#i was like its time to move on... no more lollygagging about

[dbg-wow]

trying to fully commit to csp by deleting my drawing app

so... robot girls, huh? anybody?

[clitorphosis]

AMATO AMAR PERDONA

notes: the title is taken from The Divine Comedy, Canto 5(second circle) of Inferno. Initially this was an idea I wanted to include in my other fanfiction, so I guess this can be considered as a bonus.

Priest Leon S. Kennedy x female reader | 18+ MDNI. smut, female reader, light religious themes, Leon is a priest, blowjob, blasphemy kink, improper use of confessional booth, snowball kiss, semi public sex.

tags: @sprawberry

After years of fighting B.O.W, he finally sets on something calm, helping and saving people without risking his own life, but as time passes by, a bitter realization hits Leon harder than he expected; that not everyone was born for this. Maybe it is adrenaline addiction or without noticing he had found comfort in his misery at that time, but he is grateful that the routine incorporated easily into one’s life as deeds accumulate, overshadowing any thoughts about changing his life again and he didn’t have any other way other than focusing on the work.

The church is old and is not located in the best place, which tends to have windy weather. He suspected those are reasons why the building doesn’t have a lot of visitors, not like people are deeply religious nowadays either. Sometimes it feels like walls are thinner than paper, the wind brushes and whispers sweet, quiet nothings, barely audible to human ears while Leon prepares for his tasks or just lollygags during his free time. It has been said that airy currents can bring many unwanted things; pebbles, the leaves during the autumn season and the smells that disclose people’s secrets. He could never have expected it to bring a woman into his life, making it more colorful than any light arrays coming from the glass-stained windows in his church. From a small spark, a Great flame has risen.

The only thing he needed to do was to help you with your husband’s funeral, but he fucked this up. Really fucked up all this, his mind was repeating multiple times that it was his job to console you, he should have put down your little advances, but he couldn’t, deep down the urge to delve into something prohibited was stronger. The conflict between his morality and passion had died down in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Your appearance was like a quick bullet going through his routine and destroying it, adding the thrill that consumed the guilt he was supposed to feel. Little touches of your fingers, while no one is looking, quickly have moved to more intimate encounters, indulging in each other’s body on the altar, under the eyes of Jesus.

Some days, even the confessional booth was filled with your voice, telling him your desires and how much you want him to fuck your brains out of your head, to make you a dumb slut in front of the son of God and there has never been a trace of shame in your words. A long time ago he deduced a devil would sound like you; with a sweet-sweet intonation describing, in the holy place and not trying to hide all details, how his cock would fill nicely your pussy. Leon’s mind didn’t help much in those cases either. It has always vividly recalled how good your moans echo against the walls of the church. Either there is no need to imagine anything he hasn’t already done in this building, every cranny has heard and the All-seeing eye has witnessed you indulging in the temptation of each other’s body. The gentle love transforms into a deadly sin, but it is better to suffer in hell together, than alone.

His cock was already hard, tucked out, stroking it with his hand while his blue eyes are set on your knelt state. He tugs your hair, pulling you closer to his aching length, pushing it against your lips. They almost envelop its head, the soft and plush skin of them on it, he keeps tracing and brushing his tip, smearing a little bit of his already leaking precum but not letting you go any further. Almost all day passed without even a light touch which is too much for him, a man like him can have a quick good time, and teasing himself was a bad decision.

“Daddy Kennedy, that’s not polite to make a lady wait” Your tongue peeks out to lick away the bitter substance on your lips, teeth bite down slightly on the lower skin after tongue retreated. His grip on your hair tightened, cracking out a smile and pushing your head closer now.

“It is ‘Father Kennedy’” his correction leaves his mouth quickly, leading to a light slap on your lips with his cock as a silent command to open your mouth. “and I still didn’t hear any holy words from this mouth”

You loll out the tongue, feeling him dragging his leaking head against the exposed wet surface, smearing and filling your tastebuds with the bitterness of his precum, which makes more saliva pool in your mouth. The man in front of you not only teases himself but you too.

“What do we say?” He inquires breathlessly, his blue orbs almost shining from intensity and heat in the dimly lightened booth. He slaps his cock on your tongue inducing a soft wet sound to escape when it connects with the flesh.

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and corrupted your man.” Your eyes keep the contact with Leon’s as the prayer leaves your mouth quickly, something you have already repeated a billion times and he is already familiar with those words, not his first time to hear from one’s lips and it wouldn’t be the last time. This is so boring in the end, repenting feverly about something you can’t help but spit on. So why not alter it? Punishment is much more tempting than forgiveness. Your lips ghost on his aching cock, movements of your tongue brush more against the tip, flicking ‘accidentally’ at it and leaving him to covet for more. “Alas, I don’t detest all my sins cause the pain of hell is more alluring than the pleasures of heaven”

“Do I need to teach you everything?” Leon’s voice breaks the silence with a rough tone after you alter the prayer. You wish he would strike you, but he doesn’t. His attention shifts, watching a string of saliva dripping along his flesh from the tip of your tongue. Your eyes are on his face, meeting his gaze and not wavering. “Don’t you have any shame in that body of yours? Carrying on your whoring so openly in front of me” There is a silence, but even with the lack of his order you can grasp what he wants right now; the grip on your hair lessens, letting you be more free in your actions. “But be not afraid, my dove, this don’t disgust me, I am here to absolve you from your sins”

You don’t need to be ordered around to know what he implies. His body shudders when your lips embrace his cock in the wet and warm sensations around him, your hand slides down with your mouth along the length until you reach the base. Leon doesn’t notice how his own palm returns its grip on your hair, his hips buck up pushing you deeper to get more from your mouth already. A greedy bastard you would call him. Deep inside guilt tries to crawl out, but your mouth around him let this bullshit disappear and focus on how your tongue flicks against the head, playing with the sensitive spot under the tip, while your hand keeps pumping along the flesh, spreading the dripping saliva with every stroke. The acolyte corrupted by a widow, he should be drowning in guilt and beg for forgiveness of the Lord, but the sight of you in between his legs reminds him that God can’t give a blowjob in the confessional booth, maybe is that what’s tempting.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned, my last confession was a year ago” Leon’s ears catch another woman’s voice, pulling him out of overflowing pleasure. This can’t be you, your mouth is busy with his cock and for a brief moment, he felt his blood hitch in his veins, at this hour usually there are no visitors, but seems this isn’t your lucky day. Your head halts its movements, keeping his cock in your warm and wet mouth, looking at him with a clear surprise. An idea sparkles in your mind, and you try to move more, to push his buttons and see him struggle cause of your doings, but his hand prevents this by giving a quick tap on the back of your head; ‘Don’t move’. A quiet sob before a trembling voice speaks up again. “I accuse myself of adultery, I have been eyeing and lusting for the man who isn’t my husband, God, I-…I am so sorry”

O the irony of the situation having someone confess the sin of lust while you are kneeling in between his legs. His hand grips harder your hair to tilt your head better so the tip rubs against the soft and velvet of your cheek, stretching it and he can feel your drool roll down, staining his pants. Leon takes a brief peek at the shadowed figure in the grilled window, trying to recollect himself. Shaky breath leaves his lips, listening to a woman’s words fill the space, his blue eyes dart down to your messy frame; trying to swallow your saliva. Leon can’t keep still himself, his hips start rolling into your mouth, enjoying the wetness of your tongue brushing along his sliding length. The pleasure makes it too hard to stay still, making him greedier for more. Your tongue flicks on his tip every time his cock moves back and forth slowly, leading his head rests against the wooden wall behind him, his half-lidded gaze keeps eye contact with you.

“Have you given into the temptation?” Leon asks. His voice feels so sensual to your ears, but they aren’t addressed to you. The poor woman whispers something, but you don’t catch her words cause your attention is mostly on the dick in your mouth.

His cock slides further, the tip rubs against the back of the throat provoking it to squeeze and tighten around him nicely and you try not to gag, not to sink too deep but your efforts are useless. His grip holds you well as he pushes you lower, highlighting his control over you right now. Drool drips more, its excess gathering at the corners of your mouth. There can be heard some noises coming from you, sending pleasant vibrations over every nerve of his body, but those wet sounds get muffled by his own heavy voice and shaky voice, trying to control it and not to get caught. This wouldn’t do anything good for his reputation.

“I can hear you rue your sin… my child, so…” he swallows hard, pausing to admire your messy state; eyes are watered, some tears roll down and your cheeks are stained with mascara, your face starts to get redder and the lack of oxygen makes you feel lightheaded, holding your breath to not mess with your gag reflex. “God is… All-forgiving..” Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth, trying to control his voice and not to groan as you swallow the excess saliva, provoking another jolt of pleasure running through his body. The warmth and how you struggle made him almost choke on the moan and forget what he was saying. If not for that lady, he would be already face fucking you without any obstacles. He swallows hard again, his tone is lower now, but there is an audible shakiness. “Repent your sins and pray to be shielded” A pause, staring at you with a darkened and burned gaze. “By the temptation of the devil… my child“

He knows well who is the devil here. His voice almost breaks in a high-pitched tone at the end of the sentence, when he rolled his hips into you, again to grind his tip into the back of your throat, his leaking tip from precum fills your taste buds again and you swallow some of the salivas, making tight walls clench around him, almost begging to cum. Personally, Leon doesn’t have the patience to keep that visitor any longer here, it gets much harder to keep his voice steady and right now his own pleasure is much more important than one’s problem. And he is nothing but a man. Hearing a mumble of prayer on the other side of the booth. His grip lessens on your hair, giving you control of your movements. You pull back, letting air to reach your lungs finally. Your lips create a strand of saliva between his dick and your glistening and swollen lips, inhaling greedily for air, while his mouth is covered by palm, trying to not groan which threatens to crawl out from his lips cause of the messy sight in front of him. His struggle is like an addiction, you can’t stay away from him right now, your lips return to pepper his cock with kisses, making him twitch in the hot air of narrow space and you sink down with your mouth, sucking on the tip while hand returns to pump his length, watching him struggling not to moan. Too bad he got lucky, the other voice ceased to exist, leaving him with you.

“That’s how you pray, sweet dove” Leon teases, the corners of his lip tugging up into a smirk. You hum, sending another wave of pleasure. Another flick and he feels his balls tighten, his cock throbbing in your mouth and his fingers return to your hair, taking control of your movements back into his hands. “Such a good little thing, fuck…” Leon mumbles, feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He chases the rising pleasure in his body, his hips bucking to meet your face. Deepening thrusts, his head grinds against your throat. Another low moan escapes his lips. “Sucking so well, God made you for this, right?”

All he can see is your messy face, sloppily taking him so well, Leon is so focused on you and your mouth, his orgasm approaches quicker than he expected. His body shudders and with the last thrust his cock throbs for the last time and spurts out a load of cum, filling your mouth. His legs feel numb, and with a heavy gaze he is watching your mouth fill with his fluid so well. Leon’s mind is still under the influence of his orgasm and the post-nut clarity doesn’t hit him, so he doesn’t register how you get up so quickly, your hand lays on his stubbled cheek to pull him into a kiss. Mouth opened kiss. Your tongue doesn’t shy to intrude into his mouth, sloppily kissing him and passing the warm, slightly sticky, and salty substance into his mouth. His own cum. His taste. It fills his mouth and a moan crawls out against your lips. He pulled you tightly against his body, kissing you back harder, tongue probing and sliding against each other, playing and mixing his cum with your salivas. His Adam’s apple bobs and he swallowed it, the devil cocktail, feeling hot underneath his collar. Leon pulls back from a kiss, a string of fluids connects your lips, and if there was more time, he would fuck you on some of the wooden pews or better, on the altar. Alas, all he can do right now is to reach for your mouth to trace along the swollen and wet flesh of your lower lip. Not like his are better right now, he can still taste himself on the tip of his tongue.

“The god has freed you from your sins” he whispers, still panting heavily and his gaze is intently observing you with a deep, burning desire.

“Amen, Father” you respond.

[devilsurvivor-2-recordbreaker]

Do not read (long)

I'm just thinking about my junior year and it was just terrible for the shortest explanation.

In greater detail it wasn't the worst but it still sucked, that part is true. Like half of my classes for the first half of the school year just felt awful to be in. But atleast half of those classes got better with time and did become enjoyable. Other half still sucked ass.

I wanna say my biggest pain in the ass's I had all year were my literature and global perspectives class. The first because it felt like my teacher was pulling fucking mind games to mess with me plus had THE COP FLAG. I could taste the patriotism in the room. No amount of blindly picked quotes could deny it.

The other, global perspectives, was a absolute hell in the second quarter. Like it was entirely dedicated to these massive projects atleast I wasn't prepared for. Like the first semester was just spent lollygagging. We barely did anything and then suddenly it's 'your going to have to surrender your entire life to these assignments for the next six months l, have fun :)'. And it made me want to hust drop out. Like legit I wanted to just drop my entire career because working on those projects were hell. I felt like I was experiencing first hand what those development horror stories were like. Bad team management and all. Like it was so bad that one of the students I worked with refused to work with me afterwards when we had to do a tiny two person assignment after all was over.

That class just drained all the energy I had. Straight vamperic effect on my mental well being. Like knowing I would have to go to that class made me irritated and annoyed. I've never have had a class so swiftly have my opinion on it turn on its head so suddenly.

Now that I've survived it I just feel entirely out of it. I felt no reward no release that it was over. I just felt like I was going home, nothings changed. Nothing conquered or earned. Just routines and cycles repeating.

I don't say it much on here because I very much want to separate my personal life from here but in my irl friend group the seniors left and since then the groups has just been wayning. They were the glue of the group. And I thought maybe I could be the glue that kept us together but I just felt like it wasn't ment to last and accepted that the friendship I had made in this group wouldn't last past this year. So I spent the last full day together at our usual lunch table alone.

Idk I don't mean to get sappy but these people basically were what were holding me together. I never have had many friends in my short life and I struggle to make them, let alone maintain them. I didn't have friends for the most part. I knew people and I would hang out with them but I'm not sure I would call our time together as a friendship. It was much more mutual and acquaintance like. Plus for another multitude of reasons it was a real struggle. So becoming apart of this friend group was one of the best things to happen to me in a long time.

But then it ends and I feel like reset to zero. Like it meant nothing even if it meant the world to me. I blame myself partially. I never extend a hand first expecting these friends to be the first to open the possibility for communication or a relationship outside of school. I feel like I didn't make them care enough about me to warrant them wanting to do that. So just seeing them so easily move on feels like a brick to the face. The harsh reality that whatever friendship I thought I had with these people was no as strong as it was in reality.

And that just hurts. I have difficulty trying to gage if I am friends with people or just that, acquaintances. The person you meet in this place, say your his and hellos and move on. Maybe think about me once in a while or get reminded of me when something related to me corpses your mind.

Which is why I fear sometimes that it's pointless to try and make friends because it'll only end in me crying over people who just don't feel the same way. Again, I feel like I'm to blame for these failed relations.

Worst part is that I feel like they can move on because they have people of their own. Like they can move on with their life and go to their friends. But I can't. I don't have any other friends. I don't mean to discount my online fiends, but I feel its important to have real life friends. (I feel like I should qlarify that the online friends I have made have absolutely helped me, that is undeniable.)

It's why I feel like I've returned to square one. I've revert to this base state of being where I feel alone. And I fear with my life at times that this cycle will just repeat. That feeling got really bad this year because I knew that the seniors would be leaving soon and I wanted to make the most of it while it lasted. But it wasn't enough. It almost feels like it was predestined. Maybe because I knew I made the mistake to think that they make the first move when they were just fine sticking to the equivalent to office cooler conversations.

And then there I am. Feeling dead on the bus ride back on the last day of school year, having survived, but feeling defeated.

I just had to work through some things here.

I feel obligated to thank all the people I've met here because I absolutely would have not survived if not for all of you. Too many to thank so to all of my mutuals and friends here from the bottom of my heart, thanks for being a friend.

[going-dead]

Amongst the Stars

for @lexiepiper

There’s a dead astronaut violently haunting the international space station, and trainee astronaut Danny Fenton offers to go deal with it. (PR322)

Danny had only been in training for a few months, he was still almost a year and a half away from actually making it to space. But after years of college and gaining enough experience on the ground, a year and a half would fly by. Especially since he was literally training to go to space. 

He and his co-workers were in the middle of a mock-up space mission when the voice of the head admin of ground control came through the overcome. “Attention emergency code level 3 all available personnel needed in the ISS mission control room. Attention emergency code level 3 all available personnel needed in the ISS mission control room.”

Danny and the rest of his team turned to Terry ,their supervisor, waiting for orders. “You heard her get moving, no time for lollygagging.” 

The group headed towards the control room. Danny had been in there a few times now having to learn how things work on the ground before he could start learning how to do things in space. He still got excited whenever he walked through the doors to the room, nowhere near the amount when he stepped into the room the first time but he still had a hard time believing he had made it this far. A far cry from when he was in highschool and  had a hard time even getting a C due to constant ghost attacks. 

Ghost attacks were a rarity nowadays in Amity, while ghosts were no rare sight by themselves there, they all seemed to realize by Danny’s junior year that they really had no chance against fighting him. Even when he was all the way in Texas they seemed to stay out of trouble. That’s not to say some of them wouldn’t seek him out to fight anyway. It was mainly ghosts like Ember or Johnny 13 and Kitty, though those were more friendly spars now than actual fights. It gave him enough time to actually focus on school and even develop some semblance of a sleep schedule, even if that was ruined the moment he started college and pulled all-nighters to work on projects. 

The moment the door opened to mission control Danny’s ears were flooded with noise. When they said all available personeel they really meant it, there were over a dozen people crowded around each desk. It seemed like no one actually knew what was going on, people were yelling out ideas left and right.

“Maybe a hallucinogen made its way onto the station or a chemical leak?”

“That wouldn’t explain why we’re seeing it too.”

“They got bored and decided to play a prank?”

“We are talking about professionals here, I would hope they would be smarter than pulling a prank on the people that help keep them alive. Not to mention we had all of the astronauts accounted for. Where would they get an extra person?”  

Danny walked over to a computer to try and figure out what was going on, no one seemed like they were up to telling him, or even knew for themselves. There were clips playing on the computer. At first it was just of the astronauts of the ISS going about their daily duties, soon things started to get weird. Anything not bolted down started to move around through the air as if someone was throwing them, and the lights would flicker every once in a while. The next clip showed one of the astronauts, Maria, floating through the station before getting yanked back as if someone grabbed her by the back of her shirt. The final clip though told Danny everything he needed to know. 

Floating right in sight of the camera was someone in a suit used for space walks, at least an older model of one they stopped using around two years ago. Or a suit that looked exactly like one but in black instead of white. There was a glow surrounding the suit that was definitely not natural.

“Oh.” Danny let out a breath. There was only one problem, finding someone who would believe him. He looked around the room, he’d have the most luck with someone high up in the chain of command. He spotted Jamie, she was the highest ranked in the room, the head of ground control, the same one who gave the order for everyone to make their way here and was shooting down each suggestion as they came up. Well he certainly wasn't going to shout his suggestion out loud to the whole group, so he made his way over to where she was standing at the back of the room.

“Ma’am, I know what’s happening. It might not sound believable but I really need you to trust me on this one.”

She turned to him, after just finishing yelling at someone for suggesting that the team of astronauts somehow managed to hack into the camera footage and alter the feeds. “I’m willing to hear anything at this point. Go on.”

“It’s a ghost.” 

Jamie frowned and Danny braced himself for her to yell at him too, “What did you say your name was?”

Oh no, he wasn’t going to be yelled at, he was going to be fired on the spot. “Daniel Fenton ma’am.” 

