and meet Bucky's eyes. When you looked into his beautiful blues again for the first time in a month it felt as though you'd been knocked off your feet. You'd almost forgotten how easy it was for him to make your heart race and your cheeks flush. How easy it was for him to turn your steeled conviction into a brittle wall made of plaster.

It was as though time stopped. Everything melted away and all you could focus on was the man standing in front of you.

Bucky snapped his fingers, putting on cool airs in an effort to break the silence, "I should have known Steve was up to something. Usually, I'm the one nagging him to go out." He gave an awkward smile as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

You laughed awkwardly not wanting to fall back into the silence, "Tell me about it. I should be able to smell Sal's devious plans a mile away by now. I guess I've just been too preoccupied with work."

Bucky's head snapped up at the mention of work. His jaw clenched for the briefest moment. It was his tell. "How is it. Your new job?"

"Honestly, I miss the Dinner. I miss Hal constantly nagging Annie and Sally mothering everyone…" You wanted to say I miss you but you stopped yourself. "Working for an obnoxious genius can be quite draining."

"You seemed pretty chummy to me," Bucky blurted out. He cursed at himself, seemingly regretting his words, but it was too late, you heard him.

What do you mean?" You looked at him, puzzled by his comment. Then it hit you. The pink flowers, Sally's odd behaviour. The setup. "The flowers, they were from you."

"You got them?" Bucky's tone relaying his shock. "But I never gave them to you..."

"I saw from my desk. I assumed one of the secretaries threw them out. I guess they reminded me of the peach tree flowers at the picnic."

Bucky's eyes lit up then, "I thought the same thing." He smiled, genuinely and it made your heart flutter.

"Why did you throw them out?" You placed a hand on his forearm. Bucky looked down at the contact longingly.

"I saw you. And Stark. You seemed… close."

You laughed, something about the idea of you and Stark being together tickled your funny-bone. Maybe it was the irony of the fact getting close to Stark was part of your mission. Or, perhaps, it was because Bucky thought Howard could replace him. If Bucky knew how you truly felt around him, he'd understand how absurd that thought was.

"Howard's known for being a harmless flirt. He cares more for his work than anything. I don't think he'd know what to do I he ever got into a real relationship."

Bucky took a step closer to you, "So then… you and him?"

You smiled, taking the other step forward, "Strictly professional. I promise."  

Bucky smirked, the look of an idea crossing his mind glistening through his eyes, "Well since we're here." He held out his hand. "The band is playing our song, Doll."

There it was, that charm and charisma you'd been craving for so long. The special way he called you 'Doll'. His smile and his outstretched hand. A part of you screamed to stay away, to spare him from any dangers or heartbreak that had convinced you to end things a month ago. But you were tired of being that cautious, good little soldier. For once, you saw what it was you wanted. What you craved with every nerve and cell. And for once, you weren't going to deny it. After all, it was just a dance. One, harmless, short dance.

Your lips turned upwards, your eyes glued to his. "I'd love to."

Bucky took your hand and twirled you towards him. Over his shoulder, you saw Sally bounding and bouncing about, no doubt proud of her intervening. Steve also seemed quite pleased with himself.

When the band played something slow, you rested your ear on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. With each beat, you felt joy begin to build within your own heart. All night you'd had this large smile that refused to subside -and so did Bucky.

The two of you stumbled out of the crowd of dancing bodies and headed towards the back exit in need of cool air. The band's lively music, still audible from the amber coloured alleyway. You lifted your head and took a deep breath, condensation forming when you breathed out.

"God, I missed this," You admitted to Bucky as you blew at a strand of hair that had come undone from its pin. On instinct, Bucky tucked it behind your ear, but as soon as he realised what he did -touch you as though you were still familiar with each other- he cleared his throat and bit his lower lip. "Sorry, a force of habit."

Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, "I've missed you, Buck."

Bucky placed one hand around your cheek, the other around the small of your back. He held your gaze for a moment, as though looking for any indication you didn't like where this was going, you didn't give any such signs. He leaned in and you closed in the distance. And after what felt like an age stretching out forever, his lips met yours and the two of you were lip-locked in a passionate embrace. Lost in the heat of the moment, you leaned into his touch. Your hands folded across his back, a moan escaping your lips as he guided your body towards a wall, pinning you there while one hand moved achingly slowly from your waist to your thigh. His grip was greedy and a little rough causing you to quiver, he could feel your body shake against his chest making him deepen your kiss even more. You let out a second moan when he suddenly stopped.

"Why did you stop?" You asked with deeply flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Bucky's thumb graced your cheek as if trying to make sure you were real, you tilted your head against his hand, letting him know you were with him in this moment. "Do you have any idea what effect you have on me?" There was a tinge of pain hidden in those words, it made you rush to cup his cheeks and reassure him.

He clasped both your hands, "I just, I need to say this."

You had a feeling that whatever it was he was about to say, it had the power to change things forever. You swallowed hard, almost afraid of what he was about to say, but you owed him this much.

"Okay," you whispered softly.

"Before you, I had never really felt anything close to what I feel when I'm around you. I felt… I feel invincible, like I can do anything! I never imagined it could feel like this, being with someone. But then, I had to let you go, because I was convinced I couldn't be the one to hold you back from your new job, from your new future. But… I hate that I didn't fight for you. I hate that I decided to take the high road. You drive me crazy, Elle…"

You flinched when he called you Elle. More than anything you wanted him to call you by your real name. You wanted to be completely transparent with him.

"I want you back," he kissed your knuckles before letting them go. He brought his hand back to your face, his eyes boring deep into your soul you felt like you couldn't breathe as long as they were on you. "I need you back."

"James Buchanan Barnes… I never stopped being yours. You had me at 'Hello'." You kissed him again this time it was less greed and passion. It was tender and soft. It was a silent I love you.

The vibrations of Bucky's laugh travelled through the kiss making your knees buckle.

"Want to get out of here?" He asked with an extended hand.

You placed your hand in his, "Lead the way."  

As you walked away from the club, rain clouds began to form and in no time, the smell of rain filled the air with promise. 

 Part 11 is Here!

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As Always: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, If you like it don’t be afraid to ask to be added to the tag list and feedback is like a writer’s favourite gift, so if you have anything to say, don’t be shy!! ;)

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[urdearestmom]

long distance (mileven week)

February 1990, Hawkins, IN

Jane “El” Hopper is the last one out of the library tonight. At first, Marissa had been reluctant to give her the job given she was Hopper’s kid and Marissa didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of the town’s chief, but she took a chance and El is quickly proving herself worthy. She loves being in the library, surrounded by words. She didn’t have them for so long that being somewhere full of words is still a wondrous thing. It probably always will be.

Anyhow, she’s got to lock up before she heads home for dinner, and even though it’s only just after six o’clock, it’s already dark out. It’s as cold as a Midwestern winter usually is, which is to say very cold. El wonders if it’s as cold where Mike is.

She almost drops her keys in the snow as she goes to open the Blazer she’d inherited from Hopper after the station bought a new one (Hopper had helped her repaint it a nice blue so she didn’t have to drive around in a truck with “HAWKINS POLICE” emblazoned across the sides), but she fumbles and catches them. The radio’s playing that one Phil Collins song as she pulls away from the library in the direction of her house.

Hopper’s not coming home until late, El knows he isn’t, but it doesn’t help to make her feel less lonely when she pulls up outside the dark house. It really sucks not having any of her friends in town. They’ve all spread out across the country: Max went back to San Diego, Will and Dustin to New York, Lucas to Seattle, and Mike to Connecticut. God, did it really have to be so far? Sometimes the only thing that keeps her from plunging into “the depths of despair”, as Dustin used to call it, is the fact that she’s going to see him soon.

Max and Lucas are the farthest away, but El has a totally different relationship with them than she does with Mike. Her need to see them and be with them is so much less pressing. That’s why, with Hopper’s help planning, El’s been saving money to take a trip to Connecticut. The thing is, Mike doesn’t know about it. And although it’s very hard to keep a secret from him, El promised herself she wouldn’t give it away.

She’s about to start washing dishes when the phone rings, and she knows exactly who it is. Mike always calls around this time. They usually only speak over the phone once a week because long distance calls are expensive, and even though El could just talk to her boyfriend over the psychic link she can create, she doesn’t like doing that. It’s draining.

They mostly send each other letters but Mike insists he’ll go insane if he can’t listen to her voice, so he calls once every Wednesday.

“Hello?”

El keeps the cordless phone Hopper bought recently hovering by her ear as she starts to wash her plate.

“Hey, El.”

“Hi, Mike.”

“What are you doing?”

El sighs. “Washing dishes. I’m home alone tonight.”

“That sucks. Hopper’s late again?”

“It’s winter. Lots of accidents.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mike agrees. “I miss you,” he adds somberly.

El scrubs harshly at a stain on the plate. “Me too. I’m lonely all the time.”

“Valentine’s is next week. I wish I could be there with you, it’ll be our first one we haven’t spent together.”

Mike sounds upset, and it’s this kind of thing that makes El just want to spill her secret surprise plans. She’s going to get there on Valentine’s Day, which is the Wednesday, but she’s got to leave on the Friday because Yale only allows guests for three days.

Which is better than nothing, El supposes, but she wishes it didn’t have to be like this at all.

She hears another voice in the background ask an unintelligible question, to which Mike responds, “My girlfriend, dumbass. I call her every week, you should know this by now.”

The voice laughs and says something else. Mike sighs. “I am so done with you. Can you believe my roommate still doesn’t think you’re real, El?”

El snorts. “You’re on the phone with me, how am I not real?”

“I mean he doesn’t believe the person I’m talking to is my girlfriend. He doesn’t think I could get one. Lack of faith, if you ask me!” He says the last part louder, clearly directed at the other person in the room with him.

El wants to laugh. He’ll be proven wrong next week. “Mike, I think we gotta go. Long distance, remember?”

“Right, right,” he says. “I just posted my letter this afternoon, so hopefully you’ll get it soon. I love you.”

“Love you too. Have a good night.”

There’s a click and Mike is gone. El sighs again and focuses on her dishes. Long distance sucks.

Wednesday morning dawns bright and early. It’s Valentine’s Day and there’ve been paper hearts and lovey-dovey shit stuck everywhere in the buildings on campus for the last few days. They make Mike feel like a middle schooler with no one to be his Valentine again. The only person he’d want to be his Valentine anyway is about 850 miles away, so he’s kind of screwed on that front. He just really misses her. He saw El at Christmas, but it’s been way too long already. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to survive the rest of college with her so far away.

His roommate, Eric, wakes him with a pillow to the face, poking fun at him for not having anyone to go to the off-campus party with later. Mike wasn’t going to go anyway, considering it’s Wednesday, but whatever.  

“Where’s your girlfriend now, huh Wheeler?” He teases.

Mike almost wants to punch him in the face. Today’s already going to be shitty, he doesn’t need this. “I told you she’s at home. Can you stop?”

Eric grins. “What was her name again? Eleven?”

Mike groans. “Yes, but she doesn’t like it. We don’t call her that.”

“You totally made that up! Who the fuck names their kid Eleven?” Eric has sat down on his bed again, kicking his feet up into the air.

“It’s a long story that I’m never going to tell you.”

“Yeah, because it doesn’t exist!”