“Fenton you say?” She raised an eyebrow. “Where are you from?”

“Amity Park ma’am. It’s just a small city in-” 

“I am well aware of where Amity Park is. Last name Fenton as in Fentonworks Fenton? Jack and Madeline Fenton?” 

“Yes, those are my parents.” 

“And you’re sure?”

“That they’re my parents? Yeah.” It took Danny five seconds too long to realize that that was not what she was asking. “Oh, I mean yes I am positive it’s a ghost.  Only way I could be more positive would be if I was up there myself. I’d be able to help if I was, but I really don’t know how much I could do from the ground, especially if they don’t have any ecto weapons with them.”

She looked him up and down. “You’re one of our astronaut candidates, correct?” Danny nodded his head. Jamie looked through the crowd of people before seeming to find who she was looking for. “Terry, with me!” 

Terry made his way over towards them and seemed to realize Danny had been talking to Jamie. “Is he bothering you miss? I’m sorry he’s a very smart kid, he can get pretty excited about pretty much anything that has to do with space though.”

Danny repressed the urge to point out he was twenty five definitely not a kid, even if he still couldn’t grow a beard. Though compared to Terry he was pretty young “How competent are you in his ability to handle himself in space?”

Terry gave Danny a look that very clearly read ‘what the hell did you say to her’. “He’s very promising miss. He is able to figure out the equipment quickly after being shown how to use it, and he took to the mock zero gravity trials like a fish to water. He even had no issues in the vomit comet, sorry, the KC-135, he even asked if he could try it again because it was ‘fun’.”

To be fair a lot of the equipment is pretty similar to his parents own inventions, the Specter Speeder especially. And experiencing sudden zero gravity doesn’t affect him all that much since he is able to choose if he wanted gravity to affect him in the first place.  

“We’re sending him up to deal with the situation then.” Jamie said.

Terry frowned. “Miss respectfully, but he still has a year and a half left of training before we even could consider sending him up. I can not see any possible situation where we would have to send an unqualified personnel to deal with whatever this is, especially since we have multiple, fully trained astronauts at the ready. It’d be extremely dangerous, and I refuse to let you put one of my men at such a big risk like that.” 

Jamie rubbed at her temples. “Both of you come with me.” She started to move before either of the two could respond. She took them to a side room and closed the door. “Terry, what do you know about Daniel’s childhood growing up?” 

“Is this really a good time to-” Terry started.

“Answer the question!”

Terry leaned back slightly. “He doesn’t talk much about anything before college to be honest.” He looked at Danny out of the corner of his eye. “He has an older sister who despite only being in the field for a short amount of time is already renowned in the field of child psychology, and his parents are some sort of inventors. He grew up in a small city and visits during the holidays. I think he’s mentioned a dog offhandedly a few times. But that’s about it.” 

“The city’s name is Amity Park.” Jamie said. “It’s a hotspot for ghost activity.”

Danny could tell Terry was trying to mask his look of doubt. “Did you say ghost activity? Could you please elaborate?” 

So she did. She gave him a quick rundown on Amity Park and how Danny’s parents were talented in the field of ecto-sciences, Danny interjecting every once in a while to give clarification. By the end Danny recognized the look on his face as one many newcomers had when they moved to Amity, not many of them stayed much longer. Terry however seemd to put whatever thoughts he had aside for the moment.

 “That does not change the fact that he is not fully trained to pilot a spacecraft up to the ISS. Not even counting the fact that it would still take an entire day to make it to the station, leaving the crew alone with apparently a dangerous ghost! There has to be another option.”  

“If you have suggestions I’d be all for hearing them.” Jamie crossed her arms.

He wasn’t wrong. Even with Danny’s own experience with the Specter Speeder he still didn’t have any actual experience with the spacecraft used to get to the ISS. Not to mention leaving the crew alone with a potentially deadly ghost for twenty four hours did not sit well with Danny one bit. 

“I actually might have a solution.” Danny said, raising his hand.

That’s how he found himself in the Specter Speeder in the Ghost Zone, after they paid for him to get rushed back to Amity. He was looking for a natural portal exit that would get him near the ISS. There had to be one somewhere, the ghost wouldn’t have been able to make it onto the station otherwise. It thankfully only took him about an hour to find one. 

Driving through the portal it was actually unnerving how close it was to the station. He quickly shook the feeling off, the Specter Speeder was made for the Ghost Zone; it could only handle the conditions of space for so long he didn’t have time to worry. The moment he docked his ghost sense went off. The docking was a bit rough but nothing was damaged so he would take what he could. He grabbed the bag of supplies, the thermos and ecto-gun he took with him and attached them to his belt. He still wasn't too fond of being around ecto-guns even after telling his parents he was Phantom, but it was either using that or explaining to all of NASA why he can shoot green lasers from his hand. 

He needed to get this done quickly, the Specter Speeder had at least five hours before it started to malfunction, but the portal could become unstable and close any minute. “Danny to mission control, I am aboard the ISS. Proceeding now to where the crew reported they were gathered. Over.” He said into the comms device they gave him before departing.

“Mission control to Danny. Understood, the crew has been notified of your arrival. Over.” 

Danny never thought his first time on the ISS would be because he was sent to fight a ghost but he’d take what he could get. He’d have time to be excited later he reminded himself as he made his way to the crew. He wasn’t exactly met with a warm welcome when he made it there though. 

“Heya I’m Danny, NASA’s resident ghost hunter apparently.” 

“They only sent one person? This thing has been slowly terrorizing us until it actually attacked and they send one person who’s hardly passed basics?” One of the crew protested. His name was Steven and if Danny remembered correctly, which he did, he was the second oldest onboard. 

“Oh you know other ghost hunter astronauts? You should have said something I would have loved to have someone to talk to on the way here.” Danny smiled. 

Steven pushed off from the wall floating towards Danny, his jaw clenched. “They could have sent someone with some space experience along with you at least.”

Danny shrugged. “I mean yeah, I guess. But I’m here to protect you guys because you don’t know how to fight a ghost. If I brought someone else with me who also didn’t know they would just get in my way.” Danny opened the bag he brought and started handing out Specter Deflectors. “Now,” he clapped his hands, “put those on if you don’t want to get overshadowed, that is possessed.” 

“Don’t you need one?” Maria, the same woman who was thrown by the ghost in the video, asked. 

Danny shook his head. “Nah trust me I’ll be fine.”

“You seem pretty confident. How are you not worried about this thing taking the whole station down? If you were smart you’d be a bit more worried.” Steve spoke up again. 

“Wow. I’ll let you off the hook this time because you’re probably just scared for your life. But it’s really disappointing that you seem like a total ass right now.  Especially since you all are living my literal dream working up here, and I looked up to all the astronauts who ever worked here. The rest of you seem pretty chill though, keep at it.” Given, the rest of them other than Steve and Maria had yet to talk. Probably because finding out ghosts are real and one is haunting you while floating in space would make almost anyone freak out and not talk for a bit. 

Danny went around making sure they all put the Specter Deflectors on correctly before he went to look for the ghost. “If the ghost shows up here let me know right away.” He’d prefer to keep the humans away from this as much as possible. Both so they can’t be used as a hostage and in case the ghost says something he’d have a hard time explaining. Even if he didn’t recognize the ghost doesn’t mean the ghost wouldn’t recognize him, or his ecto-signature. Most ghosts in the Zone were at least aware of him at this point. 

He made his way through the station, making sure to remember to push off of the walls to move instead of just flying. No doubt they were watching him through the surveillance cameras. It didn’t take long to find the ghost, it was like it wasn’t even trying to hide it’s ecto-signature, even a normal human would be able to find it, 

“Come on out, I really don’t want to hurt you, I'd rather we just talk this out ghost to Danny.” It wasn’t a lie, if he could minimize damage to the station that would be ideal. The ghost stayed invisible. Danny sighed, it would work best for both him and the ghost if it showed itself willingly. 

He rolled his eyes before letting his core flair, flooding the area with his ecto-signature,  just enough that his physical appearance wouldn’t change. Not like anyone here had the tech for ecto-readings so he wasn’t in any danger of being found out. 

Evidently that was enough to scare the ghost into showing itself. Being this close gave Danny a great opportunity to look the ghost over. Honestly the inverted colors of the spacesuit the ghost was wearing reminded him of the jumpsuit he had as Phantom if it was bulkier. Which made sense, he asked his dad to make his jumpsuit look like a space suit, it was kind of a shame the look got messed up in the portal accident. 

“You can’t be here!” The ghost said.

“I mean I clearly am.”

“No, not like that. You can’t be here, it's not safe! It’s too dangerous for anyone. Everyone has to leave! Why won't anyone listen?” The lights in the station flickered as the ghost yelled the last part. 

Well now Danny was just confused, he was pretty sure the thing making the station ‘not safe’, other than the general danger of being in space, was floating right in front of him. He looked at the ghost closer and noticed a name on the front of the suit.

‘A. Hayes’

It only took Danny a second to recognize the name. A. Hayes, or Anothony Hayes was an astronaut who died three years ago during a space walk after there was a malfunction with his suit. The situation became very clear very quickly. Ghosts usually don’t fully form right after their deaths. It takes time for their form to fully develop around their core, it could take years for a ghost to fully form, or it could just never happen if there isn’t enough ectoplasm around to even form into a true ghost. The portal right outside the station probably provided him enough ectoplasm to finish developing. 

Which meant he probably had only been conscious for a few days. From what Danny could tell he hadn't even been to the Ghost Zone yet which wasn’t uncommon for newly born ghosts but it did mean he might not even have realized he was a ghost. Danny hated having the ‘you’re a ghost now’ conversation, he only had to do it 2 times before now but it was always awkward. 

“Why do you think it’s dangerous Anthony?” Danny asked, he had to get him somewhat comfortable with him first.

“Are you a crewmate?” Anthony asked. “Of course you are, how else could you get up here. Apologies I think that close call on my walk messed with my head a bit, I can’t seem to remember you. We’ll have to let the ground force know, I might have to go down to get checked out.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Danny. Can you answer my question, why do you think it’s dangerous?”

Danny was pretty sure even if he couldn’t see Anthony’s face through the helmet, was there a face under there or was it just ectoplasm, he was looking at him like it was obvious. “Our equipment all needs to be  rechecked. If I barely made it back alive from the walk because of my suit malfunction, who knows what else was missed during safety checks.” 

Danny winced. “About that. You didn’t. Make it back alive that is.”

“What do you mean? I’m right here, you’re talking to me right now.”

“We’re in a different orbit location than you remember last aren’t we? You can’t seem to recognize any of the crew right? Look at yourself Anthony. You said your suit malfunctioned. Why are you still wearing it, why does it look wrong? You didn’t make it back alive, you’re a ghost.” 

Anthony seemed to truly look at himself for the first time, down at his hands, he went to grab his head but was met with a helmet instead. “But I can’t be. I have a husband at home, I have a daughter she just got into her dream school. We were going to celebrate when I got back home. I had so much I still wanted to do, so much I needed to do. ” The lights were flickering again, a mentally unstable ghost who didn't know how to control their abilities yet could be dangerous . “I’m not even human anymore, am I? Do I have a soul still, did I ever? I never believed in an afterlife, I am a man of science- no I was a man of science. Oh my god I was. I’m not anything anymore.”

“Anthony, I know how you feel. You’re certainly older than me but you still had so much life left. All of your beliefs are being challenged at once and it’s too much.” He certainly had his own freak out as well, and his brain wasn’t even fully developed enough to fully realize what happened at the time. 

“How could you possibly know how I feel!?” He yelled and the station shook. 

Danny had to diffuse this, and fast. “Pull yourself together, do you want to be responsible for the death of the entire crew of this ship?”

“Pull myself together? Did you just tell me to pull myself together? I just found out I died.” Another shake.

Danny rolled his eyes. He was getting nowhere like this. “Fine if you want to keep putting others in danger.” He pulled the ecto-gun from where it was hanging on his belt, and righted himself in an upward position steadying himself on a rail on the wall to keep himself from flying back from the gun's recoil. 

Anthony zeroed in on Danny’s hand. “Is that a gun? I won’t let you kill me a second time.” The station shook even more, not seeming to stop.

“Shut up.” Danny said as Anthony flew at him. Then he pulled the trigger and put the gun back on his belt. Well that was that.. 

The shaking stopped with the ghost, eyes wide as he looked behind him where there was now a destroyed surveillance camera broken and covered in ectoplasm. “You missed.” He laughed.

“Daniel what the hell are you doing? We can’t see anything now.” Jamie yelled through the communication device in his ear. 

“Oops.” He replied before taking the communication device out of his year and crushed it in his hand and dropped it. The pieces floating through the air around him. 

“Now.” Danny started, turning back to Anthony. He let go of the rail, no longer having to keep up the appearance of needing it. “Like I said before I know how you feel. I’m not saying that just to placate you. And trust me I do feel bad for you, but you’re going about this in the wrong way.” 

“The wrong way? I deserve to be angry! My life was cut short because of someone else's mistake.”

“Oh anger sure you definitely deserve to feel angry. But I will not let you endanger the dream job I’ve had since I was five. And I certainly will not let you endanger the lives of seven people because you feel like you deserve to throw a tantrum to deal with that anger.”

“There are eight people on the station counting you?” Apparently the confusion briefly snapped him out of his anger, but only briefly. “It doesn’t matter, I can use you all as hostages to find whoever made the suit and caused me to die.” 

Dang he went from trying to keep his perceived crewmates safe from a danger that wasn’t there to using them as hostages real quick. Newly formed ghosts had the worst emotional regulation. “No. I definitely meant seven. I said the lives of seven people, I haven’t been able to fully count myself as alive in about eleven years at this point.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anthony asked. 

Danny let himself transform. “Hi I’m Danny Fenton also known as the ghost Phantom. I had a bit of an unfortunate accident with my parents' lab equipment when I was fourteen, turns out lab safety is no joke. So like I said. I know exactly how you feel. I can even tell you more if you’d like but first I really should get you to the Ghost Zone. I’d love to talk more after that. So you can cooperate or…” Danny smiled, “...you’ll find out just why even the ghosts of long dead gods fear me. Your choice though!” 

Anthony shrinked back with a shake of his head. Oops he let his core flair up just a bit too much there. He really hoped the humans on the ship were far enough away that they didn't feel that. “Picking the easy way? Good, I’m just gonna put you in this thermos for safe keeping for a bit. No worries you’ll be there for like an hour tops.” 

He made quick work sucking Anthony into the thermos and detransforming. Good thing too, he heard the sound voices coming towards him. “Danny! You’re okay.” Maria said, making her way towards him, the rest of the crew not far behind.

“I mean, yeah? I told you guys I’d be fine.” 

“Well there was a bunch of shaking then Mission Control told us you shot the camera out then your comms went out. After that there was a huge wave of cold and an immense pressure that hit all of us. We sort of assumed the worst.” Steven said.

“Aw I didn’t know you cared.” Danny said, placing a hand to his chest. “But yeah I’m fine. Things got a bit more heated with the ghost than I thought it would.” Not really he had it all under control. “So I went to shoot the ghost but the station shook so much it made me miss my first shot. The ghost got pretty angry I shot at it, it ended up breaking my comms. The ghost getting angry was the source of that cold and pressure feeling too. I got him on my second shot so no need to worry now.” Danny lied through his teeth. 

“That makes sense and of course I would care if you’re okay or not, I’m not a monster.” Steven said. 

Danny hummed. “Well I really need to get back, the ship I took here isn’t what I’d call stable out here. It really was an honor meeting you all, and I hope one day I can call you my crewmates. Until then!” Danny waved and made his way towards where the Specter Speeder was docked. He could tell the rest of them were following behind him. He finally turned around when he made it to the Specter Speeder. “Did you need anything else?”

“No, we just all wanted to say thank you.” Maria said. Then a chorus of thank you’s came from the crew.

“Like I said it really was no sweat.”

“It saved us though so it means a lot to us.” Maria said.

This was why Danny never stayed around after ghost fights, excessive praise was weird. Also because most of Amity hated him at first and yelled at him for the property damage that saving them all from the ghosts caused. Can’t please them all. “We’ll then you’re welcome. I do really need to leave though.” 

He left them with a wave. He made his way back into the Ghost Zone just in time, he could feel the portal start to become unstable. Instead of flying back to his parents' portal he made his way to the Far Frozen. Frostbite would be able to help get Anthony used to being a ghost. He certainly helped Danny. Unfortunately he couldn’t say long to talk, just giving Frostbite a brief rundown and saying goodbye to Anthony promising both of them he’d visit soon. 

It was still going to be a long trip back to Texas. Maybe he could convince them to give him the day off for saving the entire ISS. Or maybe even two days. 

Those hopes were dashed when Jamie met him at the airport, at two in the morning, when he got off the plane and handed him a huge stack of paper. “The higher-ups want an incident report on their desks by the time they get into the office in the morning.” 

Danny groaned. “Really?”

“Yes. You can get started in the car. Or would you rather do mine? It’s about three times larger than yours, and I have to explain why we didn’t have a fully trained astronaut who could fight ghosts.” Jamie said.

“Why would you even need one before now?” Danny asked, looking gloomy down at the stack of papers in his hands. Looked like he’d be pulling an all nighter. 

“We didn't, that's why we don’t have one on hand. Apparently that's not a good enough reason for them though. Not like they know anything other than their cozy little offices.” Jamie huffed.

“Dang that sucks.”

Jamie hummed in agreement as the two of them got in the back seat of the car waiting for them. “Also, congratulations once you’re training finishes you’ll be promoted to NASA’s first astroparanormal hunter.” 

“Wait what?” She didn’t grace him with an answer, already starting on her own paperwork. Man he couldn't escape his parents dream of him to become a ghost hunter even if he went to work in space. 

[catboyfever]

Harvest Day - Reader/Rabbit

Well, here it is. The first piece of fanfiction I've written in probably close to... seven years? Fair warning I am incredibly rusty at writing this sort of thing so this might not be spectacular. I hope you enjoy it anyway though! It was therapeutic to write this.

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Mornings with Rabbit were ordinarily surprisingly lax. While Rabbit liked to keep to his tight morning routine, it became apparent early on that you weren’t as much of a morning person as he was. For him, that didn’t matter too much. It gave him time to get breakfast and tea prepared for you in the morning so that when you joined him everything was just so. However instead of the usual warm greeting to wake you from your slumber like most mornings, Rabbit thrust the door open and shouted. 

“Good morning! I hope you got plenty of rest last night because you know what today is!!” He stepped over to the window and flung it open, revealing the very first signs of dawn. The deep indigo and purples of the early morning sky were slowly turning orange and yellow as the sun continued its lazy ascent. You find it a bit funny, watching the sun's leisurely path while Rabbit is the exact opposite. He’s already got his list out. 

“It’s harvest day, isn’t it?” You ask, yawning as you reluctantly kick the soft blankets off of you. 

“Not just any harvest day. It’s time to harvest my prized carrots we’ve been working on all season !” Rabbit’s enthusiasm was contagious, even at dawn. 

Rabbit begins to rattle off the itinerary for the day while you make the bed, carefully tucking the comforter back onto the mattress. 

“First we eat breakfast, then it’s right out to the field to harvest. Then you’ll help me wash and peel the carrots for our stew tonight. Then dinner and then finally, we can afford some free time.” He looked to you after brandishing his list and upon seeing you sitting on the bed furrowed his brow. 

“Well c’mon! We don’t have any time to spend lollygagging!!” He said while tugging you along to the kitchen. 

Breakfast was quick and simple: just some toast with a generous amount of honey. Plain, but plainly delicious too. The sweet gooey honey contrasting with the crunchy toast was a delight. Watching Rabbit hurriedly chomp away at his toast earned a quizzical glance from him that curled into a warm smile. Rabbit took the plates and quickly rinsed them before pulling one of the cabinet drawers open to toss you a pair of gardening gloves. 

He donned his own work gloves and lead the way to the garden. Rabbit’s garden from an outsider's point of view was something to behold. But being actively involved with it made you appreciate it further. The amount of constant care and meticulous upkeep that was needed to make these vegetables look as good as they do is something else. But to Rabbit it all comes naturally. The result of all that hard work was what today was all about. The harvest. 

Rabbit took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and sighed as he stared out at the rows of small leafy tops of the carrots waiting to be pulled from the ground. 

“Ahh… is there anything more beautiful than a sea of green and orange on harvest day?” He said dreamily. 

Once Rabbit got his hands on his wheelbarrow you had to run to keep up with him. He became a blur of yellow fur while all you could do was push the wheelbarrow behind him to catch the whirlwind of carrots flying towards you. You’d done this with him a few times now but it still amazes you the accuracy with which he can fling the carrots into the wheelbarrow while moving so fast. 

By the early afternoon the field is emptied and the wheelbarrow is overflowing with carrots, much to Rabbit’s delight as you push the heavy cart towards the house. Of course, the work isn’t done yet. 

You help carry in the carrots and rabbit immediately sets to work washing the carrots off in his sink while you peel them. The smooth peeled carrots are stacked neatly on the counter by Rabbit who readies a cutting board for the stew. Though the stew is primarily carrots, Rabbit tasks you with peeling some potatoes, washing some celery, and peeling an onion. 

Once you hand off the prepped vegetables to Rabbit you’re treated to another showing of his attention to detail. He chops the vegetables into neat, uniform pieces, working the knife deftly as the familiar sound of a knife striking a cutting board fills the room. You move onto your final task, bringing some water to a boil and in a separate pot preparing the vegetable stock. 

“Thank you for all your help. You go relax, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” Rabbit says. 

You try to convince him to let you stay but truthfully all that’s left is cooking the vegetables and then adding them to the stock. So you return to the living room, sitting down in the plush chair by the fireplace to read a book to pass the time. 

It’s not long before Rabbit calls you to the table for dinner. As you close your book you glance up to the window and notice the deep orange and reds of the sunset outside. You yawn, tired from the long day of work but eager to spend a bit of downtime with Rabbit. 

At the table, the two of you feast on hearty bowls of the fruit of your labors. At first you chalk up the silence at the table to the pace at which both you and Rabbit are devouring the soup. Only once you’re finished do you glance up to see Rabbit starting to doze off. His last spoonful of soup drains back into his bowl as the spoon slips from his grip. He shoots back up after it clangs into the bowl and he promptly apologizes. 

“Sorry… just a little exhausted. Here I’ll clean up and then we can-” You shush him gently while lifting his bowl from the table along with your own. 

“Go lay down, it’ll only take a minute to wash up.” You say. 

Rabbit is too tired to protest, so he takes what feels like the first slow steps of the entire day towards the bedroom. Washing the bowls and pots takes no time at all, but Rabbit tucked himself firmly into bed just as quickly. 

Once he notices you’re in the room though he lifts the blankets and lets you crawl into bed behind him. You hook your arms around the exhausted workbunny and hold him close, nestling your head against his shoulder while he sighs, relaxing at last. The bed only gets warmer as you lay with him. Your body heat joins his, your own tired limbs are finally demanding their rest. 

“I keep wondering how I get you to stick around when Harvest Day comes along. I mean, you could always go off and find Pooh to keep you company…” Rabbit yawns. 

“Are you kidding? There’s no other day when you’re more you, Rabbit. Harvest Day is my favorite day to spend with you.” You assure him while nuzzling his cheek. 

Rabbit turns his body to face you, wearing a tired smile. His black eyes stare into yours before he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips gently to your own. You melt into the soft, brief kiss before he pulls away and yawns, his buck teeth showing for a moment before he pulls you close once again beneath the blankets. 

Your sleepy chatter eventually tapers off to nothing but the slow, rhythmic breathing of Rabbit as the crickets chirp outside the window. You close your eyes, letting Rabbit’s heartbeat and soft, steady breathing lull you to sleep. 

[gucciwins]

Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls. 

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading 

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift. 

A day that feels like it may never end until it does. 

 Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle. 

10 letters

1. down - crater creator. 

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords. 

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic. 

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave." 

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can. 

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best. 

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back." 

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner. 

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information. 

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."  

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her. 

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out." 

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore. 

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke." 

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme. 

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers. 

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering. 

"Y/N." 

Beautiful name. It suits her. 

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?" 

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior. 

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge? 

Mitch gives him the all-clear. 

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met. 

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way. 

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him. 

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can. 

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day. 

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though. 

He's always thorough, a perfectionist. 

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace. 

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family. 

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.  

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness. 

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

 They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away. 

"Harry." 

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?" 

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.  

"It was her idea." 

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me." 

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so. 

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his. 

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?" 

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently. 

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln." 

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out. 

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet. 

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside. 

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents." 

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in. 

"We'll take care of it." He assures them. 

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go." 

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside. 

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out. 

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later. 

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.  

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing. 

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off. 

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in. 

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff. 

"You got it." 

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire. 

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!" 

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment. 

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down." 

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure. 

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform. 

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers. 

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face. 

"Good." 

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience. 

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him. 

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe." 

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness. 

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident." 

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out." 

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about. 

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted. 

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being." 

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end. 

 "Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated. 

 His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later. 

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job. 

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third. 

Although he hopes under better circumstances. 

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to. 

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one. 

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five. 

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back. 

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie." 

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall. 

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it. 

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten. 

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie. 

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out. 

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you. 

He's a hopeless romantic. 

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her. 

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's. 

A safe haven. 

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

 Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth. 

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face. 

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way. 

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being. 

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her. 

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.  

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for. 

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction. 

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate. 

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing." 

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states. 

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her." 

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests. 

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers." 

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?" 

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah." 

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything." 

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her. 

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates. 

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does. 

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second. 

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie. 

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do. 

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear. 

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all. 

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you." 

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers. 

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them. 

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments 

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?" 

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect." 

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees. 

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one." 

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it. 

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame." 

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier." 

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"  

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously. 

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting." 

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now. 

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has. 

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry." 

She's out of sight in the next few seconds. 

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention. 

 Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?" 

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off. 

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough. 

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge." 

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good. 

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins. 

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good." 

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents. 

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out. 

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out. 

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries." 

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher. 

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life. 

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly. 

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N. 

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine. 

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him. 

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back. 

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries. 

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset." 

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems. 

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance. 

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her. 

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers." 

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go. 

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority. 

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do. 

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.  

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay. 

Harry is pacing outside her door. 

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door. 

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him. 

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with." 

"It was two, really." Harry jokes. 

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands. 

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment. 

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you." 

"Fair enough." 

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do. 

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen. 

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.  

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already. 

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date. 

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me." 

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay." 

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all." 

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for. 

"You loved the cookies?" She asks. 

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze. 

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night." 

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this." 

"Good to know." 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together. 

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain. 

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything." 

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind." 

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her. 

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it. 

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old. 

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others. 

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different. 

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so. 

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does. 

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life. 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry. 

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night. 

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door. 

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door. 

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?" 

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel. 

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises. 

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet." 

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her. 

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?" 

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better." 

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception." 

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting." 

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before. 

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited. 

thank you so much for reading! i love you

come chat trouble follows with me

taglist: @bigspoonstyles​ @taintedwonder​ @sunflowersupremacy​

[kkusuka]

So, I have an idea 👁👄👁. Who knows if it’ll be a good one, but I had a dream last night, WHERE I WAS BEING SHARED BY KAGS AND TSUKKI. Let me know if you like this idea <3 Love ur poly headcanons and I think that’s where this dream came from <3333

funny because i think about this all day every day

The Velvet Room <3

Tsukishima Kei x Reader x Kageyama Tobio 

Mafia AU

words: 2.1k 

Cw: choking, double Penn. In the same hole, it’s tsukishima so degradation

The Velvet Room Nightclub was a place to avoid.

In fact, you avoid even speaking about the place, as do many. Other than it being almost completely unaffordable to the general public, but just mentioning the Karasuno Yakuza was enough to scare the remaining brave souls from the doors.

You didn't really know what made them so bad, no one delves deep into the issues publicly, and apparently privately, of fear they will somehow overhear the contents of the conversation.

Your friends had already beaten into your head to stay away from the luxurious club. And there were enough bars and smaller clubs lining the city; so it wasn’t a problem to the general public.

So how did your friend and you get in the check-in line at the very club you’ve been told to avoid like a plague?

Kiyoko’s bachelorette party. That’s how you landed a stop in the most expensive place in the city. She was one of the people who always played devil’s advocate for the club. (you had your suspicions about the man she’s marrying too, not you get you wrong they are lovely people, just an enigma to the club.)

She was adamant about having her party there, saying she wanted to show you that it wasn't scary, you guys were just falling into the drama.

“You know, it does look really nice in here!” another friend whispered as you walked through the door; the hostess looked up at your group, seemingly recognizing Kiyoko at first glance, as she didn't say a word before leading you through red curtains, past the dance floor and what looked like the main bar, up the stairs to a long hallway.

Walking down the hallway you noticed the individual rooms lining the walls, no doors, the entries were of the same red cloth. You were led to the very end of the hall, pushing the red back, revealing a room with booths along the wall, circling a white table.

To the side of the room, a bar loaded with different bottles and lime slices. You had almost completely eased up on the reputation of the club, the white and LED lights lining the room sent you into a calm, relaxed view of the infamous building.

“Alright let's stop lollygagging! Let’s party!” with that you began to drink and within minutes food had arrived to your room. No worries, there was no poison in either the food or the drinks; so now you had nothing even remotely bad to say about this place, it was great!

Before you knew it, it was almost two in the morning and according to some of the girls who ventured to the outside, the club was packed. Being that you had been there since 8, it was needless to say you were growing tired; your social battery was nothing compared to some of your friends.

“C’mon, Y/n! Let’s go to the dance floor! This room is getting boring!” one of your friends was trying to pull you from where you had nestled into the booth.

“Fine, fine, calm down! I'm coming, I'm coming!” you relented, allowing her to drag you pat the curtains and onto the dance floor where music was blasting from every angle.

As you dance, your eyes move across the bodies on the floor to the people leaning on the walls lining the outskirts of the mass of people. As you drag across the couple clearly getting a bit too heavy in public your eyes meet a sharp cerulean blue.

Expecting him to turn away, you kept your eyes locked with his, disregarding the people surrounding you. Seeing that he wouldn't break our staring contest, your eyes travel from his eyes to his draped hair, down his neck, taking note of his dark three-piece suit hiding his body.

Through your examination you lost your footing, falling back crashing into a hard chest.

For the second time that night, your eyes met gold surrounded by black rims. You watched his lips curl into a scowl as he set you back onto your heels, clearly running his eyes along the curves of your body.

He returned his eyes back on your before flipping his lips into a condescending smirk, raising his chin as if he was leagues above you, “Not very balanced are we, short?”  he remarked, shoving his hands into his pant-pockets.

“I was going to say thank you, but you ruined my thanks by opening your mouth.” you retorted, making a move to turn back to where you hoped your friend was still dancing, though before you could, another body was beside you.

“Stop bothering them, Tsukishima.” a deep voice rumbled from next to you, looking at it was the man from across the room; his sharp eyes now cast onto the blond asshole, who was still smirking, bigger now that this other man had stepped in,  down at the both of you.

“Or what, King? Are you going to command me around like the commoner I am? Short and I were just talking, so you can butt out your highness.” Tsukishima sneered at, the king? that couldn’t be his name, and from the way he stiffened at the mention of this name, he didn't like it very much.

He was about to respond when two voices called from either side of your newly formed circle.

“Y/n!”

“Kageyama! Tsukishima!”

You knew it was Kiyoko who was calling you back towards the stairs, so you sneak a glance two where the men turned, seeing a smaller man, boy? with bright orange hair waving the two over. Hearing Kiyoko call you again, you tear your sight from the two walking away and make your way back to the room.

The events of that night still play in the back of your mind even a month later as you get ready for another pouting with Kiyoko and the hostess from that night, who’s named you learned to be Yachi, who had quickly became friends with you along with a few of your other friends.

“Won't it be awkward clubbing at the place you work?” you didn't want to force Yachi to go back, she seems to spend enough time there as it is. And if you got her to say no, you wouldn’t have to go either. It wasn't that you didn't want to have a good time, you did. It was that you didn't know if you could handle seeing Tsukishima and Kageyama again. Your body wanted it, it desperately wanted to see at least one of them again, but your mind was against the idea.

Yachi had told you about them, they were clearly part of the high rank of the Karasuno Yakuza. She explained how rude and all-around awful Tsukishima treated people, from remarks to just making fun of them. She told you about Kageyama’s bad attitude and how he was exiled from another Yakuza and was picked up for his skills.

You had to stop yourself from thinking about them for about a week before your memory began to torment you once more. You couldn’t lie; that was hot. Not that they were mafia goonies; but how confident they were walking around their club knowing what they could do at any time.

Now sitting at the main bar while Kiyoko and Yachi dance with each other on some far corner of the dance floor, you wish more people came. You vowed to stay away from the dance floor, in fear of deja vu taking its course and becoming reality.

To consumed in mixing your lime into your margarita, you ignore that body that slides into the stool next you yours.

“I was wondering when you would come back, Shortie, his Majesty interrupted us last time.”  warm breath hit the shell of your ear as a too-familiar snarky voice sounded from beside you. Tsukishima pulled back, resting his head on his palm, as the bartender shoots a whiskey in his direction.

“I have nothing to say to you.” you raise your chin, imitating how he had when you first met. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his amusement clear on his face. Trying to ignore him you make a move to leave your seat.

“None of that, I’m just trying to have a conversation!”

You continue your ignorance, scanning the crowd for your friends.

“I’ll buy you food?”

“Only until we finish the food, then you leave me alone.”

Seeming content with your answer, he takes you up the same stairs, to another room on the right of the corridor.

In your former opinion, Tsukishima was actually a very good conversationalist, you hadn’t even realized that the food had been done for an hour and you had gone through more than enough drinks.

“Hinata really jumped into a fruit cart? Like in the movies? How does that even happen?” you laugh, curling yourself against his side as he mocks his friends.

Noticing he wasn’t laughing anymore, you look back up towards his face. Realizing just how close he was to you, eyes fixated on your lips, yours the same before you realize what was happening.

“I’m sorry i-”

Before you could even finish your mumbling you were pulled back into him, lips pressing on yours. Keeping your lips connected he moved you onto his lap, your straddling his waist as his hands moved to rub along your thighs.

Pulling away to breathe, you start to unbutton his white shirt, he,  pushing the ends of your dress to rest on your hips, giving him a view of your red lace.

“Tsukishima what the hell-”

Kageyama’s familiar voice called from the entrance of the room, dying down when he registered what he was seeing. Frozen in place, he could see Tsukishima’s hand still making its way to the zipper of your dress. From the crook of your neck, he could see Tsukishima smirk sucking on the skin below your ear.

You tried to push Tsukishima off, not wanting to embarrass yourself further, but he held you in an iron grip acting as if nothing had happened.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch King? If so then you can just leave now.” He mocked, not straying from slipping your dress from your burning body. When you tried to respond, Tsukishima moved his finger to meet with your clothed bud.

Seeming to have made his decision, you feel Kageyama tilt your head to meet your lips. Wrapping his hands around your neck keeps you where he wanted.

“Wow you're more of a whore than I thought, totally ok with being shared by two guys, you’re fucking dripping!”

Tsukishima pulled your underwear to the side, shoving two fingers into your weeping hole, Kageyama moving his mouth to the column of your neck, opposite from where Tsukishima’s was just minutes ago.

“You’re going to take both of us, like a good cum-dump” Tsukishima sneered, pulling his cock out of it's refines, “c’mon tell me how much you love being our cum-dump.”

You couldn’t even mutter a word through Kageyama's fingers in your mouth. Before you could think, he was pushing you down onto his cock. You gave a choked moan as he lifted your hips then dropped them back onto his.

Your monetary focus on Tsukishima left you unaware of Kageyama’s escapades until you felt a hand on your back pressing you to the blond’s chest. You thought he was just going to press into your ass until you felt his tip at your already stuffed entrance.

“Wait, you can’t-”

“Shut up and take it, whore.”

Fitting them both was almost impossible, you felt more stretched than you ever had in your entire life. Tears were flowing down your cheeks, not that either of them seemed to care as they steadied in a pace, moving in sync with the other.

Eventually, you lost yourself on their cocks, you didn't know when but a hand attached itself to your clit. Your orgasm washed over you as your cum sprayed onto your thighs and Tsukishima’s pants.

Neither of them paid you any mind as they continued for another minute before stuffing you with cum.

“You might just have to be our permanent cum-dump, huh Shortie?”

“For once, I think I agree.”

[disneygirl626]

Hey y’all! Since the other one shot I shared was such a success, I decided to share another one!

Avengers x Teen!Reader :Words:

"What's the funniest word?"

Clint looked away from the movie he'd been watching and stared at his friend for a second in confusion. "What?"

"What's the funniest word?" (Y/n) Stark repeated.

"Like, ever?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"It's for a paper."

"You're writing a paper on funny words? A college paper?" Clint asked, almost scoffing in disbelief.

(Y/n) dropped her eyes back down to her laptop that was sitting contently on her lap. It was not for a paper.

"Yes."

"Why on earth are you writing a paper on funny words? What class is this for?" Clint said, reaching for the laptop. "No, you can't have it!" she shouted, grabbing the laptop and scooting away.

"Why?" Clint asked with a laugh. (Y/n) moved to an arm chair and placed her legs over the arm rest and the laptop in her lap.

"Cause," (Y/n) said slowly. She didn't have a good enough reason for him to not see her laptop yet. Well, other than he couldn't know this wasn't for a class. He'd just tease her. And while yes, this was a pretty good reason for him to tease the younger girl, she was not in the mood.

"It's not for a class!" Clint scoffed, tossing a pillow at her head. She didn't look up in time to dodge the flying object and was hit square in the face. In retaliation, she chucked the pillow back at him. Being the spy and assassin he was, he dodged easily.

"I thought you two weren't allowed to have anymore pillow fights after the TV was broken during the last one," Natasha said, plopping down on the couch next to Clint. Steve appeared shortly after and sat in the arm chair next to (Y/n).

"It's not a pillow fight. Yet. (Y/n) was asking what the funniest word I know is and won't tell me why. She claims its for a 'class'," Clint said, placing air quotes around 'class'.

"Which class?" Natasha asked.

"Uhhh...."

"My point is proven," Clint said, leaning back against the couch. Quickly realizing she was fighting a losing battle, (Y/n) gave a dramatic sigh and chucked another pillow at Clint's head. Again, he dodged.

"Fine, it's not for a class. Peter and I are having a debate on the funniest word we can find. Loser has to do the other's homework for three weeks," (Y/n) said.

"Who's the judge?" Steve asked.

"Our friend, MJ," (Y/n) replied as she began typing.

"What do you guys have so far?" Clint asked.

She paused before answering, finishing whatever she was typing, then said, "Peter has: Skedaddle, Cattywampus, Kerfuffle, and Lollygag. I have: Nincompoop, Pumpernickle, Brouhaha, and Discombobulated."

"How many do you need?" Natasha asked.

"Six," (Y/n) said as she began typing again. "Brouhaha is a word, right?" she asked, looking up.