Mike turns over and buries his face in his pillow. “Eric, I swear to god. Just because I only have, like, one picture of her doesn’t mean she’s fake.”

Eric snorts. “The girl’s obviously real, I just don’t think she’s your girlfriend. Girls like that don’t date guys like you, man.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can you leave me alone now?”

“You probably write those letters to yourself, don’t you?”

“Why would I go to all the effort of doing that just to convince you that I have a girlfriend? I don’t care that much about your opinion, you know,” Mike retorts, turning his head to allow himself to breathe and glare at his roommate.

Eric was an okay guy at the beginning of first semester, but Mike had quickly gotten tired of being teased about his apparent singleness. Eric absolutely refused to believe that his nerdy roommate (who also wasn’t exactly conventionally attractive) could possibly be dating someone. Even after being shown the picture of her that Mike always kept in his wallet, and being witness to phone calls between them on more than one occasion, and seeing Mike writing letters, Eric could not and would not be convinced that El was really Mike’s girlfriend.

Mike thinks it might be because the fact that they’ve been dating since they were thirteen is kind of surreal, even to him sometimes. Especially to someone like Eric, who goes through girls like nobody’s business. Mike has seen him “date” five girls since they started school in September.

Eric narrows his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen people do the weirdest shit just because they’re embarrassed about something. You know, I haven’t wanted to say this, but I suspected it from the beginning. You just don’t want to admit you came to college a virgin, right? ‘Cause I’d be embarrassed if I were you.”

And he’s crossed the line. “Eric,” Mike says, finally sitting up, looking crazed with his hair sticking up every which way, “I literally could not give less of a fuck what you think about my virginity. It’s not any of your business, nor is it anyone else’s.”

Eric’s still looking at Mike as he gets out of bed. He shoves on the first shirt he sees and aggressively pulls on a pair of socks, not changing out of his pyjama pants. He only has one class today anyway, and he’ll have time to come back and change before he goes to work.

“Listen, man, I’m sorry if that offended you, I just think you might be going a little too far with this whole charade,” says Eric quickly. And wow, Mike just loves when Eric pretends to be concerned about him. He can’t fucking wait for next year so he can get a new roommate who is hopefully better than this one.

He can feel the anger rising and has to take several deep breaths in order to not blow up. Come on, Mike, you’re better than this… Mike grabs his key and shoves it in his backpack along with his wallet and the binder he needs for his class before rounding on the meathead behind him. “At least I’m not going around messing with girls the way you do. That’s what’s going too far. You treat them like shit and then you just dump them like they’re nothing. They’re people, asshole, and so am I. Watch what you say.”

He wrenches the door open and, noting that there’s no one currently in the hall, turns back to his dumbass roommate. “And for the record, not that it matters, but I’m not a virgin. Thanks for the concern, though.”

Mike makes sure to close the door as threateningly as he can without slamming it too hard. That ought to get the message through.

El decides that if she ever does this again, she’s flying. Driving from Hawkins to New Haven has been so tiring it’s ridiculous. The trip itself takes about thirteen hours, but she stopped every three for breaks, so she’s actually been on the road for closer to about fifteen hours and she’s hated every minute of it since hour four. She left at five in the morning, six in the time zone Connecticut is in, and it’s nearing nine at night. The sole thing that has kept her going all day is that at the end of it all, she’s going to get to surprise Mike.

El knows he works at a bookstore on campus, so she’s going straight there, hoping to arrive before he locks up and leaves. The store closes at nine, after all. But there’s traffic.

After much deliberation and the passage of the nine o’clock hour, El changes course and heads to the residence buildings instead. She doesn’t know which one Mike lives in, or what floor, or which room, but she has something almost like an inner compass that always leads her to him. He’s the magnetic north to her Earth. God, we’re such nerds.

It’s like an actual game of hot and cold, but instead of hot and cold it’s more of a pull. The pull is stronger when she’s close to Mike and weaker the further away she is, but it’s always there if she chooses to pay attention to it. They discovered it playing hide and seek when they were fourteen and have occasionally made use of it since, like now. El follows the pull to an old-looking building and sits inside the Blazer contemplating it before killing the engine.

Inside is much warmer, the yellow lighting casting a cozy glow over the stairwell. There’s a door on the other side leading to the ground floor, but El’s instincts are telling her upstairs is the right way to go. She stops in the third-floor hallway for a second before going left. A door opens and shuts behind her and she hears footsteps make their way to the main door and disappear down the stairs.

Two doors down from the end of the hall, El comes across a door with the names Eric & Mike written on the chalkboard hanging on it and she knows it’s the right one. She can hear muffled voices from inside, but she’s too excited to wait for them to stop talking. The door swings open almost immediately after she knocks, revealing a young man who is decidedly not El’s boyfriend. This must be Eric.

He gives her a sleazy grin. “Hello, pretty lady,” he says, raising an eyebrow in what El’s sure he thinks is an attractive way. In all honesty, it probably would be if El wasn’t strictly Mike-sexual. “What brings you here?”

El doesn’t have time to respond before she hears the most beautiful voice in the world speak instead. “Can you take her to the party with you? Don’t stay here.”

Even when his words are sharp, Mike’s voice is calming. It washes over her like a warm bath, steadying her nerves. She still has a hard time speaking to people she’s not familiar with. El just wishes Mike had already seen her standing there, but he’s rooting around in the closet space by his bed.

She clears her throat lightly and smiles. “I’m actually looking for my boyfriend,” she says, and she sees Mike pause.

Eric shoots a look at his roommate. “You won’t find him here,” he answers, followed by a derisive snort.

El smiles again. “I think I might. Mike?”

At this, Mike removes his head from his closet and turns around, and the look on his face is priceless. He looks so shocked that El almost wants to laugh at him, but she’s also so happy to see him herself that all she can do is allow her face to mold itself into an ear-splitting grin.

“El?” And it’s almost like that night all over again, except without the overwhelming stress of the situation they’d all been in the time. But all the same, El can feel tears build in her eyes and spill down her cheeks as the stupidly huge amount of love she feels for this boy threatens to have her implode on the spot.

She laughs wetly and holds her arms out. “Surprise?”

“Oh my god,” he says, tripping over himself to get to her. When he does, he envelops her in a hug so tight she almost can’t breathe. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

El wraps her arms around Mike just below his shoulders and buries her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of the detergent his mom uses (that he’s taken the habit of using as well to college with him). It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to have him close and be able to hug him like this. Hearing his voice over 850 miles of cables and hearing it in person are two very different things.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Mike asks breathlessly, pulling out of the hug but keeping his hands on her waist. They’re in their own world now, Eric forgotten in the corner.

“I wanted to surprise you for Valentine’s Day,” El replies, and she smiles.

Mike moves his hands to cup her face before he kisses her, and she’s melting. She hasn’t kissed him in two months and it’s like a thirsty man finding water in the desert. She needs this. She needs to be able to touch him and feel that he’s there, to know that he will be there when she needs him, just like she wants to be there when he needs her. That’s what their relationship has been since day one; being there for each other is the basis of how they care for one another.

El pulls away when she’s out of breath, her lips aching to be back against Mike’s, but she remembers that someone else is in the room. Eric is standing awkwardly behind Mike with wide eyes.

El smirks. “Do you believe him yet?”

Eric’s mouth works but words don’t come out. Must be quite a shock, then.

Mike wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into the room, falling back onto his bed with a thump. “You can leave now, Eric. Have fun at the party,” he says, and then he does a sarcastic little wave and Eric quickly walks out the door, shutting it behind him.

A sigh escapes Mike. “Fuck him, ugh,” he remarks. “This morning he accused me of making you up because I didn’t want to admit that I’m a virgin. Which I haven’t even been in like, over a year, but okay, I guess.”

El wrinkles her nose and cuddles up to Mike’s side. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, Eric’s just a fuckwad who doesn’t understand when things don’t go the way he thinks they should.”

Mike leaves a feather-light kiss on the tip of El’s nose and smiles lovingly when he looks at her again. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here. How long are you staying?”

A yawn forces its way out of her. “Friday, ‘cause you said if I ever visited it could only be three days. My stuff is in the Blazer, I was trying to get to the bookstore before you finished work but there was traffic so I just came here instead.”

“Well,” says Mike, a yawn escaping him as well, “I need to go take a shower, but you can just stay here, you’re probably dead tired.”

El nods. “Driving all day.”

He kisses her again, more intimate than by the door because Eric had still been in the room, but still just so simple and beautifully amazing that El can’t help but sigh and chase after his face with her own when he moves away. She doesn’t catch him, though, because he gets up.

“Where’re your keys?” Mike asks. “I’ll go out to the truck and get your stuff when I’m done showering.”

“Here,” she answers, pulling them out of her back pocket and throwing them for him to catch as she sits up and removes her coat.

“Okay,” says Mike, sweeping his stuff and her keys into a towel and wrapping it all up, “I’ll be back soon. You can go to sleep.”

He’s about to go into the hall when El calls him back.

“What?”

“...can I just have one more kiss?”

Mike rolls his eyes but walks back over to her and grants her wish. The press of his warm and familiar lips against her own is gratifying after so long without it. “I love you so much,” he says. “But I need to shower and you need to sleep.”

El pouts. “Okay.”

Mike frowns. “Don’t give me that face, it’s making me want to kiss you more.”

She grins. “I’m not complaining.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. Go to sleep. ”

“Fine, dad.”

El lies down and tucks herself under the covers of his bed, watching as he waits to make sure she’s alright before flipping the light switch and heading out.

“I love you,” she whispers through the dark.

“I love you too,” Mike whispers back.

“Love you more.”

“Oh my god, El, not this again!”

“But it’s true!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“We love each other equally!”

“Do we, though?”

“You know what? This isn’t happening. Good night.”

[annemareads97]

Short story! Pls read <3

Since I got quite a few positive responses, I’ve decided to go ahead and post some of my past assignments - although I won’t do any editing before posting them, meaning what I post is the same as what I handed in.

This first one is a roughly 2200 word short story which I did for my Fictional Writing module. Enjoy!

To Die For

   Getting a degree hadn’t really been something Jonathan specifically wanted, rather, it was what was expected of him. He’d always done well in school, so when the time came for his classmates to apply for universities, he found himself doing the same. His mum had been so proud when he got his first unconditional offer back, and his dad had mumbled something that almost sounded encouraging. They had been ever so disappointed in his older sister when she decided to go off to London to “try to make it” as an actress. He still spoke to her, and so far, all she really did was work three part-time jobs.

   Jonathan’s family had always had money. Growing up, he had everything he could ever want, to the point where his classmates kept looking at him as “that spoiled rich kid”, despite the fact that he never shoved his wealth in their faces. It didn’t really matter in the long run, though. Sure, he might not have had loads of friends, but they weren’t really worth his time anyway. They were all so stupid and, well... childish.

   Now, here he was, starting his first year at a university he didn’t really like, studying something he wasn’t really interested in. But again, that didn’t matter. Nothing really did. As long as his parents didn’t throw him out, everything would be fine. He was sure of it.

   “Hey, Jonny-boy, you gonna join us tonight or what?”

   “Jonny-boy” rolled his eyes at his flat-mate. Imbeciles, the lot of them. “What’s tonight?”