Steve reached for his phone and began typing. "Brouhaha. A noisy or overexcited reaction to something, according to Google," the super soldier said after a moment, looking up at the younger girl. (Y/n) grinned and began typing again.

"Any word suggestions?" (Y/n) asked after a minute.

"Defenestration. It means to throw someone out the window," Natasha said. (Y/n) blinked at the assassin, not sure if she wanted to know how her friend knew that word. "As great as that word is, I don't think it's funny enough," (Y/n) said.

"Bamboozled is a good one," Clint said.

"Or swigger. It's 40s slang for a drinker," Steve said after a minute. "Steve's wins," (Y/n) said, typing on her laptop again. "Steve wins what?" Tony asked, walking in and sitting in the arm chair on the other side of the coffee table.

"Peter and I are having a funny word contest. Loser has to do winner's homework for a month," (Y/n) said, not looking up.

"Snickersnee," Natasha said. "What's that one mean?" Steve asked. "It's a large knife," Natasha said.

"Why are all of your words violent?" Clint asked, chuckling. Natasha shrugged with a small smile and turned back to her phone.

The group helped (Y/n) come up with a last funny word, then went about their ways. (Y/n) met up with Peter and MJ a few hours later to determine the winner.

The three friends sat in the college library. Peter and (Y/n) were waiting not-so-patiently while MJ looked over each of the lists. Peter was almost sure she was just taking this long to mess with them.

"MJ, c'mon, it's been thirty minutes now," (Y/n) said.

"Fine. (Y/n) wins," MJ replied, handing them their lists.

"What?" Peter exclaimed.

"Sorry, Pete. Discombobulated is the best word to ever exist," MJ said with a shrug. (Y/n) laughed and high-fived her friend. Peter groaned, but had a playful smile on his face.

"I'll get you my homework tomorrow," (Y/n) said with a smirk as the group began gathering their things to leave. "Yeah, yeah," Peter said, rolling his eyes with a small smile.

(Y/n) laughed and the three left.

----

"So who won?"

(Y/n) looked up from the actual paper she was writing this time. It'd been almost a month since the contest, and she'd nearly forgotten about it. "What?"

"The funny word contest. Who won?" Clint asked.

(Y/n) laughed. "How'd you just now remember that? It's been almost a month, Clint!"

"I dunno, it just came to me. Now who won?"

"I did."

"Yeah!" Clint shouted, fist-bumping (Y/n). (Y/n) laughed as Clint turned back to watching his movie.

"So did Peter ask you out yet?"

"CLINT!"

(Y/n) picked up another pillow and chucked it at his head, and this time, the unsuspecting archer was hit in the back of the head.

"FINALLY!"

"Oh, it's so on, Stark!" Clint shouted, picking up another pillow. They pillow fought to their heart's content. Well, more like until the sent a pillow through the window.

[kafka-ish]

sleep-over | b.d.

it’s been years since bill denbrough’s been to an actual sleepover. but when someone invites him over for the night, he can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to join them.

word count: 3,313

warnings/included: fluff, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “hiii could i please request a bill denbrough fic? you can decide what it’s about but just lots of fluff and something really cute”

a/n: repost bc my tumblr tags didn’t work on the last one and i didn’t realize until now,, also based off of this song 

-

“Do you...do you want to come over?” y/n asked. Those were the first words to spill from her mouth when she dialed Bill’s phone at twelve-o-one a.m. She didn’t have to look out her window to know it was late because of the darkness that engulfed her room, but she also knew she had Bill wrapped around her finger and he’d do anything for her if she asked. 

“Luh-like a ss-sleepover?” Bill’s shoulder was pressing his phone to his ear as he paced back and forth in his room. He looked out his window to see nothing. Just a dark abyss that beckoned for him, the same way y/n did from over the phone. 

“Yeah. Like a sleepover.” y/n thought back to the multiple sleepovers she and he had before when they were younger. 

When dusk ate the day and it got too late, Bill would stay the night at the y/l/n’s house. Her mother would have y/n’s brother keep an eye on the two of them because god knows what would happen if the two were left alone (even at an early age). 

“Loser has to fit five marshmallows in their mouth,” y/n declared as she was setting up Candyland. She already had dibs on the purple gingerbread man so Bill supposed he’d just have to play as yellow. 

“Oh-oh-okay.” A wide smile formed on a young Bill Denbrough’s mouth and his chest moved in sync with the guffaws he was trying to contain. “B-b-but I don’t think your...your mouth is that big.” 

y/n’s grin matched his and Bill had gotten cocky that night because he had found y/n’s gingerbread man crossing the rainbow finish line before his and he could only hold three of the Jumbo Jet-Puffs in his mouth. 

“I’ll b-be ri-right over.” Bill had unintentionally slammed the receiver back on the dial pad. He had never been so fast to pack up in his entire life, but he also didn’t take much; just a fresh pair of boxers, a change of basketball shorts, a t-shirt similar to the one he was wearing, and his toothbrush. It had been forever ago since he and a friend like Stan or Mike spent the night at each other’s houses. It had been a lifetime ago since he spent the night at y/n’s house. 

He walked—no—ran out the door, almost forgetting his shoes in the process (which he slipped on without socks). His duffle bag was light on his arm and threatened to slip off more than once if Bill hadn’t been careful. He made it to y/n’s house in record’s time, but he also lived four blocks away. 

Bill waited outside of y/n’s door. His fingers fought with each other and he noticed that the green porch light was still on. 

“What are you doing?” y/n called down from above. She could freely yell into the earth’s crisp air because the neighborhood was asleep, and she didn’t have to worry about her brother who was sleeping in one of the dorms Duke University provided. 

“I didn’t know if I should knock or not,” Bill answered honestly. He knew y/n was rolling her eyes at his response whether he could see her face clearly or not. He could hear her loud footsteps—rushed and enthusiastic—from inside the house as she trampled down the stairs to let him in.

“Hi!” She looked up at him wide-eyed and bushy-tailed because Bill stood tall and lean while y/n was like a dainty sprig—fragile and still waiting for spring to bloom—at least compared to him.

A smile couldn’t help but draw itself on Bill’s face when she greeted him. She was dressed in a white tank top and cotton sleep shorts and it was in that moment when Bill realized how much she’d grown. How much they’d all grown.

“Are you ready?” y/n eyed him curiously because it’d been seconds since she said anything and Bill had yet to reply. 

“Ye-yeah,” Bill said. He stepped in. “Where?” Gulp. “Where should I puh-puh-put this?” He held up the seemingly empty duffle and y/n took it from him only to toss it aside next to the potted plant that greeted guests as they walked in. 

“We can come back for it later. Now come on.” She was dragging him back outside. “I need an adventure!” She locked the door behind them with her golden house key she had turned into a necklace by feeding a length of black lace through the middle hole. She wore that thing everywhere she went. 

“Ad-adventure?” One of Bill’s untrimmed eyebrows raised and y/n nodded as soon as the word left his mouth. “I th-th-hought this was a s-sl-sleepover.” 

y/n giggled. Her small hand only covered a third of his as she grabbed it and led him from her front lawn and across the street. “Who actually sleeps at a sleepover?” 

That was true. As he recalled, the last time he ‘slept over’ at Richie Tozier’s house, neither of them had actually closed their eyes. 

Bill hadn’t noticed he was now in front and y/n stood a few paces behind him until he felt the warmth of her hand leave his. She was taking the time to light the cigarette she had balanced between her bottom and top lip. Bill chuckled softly at the sight behind him. She was a sight for sore eyes. 

He stepped back to meet her figure whose nimble fingers were concentrating on flicking the purple BIC at hand. 

“Nuh-need help?” Bill took the lighter from her and it came to life with one swift move of his thumb. 

“Yo-you know s-s-s-smoking is... Once you start, you cuh-can’t s-s-s-top.” Bill said this as if her were a father, telling his child about the dangers of drug usage. But he still lit the stick that was poking from y/n’s pouting lips. 

She took a drag from the cigarette. It was long and she coughed afterward because she hated the taste. Bill could tell she wasn’t an experienced smoker and that this had probably been her second pack. “I’m already addicted,” she said. The cigarette muffled her words. But it wasn’t the nicotine she was addicted to. She was addicted to fitting in.

Bill shook his head which he’d inadvertently thrown back while he was consumed in laughter. “You guh-guh-got an-hother one?” He asked and y/n reached in the elastic of her waistband to grab a pack of Mavericks (a gift from Bev). The box was full except for one and she had also stashed a twenty-dollar bill in the gaping space between the tobacco sticks.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” y/n said while tossing him a smoke.

“Fuh-first time for eh-everything.” Bill shrugged and lit the end like a natural. It wasn’t his first time, he just said that to make y/n feel better. 

The two walked in comfortable silence. y/n was still trailing behind, but only to admire Bill’s frame under the white moonlight—not to enjoy her barely smoked cigarette because maybe she wanted pink lungs until she was old and wrinkled and had to have be waited on hand and foot at the nursing home.

It took them ten minutes to arrive at a worn-down gas station and it would’ve taken them five if y/n wasn’t lollygagging or if Bill didn’t stop to point at the stars every three seconds.

“Lo-ook at that one!” He’d say with the innocence of a child. His sneakers would make a scraping sound against the abandoned road when he came to a halt and y/n would bump into his shoulder because she never looked where she was going.

“It kind of looks like the mole on the back of your-“ Bill nudged her, causing her to wobble and drop the Maverick. It was one with nature now. Good riddance.

Bill put out his own half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray that sat on top of the garbage can next to the glass doors of the QwikTrip.

It was bright inside. Too bright. The empty gas station felt completely different from when they were slumming it in the outside and dancing to the sound of crickets chirping.

But y/n didn’t notice. She was too busy in her own world, mixing together a cherry and coke flavored slushie to make cherry coke. She watched in childlike wonder at the contents inside the slushie machine that whirled ‘round and ‘round so the ice could mix thoroughly with the syrup (a slushie with an imperfect ice-to-syrup ratio was not a slushie; it was just flavored ice). She didn’t notice the guy working the cash register who was obviously checking her out.

But Bill did.

An odd feeling struck at his heart which was now beating faster as he watched the greasy boy about their age eye his childhood friend.

“H-have you ever dr-dr-“ Bill paused. “Had alcohol?” Bill wondered aloud. y/n had just finished preparing Bill’s slushie for him—plain banana—so her attention could now focus on just him. Internally, Bill was banging his head against the wall for asking such a stupid question. But that’s what y/n made him in recent developments: stupid.

Every teenager drinks he thought to himself. But y/n wasn’t like every teenager. 

“No.” y/n shook her head and Bill found his eyes roaming to the liquor case in the back of the store. 

They both knew what each other meant and Bill just about dashed to the fridge the same way he dashed out his door when y/n called him that night. 

y/n was waiting for him at the paying counter. She took small sips at her cherry coke slushie but luckily Bill didn’t take too long. He came back, holding a clear bottle of liquid that y/n didn’t know the name of. He set the glass on the counter and reached in his pocket only for his heart to fall twelve meters into its grave because he left his wallet at home.

“Don’t worry about it,” y/n reassured. Her hand settled on his momentarily. “I’ll get it. Just wait outside.”

So he did. But waiting outside nearly killed him.

“These please.” y/n gave the stranger her biggest smile, teeth and all, as she pushed the bottle of gin and two slushie cups across the counter for him to scan.

“Was that your boyfriend?” The cashier asked. His face could be mistaken for a pepperoni pizza and his blonde hair was uncombed. The graveyard shift really does some things to people.

“No...” y/n blushed and the stranger thought it was because she found him attractive. It was actually the idea that other people thought of Bill and her as a couple that caused y/n’s cheeks to tint. y/n looked up at the boy through her long lashes and it should be counted as a crime to not know the effect you have on the people around you.

A sly smile reached all the way to the boy’s eyes. “You know what? It’s on me.” He printed out her receipt. There were just three items marked as $0.00. The only numbers that added up to something were the ones on the bottom which he said was his phone number. “Call me.” He winked.

Bill felt like he was being stabbed all from watching the two flirt and before another invisible knife could make another incision in his already delicate heart, y/n was out the door. Two diabetes-filled cups occupied both hands while a plastic bag hung from her arm.

“Hi!” She said this in the same way she greeted him.

Bill covered his mouth when he coughed before sputtering out a hi.

She sat down on the curb outside of the gas station, her legs crossed like a pretzel. She sat both cups down, taking a sip from both straws. Her tropical-flavored chapstick tainted his red straw and Bill would taste pineapple mixed with banana later when he took a sip.

y/n’s mouth tingled at the taste of banana slushie. Who the hell gets a banana slushie? She supposed she’d never get used to the taste, but it was worth a try.

Bill took a seat on the rough pavement next to her. He knew his ass would hurt once he got up, especially if they would sit like this for a while, but he didn’t care.

“D-d-do you want… muh-muh-maybe wuh-want to g-g-go somewhere no… nobody will see?” Bill asked tentatively.

y/n smiled with the plastic still between her teeth. It was a more pleasant feeling than rolled-up tobacco. “Who would even see us here?”

Bill laughed but he thought back to how the cashier was eyeing her while she fixed her slushie. It wasn’t the same way he’d look at her. It was slimy and gross. But that was behind them now as he slipped an arm around her and held her close.

His shirt was old and worn, but it felt soft and homey against the skin of her cheek. She nuzzled close into his chest, feeling his ribcage and smelling the Old Spice that lingered from when he applied it earlier in the afternoon.

She hadn’t been this close since their last sleepover.

They were thirteen and y/n had originally invited him over to watch High Society on the new television set her parents bought and finally got around to setting up in the den. She promised she wouldn’t get jealous if he stared at Grace Kelly because he’d tell her the same about Gregory Peck. But Bill didn’t get the chance to stare because the ribbon was detached from the VHS, ruining their whole plans.

Bill wouldn’t have stared anyway—not when there was someone worth staring at who sat on the couch next to him.

“I’m so sorry.” It must’ve been the tenth time she apologized but Bill only waved his hand like how he wished he could wave the rest of her worries away. “I didn’t know it was all screwy... It’s been years since I’ve actually put the damn thing in.”

“Don-don’t-t worry ab-b-bout it,” Bill said. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was getting late and the beginning of a sunset could now be seen from outside the living room window.

“You should be getting home.” y/n was looking at the clock with him. Bill shook his head.

“Ih-it’s ff-fine.” He shoved a handful of popcorn that y/n popped herself in his mouth. “Do-do you h-h-have an eh-eh-extra toothbrush? O-o-or I cuh-cuh-could leave early.”

y/n knew what he was referring to and a smile graced her already angelic lips. She was getting excited just at the thought of having a companion by her side during the witching hour. y/n jumped to her feet and skipped over to Bill on her bare feet. “What will you sleep in?... I could offer you my nightgown!” She laughed at the image in her head which projected a picture of a scrawny Bill Denbrough wearing one of y/n’s frilly nightdresses even she didn’t wear anymore.

“I cuh-cuh-can ju-just sleep in th-th-this.” He shrugged and y/n could only think that boys were strange.

By the time both of them had brushed their teeth, Bill was already tuckered out. Maybe it was from watching y/n mess with the VHS player for so long. Or maybe it was from running over to y/n’s house when she had excitedly announced her parents set up a new television set and she wanted him to be the first one over to experience it and his legs were still tired from carrying him.

“Do you want to watch a different movie? I’d hate to invite you over just to not do anything.” y/n picked at her fingernails, too afraid to meet Bill’s eye because she was scared he hated her.

Bill could never hate her.

“Nah.” Bill spread out on her double bed that she had made prior. He sunk into the plush covers and felt himself doze off until y/n hit him with a pillow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She was hovering over him, scared that she’d fall and break her neck if she lost balance.

“Sl-sleeping.” Bill closed his eyes once more. “I’m kuh-kuh-kinda t-t-tired.”

“Move over.” y/n wasn’t tired, but she’d do whatever Bill wanted. She laid down next to him and there couldn’t possibly be enough room on the bed for both of them—at least with the way Bill was spread out.

She snuggled close to him, able to smell the toothpaste he used and the natural smell of vanilla that clung to his skin.

But right now, Bill didn’t want the night to end as they sat three years older and in an empty parking lot. If BIll had one wish, he’d wish this night would last forever. Just him and her and the space surrounding them.

y/n’s eyelids felt heavy and her legs felt gelatin-like. She fell into a dreamlike trance while Bill’s arm acted as a blanket around her, but she didn’t want the night to end like this.

“Ar-are you t-t-tired?” Bill asked. y/n could feel his arm remove itself from her and she visibly shivered.

“No,” she lied but he knew better than that.

“I’ll wuh-wuh-walk you h-home.”

Their trek back to y/n’s house was slower than it was when they left it. y/n didn’t mind. She basked in the presence of Bill’s calming aura and Bill felt the same. Both of them, however, were too afraid to tell each other that.

y/n could barely keep herself stood upright on her own. Bill had to stabilize her with his left hand. His right hand was gently figuring out a way to remove the key necklace that hung from her neck.

“That tickles!” y/n giggled loudly when the icy tips of his fingers brushed her sensitive skin.

“Shh,” Bill whisper shouted. “Th-there are puh-puh-people sleeping.” He looked at the time on his digital watch. Not for long, anyway.

“Shh,” y/n echoed back to him. 

The front door creaked open. Bill cringed and hoped it wouldn’t wake her parents, but y/n told him it shouldn’t matter because they were heavy sleepers. He trusted her.

When both of them stepped in, y/n was the one to shut the door just like she had when they left. Afterward, they tip-toed up the stairs. Bill clutched his duffle bag and y/n still had the plastic one which contained the alcohol.

“Fuck...” y/n giggled at the curse word that left her lips. “Marry, or kill.”

“What’re m-my options?” Bill slurred. He was too scared to look up at her, so he looked at the dark ceiling. He was sprawled out on her bed—taking up most of the room—like he did when they were thirteen.

“Me, Beverly, and...” y/n sighed. She forgot the name of the girl who sat in front of her in math class. “Henrietta Simons.”

“Huh-who’s Henrietta?” Bill asked, but he already knew his answer.

“Someone you should kill.” y/n shrugged and stared at the ceiling with him, trying to find out what was so interesting about it.

“Kuh-kill Henrietta,” Bill said, and a proud smile found its way on y/n’s lips. “Fuck-ck Bev, an-” He didn’t really have to finish after that.

“You wouldn’t have sex with me?” y/n asked. She was only teasing but Bill knew she wouldn't have said that if she was sober.

“It-it’s not luh-luh-like th-that.” Bill took a deep breath and he didn’t know if this was the night he wanted to be saying all of this but that’s what everything felt like it was leading up to. “I guh-guess I ju-just want t-to marry you.” Bill closed his eyes at the drunken words that thought would be okay to leave his mouth.

“I wanna marry you too,” y/n said through a series of hiccups and a fit of laughter.

They both knew what was coming next. And even though neither of them didn’t want the night to end, it had to.

[jabbajambler]

35

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,109

*GIF by @lyrawills​*

         The armorer worked diligently on melting down the beskar armor, the pieces that the Mandalorians had worked their whole lives to receive. It turned to liquid like it was nothing. The stories and battles it had seen were forgotten, never to be heard of again.

         "Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction." She inquired as she shifted her attention towards us.

         Din shuffled closer to the droid that held the child in a pack on its chest. His legs were still weak from the hit, but he was recovering faster than normal with the bacta.

         "This is the one." He said, gesturing towards the green child.

         "This is the one that you hunted, then saved?" She spoke with a joking tone.

         "Yes. The one that saved me as well."

         "From the mudhorn?" Her voice lifted with curiosity.