   “Well, it’s the Full Moon Party, innit?” Gregg grinned.

   Jonathan sighed. “That’s just stupid - the full moon was two nights ago”, he muttered.

   “What was that?”

   “I said: you have fun with that. I, however, have better things to spend my time on than fraternising with a bunch of drunk teenagers making decisions they’ll regret in the morning.”

   Gregg stared at him for a bit with that empty stare of his, until Jonathan took pity on the other boy. “That means thanks, but no thanks. Oh, and try not to get too smashed, will you? I am not cleaning up the kitchen floor one more time.”

   They’d been here for three days, and Jonathan was already regretting living in halls. He considered calling up his dad and telling him that he couldn’t possibly be expected to study in such an environment - maybe his parents would get him a flat down in town - but, no. He wasn’t really on speaking-terms with his father at the moment, still angry that he had cut off any funding for Elizabeth.

   “Yeah, no worries, mate”, Gregg smiled. How was he always so happy? “You really oughta come with us some time, though. Fresher’s Week is only once in your life.”

   “Sure thing, Gregg.”

   His first week of classes was soon coming to an end, and Jonathan had still to meet anyone intelligent enough to befriend. As had really been a problem his entire life... Maybe he ought to lower his standards a bit?

   Just as he was contemplating whether or not he might be the problem, the chair beside him was pulled out, and a girl sat down.

   “...can I help you?”

   The girl turned to look at him, surprised. “What, this seat’s not taken, is it?”

   “Noo...” Jonathan trailed off. No one had willingly sat with him yet, and there were still loads of free seats in the classroom. He supposed he shouldn’t question it, though. Perhaps this girl was his chance.

   “Great”, she smiled at him - a smile that made something stir deep in his stomach. “Then I’m gonna sit here.”

   “Okay...”

   Now that he was really looking at her, he could see that was actually really pretty - in an understated way. She wasn’t one of those typical “popular” girls, but he thought she could have been, if she had dressed the part. Instead, she wore a simple pinstriped button-up shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Her mousy-brown hair was bunched up into a messy bun, and she wore a pair of old-fashioned, squared glasses, the kind that was popular these days. She looked professional, much more so than any other student he had met so far, and he had to admit he was slightly impressed at her style.

   “I’m Hannah, by the way. Hannah Brown”, she interrupted his musings, sticking out a hand to him.

   He took it automatically, hoping she didn’t notice that his hands had gone clammy. “I’m uhm... Jonathan”, he stuttered. Her hand was really soft. “Jonathan Campbell.”

   “Nice to meet you, Jonathan Campbell.”

   There was a sparkle in her eyes, he noticed then, just before he realized that he’d been staring at her. He hastily looked away, just in time for the tutor to enter the room.

   Throughout the class, he kept sneaking glances at this girl, at Hannah. Never before had he noticed someone in this way. He’d never really connected with anyone, except for his sister who had all but raised him. But this was different. He understood, all of a sudden. All those songs and poems and stories, everyone going on about racing hearts and butterflies in your stomach.

   He glanced over at the girl beside him once more, and this time she was already looking at him. He blushed, looking away quickly, but not before seeing the smile she gave him.

   Yeah. He got it now.

   They didn’t really speak after class. Hannah seemed to be an attentive student, which, of course, just made her all the worthier of Jonathan’s attention. But Jonathan wasn’t really used to this weird need to impress, so he did what anyone would do in his situation.

   He packed up his things and fled the room.

   Upon returning to halls, Gregg was the only of his flat-mates there, as per usual. Jonathan considered simply turning around and heading to his room, but decided he’d generally been a bit mean towards Gregg - and he still kept trying to be nice to him for some reason.

   “Yo, Jonny! My man!”

   Jonathan closed his eyes, let out a heavy sigh, and silently counted to three. “Hi Gregg. How are you?”

   “Mate, why you always so proper-like?” Gregg asked, chuckling.

   Jonathan shot his flat-mate a tight smile. “Just the way I was raised, I suppose. We can’t all be chavs, can we?”

   He regretted the words as soon as they were uttered, and Gregg gasped loudly. “You calling me a chav?”

   “Well, I-”

   “Mate! And here I thought you were no fun!” the other boy guffawed, clearly taking the comment in stride, which made Jonathan wonder briefly if the boy tried to act like a chav. “Hey, what you studying again? I keep forgetting.”

   It shouldn’t be too hard to remember what your five flat-mates were studying, but Jonathan opted not to voice that thought. “I’m doing law”, he answered simply. “You’re sports coaching, right? How you finding your classes?”

   Gregg laughed again. “Nah, mate, I haven’t even been to any yet!”

   Jonathan blinked in silence. Gregg may be nice enough, but he must have been one of the dumbest people on campus.

   All throughout the following week, Jonathan found himself looking forward to his Friday-afternoon lecture. He couldn’t stop thinking about Hannah - there was just something about her. If she sat by him again, he decided, he was going to talk to her. Only, when he entered the classroom five minutes before the lecture was set to start, Hannah was already there, deep in conversation with another girl. He tried not to feel disappointed - after all, it wasn’t like they were friends. Instead, he found himself a seat in the back of the classroom and sullenly got his books out.

   He didn’t pay any attention to the tutor. For three hours, he sat there, staring at the back of Hannah’s head. He barely even noticed that class was finished - and the only reason he did notice was because Hannah started packing up her things. He hurriedly got his own things together and stood to leave just as Hannah turned his was.

   “Jonathan Campbell!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t see you there! Why didn’t you come say hi?”

   Jonathan sputtered out an attempt at a response. Is that what he should have done? Just gone up to her and said something?

   “Oh, well. At least you’re here now”, Hannah smiled widely. “I was wondering - have you started your essay yet? You see, I was thinking we could work on it together. If you don’t mind, that is.”

   “Yes. No. I mean, yes, I have started, but I still have quite a bit left, so- well, we could work together, I suppose. I’m not really used to working with anybody, though, and I don’t really see how it would benefit either of us. It’s not like I can do it for you. I mean, I could, but I won’t. That is, you should do your own essay... But I suppose it wouldn’t- wouldn’t hurt to do it together. Or, you know, not together together, but in the same room, at the same time... Working... So... yes. My answer is yes. I- I think I’d like that...”

   Jonathan blinked stupidly. Had he just said all of that? He never rambled. Never. God, what was this girl doing to him?

   A giggle broke him out of his trance. “Okay then”, Hannah laughed. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you when I’m free. Sound good?”

   He nodded - a bit too eager, perhaps, but what the hell. If he hadn’t scared her off with that monologue, he doubted he could do worse.

   Three days passed before he heard anything from Hannah, but on Monday, he finally got a text from an unknown number.

   Hey! You free this afternoon? Around 4-ish? xx Hannah

   His heart skipped a beat as he read the message, grinning to himself. She added kisses. Was that a thing she did to everyone, or was he special? Jonathan had never really texted a girl before, so he wasn’t sure how much he should read into it. He quickly shook himself from that train of thought. She’s just a girl, he silently chided himself.

   Sure, he texted back. Meet at the library?

   The reply came quickly.

   See you there! xx

   When Jonathan arrived at the library, Hannah was already sat at a table with her laptop and two lidded paper-cups. The girl seemed to brighten as soon as she saw him approaching.

   “Hiya, Jonathan Campbell!”

   He smiled shyly at her as he took a seat. “How come you always call me by my full name?” he asked. It was a detail he had noted the first time it happened, but he hadn’t felt like he could ask before now.

   Hannah shot him a secretive smile - a smile that, for some reason, made him feel a bit uneasy. “I just want to remember your name, is all. Jonathan Campbell.”

   He nodded slowly at her nonsensical answer. And the way she had said his name right then sounded almost... ominous.

   “Right”, he muttered. “Should we get started then? How far have you gotten on your essay?”

   The girl hummed softly as she opened up her laptop. “Oh, not far.”

   She left it at that, and they both started to work in silence. Jonathan tried his best to read the situation. Hannah seemed different somehow. Well, he didn’t really know her yet, he supposed, but there was just... something.

   “That other coffee is for you, by the way”, her voice sounded after a few minutes, and he looked up to meet her vigorous gaze.

   “Oh. I- Well, that’s nice of you, but I don’t really... drink coffee”, he answered apologetically.

   “You don’t... Oh. Well”, she trailed off, seeming rather put off by this statement. “I could get us tea instead!” she suddenly exclaimed.

   What?

   “You don’t have to-”

   “No, no, it’s really not a problem”, she brushed him off, starting to make her way to the hot drink machine before he could get another word in. She came back with another two cups and handed him one. He smiled tightly at her, thanking her, but she just stood there for a bit, staring expectantly. Hesitantly, he put the cup to his lips, pretending to take a sip. She finally sat back down, seeming pleased with this action.

   Well. That was... not a good thing, was it? A pity, he supposed. It had seemed like she had such potential. His infatuation with her, however, was gone as soon as it had come.

   The pair got back to work, only talking a few times to bounce ideas off each other. Eventually, Hannah excused herself to go to the bathroom, and that’s when Jonathan made his move, switching their cups. Hannah had only taken a sip or two, so she would hardly notice the difference.

   When she returned once more, Jonathan made a show of taking a sip of his - her? - cup. “It’s good tea”, he said, and Hannah’s answering grin sent a shiver up his spine.

   “Oh, absolutely”, the girl replied enthusiastically, lifting her own cup to take a drink. “It’s simply to die for.”

You didn’t say anything about whether or not you wanted to be tagged when I did post, but thanks for the support guys! @moonbow-ink @robin-sidereus @moved-my-blog @aeniith @parttimewriter-fulltimefangirl @delerious-wordsmith @runningoutofbooks @serpencina @ajtorres0

[regenderate-fic]

Someone Else, In This Vast, Empty Universe: Chapter 6

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: Mature Ship: Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan (implied), Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler (implied) Characters: Yasmin Khan, Dan Lewis, Eustacius Jericho Word Count (Chapter): 1,531 Other Tags: Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Historical, Historical Dress, Dimension-Hopping Rose, Globetrotter Yaz Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Yasmin Khan has been stuck in the past for a year, trying to find the date of the apocalypse, trying to find her way back to the Doctor.

Rose Tyler, jumping through dimensions on her way to the Doctor, falls out of time and into 1902.

They find some comfort in each other.

(Fic is complete, with updates posting Tuesdays and Fridays.)

NOTES: we've finally gotten to the chapter i pulled the title from. if you were wondering

They don’t mention it in the morning. Yaz wakes up first, and Rose soon after. They get out of bed in mutual silence, pulling their clothes out of the wardrobe. But when Rose offers to help Yaz with her corset, Yaz accepts in a second, and Rose’s steady fingers slip in and out of the laces, pulling the corset snug around Yaz’s waist. Yaz returns the favor, standing just a little closer to Rose than she might’ve yesterday. She does Rose’s hair again, too, and what was a casual favor yesterday feels laden with meaning today.

And then they go downstairs for breakfast. Dan is there, and Jericho arrives shortly after, grumbling about a tear in his jacket. As they eat, Yaz is more subdued than usual, and she knows Dan notices— he keeps slipping glances her way, a worried look in his eye. Of course he’d notice— he knows her better than anyone, except maybe Ryan.

After breakfast, Rose goes back upstairs to work on her dimension cannon. Yaz stays back. She probably ought to go out and see if she can pick up any work— whenever they’re in one place for a while, she tries to get secretary work for a little extra money. Just in case their savings aren’t enough. But instead, she tugs at Dan’s sleeve.

“I need to talk to you,” she hisses.

“You all right there?” he asks, taken aback.

“I’m fine, just—” She jerks her head to the side. “In private.”

Dan looks around. “Not a lot of privacy to be found, in this place. Where do you want to go?”

Frustration bubbles up in Yaz’s throat. “I don’t know. Let’s go for a walk or something.”

There’s a park not too far from the boarding house— at this hour, it’s mostly empty, with the occasional passerby. Yaz finds a bench a little off the path and sits, angling her torso towards Dan as he drops down next to her.

“All right, Sheffield.” Dan leans back. “What’s worth dragging me all the way out here for?”

“I kissed Rose.” The words tumble out of Yaz’s mouth before she can stop them. “Last night.”

Dan raises his eyebrows. “All right, then.”

“I’m not gay,” Yaz explains, before Dan can say anything else.

Dan manages to raise his eyebrows even higher. “Hang on a second. I thought you and the Doctor—”

Yaz’s mouth falls open. “What? No.” She shakes her head. “We’re friends.” If it comes out a little too forceful— well, it’s a confusing moment for Yaz, emotionally speaking.

“Right.” Dan considers this for a moment, then carefully says, “Well, you know it’d be all right if you were gay. As far as I’m concerned, anyway.”

Of course Dan has her back. Yaz can’t resist a small smile. “Thanks.” She shakes her head. “But, I don’t think I am. I mean, I’m not really into Rose, I don’t think. I don’t know. It was more just— in the moment.”

“Was it nice, at least?” Dan asks. “In the moment?”

Yaz ducks her head. She feels her cheeks getting warm. “Nice enough.”

“Well, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Dan’s got the same encouraging smile he gives her when he’s trying to make her feel better about the Doctor.

Yaz looks up at the sky. It’s perfectly clear, not a cloud in the sky. “I just— what am I supposed to do now?”

After a moment of hesitation, Dan leans forward a little, his tone conspiratorial. “Well, d’you want to kiss her again?”

Yaz looks at him, totally lost. “I don’t know. I suppose I would, if I got the chance.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if you’re gay or not, does it?” Dan shrugs. “The way I see it, you’ve just got to do what makes you happy, and that’s all.”

“I guess so,” Yaz says slowly. “I don’t know if it makes me happy, really. It’s just nice to be with someone who understands.” She leans back against the bench. “Maybe it’s not that it makes me happy. It just… makes me less sad.”

“Less sad is still pretty good,” Dan says. “You know Jericho and I have been worried about you, Sheffield.”

Yaz sighs heavily. “I know.”

“It’s not good for you, to shut yourself up with your maps all day.” Dan nudges her. “I know I don’t get it, whatever it is you have with the Doctor. It’s a good thing, if you’ve found someone who does.”

“Thanks.” Yaz pokes him in the arm. “You’re a good friend, Scouse.”

Dan grins. “Yeah, well, the way you dragged me out here, I thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something. Or I was dying.”

“Nope,” Yaz says. “No one’s dying. As far as I know, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it.” Dan stands. “Come on, then, let’s head back.”

Yaz pushes herself to her feet. “Actually, I ought to go looking for work.”

“If you say so,” Dan says, raising an eyebrow. He’s always thought it silly that Yaz worries so much about money. They scavenged a lot from the village— after it was clear the angels wouldn’t be returning its inhabitants, they’d determined it a necessary evil to go through the houses and take whatever was useful. They have enough cash for years of travel, plus jewelry to sell where they can. If Yaz is honest with herself, her desire for work is less about the money and more about her inability to sit still. It’s another favor to Dan and Jericho, really, that she looks for work instead of spending her every moment looking at the same maps over and over until she can’t take it anymore, instead of spending hours pacing around their room, talking to them so she doesn’t talk to herself. The money is just a bonus. A safety net, in case they really are stuck here forever.

Dan goes one way, and Yaz goes the other, walking through London.

She’s mostly looking for a newspaper, or a board of job postings— anyone needing short-term secretary or clerical work. But a few hours of wandering and two papers later, she hasn’t found anything, and she’s getting hungry. Defeated, she returns to the boarding house. At least she got a good morning’s walk out of it.

She eats with Dan and Jericho and Rose. It’s a perfectly normal meal, but Yaz can’t quite look Rose in the eye. And every time she looks Dan in the eye, he has this knowing gleam, and she has to look away. It’s even more awkward when after they’re done eating, she and Rose both go back up to her room, and Yaz just has to hope Dan isn’t making any assumptions. It’s just that they both have tasks, and their tasks are best carried out in a private space, where there’s no one to look over their shoulders and ask what on Earth all that metal is, or why would one try to go to Greenland when fall is fast approaching?

They work in silence on their separate tasks, Rose on the bed and Yaz at the desk, the minutes stretching out into hours, Yaz’s thoughts racing until she can’t focus on her work anymore. She sits up and turns to face Rose, who glances up with a quizzical expression.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Yaz blurts. She cringes— couldn’t she have thought of a less awkward way to open the conversation?

But Rose just tilts her head to the side. “All right, then.” Her eyes stay on Yaz.

“I just—” Yaz closes her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just didn’t want to avoid the subject.” She rushes ahead, saying whatever comes to her mind. “I’ve never even thought about girls before. Not like that, anyway. And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to date you or anything, because I know how you are about the Doctor—”

Rose cuts her off. “It’s okay.” She scoots over on the bed, pushing her dimension cannon to the side to leave an empty space on the blanket. “Come here.”

Yaz does, moving cautiously to sit next to Rose. Rose keeps her distance, but takes Yaz’s hand, letting their fingers intertwine.

“I know you’re not trying to date me,” she says. “We’ve got other things to worry about, both of us.” She glances at Yaz, half a smile on her lips. “But I’m not opposed something casual.” With a pause, she adds, “And I’m not bothered if you want to pretend it never happened, either. It’s up to you.”

“I don’t want to pretend it never happened.” Yaz looks away, trying to formulate her thoughts. “I guess I don’t know what I want.” She fumbles for words. “I want to find the Doctor. That’s all I’ve been able to think about for a year now.” She looks back at Rose, whose eyes on her have not wavered. “I feel like you get that.”

The corner of Rose’s mouth quirks into a half-smile. “Might have some experience, yeah.”

There’s something else Yaz wants to say, something about the Doctor and longing and togetherness, but she can’t quite figure out how to get her tongue around it.

Rose seems to get it, though. She moves a little closer, pulling their entangled hands onto her lap. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We’re both going to be trying to get out of here, yeah?” She smiles. “Or it does mean something, but that something doesn’t have to be love. Sometimes you just meet someone at the right time.” She runs her free hand along Yaz’s arm, featherlight touches that give Yaz goosebumps. “People need touch. When’s the last time you had it?”

Yaz thinks back. Even the Doctor, for all that she’s Yaz’s best friend, isn’t the touchiest person— sometimes she’ll grab Yaz’s hand when they run, or they’ll get pressed up together in an elevator or something, and it’ll electrify every cell in Yaz’s body, but that’s rare, relatively speaking. And Ryan used to hug her all the time, but that was ages ago. Two years, probably. “A while,” she says.

“So there you have it,” Rose concludes. “Two people, in the right place at the right time. Chasing after the same person. Needing comfort.” She shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I met you. It’s lonely, trying to find the Doctor like this.”

“I’m glad I met you too,” Yaz says. This is temporary: she knows it’s temporary. Rose will fix her dimension cannon and be gone in a second. But once Rose is gone, Yaz will still be glad to know there’s someone out there who knows what she’s going through. Someone else, in this vast, empty universe, who she can sit with in comfortable silence, sharing something she thought was unique.

Rose brings Yaz’s hand to her lips, holding it there for a second before letting go and turning back to her dimension cannon. She’s instantly absorbed in its workings. Yaz watches for a moment, her knuckles tingling where Rose just kissed them, and then she brings her maps and notes over to the bed, laying them out next to Rose.

Before long, Rose starts looking over Yaz’s shoulder and asking questions— and for all Yaz complains about people doing just that, she finds she doesn’t really mind when it’s Rose. Mostly because she doesn’t have to lie about anything. She can just tell the truth: she’s chasing a book that’s supposed to have knowledge of the future, written by a Viking and abandoned somewhere in Greenland. She’s not sure she’ll be able to find it, but they have to chase every lead they can.

She has a few other places she wants to check out, too; Yaz’s name is getting around, in the circles of those interested in mysticism and the curiosities of the ancient world, and more and more people are coming to her with information. She finds them a distasteful bunch, for the most part, always acting like whatever they’ve discovered is theirs. But the more connections she builds, the more likely it is for someone to track her down when they hear something about a prophecy.

She explains all this to Rose, who listens attentively, asking questions and adding in comments from time to time.

“It’s impressive,” she finally says. “All the work you’ve put in.”

“It’s the next best thing to actually building a time machine,” Yaz says, distracted. She’s still looking at her notes, rearranging things, trying to figure out how to fit in her leads. It’s nothing she hasn’t done a hundred times already today, and yesterday, and the day before that, but she has to keep trying.

She’s significantly more relaxed at tea. When Dan tries to give her looks, she holds his gaze, raising her eyebrows in a challenge until he grins and looks away. She gets into an in-depth argument with Jericho about whether or not they should go to the Americas after Greenland— Yaz thinks there’s sure to be something there, but Jericho is convinced they need to head east. Yaz isn’t too worried either way: they have leads in both directions, and she figures either they’ll have time to travel all the way around the world or they’ll find a way back to the Doctor.

Finally, she drags Rose into the argument: “East or west?”

“What for?” Rose asks.

Yaz grins. “Doesn’t matter.”

“West,” decides Rose.

Triumphant, Yaz turns to Jericho. “See?”

He fixes her with a long look, and the conversation turns to other matters. And then tea is done, and it’s just Yaz and Rose again, alone in Yaz’s room.

[bixgirl1]

The Sexual Awakening Of An Innocent Pureblood, Dating The Randy Prat Who Lived - Ch. 29

So sorry about the angsty fighting from last chapter!  Relationship growing pains, you know what it’s like.  Or, you do now, if you’ve been following along! Anyway, @l0vegl0wsinthedark and I thought you guys might deserve a reprieve, so we got Draco together with his Slytherin friends for some lighthearted drinking and inappropriate conversation.  (psst!  spoiler alert! ...Draco’s a lil bit of a hypocrite!  lol.  You’ll see what I mean.)

So we hope you enjoy this break from the angst, and also Blaise, who makes his first appearance. (But, really, who doesn’t enjoy Blaise?!)

If you’d like to catch up or maybe read the whole thing over, you can find our masterlist: Here

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Trading Secrets, And Other Revelations

~Two weeks after Harry left; at the Silver Dragon, Friday evening~

Draco, throwing back half a tumbler of whiskey and biting around it as he swallows: *hoarse* Damn, but that burns. *pauses, staring into his empty glass* I need another.

Pansy, raising her eyebrows even as Blaise signals the bartender: *lightly* When you asked us out for drinks, love, I'd no idea you'd be determined to get sozzled so quickly.