         He looked from me to the child then back to the armorer. "Yes."

         "It looks helpless."

         I squeezed past Din to face the armorer, standing tall despite how little I felt. "It's a bit tired right now, but it is far from helpless. It- It has the Force." I whispered the final part. Such power was a sensitive topic amongst the Mandalorians despite me having a connection with both of them.

         "Ah... So, it is like you." She directed her attention back to the melting pot of metal.

         "How do you know about that?" Din took a small step forward, his head tilted in confusion as he questioned whether everyone knew about such things.

         "The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore The Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers... Like Myrah here."

         "Jedi..." He whispered faintly. "So they are enemies?"

         "No." She sort of chuckled and shook her head. "Their kind were enemies, but they are not."

         "What is it?" He asked about the baby.

         She neared a large cabinet, opening it with the touch of a button. "It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care."

         He scoffed. "You wish me to train this thing?"

         "It is too weak. It would die. Unless Myrah deems herself capable of training it, you must reunite it with its own kind."

         "Where?"

         "This, you must determine."

         I huffed out a laugh and crossed my arms over my chest. "You expect him to go out and search the entire galaxy for another one of these things? Din can't go anywhere near them without being a threat."

         "This is the Way." She answered simply. "Isn't that a code that you once followed, Myrah Koor?"

         "Hey." Cara came towards us after exploring the small cave. "These tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan."

         "If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats."

         "I think we should go." Greef proposed.

         "I'm staying." Din stated firmly.

         My head snapped towards him, both of my hands immediately grasping his. "What are you thinking?"

         "I need to help her and I need to heal."

         "You must go." She must have been growing tired of our bickering. "A foundling is in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father." She paused as we looked towards the cooing baby. "This is the Way."

         She turned towards us, holding a crafted piece of metal in front of her. "You have earned your signet." With careful precision, she welded on the mudhorn symbol onto his pauldron. "You are a clan of two-" She stopped and glanced over to me. "Or three."

         "Thank you." Din's voice was sincere. "I will wear this with honor."

         A muffled explosion and smoke rose from around the corner. They were coming.

         "IG, please guard the outer hallway." The armorer demanded. "A scouting party draws near... I have one more gift for your journey. Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?"

         Din nodded. "When I was a boy. Yes."

         "Then this will make you complete." She turned, holding a jetpack in her hands.

         "Thank you." He said again.

         I whistled and leaned against the central table. "You in a jetpack? That's sexy."

         "Myrah." Both Din and the armorer snapped, scolding me for my less than subtle words. It was like being a child all over again.

         "When you have healed," she continued, trying to move past my comment, "you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands."

         "I understand."

         Blaster fire echoed through the tunnels, followed by the bright red light of the guns. We reached for our blasters during the moment of silence that fell over, but they were lowered as soon as IG came back into our line of sight.

         "You are protected." It declared.

         "More will come. You must go."

         "Come with us." Din offered again.

         "My place is here. Restock your munitions." Din took off towards the table while she stalked towards the droid. "IG, carry this for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it. Now, go. Down to the river and across the plains."

          Cara, Greef, and the IG left the room while Din and I lingered a bit behind. "Be safe on your journey." She spoke to him. He said a final thank you and grabbed his blaster before following the others. "Myrah... You be careful. You know how-"

         "I know. I'll play it safe... But you have to as well." I smiled and nudged her with my elbow in a playful manner.

         "No. I wanted to check on this." She gestured towards the heavy hilt on my hip.

         I grabbed the weapon carefully, my fingers brushing over the gentle engravings and hovering over the small button. With two small clicks to the button, a light orange light grew from both ends, similar to its alternative staff form. I could feel my lips twitch into a smile just by gazing at it.

         "Do they know?"

         "Sort of. It's fine for now, though." I tucked the handle into my belt before forcing her into a quick hug. "Thank you for everything." I whispered and caught up to the group. I knew the sincerity went both ways.

         "This is the lava river." Greef pointed out as we emerged from the drab hall.

         The river was long and the heat that radiated from it brought beads of sweat to my face. I could see the steam that rose from the magma. The fiery orange flow of the river was threatening but inviting. It was beautiful and dangerous, the worst combination of them all.

         "The ferry droid is fried."

         "Yeah, but if we push the boat out, we can get it to float downstream."

         I shrugged and glanced over at Cara. "Why don't we just shoot at it?"

         "That'll never work." Greef brushed me off. "Come on." He insisted.

         "Looks old." Din seemed questionable of his idea. "Will it take the heat?"

         "You got a better idea?"

         He sighed. "Guess not."

         Greef and Din struggled against the boat, working to push it away from the dock. He kicked it in frustration, stomping away from it. I had to hide the snort that came up from their failed attempt.

         "Come on! What're you doing?" Greef groaned.

         "Let's try this." Din grabbed a long, metal pole and tried to use it to carve away at the crusted edge.

         Cara sighed and pulled her gun over her shoulder. "You guys mind getting out of the way?" They stepped back as she fired along the edge, breaking the boat away from the platform.

         As Greef and Cara loaded into the boat, I grabbed Din's arm and pulled him over. My finger landed hard against his chest plate, making a small clink as it hit.

         "Don't underestimate my ideas."

         His hand wrapped around my own, his thumb moving tenderly over my hand. "Trust me, I won't."

         "Get in, lovebirds. We don't have time to lollygag." Cara joked with a smile as she looked back at us. I laughed and hopped into the small boat with the others.

         "Watch your feet." The IG advised. "It's molten lava."

         "No kidding." Cara huffed.

         There was a soft beeping and whirring that frightened us. We all spun with blasters raised towards the sound. The ferry droid pulled itself from the cracks and stood, holding its paddle in its mechanical hands.

         "I don't suppose anybody here speaks droid?" Din asked.

         I looked to him with a blank expression and a head tilt that said 'you've got to be kidding me.' Especially when there was a droid standing right next to us. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not at this point.

         "I believe he is asking where we would like to go." IG pointed out.

         "Down river." Greef nodded. "To the lava flat."

         The droid chirped and began rowing that way. It was quite a long ride, lava rivers always seem to have a slow current. After a while, we could finally see a soft, white light at the end; the exit. We were home free.

         "That's it. We're free!" Greef cheered.

         "No." Din's voice was soft and disappointed. "No, we're not. Stormtroopers. They're flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we're coming."

         "Stop the boat." Cara demanded, but the droid kept rowing. "Hey, Droid, I said stop the boat. Hey! I'm talking to you. I said stop!" Her anger grew as she blasted the head of the droid off.

         Greef glanced around anxiously. "We're still moving."

         "Looks like we fight." Cara's anger softened into fear.

         "We can't fight them. We're outnumbered. By a lot." I growled.

         "Well, then what do you suggest? 'Cause I can't surrender."

         "They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child." The IG spoke up from its spot. "This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape."

         Din chuckled softly. "You don't have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn't even get to daylight."

         "That is not my objective." It spoke, receiving a quick turn of heads from all of us.

         "We're getting close." Cara warned. "Saddle up."

         "Cara, we can't." I hissed.

         "I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct."

         "What're you talking about?" Din spoke with a harsh whisper.

         "I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed."

         Greef was growing more irritated by the second. "Are we gonna keep talking, or get out of here?"

         "I can no longer carry this for you." The droid spoke and rested the jetpack down on the boat. "Nor can I watch over the child." It passed the packed away child to Din, setting him in his arms.

         "Wait. You can't self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the child.  That supersedes your manufacturer's protocol, right?" He paused. "Right?"

         "This is correct."

         "Good. Now, grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out." He demanded.

         "Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The child will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved, in which I survive."

         Din's tone softened. "Listen, you're not going anywhere. We need you. Let's just come up with a-"

         "Please tell me the child will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command."

         "But you'll be destroyed."

         "And you will live, and I will have served my purpose."

         "No. We need you." Din spoke in a saddened, pained whisper.

         "There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive."

         "I'm not...sad."

         "Yes you are. I'm a nurse droid. I've analyzed your voice."

         It gently pet the child's ear and stepped into the burning lava. It marched through faster than the boat was moving, reaching the exit to the tunnel where the stormtroopers gathered.

         Din grasped my hand tightly, threading his fingers between mine and squeezing it as though it would be the last time.

         "It's going to be alright. IG is giving us a chance to escape." I mumbled and raised our joined hands to my lips, placing a soft kiss against the leather.

         "I know."

         We could faintly hear the droid's final words before he self-destructed. Din's grip tightened as the light reflected off his helm. Without speaking a single word, I knew what he was thinking.

         IG's sacrifice would not be in vain.

[vex-bittys]

Flufftober 2020: Day Three

Prompt: College/University AU

Pairing: SpicyHoney

Category: Romantic

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Stretch walked into his Human Cultural Studies classroom on his first day of college and nearly turned around and walked right back out again. Of course his brother had criticized him about his decision to delay college for a few years… and then a few years more, but he never imagined that he’d put off his education long enough that a childhood friend (and unrequited high school crush) would end up being his professor.

Obviously, Edge considered his education and career a priority and had focused on it immediately following their high school graduation. It didn’t surprise Stretch. He admired the goal-driven skeleton for his ambition and tenacity, the very same attributes that made scoring a date with the other skeleton extremely unlikely for a dedicated ne’er-do-well like himself. As if to underscore this fact, Edge scowled at him the moment he slouched into the classroom and sank into a seat in the back of the room.

The scowl maintained its position on Edge’s angular features as the skeleton professor prowled through the room, handing each student a hefty course syllabus. When he arrived at Stretch’s seat, the scowl transformed into a smirk. Stretch reached for the syllabus, and Edge yanked it away, holding it just out of his reach.

“NICE TO SEE THAT YOUR MODUS OPERANDI OF PROCRASTINATION AND LAZINESS HAS SUBSIDED, CARROT,” Edge said, voice pitched low so that only Stretch could hear his words. Stretch could see that Edge’s tongue was still as sharp as his cheekbones, but he loved antagonistic repartee. 

“wrong as ever, Edgy McEdgelord. i intend to procrastinate lazily throughout my entire indenture as a student here until i receive a degree that i will never use as i pursue my preferred career of wasting my life entirely through inactivity,” quipped Stretch, loudly enough for the other students to overhear. Several of his classmates tittered, but Edge just gave him a slow, knowing smile.

“GOOD LUCK TRYING TO PASS MY CLASS THEN.” He slammed the syllabus down on the tabletop in front of Stretch and stalked off with his usual grace, though his usual grace involved a hip sway that Stretch couldn’t help staring at.

It was going to be a long semester.

The first near-perfect test score might have been a fluke, but the next few established a pattern that Edge couldn’t deny. He stood next to Stretch’s usual seat near the door, shuffling through mediocre and abysmal papers to present the highest score in the class to the student that he had expected to do the worst. Secretly, though, the grumpy skeleton professor was proud of Stretch for applying himself and showing off the intelligence that few knew he possessed.

“TOP SCORE AGAIN, CARROT. AT LEAST SOMEONE IN THIS CLASS IS PAYING ATTENTION.” He actually handed the paper with its marked absence of red ink to Stretch instead of tossing it down onto the table as he so often did.

“when you’re up front lecturing, i just can’t look away,” Stretch admitted honestly. His SOUL ached, feelings that he thought had been laid to rest long ago stirring again any time the professor so much as glanced his way with those dangerous red eyelights. “to be honest, though, i’m surprised you remembered me that first day. i didn’t think you ever noticed me in high school.” Stretch winced at his own babbling.

“OF COURSE I REMEMBER YOU. HOW COULD I FORGET SUCH A-” Edge closed his mouth abruptly, scrambling for a word to replace “handsome” and change the tone of the sentence “- SUCH AN UNRELENTING SLACKER.” Edge lifted the other students’ test results to cover his blush and hurried back to his own desk.

It was going to be a long semester.

By the time the course ended, the tension between the two skeletons had only gotten stronger. Edge avoided Stretch like a highly contagious plague, and Stretch’s notebook contained more sketches of his professor than lecture notes. The end of the class should’ve been the end of the awkward teacher-student interactions, but Stretch couldn’t help checking the online course list for more classes taught by his rekindled crush.

Stretch’s eyelights scoured the classroom for any sign of seating and found none. Perplexed, he watched Edge stroll into the classroom, wearing something that definitely was not his usual tailored shirt, tie, and slacks. To Stretch’s untrained fashion eye(socket), the outfit resembled pajamas- something Stretch might wear on the first day of class, but Edge would never leave his house in under normal circumstances.

Stretch hid his confusion by calling out a question as Edge strode past him. “what am i in for this semester, Edgelord? philosophy of ancient civilizations? monster-human history and politics?” Stretch had picked a more advanced course, looking for a challenge… and another chance to impress the other skeleton.

“THIS IS ADVANCED JUDO,” Edge stated flatly. 

For once, Stretch had no response, and a wide smile crept across Edge’s features when he realized that he had the upper hand. Moving as swiftly as a striking cobra, Edge grabbed Stretch, spun, leaned, and tossed the slacker over his shoulder and onto the mat. Stretch laid on his back on the ground with an audible “oof,” completely stunned and just a little bit in love. 

“nice pajamas,” he wheezed.

“IT’S A JUDO GI,” sniffed Edge loftily, staring down at his student. “I AM GUESSING THAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS CLASS SO THAT YOU COULD SPEND YOUR TIME LOLLYGAGGING AND BEING UNCONSCIOUS ON THE FLOOR, BUT I AM HERE TO TEACH YOU. NOW GET UP.”

Edge offered Stretch his hand. Not suspecting any foul play, Stretch tried not to blush when their hands touched. Edge tugged Stretch upwards, then dropped backwards, falling to his back and using one leg to propel Stretch over his body and onto the mat behind him.

It was going to be a long semester… but Stretch kind of liked it.

The moment enrollment opened after the summer break, Stretch sat at his computer, scrolling through a list of professors to see which classes were available from Edge. He considered filling his entire semester exclusively with those classes, but he needed to work his way through the recommended curriculum if he actually wanted a degree and not just a chance to stare longingly at a handsome skeleton professor.

“is this advanced judo 2?” Stretch asked, a picture of innocence as he sank gratefully into a chair at the back of the classroom. Edge paused midway through writing a lesson outline on the whiteboard.

“NO. THIS IS PHILOSOPHY OF ANCIENT CIVILIZATIONS, THOUGH I’M NOT ABOVE PUNCTUATING MY LECTURES WITH JUDO FLIPS IF YOU’D PREFER THAT METHOD OF LEARNING.” The writing resumed.

The judo flips proved to be unnecessary; Stretch aced the course as easily as he’d aced the others. The lanky skeleton was a single semester away from an Associate’s Degree with a sterling 4.0 grade point average and the acclamation of every professor and department head that he encountered. His chosen degree entailed English credits, though, and Stretch could no longer put them off. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that Edge led the English department and handled all of the high level courses personally. 

Basic English and literature classes filled quickly, but the high level classes required Edge’s personal stamp of approval for any student who dared to request them. Stretch submitted his course schedule online, and Edge invited him for an interview the very next day. This would be a one-on-one meeting in Edge’s office, and Stretch found himself uncharacteristically nervous at the thought of facing Edge alone.

Stretch knocked on the door to the English administrative office, and when Edge called for him to enter, he did so with an attempt at his trademark humor.

“is this the Doki Doki Literature Club?” he asked, stepping into Edge’s unsurprisingly spartan workspace.

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT IS,” Edge answered drily, “AND I SUGGEST YOU ACTUALLY READ YOUR COURSE DESCRIPTIONS IN THE FUTURE. NOW HAVE A SEAT, OR WOULD YOU RATHER CONDUCT OUR MEETING FROM YOUR BACK ON THE FLOOR.”

Stretch pretended to consider the offer, and Edge stood up and reached for him across the desk as if to grab him for a flip. His face moved close to Stretch’s, and without thinking, the lazybones leaned forward and kissed him.

Startled, Edge kissed back, taking far too long to shove the other skeleton away. “SUCH BEHAVIOR IS INAPPROPRIATE BETWEEN TEACHERS AND STUDENTS,” he rasped, shaken, and Stretch, face flaming with an orange blush, fled the office and the campus. Edge regretted his severity immediately, but immediately was too late.

Taking any English classes at the college would now be impossible for Stretch. The conflict of interest could cost Edge his career as a professor. Edge had rejected him anyway; seeing him on campus would hurt too much.

The counselor, unaware of Stretch’s reason for dropping out of college in his final semester, argued for him to stay. Stretch refused. Dropping out of college seemed fitting for someone with such slothful habits. The only thing he truly regretted was running away without telling Edge how he felt. Hood pulled over his lowered head, Stretch left campus for the last time…

… and bumped into someone carrying a box full of odds and ends.

“WATCH OU- CARROT?”

“professor?”

“WHY AREN’T YOU IN CLASS?”

“i dropped out. i didn’t want you to risk your job…”

“I QUIT MY JOB,” said Edge. “I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO DROP OUT IF…”

“if?”

“IF WE STARTED DATING.”

The two skeletons stared at each other. Edge had already resigned. Stretch had already dropped out. The staring continued until Stretch broke the silence.

“soooo, boyfriends then?”

Edge let out a long-suffering sigh. “YES. BOYFRIENDS.”

READ ON AO3

DAY TWO | INDEX | DAY FOUR

[maddiethebull]

Lucifer (Obey Me!) - Prompt #7 - “May I have this dance?”

This is a repost, I deleted the other one, have fun reading!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VR-6AS0-l4 here’s some music to listen to while reading this :) Its what i listened to while writing it.

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

The Devildom New Years Ball. It was the event of the year, besides Lord Diavolo’s birthday ball, this was the most famous event they had to offer. It would be an extravagant sight to see; there would be hundreds of demons dressed to the nines, there would be elegant decor, there would be live classical musicians, everything was to make it the most amazing affair possible. You didn’t know whether you should be excited or terrified. You’ve never been to a ball, let alone a ball run and attended by demons! Needless to say, you were nervous. It did help slightly that this year’s theme was Masquerade. You wouldn’t have to worry about being instantly recognized as one of the only two humans there. It was to start at 7:00 p.m. that night and it was currently noon as you and the brothers sat down to have lunch. It was all pleasant until Lucifer leaned towards you,

“By the way, MC, I need to have a talk with you about your recent grades.”

That’s when the immediate fear set in. While you knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm you physically, whenever he had a ‘talk’ with you it always felt like a punch to the gut. After you all finished your meal, you crept your way into his office. He handed you a midterm test with a big red D (lmao i need to stop writing like this) in the corner. Oh no. You looked it over and handed it back to him, you didn’t want to see it for another second.

Lucifer spoke with an emotionless face,

“MC, you don’t apply yourself. You’re smart and you know you’re smart, but just being smart can’t take you all the way. Your grade in Ancient Texts class has dropped significantly and I can’t see any reason why it should have done so other than you lollygagging about with my brothers. I appreciate that you’re good friends with them, but manage your time. If you fail this class, think of how it would make me look? I’m in charge of helping you through your studies and if you failed it would not only make you look incompetent, but me as well.”

Sheepishly you replied, “that class is just really hard, okay? I studied for the midterm a lot but I got a D on it and I didn’t know it would drop my grade by so much.”

He looked up from your near failure of a midterm with cold eyes, “Then expect it next time. You can leave now.”

You damn near ran out of his office to go straight to your room, being yelled at by Lucifer always made you feel horrible and it didn’t help that you had such a fondness of him. Meanwhile Lucifer sat leaned back in his chair, he didn’t like being harsh on you, he didn’t like being harsh on anyone he loved, and with you, it was different than simply loving you as a sibling. He decided to apologize for his harsh words and went to make the two of you some tea as a peace offering but was stopped when he heard your voice.