Blaise, smirking: Shut up, Pansy; at least drunk Draco might give us details on his boy toy. *lounges against the bar, grinning as Draco takes a swallow of his new drink* So. Is he as good as that Quidditch player last year claimed?

Draco, fixing Blaise with a dead glare: *dangerously* One - he is not my boy toy; he is my boyfriend, whom I'm in love with. Love, Blaise, that thing you're likely to never find because you're too busy sinking your cock into a fresh twat every night. Two - it is literally none of your business but he is utterly spectacular and that fucking Pudd Uni Chaser barely even had an idea seeing as Harry fucked him for only about a week. *knocks back his drink again* *shudders even as he gestures to the barkeep* And also, fuck you both.

Blaise, eyes dancing: How spectacular? *grins rakishly* And I like quite bit of cock, too.

Pansy, glancing at Blaise: And since when do you use words like "cock" and "twat" and "fuck?" *lips twitching mischievously* Don't get me wrong, I like it, but I've never heard you talk that way before. Where’d you learn it?

Draco, snapping: Harry. *expression turning almost desperate for a second at the mention of his name*

Blaise, wiggling his eyebrows: *snorts* Is this you actually confirming that you two are fucking? Never thought I'd see the day you'd give it up, after you wouldn't budge for me in school....

Draco, lip curling as he turns to Blaise: And thank Merlin for that. I'm so glad I didn't 'give it up' to you, not when Harry is clearly the better candidate. *fingers clenching around his glass* *low* The best candidate.

Pansy, delighted: If you think you're going to squirm out of details again after a comment like that, you're mad. *eyes him for a moment; casually clears his empty glass and shakes her head at the bartender* So! What makes him so special other than the million boring Orders of Merlin I'm sure he has framed next to his bed? *pouts prettily* What makes him so special that you've been able to ignore us so often?

Draco, making a half hearted grab for his glass, corner of his mouth lifting reluctantly: It's easy enough to ignore you both because all you ever want to talk about is sex. *rolls his eyes without looking at either of them* Yes, Pansy, I said sex.  Now shut your mouth, darling. *abruptly* And as long as we're talking about Orders of Merlin, he probably ought to receive one for his skills between the sheets as well. *turns pink as he sinks his face into both hands* Merlin, where is he, I miss him--

Blaise, laughing: *claps him on the shoulder* *to Pansy* I knew it. I knew once Draco got a taste of the-- what was it he used to call it?

Pansy, sly: *quickly* Naked touching.

Blaise, nodding: Right. I knew once he'd gotten some proper naked touching he'd be one of.those eager ones. *ironically, to Draco* You went 26 years without and can't even go a week now? *leers a bit* Although, if you find yourself wanting--

Draco, sharply: I swear to Salazar, if you proposition me one more time for sex, I will cut it off. You won't have anything to touch me with. Nobody touches me but Harry, how hard is that to grasp? *sighs* And it's been two weeks, and this isn't just about the sex, so please don't be an arsehole.

Blaise, rolling his eyes: Fine. Merlin, would you relax a bit? Half the fun of having sex is talking about the dirty details. *waves a negligent hand* But if you're too-- *grimaces* --in love to have any fun with it--

Pansy, tsking at him: *slaps Blaise's arm* Must you? Fuck, I'll go home with you later if you'll stop trying to get into Draco's pants. Apparently, Potter's cock is made of enchanted goblin gold; you're not going to get anywhere. *turns to Draco, missing Blaise’s suddenly burning stare as she hides a smile* Fine, you don't want to talk about the spectacular sex. What is it about then? Tell us... But if you insist on being boring, can you also try not to be a Hufflepuff?

Draco, swallowing hard, blinking rapidly: You-- you don't get it, you two... He's-- he was supposed to be back a week, ten days ago. *suppressed panic* He hasn't even owled or Floo'd me. This-- that's not like him, he'd never leave me to worry if he can help it-- *hands curled into tight, trembling fists* *whispering* I don't even know if he's alive.

Blaise: *huffing a sigh* Of course he's fine, Draco. You've landed one of the most desired and powerful wizards in the world and you're spending your time worrying he's going to die? *dryly* If this is what love does to you, count me out. *snickers* And maybe he's just taking a little vacation; Potter doesn't seem to have your antiquated sexual morals. Could be holed up in a hotel somewhere with a--

Pansy, furiously: *hisses* Shut the fuck up, Blaise. He's not joking. *rests a hand on Draco's arm* Pay no attention to him; he's just jealous that you and Potter ended up with each other instead of with him. *cuddles a bit closer* *softly* He is right, though; Potter's powerful. All those awards are for something. Bloody hell, darling, we watched him defeat the Dark Lord when he was seventeen; you've got to know he can take care of himself, whatever he's doing. *glares at Blaise*

Blaise, frowning: Now we're supposed to be the kind of people who--? *off Pansy's murderous expression* Fine. Draco, Potter's fine. Why don't you simply go into the MLE offices in the morning and charm some witch or wizard with that smile of yours and find out when his last report in was? He might just not be in a place where he can contact you; but I'll bet they've heard from him in the last day or so.

Draco, shaking his head, licking dry lips: He's gone undercover and it's-- he's on an incredibly sensitive mission and I wouldn't want to butt into something I have no business in and endanger him or fuck things up for him or-- *breathes in deeply, exhaling shakily* *looks around* *beseechingly* Please let me have another drink?

Pansy, mouth turned down: *gestures to the bartender* Wouldn't you rather be nice and fresh for a good healthy romp if Potter shows up tonight? *as Draco gulps down his drink* *wry* Guess not.

Blaise: *exasperated* Look, do you remember my mother's fifth husband? *at their blank looks* The one who's still alive. *rolls his eyes* Well, he's a pretty decent bloke. Liked me. Worked with the MLE as a Hitwizard before he started retired from the life. Probably why he's still alive, actually. Anyway, he still has connections. If it'll wipe that pathetic look off your face, I'll firecall him in the morning, see what can be found out. *takes his own drink and throws it back with a grimace*

Draco, turning to him, as if daring not to hope: You'd-- you'd do that? *at Blaise's huff of exasperation* O-only if there's a guarantee that Harry will remain safe. *very slightly loosening up* Thank you, Blaise, I--

Blaise, shaking his head: Just stop. Next round's on you. And I think I deserve at least one good detail about Potter in bed.

Draco, with a small laugh: What do you want to know?

Pansy, giving him a squeeze before moving away to pick up her own drink: *gleefully* Oohhh, does he--

Blaise, nudging her: Uh uh. My favour, my question. *thinks for a moment before an unholy smile lights on his face* *overly casual* I don't suppose you'd be so wanton as to know what rimming is?

Draco, staring impassively for several seconds: *turns away and picks up his drink* *sips primly* Harry's the absolute god of rimming. Why d'you ask?

Blaise: *chokes on his drink, coughing it everywhere* *pats himself frantically before Pansy snickers and points a wand at him to dry him* *incredulous and fascinated, leaning in and lowering his voice* You're not serious. You don't actually let him-- You're bluffing. You don't even know what it means, do you?

Draco, flicking imaginary lint off his shirt: Oh, yes definitely bluffing. I absolutely don't know that rimming is eating someone's arsehole out-- *with a wicked side glance* --and I absolutely don't allow Harry to do that to me for hours every week, no I absolutely don't let him, no, sir. *snorts softly into his drink and hurriedly wipes his mouth*

Blaise, massively impressed: *whistles long and low* *reluctantly* Now I really am jealous I didn't end up with either of you. *pauses* I don't suppose you'd consider a third sometime...?

Draco, rolling his eyes on a patient sigh: No, Blaise, I'm not sharing him. *quickly* And before you say I’m possessive, you should know Harry's a million times worse. *smug* He will destroy you if he found out you regularly try your luck with me.

Blaise: *sulky* It was just an idea…

Pansy, perking up: So. I've helped you loads! Does that mean I get a bunch of questions too?

Draco, carefully: You get one, Pans.

Pansy, frowning: I get at least five! *talking in a rush before Draco can interrupt* Are you the top or the bottom? Bottom, right? Right?  What's his thing? *smacking Blaise without even looking at him* Not like that! Just--everyone has that something that drives them nuts in bed. What’s his? What's yours? Have you tried toys? Done it in public? What does the golden package look like? Does he hold off for a long time or is he an overeager sod? How often a day do you go at each other? What positions have you tried? What's your favorite thing he does with his hands? Would you ever consider a third? What if it was a woman? *breaks off, breathless from the litany*

Blaise: *instantly* I agree, Pansy should get at least five questions.

Draco, fighting a smile, blush rising up his cheekbones: I change my mind, you get none. Absolutely none. Besides, I can't tell you both about this stuff, just last month I gave Harry a really-- *mouth twitching* --hard time because I found out he gave Weasley some details and-- well, I can't be a hypocrite, can I? *smirks slowly* I mean, of course I can be, but I choose not to. *laughs*

Pansy, practically bouncing on her toes: *wheedling* Just two, then! *nudges into him, bats her eyes* You know, I helped fix you two up, if you think about it…

Draco, with a long suffering sigh: Fine, pick the two you most desperately want answered and I'll see what I can do. *dodges her backhanded smack with a laugh*

Pansy, chewing off her lip gloss while she considers: *leans into Blaise when he taps her and listens intently to him whispering in her ear* *nods decisively* How often a day and his kinks.

Draco, staring exasperatedly at them: We don't keep count, nor do we have pre-set goal to tick off-- *grins* The most we've gone in one day has to be seven times-- *thoughtful* --or was it eight? It was all a blur in those first few weeks. *gazes dreamily at nothing, a strong strain of sad longing clearly visible* *shakes himself out of it* *looks around at them both staring keenly at him and scowls* And I don't-- *blushes profusely* I-- I don't know what you mean when you say his kinks...

Blaise, mouth agape: *faintly* Potter can go eight--?

Pansy, eyes twinkling: You know "rimming" but not "kinks"? *gives a peal of laughter* The thing that... That gets him really going.

Draco, blushing deeper: *snaps* I know the word, just not what you were asking.  No-- no, nothing in particular..

Pansy pointing accusingly: You lie! Your ears have gone all red! *shakes her head* I swear, Draco, you have the worst tells of anyone in the history of Slytherin. Give!

Blaise: *soundlessly, confusedly still mouthing 'eight'*

Draco, snapping: Spanking, alright?! I get off on being spanked. You both are the absolute worst-- *slaps both hands over his burning face*

Pansy, eyes growing round: *breathes* Of course! Oh my God this is the best day ever. *giddy* But... that wasn't the question... What are Potter's kinks?

Draco, muffled from behind his hands: He-- he likes me to-- he likes it when I-- *slightly lame* --say stuff. *groans*

Blaise: Eight? I mean, stuff? Like...? Praise? Calling him daddy? Stuff is pretty broad…

Draco, looking around in total bewilderment: Why would I call him daddy? I don't even call my own father that. *flummoxed* Why are you such a weird person, Blaise?

Blaise, exasperated: *snorts* Well,.you obviously haven't dived too deep, yet. *shrugs* I thought, with the spanking... *waves a hand, smirking at the renewed wash of pink in Draco's face* So explain, then.

Draco, tightly: There is nothing to explain. You asked for two questions answered, and you've got it. *raises nose snootily* Now stop being so completely vulgar, you two.

Pansy, looking at him shrewdly: *slow* It's... It's dirty talk, isn't it? *glancing at Blaise* The way he spoke before. Like he's-- *begins giggling uncontrollably* --like he's had some practice at it! And he said... Oh sweet Merlin, he said he'd learned from Harry! *doubles over, clutching.her stomach as she laughs* Blaise, snickering at the look on Draco's face: *blandly, at Draco's glower* What? Who'm I to judge Potter for liking some raw language with his fucking? Have you met me? Hell, I got a semi when you said the ‘twat’ and ‘cock,’ before. *grins widely, flashing his teeth* But it's nice to know that something as simple as that could weaken the knees of the Golden Boy…

Draco, eyes narrowing menacingly: Both of you’d better forget I ever told you all this or I'll help with a lovely little Memory Charm-- *threateningly strokes his wand under his sleeve*

Pansy, laughter finally starting to die: Oh, stop. *rolls her.eyes playfully* We know, we know. We'd tell you anything you wanted, except you already know it. A little reciprocity is nice, is all. *takes a sip of her drink to hide her lingering smile* All right, fine. Other stuff, then. What was the "important event" that kept you from the Wizarding Arts gala last month? You never did end up telling me.

Draco, brow furrowing: I don't remember, I think it was the night Harry had wanted to drink wine out of my-- *eyes widen, one hand flying up to slap over his mouth* *glances around quickly at them, mouthing soundlessly and shaking his head* I-- I mean-- *swallows* *loudly interrupting them as they both start to talk* I think it may have been the night I met the Weasleys. *nods firmly* No, that was definitely why we couldn't make it.

Blaise: *bites lip hard* *mildly* Drink wine out of your what now?

Pansy, starting to dissolve into giggles again: Does he at least have any good wines stock--? *laughter stops abruptly* Wait, what? What? You met the Weasleys? Merlin's sake, Draco, why?

Draco, his irritable glare turning quickly into anxiousness: I mean... They're his family, aren't they? And-- and I told you he was over at the Manor to meet Mother and Father officially-- and, well-- Molly and Arthur Weasley were very kind and Ronald Weasley is as crass and infuriating as ever although Granger can be rather pleasant and--

Pansy: *stiffly* This sounds very... It sounds like he's following the steps of formal-- *scowls* Draco, is he giving you gifts?

Draco, smiling and melting slightly as he mentally lists out each of the wonderful, well thought out gifts: Yes... Each and every one of them more than I'm deserving of--

Blaise: *brow furrowing in irritation* *exchanges a plaintive look with Pansy* *snaps* What number is he on?

Pansy, just as put-out: You haven't already met with his closest friends, have you?

Draco, looking between the two of them nervously: Number twelve and...I have, yes. They have a decent place, surprisingly tasteful decor--

Pansy, gritting her teeth: *terrifyingly calm* And though I'd wager that the Weasleys don't give a fig about formal pureblood courtship rituals, and Granger and Weasley even less, you still somehow managed to get that out of the way -- over a month ago -- without thinking to arrange a dinner for the man who's obviously about to-- *nostrils flaring* With your best friends and your boyfriend?

Blaise, shaking his head: *stares at Draco evenly* Seriously? The parents, I get, but his friends came first? *muscles in his jaw twitching* If that's how you feel about it.

Draco, horrified: No! No, that's not how it-- The thing at Weasley and Hermione's was completely spontaneous! They-- they invited us over for a nightcap after dinner at the Burrow and-- and it just seemed really rude to refuse, especially because Harry wouldn't have tried to force me but I could tell he really wanted for the four of us to spend some t--

Pansy, glaring daggers at him: *sweetly* But it counts, right? A private meeting wherein your relationship with one another is discussed with his closest friends? Tell me, was your relationship discussed in any capacity at all?

Blaise: *narrows his eyes* This was a bloody month ago?

Draco, shaking his head impatiently: Pansy, no!  You're assuming absolu--

Pansy: *glowering* *catches a glimpse of someone stumbling through the Floo* Well, speak of the-- *face whitens* *grabs Draco's arm steadyingly* *whispers* Draco--

Draco, frowning at her in confusion: Wh--? *follows her gaze and cranes his neck, looking behind curiously* *spots Ron Weasley, still in his official robes ripped over one shoulder, one side of his face and neck bloodied, standing on tiptoes and searching desperately for someone, eyes slightly crazed* *feels his glass slip out of his hand, hears it hit the bar and then tumble to the floor with a tinkling crash* *leaps to his feet, tearing through the pub towards Ron* *heart thudding, voice cracked and hoarse* Weasley! Weasley, what--?! *sees the look in his eyes* *feels his knees buckle and reaches out blindly for the nearest chair, shaking his head* No... No!

[matrixaffiliate]

Salient

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

We're back, and you get two chapters this week! =D See you again on December 13th.

Chapter 18

Al gambled a bit and decided on Saturday after the diner closed to make his move. He knew he was putting almost three whole days in between her walking out and his attempt at fixing everything, but he absolutely refused to do this over text or a phone call. It felt wrong on so many fronts.

And he did have a lot of fixing to do on all relationship fronts to go with it. So it wasn't as though he moped about his flat the whole time. Al made a point of making it to the Friday night study session with his Computer Science mates and the Saturday lunch session with his Computer Engineer mates and had lunch with his parents on Friday and caught up on his coursework. He went for a shop so he wasn't eating the scraps that were left in his kitchen. He slept for longer than three hours Thursday and Friday night.

And he cleaned his flat from top to bottom.

When Saturday afternoon rolled around, Al felt human again. Which meant he also keenly felt how much he'd screwed up with Ellie and his friends and his family.

But he'd managed to start making amends with his friends and family, so Al ventured to hope it wasn't too late for him to start making amends with El too.

After all, she did say to let her know when he had time for her again. Al reasoned that was an indication she didn't want a permanent goodbye.

At least that's what he told himself for the millionth time as he knocked on Charlie and Susan's door.

Charlie grunted when he opened the door. "I knew you weren't an idiot."

Al blinked, "Pardon?"

"Come on, then," Charlie pushed the door open a bit wider and nodded Al inside.

Al stepped in, waiting for Charlie to elaborate, but he didn't seem inclined as he led Al up the steps to the small sitting room.

"Susie," Charlie called as they stepped through the door frame. "Grab Eliza for me, please."

Then he turned to Al, "Have a seat, Potter."

Al nodded but couldn't keep his brow from furrowing. "Mr. Pritchett, what did you mean at the door?"

"Exactly what I said," Charlie sat down in a high backed cushioned chair and pulled out his paper.

Al held back his groan and tried to think of the right question to ask as he moved his backpack off his shoulder.

"What about me ensured you I wasn't an idiot?"

"That right there," Charlie didn't look up from his paper. "You know when to push back. You know how to keep going to get what you want."

Al frowned and felt a bit of trepidation, "What has Ellie told you of our relationship?"

"Nothing," Charlie turned the page of his paper.

Al felt relieved. He still felt a great deal of guilt for how he'd violated El's privacy at the beginning, and if she'd shared that, Al thought he might implode.

"Well then, Mr. Pritchett, I'm going to push back again. How do you know that about me?"

Finally, Charlie looked up from his article. "You stopped me from closing the door that first day you came here. Not many boys will stop a man like me from closing his own front door. You did."

Al felt a small smile pull on his lips. But before he could answer, Ellie walked in, white paint smeared in her hair, green on her hands, light blue splattered a bit on her face, looking a bit like freckles.

But she wasn't smiling.

"Hi," her voice even lacked the tone he'd come to love.

Al stood and gave her a small smile, "I want to apologize, and I'd like to talk if you'd be comfortable with that."

El looked pensive before sighing, "Come on, I still have paint on my palette."

Charlie didn't look up from his article as Al grabbed his backpack and followed El up the stairs, but he grunted quietly.

"I was right."

Al bit back his chuckle.

Ellie led him to her room but didn't look back at him as she sat back down at her paint-covered folding chair. Al forgot how cramped her little room was. They'd been spending most of their time at his flat or her parents' home and El's little closet of a room faded into the background of his memory.

Al kicked off his shoes and sat down on Ellie's bed and looked around. It felt so much like their second date. Today she was working on a single canvas, and it was past the ugly stage. He could see it was a nighttime snowscape, with beautiful evergreens covered in snow. But he paused when he saw on the paint on her palette - bright colors, neon colors. Greens and pinks and purples so bright they seemed completely out of place. Al watched entranced as El picked up one of her several brushes and carefully applied her paint before bringing color to her black sky.

Suddenly her painting went from tranquil and beautiful to awe-inspiring and breathtaking as she carefully painted in the Aurora Borealis.

Al nearly forgot the whole mess he was in as El's paintbrush convinced him he was actually in Northern Sweden in January, watching the Aurora dance across the sky as his breath materialized before him and crusted snow crunched beneath his booted feet. It wasn't until Ellie rinsed her paintbrush in her water cup for the final time and set it aside in exchange for her paint pen to sign the painting that Al remembered he had some explaining to do.

"Er, Ellie, I…" he waited for her to turn around but she kept his back to him.

Al fisted a hand in his hair and pushed on anyway. "I am sorry, El, more than I can say."

Ellie nodded, "I know, Al."

Al wished she would turn around and look at him, but he didn't dare push her farther than she wanted to go. So he reached into his bag and pulled out what he hoped would serve him the way buying an owl had served his dad.

Double checking that the door was closed, Al levitated his technology safe box over to rest in front of Ellie.

Ellie pulled back a moment before gingerly taking the box from the air.

"Did you make me one?"

"No," Al paused hoping she'd turn around, but she continued to look down at his box. He sighed and pressed forward.

"I'm giving you my only safe box." Al clenched his first in his hair. "I want you to know that you're more important than my experimenting and that our relationship is more important. We've almost been together a year, El. I love you. I don't want to throw it all away because I got caught up in a pipe dream."

"It's not a pipe dream!"

Finally, she turned and looked at him, but Al saw that same grizzly bear determination in her eyes he'd seen Thursday morning and he momentarily wondered if he ought to scoot further back on her bed.

"What you're doing is important, Al! Don't bemoan your tendency to become myopic because what you're working on has the power to help us start fixing this stupid divided world and I won't have you admitting defeat, as if you have to choose between me and your work!"

Al blinked as she grabbed her wand from her hair and the box disappeared from her lap.

"W-Where's the box?" Al stuttered.

"Back on your desk where it belongs," Ellie sighed and twisted her hair up into a bun before sliding her wand back in to hold it in place.

"Al, I love you, but this isn't a situation of me or the dream. This is learning how to keep both me and the dream in your life."

This woman. This unbelievable woman.

Al thought he might explode with the gambit of emotions coursing through him.

She wanted him to have both! To still be in a relationship with her and still be committed to this invention!

"Merlin, I love you!"

Her returning smile was small, but it was the first smile he'd seen since he showed up and it was glorious.

"I love you too."

"I need help," the words were trying to tumble out of his mouth faster than he could keep up. "I don't know how to balance our relationship and inventing and university and our families."

Ellie chuckled, "You're a bit oblivious sometimes, love."