“UUUGH, BEEL MOVE!”

While lost in your thoughts as you rushed to your room, you slammed into Beel in the kitchen. He looked up at you with his puppy dog face. Shit, you just yelled at him, at this sweet giant who cared so much for you and would even let you have food off of his plate if you asked nicely! ‘MC what’s wrong with you today’, you thought.  

“O-okay, I’ll move. Sorry MC.”

“Wait, Beel I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell it’s just that Lucifer was giving me a “polite talk” about my grades.”

“Oh,” His expression changed to one of pity, “in that case, I’m still sorry, but for you now.”

“Yeah, thanks, I just- I- ugh, you know, he said we’d have a talk about it but it was really him just talking to me and being as cold as the arctic… God, what a hard-ass.” Your feelings were flowing right out of your mouth as Beel stood listening and munching on some bread. Midway through your rant, Asmo walked in,

“Hey, MC! It’s already almost 2:00 so let’s get ready alreadyyyyy.”

You walked off with Asmo, feeling much better from talking to Beel – well, ranting to Beel. Pretty much all he did was eat bread and nod. You and Asmo got ready and to calm yourself fully, you took a hot bath with rose petals. After got out, Asmo helped pick out a dress to wear, it was a beautiful deep emerald colored silk gown with a mock turtleneck and a large diamond shaped cut-out on the back. It hugged your body perfectly and made you feel much better seeing yourself like this. Hmph, I’ll make Lucifer regret being mean to me when I show up looking like a damn movie-star, you thought as you finished off your look with bright red lipstick. Then, what Beel had said while you were letting off steam came to your mind.

~ “I almost did the same thing, but when I asked for help, he didn’t have a second thought and guided me through it, you know. And, MC, I know you’re mad and all and he’s a harsh person and… all, but I know that he cares a lot. He cares about all of us.” ~

You sighed, ‘I know he does.’

After you finished getting dressed, you helped Mammon and Levi put their ties on and told Levi that no, he could not wear a Goku mask to the ball, helped Satan choose which tuxedo coat he should wear, and practically forced Belphie and Beel into theirs. Lucifer had already left for Diavlo’s castle to help finish preparing. You grabbed your black mask, embellished with emeralds surrounding the eyes in a playful pattern, some lace, and a couple black feathers above the left eye and headed for the ball.

Once you got there, your nightmare scenario played out. You were swarmed with demons because, it turns out, they did notice you were a human.

“Why are you lookin’ so uncomfortable?” asked Mammon.

“Because I couldn’t be Goku…”

“Shuddup Levi! I was talkin’ to MC.”

You replied, “I thought that since it was a masquerade the demons wouldn’t be able to tell that I was human and I wouldn’t have to deal with the endless questions about the human world and the endless flirting from the succubi and incubi.”

“MC, they can SMELL you.”

Your face scrunched, “Mammon, ew! You didn’t have to say it like that!”

“Yeah,” said Levi, “you’re making us sound like some creepy ass shinigami lolololol.”

You three laughed loudly enough to catch Lucifer’s attention from across the ballroom. He hadn’t gotten the chance to go over and speak to you since he was making bland conversation with another high ranked demon, but when he saw how you looked, oh gosh… He didn’t have the strength to take his eyes off of you. The way you laughed so brilliantly, the light sparkling on you through the crystals of the chandelier, that cut-out on the back of your dress which exposed nearly your entire back. All he saw in this crowded room was you. The romantic music playing only heightened his desire to stride right over to you and sweep you off your feet, and that’s just what he set out to do,

“Excuse me,” he said to the demon he was speaking with and walked off in your direction. Just as he did that, the music began to speed up to a more jovial tune and those on the dance floor moved with it. He spent a good five minutes navigating through the sea of waltzing demonfolk and when he reached the other side, you were nowhere to be seen.

You stood in the garden looking at the Devildom night sky. You looked at the stars, they seemed to shine brighter down here. Thoughts ran around in your head, thoughts of home, thoughts of here, each of the brothers appeared in your mind. You loved them. When the word family came up, you thought about them, except for one, Lucifer. ‘Lucifer,’ you thought, ‘I wish I could know what you’re really like.’ The faint smell of lilac swirled from the blossoming flowers laid out by the gazebo to envelop you in its sweet scent. Your hair, done up in an elegant low bun with perfectly curled pieces dropping on the side of your face, was brushed by the wind. Walking out to the garden to get some air and clear his mind of you, Lucifer exited the ballroom and saw you standing there. Unknowingly his whole expression softened. He came up to you,

“Good evening, MC. I see that I’m not the only one in need of the solace this quiet garden provides.” You were torn from your thoughts,

“Hey Lucifer,” you said, mustering up a faint and fading smile.

His eyes trailed to your lips, “Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t mind.”

With the lack of conversation, the melody of leaves swaying in the wind filled your ears. Lucifer stood beside you, resting his elbows on the white marble balusters. He had to think of a way to break the icy barrier of his words earlier that day.

He cleared his throat,

“You know, Diavlo is a very professional demon, he’s smart and well organised, so nothing could have prepared me for hearing him shout “I love balls” when we were planning this event.

You burst into laughter, “wow, I didn’t peg you as the type to tell such raunchy jokes.”

With an impish smile he said, “I may be a “hard-ass” and “as cold as the arctic”, but I hold a jocose side occasionally,” He kept his eyes lightly focused on the lilac surrounding you two.

“Oh, you heard that then… I’m sorry Lucifer, I was angry and I shouldn’t have said those things, I mean, you just want me to try harder and-”

“No need to be sorry I’m well aware that they hold a certain amount of truth.” His smile faded. He looked up at you then back to the flowers, “though I would like it if, every once in a while, that I could be seen as my other qualities.”

You had no idea how to reply. You wanted to tell him that you did, but did you? Only a couple of hours ago you were insulting him. His red eyes, burning with emotion, shot up to yours, seeming to whisper to you, ‘please, don’t let the way I feel be a mistake.’

“Hm, sometimes I say too much, don’t I?”

You chuckled, “that we can agree on.”

Now he was laughing, you wished you could never stop seeing that.

“I want to say something else, or rather, ask something else. Do you suppose i should?”

You mirrored his impish smile from earlier, “Sure, why not?”

He stepped back, the Avatar of Pride bowed before you, hand held out, solemnly looking into your eyes and asking,

“May I have this dance?”

You felt the blush rise to your cheeks like a rose blooming in the spring.

“I can’t very well say no to that offer can I?”

He laughed, “of course not.”

You gladly grabbed his hand and he pulled you in. To the faint piano melody coming from the castle you began to dance inside the white marble gazebo. You moved together, swayed together, breathed together. It was romantic, it was extravagant, it was beautiful. The gentle breeze brushing against your cheeks, flowing its way to sway in his dark black hair. You could hardly believe this was happening, but you never wanted this dream-like dance to end. As far as either of you knew, the dance lasted for hours under the night sky with the moon and stars that seemingly cheered you on. You were together until everyone had gone home from the ball, but neither of you could care less. This moment was to be immortalized in your memories forever.

—————————————————————————————————-

Well, this is long as fuck sorry lmao

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Two

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers

Warnings: Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage

A/N: AHHH! Thank you all so much for the love! I was so nervous (still am!) to post that chapter, but I’m so proud of it. This chapter, while still important, is kinda filler. Chapter 3 gets CRAZY. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future! Thank you as always, let me know what you think! :)

Taglist:  @iheartsebastianstan​

Everything hurt the next morning. Everything.

Here you were again, 5:15 am and putting on your standard issue outfit. As you pull on the black tactical pants, you can’t help but realize just how much running in these things irritated your skin. “Screw it.” You mutter to yourself.

Tugging them back off, you opt for some black workout leggings, which in your mind make much more sense to workout in.

The hallway is quiet, as it should be at this unholy hour. You lollygag through the corridors, in no particular rush to see Bucky this morning. You’re about to reach the elevator, when the door to you left swings open.

“Shit!” You curse.

Sergeant Barnes was stood there, his hair shaggy and damp, smelling like he just showered. He was in a black T-shirt, his tac pants and black boots.

And wow did he smell good. Like burning cedar and musk.

“Sorry about that, you just—you scared me.” You say breathless. “G’Morning, Sergeant.”

That’s when you realize this is the first time you’d seen it; his metal arm. You catch a glimpse of it as he’s pulling his jacket on. He sees you eye it subtly, like he’s waiting for your face to give him a reaction. It doesn’t bother you, or make you uncomfortable like he assumed it would.

“What are you wearing?” He asks suddenly with a gravely, just-woke-up tone.

Your face is puzzled for a moment before you realize what he means. “Oh, I just thought since I’d probably be doing more running and working out today, I’d wear the proper attire.”

Bucky swallows thickly, and his eyes quickly look at you legging clad legs. “That’s not your uniform, Cadet.” He said quietly.

Seriously? He’s already starting?

You sigh, “If you’d like me to change, Sergeant I—“

“No,” he cuts you off, “you’d just waste more of my time. Let’s go.”

You stepped into the elevator with him. “Kitchen.” He spoke as the doors closed.

“Kitchen level confirmed.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke.

You carefully look over at Bucky. His hands were shoved in his pockets. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing through his nose.

“Kitchen?” You ask curiously.

He nods, “You need to eat. Fuel up after yesterday so maybe today we can do more.”

You smile softly, “Sounds good.”

When you get to the kitchen, Bucky takes a seat one of the bar stools.

His eyes, even in this dim lighting, were gorgeous as they watched you move through the kitchen. His breathing was irregular as he shifted every few moments in his seat.

“You’re not eating?” You ask.

Your question seems to break him from his trance. “No. Go on, I’ll wait for you.” He says calmly.

He was being strangely...kind? Or at least it seemed like he was trying to be. It was nice; refreshing even.

After searching for the quickest thing you can find, you settle on brown sugar oatmeal. You sliced up some banana and added it for some pizzazz.

Despite what Sergeant Barnes said, you made enough for two. Taking a seat at the end opposite him, you slide the bowl across the counter. He caught it instantly with his metal hand.

He look at you momentarily before scooping up a bite for himself. He nods, “Thank you.”

“No problem, Sarge.”

The way you looked in those leggings made Bucky’s knees turn to jelly. It took all of his focus to control himself when he caught a whiff of your scent; like a garden after a rain storm.

He knew he pushed you yesterday, and he regretted it. He watched as your hips swayed through the kitchen, but also how you tried to hide the soreness of you muscles and skin. Bucky’s attraction to you was scaring him. He hadn’t looked at a woman—really looked, in decades. Hell, maybe even half a century.

He imagined how soft your skin would feel against his, and how your smell would linger on his bed sheets. He longed for it, craved it. The more he imagined it, the more difficult it became to hide his...excitement.

Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head. He needed to focus. Besides, he was dangerous and you were his assignment.

“What’s on the agenda today?” You ask him.

Bucky licks his lips, going for another bite of oatmeal. “Strength and conditioning—squats and bench presses. We’ll see what else we have time for.”

You nod. “See? Told you the leggings were a good idea!” You say confidently.

Bucky lets out a breath of laughter. “Yeah, Yeah. Let’s go, Cadet.”

He trails you as you head for the gym. He watches as you take look at the morning’s sunrise, practically bathing in its glow.

In that moment, Bucky decides whatever he has to do to keep you safe, he’d do. Even if it means making you hate him.

Weeks into training and you’re amazing what muscle memory can do. You’ve become stronger than you’d ever been. Benching your weight, plus some.

With Bucky’s help, you’ve successfully remastered ballistics, specifically pistols. Your aim is perfect and your speed is better, though Sergeant Barnes would disagree.

“Why don’t you give actually trying a shot?” Bucky orders, already annoyed.

You scoff, “Are you blind? That’s a millimeter off top dead center!”

Defending yourself had become a regular practice with him. At first you were subordinate—damn near obedient. You thought you were making some progress together. After that second morning you spent with him, he seemed to actually care out you.

But as time when on, Bucky reverted to his old self. No matter how respectful you intended to be, at this point you thought he deserved some of his own medicine.

“No, I’m not blind. Which is why I see your imperfections,” He says casually, taking the pistol from you hand.

You shake your head in disbelief, “What is your problem?” You shout.

“My problem is everyday I spend with you, you get more and more mouthy. I am you CO, Cadet Monroe. Don’t forget that.”

You’re stunned at his hypocrisy. “Yeah well I don’t see anyone else getting berated everyday. Just me. Why is that, Sergeant?”

Bucky doesn’t answer you as he removed the clip from the pistols, disassembling them on the table.

You cross your arms defensively. “Nothing I do will ever be to your satisfaction, will it?”

“Incompetence isn’t something to be proud of.” He says without looking at you.

A pit opens in your stomach. “Screw you, Barnes.” You push past him.

“Right there, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He says angrily.

You turn and look at him “Forgive me if I feel like I have to defend my every move!” You shout, reaching your breaking point. “I do everything you ask and I do it well, and you still treat me like garbage!”

His eyes are not leaving yours. They look gentle, almost apologetic. “You done?” He says softly.

You let out a defeated sigh, “Yeah. Guess I am.”

The two of you had been butting heads more than usual. The more confident you got, the more he tried to take you down a peg.

You wanted to scream—to cry out of frustration. But you know how much he’d enjoy seeing you come undone. “Anything else today, Sarge?” You ask flatly.

Bucky’s eyes search your face quickly, before he turns away again. “No. You’re dismissed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You push the double doors heading for the exit and release a breathe you’d been holding in much longer than you thought.

You used to look forward to seeing Sergeant Barnes. Despite how he treats you, something about him is magnetic. The way he looks at you makes your heart do backflips. You’d hope by improving, you’d impress him and earn a bit of praise.

You were wrong.

Lately, taking a walk seems to be the best part of your day. The dock jetting off the lake was your favorite place. You could sit on the edge of it for hours, just thinking. Remembering who you used to be and who you are now, and just how far you’ve come—despite what that arrogant asshole thinks.

“Am I interrupting?” A strong voice asks from behind you.

You spin around and see Steve, standing still in his uniform.

“Hey!” You greet happily, “Of course not, you just get back?”

He nods, “Yeah, saw you here from the jet and figured I’d come say hi.”

You smiled, Steve has been the best friend you’ve ever had. No judgement, no secrets, just true friendship.

“How’s training going? You doing okay?” He asks, putting his shield down and taking a seat next to you.

You shrug, “It’s uh, it’s going.”

Steve looks at you curiously, “That doesn’t exactly sound promising.”

A small laugh escapes your lips, “I think I’m doing great. Your pal Bucky doesn’t seem to agree.”

At that moment you look over Steve’s shoulder and see none other than Sergeant Barnes standing under the Maple tree about 100 yard away. He was watching you, and more so—he watching Steve.

Steve notices, and turns to see what’s caught your eye. He spots Bucky, and gives him a friendly nod. “Take Bucky with a grain of salt, Ella. He’s—and not that I enjoy making excuses for him, but he’s still adjusting to all of this. Hell, we all are.”

You nod. There’s no point in telling Steve just how much of a dick Bucky has been. That’s his best friend, and you’re a big girl, you could handle Sergeant Barnes by yourself. “I’m just not used to his...methods.”

Steve chuckles, “I know he’s tough, but I’d be willing to bet you’re tougher. Give him all the hell you want, Ella.”

Footsteps echo off the wooden dock, and you look to see Bucky approaching the two of you. “Hey, Punk.” He said embracing Steve in a hug.

“How you doing, Buck?” Steve asks.

Bucky smiles as they converse with ease. You scoff, you didn’t think that he knew how to smile. It’s so genuine and warm...almost kind. You’d never seen him smile like that before; especially not towards you.

“So how’s my gal doing?” Steve asks gesturing to you.

Bucky’s smile faltered, and his jaw clenched at Steves question. “She’s getting by.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Yeah Cap, ask your buddy here what he thinks about my ballistics training...”

Steve turns to Bucky, “You’re doing ballistics already?”

Bucky nods.

Steve turns back to you, “You must be doing amazing if you’re skipping combat lessons already.”

“I thought we’d save that for when she was more coordinated.” Bucky states simply.

You scoff, “So you’d trust me with a gun in my hands rather than training me to fight?”

Bucky’s eyes meet yours, but he’s silent. “She’s got a point, Buck.” Steve says slyly.

“Fine,” Bucky says, still looking at you. “Tomorrow morning. Training center, 5 AM.” He’s attempting to hide his reluctance, but he’s not doing so well.

“I’ll talk to you later, Pal.” Bucky says to Cap before turning and walking away from the two of you. Steve lets out a deep sigh, as he leans against the post.

You grab the sleeves of your top and pull them over your fingers, retreating within yourself a bit. “Have you told him yet? About—about me? Maybe that’s why he so, well for lack of a better word, mean to me.” You ask Steve.

Cap shakes his head, “No,” he strokes your arm, “No, that’s not my story to tell.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “I know, I’m just...I’m not sure I’m ready for people to know my past. Not yet.”

Steve gives a sympathetic look. “You’re not the only one with a past, Ella. Don’t put that kinda pressure on yourself,”

You nod, feeling your eyes prickle with tears.

Cap notices instantly. “Dinner?” He asks kindly.

You force a smile, “Captain America can cook?”

He chuckles, “Definitely not. But I can order takeout—one of my many skills.”

As you and Steve head back to the compound, you couldn’t help but shake the feeling you were being watched.

Bucky hid among the tree line as he watched you with Steve. He saw your smile, and couldn’t help but wish he could make you smile, just once. He saw how relaxed you were with him, and he realized he’d never, ever seen you without your guard up.

Bucky hated this. He hated himself for everything he’s putting you through, and even though he keeps reminding himself it’s a necessity, if he’s completely honest, he’s starting not to care.

But seeing you with Steve...he makes you happy. Happier than Bucky ever could. And Steve, Steve looks happy. The way his eyes light up when he sees you, or talks to you. He cares for you, that much is clear.

Bucky needed to distance himself. To maintain this façade of disliking you, all for the sake of his friend. If Steve cared for you, even half as much as Bucky does, then he knows you’ll be in good hands.

When Bucky got back to the compound that night, he headed straight for his room. His appetite seemingly disappeared after he saw you with Steve.

Bucky reaches his floor, with the intention of going straight to bed, but then he hears it.

A laugh. Your laugh. A melodious happiness echoing off the walls from just down the hall. He follows the sound without hesitation until he reached a door only a few yards from his own.

It’s cracked open just enough to see you there, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, Steve sat mere inches from you. Your hair is down, locks framing your face perfectly. Bucky sees you in sweats and a sports bra, and can’t stop the twitch that occurs below his stomach.

You’re smiling, relaxed, happy. In this moment, Bucky realized he’s never even heard you laugh. If that was the last sound he heard in his whole God damn life, he’d die a happy man.

He also realized that for the first time in his life, he’s felt a pain worse than anything HYDRA ever put him through; heartbreak.

Chapter Three: Hurt

[thevengeanceuniverse]

Touch in the Dark Ch 2.2(Tony)

Tony helped Sarah make dinner that night, deciding on a simple but filling cacio e pepe with a nice wine accompaniment. He used his mamma’s pasta maker to start from scratch and let memories of her teaching him how to use it wash over him. Sarah was wonderful and took good care of him and Peter but it still ached to think about his mamma. She would have loved the warmth of the Rogers household, loved sharing recipes and gossip with Sarah in the kitchen, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls. She was the one who would pull him to dance with her in the kitchen, twirling around to the sounds of the radio. He missed the lightness of her spirit that was so visibly absent by the time of her death. He hoped Howard rotted in hell for the abuse that he had put his mamma through.