Al blinked, "Yeah," he nodded, "hence I asked for help…"

Finally, she stood and moved to sit next to him on the bed. "Al, darling, have you ever had a job?"

Al frowned, "I worked summers for Uncle George and Uncle Ron."

"And you had a schedule, right?" Her smile slowly grew.

Al nodded but his frown remained on his face.

"And your classes have a schedule, right?"

Al nodded.

"And don't writers and painters often schedule the time that they'll spend writing or painting?"

Al chuckled and felt his chest tighten with his embarrassment, "Do you schedule in your painting?"

El's smile was now a full-on smirk, "Why, yes I do."

"So I need to schedule my inventing? I don't know…" Al suddenly felt the emotion tightening his chest switch from embarrassment to panic. "What if the right idea strikes when it isn't scheduled time? What if I'm in the middle of a groove and the scheduled time runs out? What if…"

Ellie put a finger to his lips, "Leonardo Da Vinci."

Al was going to go cross-eyed looking down at her paint-smeared finger against his lips.

"Er..."

"We both can look up to him, right? He's a famous painter and an inventor and architect and anatomist and so many other things."

She slowly pulled her finger from his lips and Al fought the urge to follow her hand.

"Right…" He blinked and tried to get his head back in gear.

"Al, Da Vinci had to make time for all of that. He had to make time to paint, make time to invent, make time to work, make time to teach, make time to do what was important to him both intellectually and financially at any given point in his life." She reached out and took his hand. "And that's something all inventors and painters and creators have to do. We have to schedule in balance until it comes naturally for us."

"But what if," Al started again and Ellie rolled her eyes.

"Will you stop thinking of this as if some member of your dad's squad is going to come and throw you in Azkaban for bending the time table a bit? It's a schedule to help you, Al, not make you feel like you're behind bars!"

Al was left feeling rather foolish. "I, I suppose you're right."

El smirked but squeezed his hand. "Please let me help you. It's going to be flexible and it's going to take time and experimenting to make it work, but I promise it's going to help."

Al ran his free hand up her arm to brush his thumb across the light blue paint freckles on her cheek.

"You're rather amazing, you know."

She grinned and Al felt his own smile return.

"Alright, Miss Battiste, show me the ways of Leonardo Da Vinci."

Ellie's smile returned full force and Al took it in for a glorious half a second before kissing her with the enthusiasm of a man who'd been given a second chance at life.

Life with the woman he loved.

[annoyinglycasualcandy-blog]

A Florida Football Gamer Reportedly Stopped A Sexual Assault Behind Gainesville Bar.

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Compound lifts develop toughness extra efficiently compared to isolation workouts, by functioning much more muscle teams with each exercise Richard Cotton, PhD, representative, American Council on Workout; principal workout physiologist, MyExercisePlan web site. Baylor has been under scrutiny for months regarding how it has actually taken care of sexual assaults involving professional athletes. Bicyclists needing to lower skinfolds ought to target excess kilojoules from fat, alcohol, fine-tuned carbohydrate and various other energy thick foods. The side bridge is a workout for those with a intermediate degree of fitness and also exercise experience. Sadly, California Chrome instructor Art Sherman didn't need a workout rider at the time, so Delgado trotted for one more barn until he obtained the telephone call informing him that The golden state Chrome's original exercise biker was taking place getaway. I begin it with the preferred meanings of scientific research as well as religious beliefs, define the extensive instances in life clinical techniques cannot supply, and finish with a rhetorical concern highlighting the truth that science is just as faith-based as faith. This is a great deal slower than most people intend to go, Crites explains, however after about a month of conditioning, you'll have accumulated sufficient flexibility as well as endurance to move on with a much more difficult workout program. The Hopkins research study resulted in a request signed by 100 doctors and scientists asking the FDA for a lot more regulation of power drinks, mentioning the threats of caffeine intoxication. Although your body frantically requires the workout to boost, you will only worsen if you breach your present constraints. Sachin has actually always been an utmost sportsman and gentleman of the video game, and also that in Two Decade he has never faced greater than one corrective hearing (for a shonky ball tampering phone call that was tossed out anyways)speaks volumes. Ideally you need to work out at a strength that makes it rather hard to speak with the individual alongside you. He's nibbling the sphere just sufficient to Detector and also the pugnacious southpaw is lucky on a number of occasions that he obtains a little inside edge. The glute bridge is a calisthenics and yoga exercise that mostly targets the glutes as well as to a lower level also targets the hamstrings and also abdominal muscles. In 2011, Notre Dame revamped policies controling the institution's action to sexual assault accusations as well as pledged to take energetic actions to show federal officials it was adhering to the regulation. Rowing http://hasznos-szepseg.info/detoxic-ellenorizze-hogy-ervenyes-ellen-parazitak-olvasd-el-a-velemenyek-hogy-erositse-meg-annak-hatekonysagat/ are state-of-the-art workout tools that work numerous locations of the body simultaneously, making them a vital enhancement to your residence gym.

[andinewton]

Born To Be King - Avengers Redemption Series - Part Three - Chapter 3

Characters: Loki, Sigyn;  pretty much everyone from the MCU appears at some point!

Pairings: Loki x Sigyn; Bucky x Amelia

Warnings: Smut, canon typical violence, swearing

Word Count: 60k + (complete with ongoing epilogues)

Summary:

He never wanted the throne...

Loki's life seems to be charmed of late. His dead wife has been reborn and has married him once more, they have beautiful twin boys, and they are working and living with The Avengers. The only blot on his otherwise perfect landscape is the constant friction Odin seems to be able to cause with one simple request delivered by Thor. Odin wishes to meet the twins but will not cancel Loki's banishment, allowing him to travel to Asgard with his wife and children. Loki finally caves but has a sense of foreboding about the trip which proves to be all too true...Join Loki, Sigyn and the team as they fight to find one another against all odds and protect their sons from those who would have them as their kings.

Master list

A/N:  Apologies, everyone, I have played a little fast and loose with Strange’s abilities in this story!  Just forgive me and enjoy, okay? Okay.

Chapter 3

Summary:  Enter Stephen Strange...

Stephen Strange sat watching the events in Queens unfold with concern.  More creatures from off world.  It had been bad enough just having Thor and Loki here full time but now Frost Giants and Loki’s wife?  Things were getting out of hand.  He needed to investigate before anything worse happened.  He sighed heavily, knowing this meant a trip to Park Avenue, and potentially running into Stark.  The man was a genius however he had an ego the size of Manhattan, and had been trying to convince Strange to participate in experiments to see how his powers reacted versus Stark’s repulsor technology.  Going to The Avengers Tower willingly might be taken the wrong way, but he didn’t see what choice he had.

He made it his business to keep track of all the sorcery wielders planet-wide and he had thought that Sigyn was a mutant, having attended Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters as Maia Tomson, however it was now apparent that was not the case.  He knew that there was a blog dedicated entirely to the romance of the God of Mischief and his wife but he had believed it embellished and romanticised, of her being reincarnated, aiding his redemption, however it was proving that may not be the case.  Two sorcery talented immortals on his planet was two too many, in his opinion, but there was little he could do thanks to the accord with Odin, however he could ensure he was familiar enough with both Mr and Mrs Mischief that he would know if there was likely to be a problem.

He called the Cape of Levitation to him and slipped the Sling Ring onto his hand.  It was for the greater good, in the long run.

Loki had left the compound for The Tower as soon as he knew Sigyn was finished in the fight and was safe, loading up the twins and insisting Thor go on ahead to set his mind at rest.  Neither had yet mastered driving and an agent was assigned to provide chauffeuring services back into the city.  The appearance of Frost Giants so close to his beloved was worrying, it could not be a coincidence that they set down so close to any one of the three Asgardians on Earth, and while he knew she was born of Midgard, Odin’s declaration of the return of her Godhead, along with providing the Golden Apple of Idunn, had returned her biologically to an Asgardian.  The biochemists, including Dr Banner, were still having a field day with her blood results and she was regularly giving samples for their continued research.  But no, this was highly suspicious, and he would ensure either he or Thor were with her at all times, including for her journey to Asgard.  No one was more important to him than Sigyn and their sons.

Sigyn and Darcy returned to The Tower by subway, ignoring the offer the team made to take them back.  Sigyn wanted her cookie and coffee, her first little semblance of normality without the boys for weeks having been spoilt, and the two of them sat and ignored the clean up crew arriving, and the staff and patrons’ glances.  Sigyn felt annoyed, but she couldn’t figure out why, and Darcy was trying to help her work it out.

‘Is it because our lady date got wrecked?’

‘Not really, because we finished it.’  Sigyn pressed the elevator button to take them up to the secure Avengers floors.

‘Because it was Frost Giants?  Technically your hubby and kids’ people?’

‘Maybe, kind of.’  She wrinkled her nose.  ‘That’s part of it I think, but something else too.’

‘Being hit on by the jerk in the coffee shop?’  Darcy leant against the side of the elevator.

‘No, that was kind of amusing.’  She managed a small smile.  ‘You won’t really post his efforts online, will you?  Because Loki will hunt him down.’

‘Should be flattered his wife is so hot, if you ask me.’  She shrugged.

‘I’ve got it.’  She looked up as she remembered.  ‘Spider-Man.’

‘Spider-Man pissed you off?’

‘Not him himself, no.’  She frowned as she thought about it.  ‘The fact he’s so young.  I’m with Bucky on this one.  He has no right being in a fight.’

‘Oh, it’s the mommy in you.’  Darcy grinned.  ‘He’s got mad skills though.  Have you seen the footage of him?’

‘Yeah, I have, and that makes it worse, knowing that under that suit is probably someone half my age.’

‘I don’t think he’s fourteen.’

‘Still.’  Sigyn kicked the floor with the toe of her sneaker.  ‘Didn’t seem right.  And Tony is encouraging him.’

‘That’s probably not a bad thing.’  Sigyn glared at her but she defended herself.  ‘No, hear me out.  If he’s going to do it anyway at least this way he has Tony’s backing.  He’s not at it alone.’

‘I guess that would be worse.’  She admitted reluctantly.  ‘But if it were Narvi or Vali I’d be worried sick.’

‘If your boys are half as magically talented as their parents you won’t have a choice, they’ll be joining you on the team eventually, but I get the feeling this guy’s folks don’t know what he’s up to.’

‘I feel like I ought to give him detention, or ground him.’

‘Teacher versus mommy.’  Darcy pulled two candies out of her bag and offered one to Sigyn who declined.  ‘Mommy is scarier.’

Sigyn chuckled.  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’  The elevators opened onto the common room.  ‘I’m going to change and go down to the gym, I think.  I need to kick the crap out of some poor, unsuspecting inanimate object.’

‘Between you Asgardians and the super soldier bros it’s a wonder we have any punching bags left.’  Darcy grinned as she backed up towards the corridor leading to their rooms.  ‘But in that gym wear you put the Ass into Asgardian.  You rock it!’