Pushing away the dark turn in his thoughts, Tony relaxed into the lull of working with his hands, letting it sooth him. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to his recent meeting with the Russian mob lord. He was worried about how to bring up the meeting with James to Steve, about the deal they had struck. His lover was so protective that he might outright reject the idea, but Tony knew that he couldn’t live with always needing to be protected. He knew what he was signing up for when he decided to keep living with Steve, work with him and love him. But Tony was still terrified. Howard may not have been his biological father but nurture was half of the equation. What if he ended up like the abusive bastard, crossing a line he couldn’t come back from?

He thought back to the things James had described. Killing Howard had been quick, one shot to the head and he was dead. Killing someone with a knife…drawing it across their neck and feeling the blood pour hot and wet over his hand…Tony felt his stomach lurch. God, what had he gotten himself into?

“Tony?” The sound of his brother’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Turning around, he moved to take 9-year old Peter into his arms.

“Hello, dear one. Did you finish reading your book?” Tony murmured into his hair in Italian.

Peter peeked up, eyes shining with excitement. “Yea! Oh, it was so fun, there was this pirate and his best mate and they sailed all around the ocean saving people from an evil king who wanted to rule over everyone! And there was this girl and everyone thought she was a spoiled princess but she was really an assassin and she ended up being the one to end the king and save everyone!”

“That does sound fun, cucciolo.” Tony leaned down and tickled his little brother’s sides. “Maybe one day you’ll run off and sail the seas, huh? And leave your poor brother all alone here?”

Peter screeched and wiggled to get away. “No! I pro-pro-promise I won’t leeeeave! Stoooooop!” He dissolved into giggles.

Tony kept going mercilessly, loving the look of joy in his brother’s face. He had filled out more and had lost that pinched look of worry that had been there when they were living with Howard. Being in the Rogers' household with lots of love and food from Sarah had been good for him. For both of them.

“What in the world is going on here?” Speak of the devil, there stood Sarah with her arms propped on her hips, and an incredulous look on her face. She faked a stern look towards Peter. “I thought I sent you to get the dishes to set the table, young man. And here I catch you playing?”

“N-no! It’s not m-my faaaaault!” Peter gasped helplessly. “Tony’s torturing me Auntie b-b-because he thinks I’ll run off and be a pirate!” At his name, Tony eased up, causing Peter to sag in relief.

Sarah chuckled, eyes shining at the two boys. “Well, come on then, stop lollygagging. Grab the plates, little Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Peter saluted her before scurrying off and Tony exchanged a fond glance with Sarah over the boy’s dramatics.

The rest of dinner was reasonably calmer, Sarah and Steve asking Peter about any new friends in school and his lessons while Tony watched, feeling reflective and content. He did steal a glance here and there at Steve, but when the man raised a brow in question he merely shook his head and smiled.

After dinner, Tony and Steve made their way to the study on the first floor. They spent the time after dinner together, a private moment to just talk or dance to one of the records housed in the study or even just to cuddle. Whatever it was, Steve had made sure that any business he had didn’t cut into his personal time with Tony.

Tony settled on the couch, making himself comfortable as he thought of how to bring up his conversation with James.

Steve settled next to him, leaving a foot of distance between them so he could brace himself against the arm of the couch. His blue eyes were warm but assessing when they regarded Tony.

“You’ve been really quiet tonight.” Steve reached out to cup Tony’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the apple of his cheek in a light caress. Tony held the hand to his face, turning his face to press a drop a light kiss to the palm before pulling the hand down to hold on his lap.

“Do you remember when I first came here? You told me you were holding onto Howard, that you were saving him for me so that I could choose how to end his life?” Steve nodded but stayed quiet.

Tony took a deep breath. “I went to see James today.” But Steve simply nodded again. Of course he knew.

“I decided to take him up on his offer. I want to learn how to fight with a knife. I want to be able to stand beside you as an asset.” Steve didn’t bother to address that point just yet, he just sighed as he tugged Tony sideways into his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

“Are you sure?” His voice was soft. “You’ve already had a lot of violence in your life. Dealing it out is going to take a toll on you. It will make your nightmares worse, make you more paranoid about an attack, bring up a lot of dark memories even as it carves new ones into you.”

Tony leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder. He had thought about all this before going to see James but it still didn’t make the decision any easier. There was a part of him that wanted no part in hurting anyone. That remembered how even Howard’s arguably quick and merciful death had haunted Tony and wanted to let Steve continue to protect him.

But there was another part, one that he had tried to keep buried but it burned with a dark core in the pit of his stomach. It was the part of him that was angry at being hurt for so many years, the part of him that made him pick himself up after every drunken night and treat the bruises from his father’s fists. It was bitter that the people around him had just turned a blind eye to his suffering, never stepping in no matter how loud or vicious Howard had gotten. He had stopped waiting for someone to save him years ago, surviving only so that he could look after Peter and distract Howard from trying to take his anger out on the younger boy. That part of him was vengeful against the world and it wanted to carve out its own brand of justice.

“I don’t want to be a victim anymore, Steve.” Tony’s throat ached with anger and remembered pain. “I would rather die than be helpless again. I know that this will probably make things worse and cause more nightmares. But I need this. I need to be able to stop looking over my shoulder because I know that I have no way to defend myself. I need to have the power to take my safety in my own hands to protect myself and our family.” Tony reached up to bracket Steve’s face in his hands, letting him see the determination in his eyes. “And if that means learning to chop off the hands of anyone who wants to hurt Peter or Sarah or you, I’m going to do it.”

Steve groaned at the sharp edge in Tony’s voice before dragging him close for a desperate kiss. “You have no idea how beautiful you are when you’re vicious,” Steve whispered against his lips before leaning in to nip and suck at the lushness. The darkness in his veins growing heated, Tony clutched onto Steve just as fervently. Toppling himself back towards the cushions, he pulled at Steve’s lapels to pull him hard and heavy on top his body. Steve sank into the vee of Tony’s spread thighs, pressing against him with delicious friction. Things were quickly going out of control. They had never done anything other than kissing outside of their bedroom. Even in their home, the thought of being walked in on by Steve’s mother was too humiliating to bear.

But Tony couldn’t help it. He never expected Steve to respond like this. He had been worried that Steve would want to keep protecting him, unable to see him put himself at risk. And maybe a part of him always will, Tony didn’t delude himself, he felt the same need to protect Steve especially after nearly losing him. But this, this fevered need that seemed to delight in Tony’s desire for violence had been unprecedented. If he had known Steve would react in this hungry way that made him want to have Tony immediately, he probably would have spoken sooner. Talked about fighting and making life threats every damn day.

Steve rose a bit to pull at Tony’s shirt roughly, uncaring of buttons flying every which direction. He used his new access to his advantage, knowing how sensitive Tony was. Tony moaned at the feeling of Steve tongue on his nipples, fingers twisting and plucking the neglected one like a guitarist. He hissed at the sting when Steve bit lightly at them, then quickly soothing the hurt with his tongue. Tony started to feel fuzzy, like a wildfire was running in his blood and settling in his stomach to wind tight with anticipation and need. Steve’s mouth moved further downward, pausing just above Tony’s waistline to tease while his hands stroked his inner thighs. The strokes were firm but didn’t move closer to the spot where Tony desperately wanted to be touched and Tony whined with impatience.

“Steve, Steve,” he managed to gasp out, pulling at the short blond hairs at the nape of his neck to get his attention. “Please, I can’t wait.”

“I know, love, I know, just let me,” Steve murmured, reaching out for a small discreet drawer on the side table. He pulled out a small bottle of oil with one hand as he used the other to unbutton both their fronts.

“Come here,” he pulled at Tony’s arm, encouraging him to straddle Steve’s thighs and perch on his lap. Steve drizzled some of the oil in his hand before encircling both their members together. Tony’s breath hitched at the warm slickness, undulated his hips and fucking himself into Steve’s large hand. He was so beautiful, looking delightfully debauched with his blond hair mussed from Tony’s eager hands and lips red with Tony’s kisses. But it was the heat of Steve’s gaze on him that pushed Tony further to the edge. Overwhelmed with the feeling of being pressed tightly against each other, Steve’s firm strokes on them both, Tony threw back his head, back arching as his mind blanked out with pleasure. Spilling out into Steve’s hand, he was vaguely aware of Steve coming soon after, leaning forward to press his forehead against Tony’s chest as he choked out a muffled groan with his own release.  

Tony opened his eyes at the feeling of gentle lips on his, gazing down at a smiling and satisfied Steve. He smiled back, feeling the same satisfaction in his lax limbs. He knew their clothes were probably ruined, stained with oil and other fluids and his shirt hanging half off his body but he couldn’t find it in him to care. They’d have to sneak upstairs at some point and take a shower or at least wipe down with clean cloths but that could wait a minute. Right now, he just tugged his lover back close and they traded easy, lazy kisses, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Read more on AO3 if you want: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556382

[savage-rhi]

Sky of Atoms: Death Stranding Fanfic Ch. 5

GENE 3.0

“C’mon Dawkins, keep it up!” Gene heard one of her coworkers shout towards her as she began loading more scraps into the incinerator. Bits of cargo and packages that couldn’t be recycled had a first class ride to hell itself at Brisk HARPY. Gene was sweating like she had been trapped in a sauna for hours, minus feeling refreshed and restored after the fact. She stopped briefly, wiping off the sweat that creased into her brow before shoveling another large pile into the open flames. Gene hated it when she got recycling duty. Sure, she could do the work no problem but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Not to mention she was getting fed up with her partner Ned for not picking up the pace and leaving most of his part for Gene to take care of while the bastard was on lunch. Unfortunately for Gene, automation wasn’t accessible for this kind of work at Brisk HARPY. 

Gene recalled the UCA making up some sort of excuse, couldn’t risk putting expensive equipment out in the West yet due to the high amount of colonies and drifters who could potentially steal it all. That’s why it was important to keep getting more groups to join the cause, so people would have access to technology that was very much limited to the East Coast.

Gene was beginning to have a groove going on regardless of how much she hated this part of the job. The trap like beat playing above the speakers in the incinerator chambers kept her moving. This genre of music was old, but her ears could stomach it compared to most crud her coworkers insisted on playing. Occasionally she whistled to the song as the lyrics would come soon joined by a small chorus of her coworkers doing the same thing as they piled more heaps of metal into the pits. It wasn’t all that bad when people actually did their job and didn’t throw it onto another.

“Dawkins!” Gene’s head rose up as she adjusted the straps of her tank top, making sure to keep the protective pads secure so the flames wouldn’t melt her clothes off. She looked up at her boss--Stark, and let out a puff.

“Yeah? I’m kind of busy here!” She said as a matter of fact before Stark gestured her for her to get a move on and meet with him in person. Gene took off her gloves, tossing them near the locker units for someone else to deal with before letting an older coworker know she wouldn’t be able to finish the job. Usually when Stark showed up, one of two things would happen: he either had a job for you, or he was about to chew your ass out. In Gene’s case, she wouldn’t be surprised if she got both handed to her.

Brisk HARPY paid good, but management could’ve been better in Gene’s eyes. Sometimes she couldn’t blame Stark for being pissed off most days. The UCA had some unrealistic expectations and deadlines for Brisk HARPY compared to the likes of Bridges and their co-partners Fragile Express. It was enough to turn anyone into an asshole twenty four seven regardless of professionalism.

“Good news Dawkins, your numbers are looking good.” Stark started off as he lead Gene into his office space, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same across from his desk.

“What’s the bad news then?” Gene asked, bracing herself as Stark raised a brow at her like she was a petulant idiot.

“Wow, you’re really pessimistic you know that? I don’t always bitch you out.”

“So I’ve been told many times, and yeah, you kinda do.” Gene said matter of fact.

“I didn’t call you to rip your asshole a new one. Not this time at least. I got another delivery job for you, its UCA top priority.” Stark said as he began messing around with his cuff link, going through some paperwork before he sent it over to Gene and then gestured for her to check it out. Gene went through the motions, fingers tapping away as she looked over the details. Occasionally, her eyes widened seeing how much red tape was in this delivery.

“What do you say, you up for it?” Stark asked, snapping Genes attention back to her boss.

“Yeah, it’s damn good pay. Long trip though. I’m gonna need to pack and need any porters heading back west to restock the safe houses to the best of their ability.”

“You know that’s not always a guarantee, but I’ll put the word out.” Stark said which Gene appreciated. Despite him being a callous jerk most times, he did have his moments where he could be understanding. Stark had been part of the porter industry ever since it first got started. Once upon a time, he was running around much like Gene was, trying to make people’s lives easier delivering goods and getting paid handsomely. The years of endurance could visibly be seen on him along with the hardships he endured. Despite being in his late fifties, he was in good shape save for the many scars and old bullet holes that littered his arms and face that told many stories. He had his share with death on the job lord knows how many times. Lost count, if Gene recalled correctly when Stark was pressed to answer one day by another associate. Stark was under the belief that most porters were getting too ‘cozy’ now in terms of their work, being too trusting of folks after the UCA was fully established along with the chiral network. Gene agreed with him to an extent, but he was older and a bit out with the times. Things were getting better in the world since the BTs left. He seemed stuck in the past.

“Not for nothing, but do you know what exactly I’m going to be delivering?” Gene asked curiously as Stark grunted, giving a shrug of his shoulders.

“I have no fucking clue kid,” he said and took out a cigarette, lighting it up with one of his mechanical fingers on his cybernetic right hand, giving a few puffs before continuing. “UCA sends their shit down the grape vine, you poor souls end up with what I got. Make sure you’re well prepped and don’t be getting your foot nearly hacked this time. You saw the paperwork, can’t afford the likes of MULE’s or god knows who to snatch this off of you. It’s literally my ass, whether you make it back alive or not and I’m not in the mood for the UCA to potentially charge me in the courts cause you fucked up.”

“If you don’t have that much faith in me, then why assign me the job?” Gene asked, her tone somewhat defensive as Stark once again grunted after taking a drag from his cigarette. The bitter smoke flew into Gene’s nostrils as she adjusted in the seat to avoid getting hit with the brunt of the smell.

“Because you’re the only competent porter I can think of at Brisk HARPY. Even though you’re late on delivery more so than most dumbshits here, your records a clean slate. I know you wouldn’t meddle with whatever the hell the UCA needs sent to that particular colony. You’re good at long stretches too. I estimate you being out in the field for three weeks at most unless you bump into trouble. I don’t normally say this, but take your damn time and make sure no one or anything gets near the package.” Stark gestured his cigarette at Gene almost as if it were a stick and he’d hit her upside the head if she said anything otherwise. Gene merely nodded and got up from the seat, ready to go back to the grind at the incinerator chambers.

“There anything else I need to know, Stark?” She asked.

“Yeah, on the way to the UCA client you got a couple deliveries. I’ll patch them to you on your cuff link. You should get cleaned up, get some rest and be ready to head out on the double. No lollygagging. Move your ass Dawkins.”

Gene snorted, letting out a small laugh at Stark’s jerk off streak then left the office. The first matter Gene took care of was getting some grub after working recycling for most of the day. Brisk HARPY was connected to a colony-state via underground networks and such. The facility housed up to two thousand people. A quarter working for Brisk HARPY while the others worked with the UCA or general labor. Gene liked how large the communal cafeteria was.

There were over four hundred people currently occupying the space. Some enjoying coffee and fruits grown by the nearby city, and others bullshitting about their jobs and family life. Most people came to Brisk HARPY for work, so it was interesting for Gene to see families actually living here. Many were displaced because of the terrorist acts Homo Demens carried out within the last two years. Brisk HARPY’s facility was one of the safest in the Western part of the UCA in terms of keeping terrible folks out. The place was fortified to the point where launching a bomb wouldn’t do shit to the structure or stability of the establishment. It was no wonder families were beginning to seek residence here, but that meant trying to find some way to incorporate them into the culture. Most folks in the Brisk HARPY sector had no family and had no intentions of creating one. Hell, some of her coworkers purposefully chose to work for Brisk HARPY because they wouldn’t have to be in the presence of kids in particular. Gene lost count how many folks called the children around the place crotch goblins among other unique nicknames. She was indifferent to children, not exactly maternal but understood it wasn’t the kids fault they had to live here and so Gene treated them like any normal person unlike some of her own coworkers.

Gene went through the cafeteria line, settling for some slices of bacon and a huge portion of potatoes. It had been a month since she had either. Slowly as people began to reclaim land and such, growing things like potatoes and having tech to produce genuine bacon was gaining traction. Foods that were thought to be long lost due to the Death Stranding were coming back.

A couple of the older kids living in the facility came by, high fiving Gene and greeting her as she took her tray over to a small table nearby a screen overhead that went off about the weather and the latest sightings of Homo Demen’s and MULEs. Occasionally, there would be some product placement and commercials from other carriers trying to get Brisk HARPY employees to seek greener pastures, but most folks were in it for the long haul. Good luck trying to get a lot of the geezers to quit. Gene thought to herself as she started gorging herself on the mashed potatoes. The aroma made her stomach ache as she consumed the meal. Gene hadn’t eaten in two days, so this was much needed. Sometimes working the incinerator chambers didn’t leave much time to take a break as there was a lot to melt down due to parts not being recyclable.

As another infomercial about Homo Demens came up, Gene’s mind began to wander while she ate. She thought about Higgs. He hadn’t sent word or anything for over three weeks. She was beginning to think maybe he made up the pizza request just to get her to shut up and take off. It seemed in character enough for him, though like she had told Higgs earlier, Gene was beginning to feel guilty for not returning the favor. He saved her twice. She didn’t like needing to be rescued by anyone, but the few times it happened on the job, she always made sure to pay it forward and then some. Gene felt like she cheated Higgs out of something.

“Seriously I shouldn’t give two shits.” Gene said to herself as she began scarfing down the bacon on her tray. Her mind drifting further to what happened weeks ago. Gene’s foot was healed, but her upper left eyebrow was still healing from the various punches David had given her. It still stung from time to time if she moved her eyebrows a lot. Gene was worried she had resting bitch face often due to it.

“How did he know David?” Gene said aloud to herself, recalling the strange interaction Higgs had with the Homo Demens member. Had Higgs been a terrorist before? No, the man was a bit of an ass but Gene didn’t think he had it in him. Higgs seemed to have knowledge of the porter life, so maybe he had done jobs for them. Many porters were well known for dealing under the table, especially if their main employers were not supplying a sufficient income. Some didn’t care who they worked for, so long as they got their money at the end of the day. Gene herself had done similar side gigs when it got difficult to take care of herself, but there were certain lines a porter doesn’t cross. Terrorism being a huge one.

“Hm?” Gene quirked up, seeing her cuff link was buzzing and she quickly opened up the screen. There was a new message in her inbox. She shifted through most of her junk mail, going to the new email.

Chikadee--

That foot of yours fell off yet? Time to pay your savior. Coordinates to my terminal are 30-25-351-201. Bring me nothing but the best. Extra cheesy for old time's sake. 👍🏻

“Speak of the devil,” Gene said as she shook her head, letting out a tired laugh. She wondered how Higgs managed to track her IP on the cuff link. The cuff links could work long distances, but at Brisk HARPY due to MULE’s hacking to track package routes, it was nearly impossible to break the code. Regardless of the uneasiness she felt towards Higgs, a deal was a deal. She was looking forward to getting her debt to him paid off so she could move on. Gene began to input the coordinates, noticing that the way they were encrypted guaranteed that Brisk HARPY couldn’t track it. She furrowed her brows, feeling a slight sting on the cut above her eyebrows. She rubbed it as the healing wound began to itch while trying to make out how far he was. Fortunately enough, Higgs was close enough to her UCA route. Gene could easily make her small deliveries and then pay him a visit before moving on with the top priority package. Piece of cake. Gene felt confident she had this in a bag. Now came the hard part as she shut off her inbox: what in the hell did a guy like Higgs love to drink alcohol wise? Her eyes widened slightly, feeling a bit nervous at this task. He requested alcohol, but never specified the type or brand. Same with the pizza minus the extra cheesy bit he left in the message. Gene searched her memory, recalling he said something along the lines of he would have whatever she was into. She wasn’t sure if it was some sort of power trip thing or if he was legitimately curious as to what she liked. Not to mention ordering pizza through a porter when he could have had something more expensive in exchange for saving her butt caught Gene off guard. Higgs was an odd one.