‘Hush!’  She laughed, planning on heading to her own quarters but light on the balcony caught her eye and she had a moment to consider why Heimdall might be opening the bifrost, with them all already on Earth, when she realised that wasn’t what it was at all.  A vertical circle appeared outside the glass, sputtering around the edges, like a sparkler from the Fourth of July, with orange light, before a portal appeared in the centre.  ‘Run, Darce!’  She yelled as a man stepped through the portal wearing a blue tunic and pants with a red cape that billowed around him in a very unearthly manner.  His hair was dark with grey streaks, a goatee not unsimilar to Stark’s curved the lines of his chiselled features, and he strode confidently towards the doors.  ‘FRIDAY, intruder alert!’  She steadied her feet and called to her power as Darcy ran out of view down the corridor, Sigyn hoped to the stairwell to get off the floor.

‘Mrs Loki, I pres…’  Strange didn’t get to finish his sentence as Sigyn grasped him with a extension of her own hand made of power, shoving him back against the nearest wall.  ‘I mean you no harm.’  Strange assured her with a small eye roll that irritated her no end.

‘Yeah, because appearing out of nothing in other people’s homes is normal!’  She approached cautiously.  ‘What do you want?’

‘My name is Stephen Strange.  I know both your husband and brother-in-law.’

‘And I’m just supposed to believe you and let you go?’  She stopped some way from him.  ‘If you don’t start talking…’

‘I know Stark as well, if you have to clear my presence here, he will be able to do it, but I am not a threat.’

Sigyn watched him carefully, as he reasonably tried to explain away why she should let him go. ‘FRIDAY, can you identify him for me?’

‘Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, former neurosurgeon at Metro-General Hospital, now resides on Bleecker Street, New York as Master Sorcerer.’

‘Master Sorcerer?’  She gave him an unimpressed look.  ‘And that’s meant to make me want to release you?’

‘Stark’s AI can also confirm that I don’t mean any harm, that I’m a friend.’  He explained reasonably, his hands by his side meaning he couldn’t work any of his own sorcery to try and get free, not that he would as that may lead her to believe her assumption correct.

‘FRIDAY?’  Sigyn asked for confirmation again.

‘Mr Stark does know Doctor Strange.’  FRIDAY dutifully replied.

More movement from the window drew Sigyn’s attention but she knew she couldn’t hold Strange indefinitely and go up against someone else.  Where the hell was everyone else?

‘Sister, you may release Strange.  He is a friend.’  Thor’s voice came from the balcony even as she began to turn towards it.

She let out a shuddering breath and dropped her magic, but Strange didn’t fall to the floor as she thought he might but floated down elegantly until his feet touched the carpet.  ‘Sorry, can’t be too careful.’  She said simply as Thor approached from one side, Strange from the other.

‘Understood.’  Strange nodded as he reached her.  ‘We haven’t been formally introduced.  Stephen.’  Rather than offer her his hand he touched his chest as an introduction and she bowed her head.

‘Sigyn.’

‘It’s good to finally meet you.’

‘What brings you here, Strange?’  Thor asked.  ‘Other than frightening my sister?’

‘I wasn’t frightened.’  Sigyn argued, backing away from the pair, assuming they had business.  ‘I’ll go get my bags and be on my way to the compound.’

‘Loki is on his way here, even now.’  Thor shook his head.

‘Drama queen.’  She rolled her eyes, knowing she was supposed to have met them at the compound and to spend the night there.  ‘It’s going to be a wasted journey.’

‘Actually,’ Strange interrupted, ‘it’s you I came here to see.’

That made her stop and narrow her eyes at him.  ‘Me?’

He nodded his head, one small bow.  ‘If you can spare me some time?’

She looked at Thor, unsure what to think, but he seemed relaxed and smiled encouragingly at her.  ‘Sure, I guess so.’  She pointed towards the far corridor.  ‘We can use my office.’

‘I will inform Loki of your whereabouts upon his arrival.’  Thor patted her shoulder.

‘Thanks.  Can you tell Darcy it’s safe, wherever she’s hiding?’

‘Of course.  You are in good hands, Sigyn.  Strange.’  Thor nodded his farewell and left on his quest to find their sequestered friend.

Sigyn didn’t take her eyes off the man before her as Thor left.  She was still irritated by the entire incident with the Frost Giants, Spider-man, and her heart rate was only just calming after the sudden appearance of this sorcerer on their doorstep.  Maybe the break to Asgard was what she needed, less stress, even just for a day or, more accurately, a different kind of stress.  A change was as good as a rest, or so they said.

‘Lead the way, Mrs…what do you want me to call you?’  Strange gave her a sideways smile.

‘Sigyn is fine.’  She said as she started towards the office and he fell into step beside her.  ‘And what do I call you?’

‘Stephen is fine.’

‘Fine.’  She repeated and they walked the rest of the way in silence, Sigyn holding her arm out for him to enter the office first then closing the door behind herself.

Strange looked around the room, obviously well used, with a state of the art computer, neat stacks of paperwork, and two framed photos on the desk.  He picked up the nearest one and looked it over.  It was a picture from Loki and Sigyn’s wedding, a candid shot of them both laughing while they held one another.

‘The other one’s of my kids, you want to familiarise yourself with that one too?’

‘Why not?’  He replaced the picture and picked up the other, looking at Loki and two small boys; one red haired, the other ebony, both freckled like their mother.

Sigyn huffed out an irritated breath.  She had just met the man but he seemed to annoy her more than Tony had back in the early days, and that was saying something.  She walked around him, pulling the picture out of his hand and putting it back on the desk before sitting in her office chair.  ‘Take a seat, Stephen.’  She said firmly and he did, still wearing the small smirk he had since she released him.

‘Tell me about yourself.’  He sat back in one of the two chairs opposite her desk and crossed one leg over the other.

‘Me?’  She took a slow breath.  ‘My name is Sigyn, I’m a Sagittarius, and I like long walks on the beach and avenging things.  That what you wanted?’

‘I get a sense of hostility from you.’

‘Your sorcery tell you that?’  She folded her arms and sat back in her chair.  ‘Listen, Doctor Strange, Stephen, when a random sorcerer shows up in my home unannounced I am automatically on the defensive, let alone when I’ve just had to fight off Frost Giants, and my coffee went cold.’

He gave her raised eyebrow, his smile still one of amusement.  ‘I caught you on a bad day.’

‘If you appeared like that any day I’d be on the defensive.  What exactly is it you want from me?’

He sat forward in his chair, his expression becoming more serious.  ‘I am one of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and it is our job to watch for any potential magical threats.’

‘And you consider me a threat?’  There was an edge of laughter in her voice as she shook her head.  ‘I am an Avenger, I take my responsibilities very seriously, and there are people out there who are a lot more powerful than I am.’

‘But they're human.’  He stated.

She pursed her lips as she realised just what he believed the issue to be.  ‘So am I.’

‘But your power is not.’

‘You want a DNA test?  Or to see my parents’ birth certificates?  I’m not a threat.’

‘I said potential threats.’

She sighed heavily.  This was getting them nowhere.  She drummed her fingers on the back of the opposite hand as she looked at him, still regarding her with a combination of suspicion and amusement.  ‘Okay, let’s start over.  What do you need from me?  What can I do to make you realise you don’t need to worry about me?’

He sat back again, as though the offer relaxed him.  ‘I want to understand where you came from and how you came to be here, under the radar for so long.  I’ve seen the blogs and vines online, the story of your romance with the God of Mischief is like something out of a romance novel.  I want to know how much of that is true.’

‘All of it.’

‘Really?’  He said doubtfully.

‘Really really.  You might think it’s farfetched but it’s true.  I am the reincarnation of Loki’s dead wife, Sigyn.  I was born Maia Tomson, to human parents.  I spent my childhood having dreams of my past life, not knowing that was what it was, then I hit puberty and powers developed.  I couldn’t control them and I ended up at a special school.’

‘Xavier’s?’  He clarified, as that had been left out of the details, keeping the school’s true nature a secret.

‘Exactly.  After high school I went on to college and studied to become a teacher and counsellor, then took a job doing just that at Xavier’s.  From there I was offered the position as Loki’s guide.’

‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’  He was very familiar with their story from that point on, as documented by one D Lewis.  ‘How do your powers work?’

‘Loki says it always felt like Asgardian sorcery, and the more familiar I became with my past life memories the more I recognised it, the more I was able to connect to it.  Loki taught me the control I had always lacked.’

‘What about your mind?  You say you’re familiar with your past life memories?’

She nodded.  This was always the part that confused people, or one of the parts.  ‘I remember both sets, which is weird, because I remember two completely different childhoods in very different environments.  I remember turning sixteen twice.  I remember two sets of schooling, I married Loki twice and, maybe worst of all, I remember dying.’

‘You remember that?’  He asked in surprise.

‘In more detail than I would wish on anyone.’  She said quietly, her eyes on the desk yet unfocused.  ‘Some nights I dream about it and when I wake up I can’t breathe.  I’m in so much pain, here.’  She pointed just below her sternum and when he glanced back up at her face her eyes were haunted, deeply hurt by what she was telling him.  ‘It’s like I’m choking on my own blood, I can’t get any air in, and all I can do is reach out for Loki, and he helps me through it, he calms me down, and he holds me while I cry.’  She swallowed heavily, pressed her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as though trying to compose herself, and when she spoke again her hushed voice was tight and emotional.  ‘I’ve never told anyone that.’

‘Then I’m honoured.’  He realised that this was obviously a touchy subject and decided to try and steer away from something that was so painful.  ‘What else?’

She looked up at him.  ‘That’s it.  That’s all there is to tell.’

He gave her raised eyebrows as though he doubted that was true.  ‘Is there nothing else?  No biological evidence of what you are?  Asgardian or human or mutant?’

‘My blood tests are an enigma.’  She explained.  ‘Physiologically I am Asgardian, legally I am human.’

‘Not a mutant?’

‘The mutant registration act was repealed a good many years ago.  It’s not necessary to declare that.’  She gave a small smile.  This was a topic she knew the answers to without it making her brain and heart hurt.

‘But you are an immortal sorcery user.’

‘If that’s how you want to define me, sure.’  She shrugged.  ‘I don’t want to cause problems, Doctor Strange, I just want to help through The Avengers when I can, and live happily ever after with Loki and our boys.  I know the happily ever after is a fairy tale but my entire life seems to have come straight out of a fantasy novel in recent years, so why not?’

He stroked his goatee as he looked at her.  She was very petite, freckled and pretty with very unnaturally red hair, and he wouldn't have even considered her a magick user in her simple jeans and T combo, but he knew looks could be deceptive.  ‘Would you be willing to give me a demonstration of your power?

‘What did you have in mind?’  She asked suspiciously.  While her powers were now an innate part of her it wasn’t something she took lightly.

‘Anything.  Just a small sample of what you can do.  It doesn't have to be flashy.’

‘Okay.’  She nodded slowly and glanced around her desk, her eyes falling on her pot of pens.  She selected one mentally and concentrated, levitating it until it hung in the air between them.  ‘Enough or do you want something else?’  She asked, not taking her eyes from it.

‘That’s quite alright.’  He reached up and took the pen out of the air so she dropped her power.  From just that small demonstration he had got a feel for what her power felt like and how it worked.  She was a sorceress, of that there was no doubt, no matter where she actually came from.  ‘Thank you for your time, Sigyn.  It was very nice to meet you.’  He said, getting to his feet as he put the pen on the desk, and she frowned.

‘That’s really it?’

‘That’s all I needed to know.  I am sure we will cross paths again, hopefully on the same side.’  And he walked out the door, leaving her more confused than she had been.

Chapter 4