The days came and went, and Gene got done with her small deliveries save for the UCA package and Higgs’s odd request. The parcels of medicine that needed to be distributed to a nearby settlement was easy enough. Only thing that bugged Gene about that experience was the guy that worked for another small porter company trying to recruit her. The guy was like a pop up add in human form, wouldn’t shut up.

Gene had to scale a tall mountain pass to get to Higg’s base. She cursed him for it a few times, nearly falling more than she could count. Gene pat herself on the back for bringing extra security for the packages. At this point, if she hadn’t done it, the pizza Higgs wanted would be as good as gone, tumbling down some cliff and into a crevice by now with how much she lost her grip. Upon reaching the summit, Gene found herself having to climb down a ways, getting back to flat earth and about one hundred and twenty yards away, she could see the signature terminal and entry point into a facility up ahead.

When Gene arrived, she paused to get a good look at the place. It looked abandoned. There were scraps of metal and other mechanical bits scattered around. Some weird looking eyes and scarabs made from various broken parts of machinery decorated the outer part of the building, giving the ruined facility a persona of its own.

“Didn’t take the asshole for being an artist.” Gene said aloud, finding some of the weird sculptures Higgs seemingly made to be cool in their own right. He had a lot of time on his hands given how intricate and detailed some of the pieces were. She even bent down to check out one small sculpture that looked like an ankh. Gene wasn’t familiar with Egyptology, but knew enough to know what it was. She was beginning to wonder if maybe Higgs was a cultist. The few she met seemed to latch onto ancient cultures, Chinese, Egyptian, or what have you and latched onto their beliefs like it was a holy scripture.

“God I hope he’s not really like that.” Gene muttered under her breath, recalling the last time she made a delivery run for a cultist that it ended poorly. She was given a low score to Brisk HARPY because she didn’t want to hear for three hours why some spaghetti monster was going to descend from the heavens and save everybody. Stark chewed her out for it. Apparently spaghetti monster man, as Gene liked to call him, was a top paying client and he threatened to cut ties with Brisk HARPY and move to Fragile Express.  Humans were fruitcakes, the lot of them in Gene’s opinion, but said fruitcakes paid the bills.

Finally going to the terminal to deliver the goods, Gene was a little perplexed at the machinery. The tech was a little outdated, but once she figured out how to insert her key card into the system, it began to boot up. She put the pizza and the canister carrying the alcohol on a conveyor belt watching as the machinery took it behind the walls of the bunker. Gene waited patiently for Higgs to pop up and say something through the hologram projector. Nothing came of it. She raised a brow, scanning where Higgs should have been up and down. Suddenly a ringing pierced her ears, causing Gene to nearly screech as she covered them and a weird chipper voice began to speak.

“H-hey this is Peter Englert. Who is this speaking?”

What the actual fuck? Gene thought to herself as she put her hands down and looked around. Wondering if this was some kind of joke.

“You still there?” The nervous light heart voice asked once more.

“Higgs? It’s me, Gene. Your pizza and the alcohol you wanted is here. Nothing damaged.”

There was no response. No response for three minutes straight. Gene was beginning to feel odd and slowly began to walk backwards, intending on making a beeline out of the terminal area and back up the mountain and over the pass. She stopped when suddenly the door behind the terminal opened and Higgs stepped out. He was dressed casually, looking like he just stepped out of a shower given how his hair was slicked back and the scruffy beard he once had was trimmed down to almost nothing save for some little bits here and there.

Maybe I was too rough with the neanderthal comments. Gene thought then raised a brow as Higgs smiled at her. There was no malice in it, for once.

“Took a little longer than I expected. Figures with rookies.” Higgs said with a laugh as Gene tried to restrain herself from rushing up and slam dunking his face into the ground for the comment.

“You have any idea what I had to do to make sure this delivery was off the books?” Gene spat, earning an amused chuckle from Higgs.

“I’m sure it cost you an arm and a leg maybe even a foot,” he said, tone teetering on the edge of teasing as Gene realized it was an offhand comment about her foot injury from before given the sarcasm that dripped from his tongue.

“Har, har. Look I gotta run. We’re square now, so will you leave me a review, and pay my employer so I can get this show on the road?”

“Gee let me think,” Higgs rubbed his chin, looking as if he were trying to solve some great puzzle before his gaze fell back onto Gene, lips curving into a signature smirk. “No.” He said playfully.

This was going to be a hell of a night. Gene thought to herself, wondering exactly what Higgs had in store.

Tagging:  @kusooi​

[capo-cedes]

Heavy Price

INVOLVED: Freddie D’Angelo and Nicholas D’onofrio TIME FRAME: LOCATION: D’onofrio Estate; New York City, New York NOTES: Freddie and Nicholas have a little talk that leads into a huge secret being revealed, that in turn plants unknowing seeds in several gardens.

Decision… Nicholas sat for quite some time mulling over how to order the house, the empire, the city. The game of chess that was the Capo had become much harder to play in recent months. Marrying the Don's daughter and all but threatening to kill the man for touching her had meant Lollygagging over how much to trust his wife and her men was a moot point. Nicholas had to relinquish control over some aspect of his life, though it pained him to do. He sucked his teeth loudly and rose from his chair, striding over to the door with a stiff determination in his gate. He emerged from his office, and looked over at Paul where he lounged, foot thrown across the arm of the high back chair just outside his office door. "Where is Freddie? I thought I told you to bring him to me." 

 Paul lowered the New York Times he was reading and looked up at his younger brother's face. "He's on his way. You know he ain't leaving his perch outside your wife’s door without a replacement." 

 Nicholas sucked his teeth, then looked lazily at his brother. "Why didn't you replace him then?  When I say now, I actually mean yesterday. Dammit Paul!  When are you gonna learn?"

 Paul swung his leg down to the ground, folding the paper as he moved. His shoulder hunched low, feeling embracement, “My bad, I’ll go relieve him now.” 

 Freddie slowly opened the bedroom door to the room that Red so happily inhabited more so now than ever before. Being her eyes and ears had always been a serious job, but her current condition only kept him on a higher alert than usual. Not to mention other things she nor he dared to speak on. He peered into the room and there she was a picture of beauty nestled under silk sheets fast asleep, just as she had been the last 3 hours. He sighed and closed the door slowly, despite her obviously being out of harm's way and sleeping he could have left her side but then again none of those things ever moved his planted feet before. He placed his hands back in front of him and he stared at nothing in particular as he continued to stand by the door. 

 Paul sauntered through the house making a beeline but in an unhurried fashion to his brother’s bedroom. It was where you would find Freddie. Shit, it was where you could always find the man. He shook his head as the thought of having to listen to his brother bang his wife day in and out must be a mother fucker. He had to give it to the old stone face, he was a loyal motherfucker. He took the stairs with a jog, smiling broadly as he approached Tiny’s room. “Freddie my man. Nicholas really wants to see you. He told me to stay here. While you guys talk.” 

 Freddie heard footsteps and he turned to see Paul, Nicholas brother whom he assumed was the family fuck up long ago. Despite anything he heard he didn’t like the guy, he made him uneasy. He looked him up and down before he looked at the bedroom door. Looking back at Paul he nodded his head and said “she’s sleeping” in an expressionless tone, his facial expression never changing. “When she wakes up, she is going to use the bathroom. Happens every time, like clockwork. She’s going to call out for me” he told the man gazing into his eyes. “She’s going to want one of three things” he said raising three fingers at him. “To know where he is, something to drink, or something to eat” he told Paul. He clenched his teeth not wanting to leave before he walked off without another word, he moved for the stairs jogging - the faster he went the faster he could come back. “If it’s water, fill the cup up with more ICE than actual water” he told the man as he descended the steps and moved for Nicholas. This happened to be another idiot he didn’t care for, but he respected him and Red seemed to be madly in love with the guy, so he obliged. Moving for the office he sighed heavily before he knocked on the door and waited to be granted entrance. 

 Paul grinned, “yeah well it’s a pregnant thing. Making babies require rest.” He smiled, trying to make a little small talk. He almost laughed at how serious the man took his job. “I’m sure you’ll be back before she wakes and if she does,” Paul grimaced looking between the door and Freddie. “I can handle her request.” He muttered in a what the fuck tone. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back against the wall, again wondering what the fuck was wrong with the man. “I got it man. Water… Jeez” 

 Nicholas rubbed at his eyes; he needed a better right hand. But all attempts to recruit his oldest brother had failed. And all the training in the world wasn’t going to make Paul a suitable replacement for Michael. One eye popped open as the expected knock parted Nicholas silent contemplations. “Come in.” He said, getting up from his seat behind the desk, he moved over to the window and looked out at the Atlantic Ocean. 

 Freddie waited to hear Nicholas' voice before he moved into the space. “You summoned me” he said plainly as he shut the door behind them and stood in the middle of the floor. He never sat and today would be no different and he held his hands in front of him looking in the other man's direction. 

 Nicholas stared out of the window for a long moment before he answered the man. He turned to face Freddie and looked him over from head to toe before he moved over to the bar cart. He took the crystal glass from a shelf just above the cart and set it down with a clink, before pouring himself a glass of scotch. He twisted his head slightly looking back over his shoulder, “I did.” He said, finally picking up the glass. “Have a seat, Freddie. We need to talk about a few things.” Nicholas said, walking over to take his seat behind his desk glass in hand. 

 Freddie waited for the man to reply but he never did, instead he simply moved for one spot to the next and poured himself a drink. He didn’t even bother to ask if he wanted one, he didn’t expect it but assumed he would. He licked his lips hearing the instructions, he didn’t want to sit down. He waited for the man to do so first and he then moved forward, he stood behind the chair only for a moment or more. He rounded the chair and sat on the very edge now, feeling out of place and out of his comfort zone sitting here before the man. 

 Nicholas drank from his glass as Freddie took his time seating himself. Even once he was settled, he looked awkward, like a man set to dismantling a bomb, who’d never been trained to do so. Nicholas raised an eyebrow at him then lowered his glass holding it in front of him, swirling its contents as he thought. “Freddie.” He said, setting the glass down now and leaning forward in his seat. “You’re my wife’s bodyguard. Correct?” 

 Freddie looked at Nicholas he wanted so badly to react to this little show he was putting on, but he didn’t. At the man’s comment he corrected him “in our line of work I think they call them right hands” he said simply and straight to the point. He was not just a soldier of hers, matter of fact he wasn’t a soldier at all. He was her brain when she wasn’t thinking, much like the after thought she had of being this guy into their lives even more than he had been. When he wasn’t doing his husbandly duties it was, he who had picked up the pieces several dozen times; he wasn’t just a damn bodyguard. This man was really a dumb rat bastard. 

 Nicholas nodded thoughtfully, rearing back in his chair, he measured the man again. At least Freddie had an idea of who he was supposed to be. Crews were living breathing organisms, but some bosses were horse and other bees. All of it depended on the leader. However, he'd never seen a second quite like Freedie… well actually he had but not good ones. "Second?" He repeated in a flat tone. "I'm adding to your duties. I'm putting you in charge of screening the domestic staff." He said simply. Deciding against his earlier decisions. He slid open the left file cabinet in his desk and pulled out the current roaster of household employees, handing it over. "A list of my personal staff. They have been screened but feel free to rescreen them. Thank you."

 Freddie sat there; his hands clasped in his lap as he listened to the man. When he revealed what he wanted, he raised his brow showing some expression. “May I ask, why?” He asked him curiously “do you not trust the staff?” He questioned him. He never thought once that anyone in the house was capable of anything more than cooking and cleaning, he had ruled their kingdom with an iron fist on her own. And despite her detachment from her duties as both Tiny and Red, he didn’t think anyone would be so stupid to think pregnancy changed the killer reign she had. She’d soften but he knew it took nothing to make the Mercedes they knew as vicious as they all knew her to have been months in the past. He licked his lips slowly however, there was a 500-million-dollar price on her head, who wouldn’t stop at nothing to harm her. Trusted staff or not, he now had to reevaluate everything and everyone around him. Fuck. 

 Nicholas closed the draw, mind already moving on to his next task of the day. He sat back, caught off guard by the fact that Freddie was questioning him at all. Impressed. He would indulge the man’s question. Nicholas smiled, “Trust is a luxury we can little afford. Because we can’t always understand how much it would take to make someone betray us. Though I am not sure that really answers your question.” He said, turning his head lightly, he thought for a moment, “For what it’s worth, I trust my staff, but we can never be blind about these things. Or idle. I believe that you check, re-check, then start all over again. Because the parameters of that faith you put in them can always change. Most of them have been with me for years. So, I don’t really think they pose a threat, but I’m not stupid enough to leave that up to chance.” He shrugged, “Ultimately, like I said I vetted them. But one can never be too careful.”  He could have said more, but that he felt would answer the question. “I hope you understand.” 

 Freddie listened to the man as he lowered himself back down in his seat to answer his questions. Licking his lips, he turned his head at the mention of the price it took to betray someone. He looked back at Nicholas and allowed him to finish before he said “500 million dollars” he replied dropping his head a bit as he looked down at nothing in particular. “The price” he said as he looked back up at the man “for her head that is” he added. “There’s a hit out on her” he said, averting his gaze to an inanimate object on his desk. “I would say the staff are the least of our worries but for that much money the most unexpected person could be capable of anything and I don’t know who these people are” he said shaking his head. “She won’t tell me,” he added. “She did something, and it was a big something, and I wasn’t there for it which is crazy because I am always there. But she can be so damn sneaky sometimes” he said bitterly, all he wanted to do was protect her but even she managed to make that hard for people. 

 “What?” Nicholas asked the moment Freddie throughout 500 million. “Yeah, an amount like that would turn a lot of friends into enemies…” He shook his head in confusion, listening to the rest of words toppled from Freddie’s mouth. “Hold up. You’re telling me Red has a $500 million price on her head. That’s preposterous. Al, the other capo’s, no bodies mentioned a thing. Freddie, you're always there. Shit, you see more of my wife then I do. When could she have found the time to cross someone with that much doe and not set off alarms from here to the west coast?”  He was rambling, head shaking back and forth.

 “Well” Freddie said, trying to not step on the man’s toes at the moment “with all due respect, work is very important to you” he told the man simply and without leading much further into that statement. He wouldn’t know someone was trying to kill his wife because he wasn’t always around. “Why do you think she wants out?” he asked the man. “Or why she doesn’t leave the house unless she desperately has to, she’s scared but she isn't going to tell you that, me that, Al that. Whatever this is she obviously can’t come to you guys about” he said to the man. “I’ve used every resource available to try to pinpoint these guys. But I have nothing outside of the amount they are waving around for her head…” he told Nicholas. 

 Nicholas pushed back from the desk; his long legs stretched out in front of him. He heard what Freddie said, as well as, distilling his meaning. He wouldn’t begrudge the man for being his wife’s zealot. “I’m out there. A part of the underbelly of New York. That’s why this all seems odd. She’s Al’s daughter. Rather or not she tells any of us what is going on, we should have sniffed it out. Nothing and I do mean nothing moves in New York this big without the Don’s knowledge.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head against what the man was saying. In all honesty, Nicholas thought she didn’t leave the house because she was heavily pregnant. “Waving... “ He hummed. “Maybe that’s the angle. It’s someone with no real teeth waving money they don’t have. If there was a real threat of this caliber. No way in hell there wouldn’t have been an attempt made at -hell choose, our engagement party, wedding, or that over the top baby shower. Something doesn’t add up.” He was still babbling, but his face was set with an intensity that didn’t outright rule out what Freddie was saying but needed there to be another answer to the riddle. 

 “He didn’t know she killed Steven Cohen until she told him. Everything doesn’t get to Al, but I get your point. There’s no way Al couldn’t know” Freddie told him. At his theory of what could possibly be going was laid out on the table he furrowed his brows. “They could have,” he told the man, having not thought about that himself honestly. “I don’t know, for the first time… ever” he said seriously, because he didn’t really know anything. “I would suggest us going to Al about it, but a little birdie told me he’s not too happy with… you” he said clearing his throat after his comment. 

 With Freddie's words came a colder more detached thought, that however unlikely, he hoped it was not true. Yet, Al being somehow complicit with half a billion-dollar price tag on Red's head made more logical sense than anything the man had uttered. Chewing on his bottom lip as if it were a exceptional piece of tough grisel. Nicholas grunted, "l suppose." He agreed begrudgingly. He licked his lips then sat up clasping his hands in front of himself on the desk. "Love me or hate me it doesn't matter. We can't go to Al. At least not yet. You said it yourself if Al knows, he is fine with it and informing him now would only make us more vulnerable." He shook his head while tapping out and S.O.S on the desktop. His eyes focused on the monitors behind Freddie's head. "I'd still put my money on someone without teeth but…" he refocused on the man's face. "Set about rechecking the staff. Retightening the belt around here can't hurt. I need to do some digging." Now his gaze moved up toward the ceiling where his very pregnant wife lay. 

 “I can’t imagine Al knowing and being fine with it?” Freddie said back to the man, they were on two separate pages right now. Al wouldn’t do anything to betray Mercedes, would he? That wouldn’t make sense. “But Al could do something about this with a finger snap, not telling him could be a horrible mistake” Freddie said nervously. “I mean there’s a baby in the heart of all of this” he reminded him though he was sure he didn’t need to. As he redirected him as to what he wanted him to focus on he sat there quietly for a moment before he asked a very personal question “why me? Why not Paul… “ he asked him, it was his own way of reading everyone and everything involved with them. 

 Nicholas stared at the man, his own walls of indifference rising smoothly into place. "If there is a price that high on Mercedes' head and I nor Al know anything about it, his days of snapping his fingers are over." He inhaled deeply. He envied his wife her guard dog. "I know what's at stake, Freddie." Nicholas patience had ebbed, "You're here in the house outside of our bedroom day in and day out. Who better to trust with the staff? You are better suited for this task and Paul others." He stated flatly. 

 Freddie looked at Nicholas, his eyes faltered as they flexed to squint at him. Interesting. As he went on to explain to him the roles that he played, and Paul played. Licking his lips, he looked at him and said “right” he replied simply. “Easier than saying you don’t trust him, noted” he added as he got up from the chair. He grabbed the items off his desk he needed, and he turned his back to the man to leave. At this point Freddie could not assume that everyone was full of utter bullshit and considering his only real job was to protect her he’d have to do just that. And eliminate all bodies that stand in the way of him doing so or pose a threat in his gut towards her.

Nicholas tilted his head and watched as the burly man rose to his feet hurling misplaced insults that grated against his already frayed nerves. "I like people who foster independent thought. When they are properly motivated. An associate who is quick on their feet is an invaluable tool. However, I said what I said and if you want to take that meaning from this exchange then so be it. But my second in command ran half of my holdings. He hired brutes to sit outside my door and keep me safe. Oh, he was one of the last lines but not my primary. He was much too valuable to me for that." He paused and let his words take hold. "There is no more Nicholas and Tiny. We are a unit and soon everyone else is going to realize the power we have consolidated around us. Today I needed to measure out a man.  -To decide if he needed to sit just outside my wife's door or command our combined arms. And right now, that is the path Paul is on. Good day."