#judgement. like i know he said something about 'visiting' but he's rolling up his poster i can choose to believe what i want about that

[twig---verginix]

swear to god i'm just gonna stop watching the endings to shows i like. good shows need to get cancelled on cliffhangers forever

[popculturebuffet]

Watchmen Issue By Issue: Fearful Symmetry

Hello all you happy whores and policticans screaming up to save us while some asshole whispers back no, i’m jake, I review comics and animatoin and i’m continuing my yearlong look at watchmen after catching up last week

Previously on Watchmen: Dr. Manhattan reflected on his life and built himself a dope ass house. Prior to that his leaving left Laurie without a place to stay, Dan still nursed his crush on her and Shach Attack visited former Dr. Manhattan foe and current cancer victim Moloch the Glukon the retired supervillian and naturally harassed him because that’s how he rolls. Also we were introduced to pirate comic tales of the black freighter which is going to seep in every so often , epseically this issue. Yarr. 

So now we’re back where were were we have an intresting issue format wise again. This time though instead of being a device to tell the story like showing us how dr. manhattan’s brain works to understand him better after three issues of him being hauntingly and unknowably alien, this one simply has a clever art gimmick. The entire issue is a reflection of itself: the first page mimicks the last and so on. It’s an amazing gimmick and while it , as far as I can tell dosne’t really play into the story, which is a more straight instalment after last time, it does look damn impressive and I applaud gibbons and moore for having that kidn of commitment and forethought. I’ll also give you a quick panel comparison of the first three and last three to give you an idea of how this works

It’s a truly haunting bit of poetry and even if you don’t know the gimmick, the reflection begining and ending it is inspired. We’ll get to Love Shach’s downfall later. For now join me under the cut to start the issue as we take a look in the mirror and see who looks back. 

So we open with a beautiful shot as Roschach breaks into Moloch’s house.. then torments the dying old man by shoving him in a fridge and questioning him about things he dosen’t know about

What is suprising is.. he actually DOES show remorse for the first time in the comic, letting Jacobi free from his torture and apologizing. It’s clear from the following narration, which reveals Roshach, like yours truly at the time of writing this review, is running on no sleep and needs some rest to recharge. It shows while he’s a cruel, judgemental asshole... he DOES have his own warped moral code. Jury’s still out if that code icnludes eating a beach full of dicks for lady liberty but my guess is “Probably”. 

Anyways we cut to a horrifying scene of some cops, the same ones from Comedian’s murder, investgating a murder suicide of a father and his children, who he was trying to spare from the oncoming firey armageddon. Things with russia are escalating and one of the detectives notes this is only the START of horrors like this, people trying to escape before the end comes. 

So we get more of Newstand guy and Pirate Comic Kid as the two hang out with Newstand guy annoyed the fronteirsman is late. Their part in this issue is, like with issue 3, to provide a birds eye view of things: Newstand guy is still horrified about how bad are going and is annoyed the kid and others like him are sinking further into media to escape from it. And given how most people remembering the 80′s try to remmeber the awesome films and comics, much like this one, and not the horrible politics or increased racisim, I can’t say he dosen’t have a point, one that resonates as i’ve been guilty of drowning myself in escapisim to escape my issues, something I still struggle with. The world is an ugly place and sometimes it’s easier to run form it than try to face it.. and sometimes you need said escapisim to cope, sometimes you use it too much as a crutch. All depends on the day really. He also has a protestor with some pink tirangle group, whose symbol is seen, threaten to knock his head in if she dose’nt get her poster, promoting a lesbian led anti rape event. This woman is only in the comic for a few panels

As for said escapsim, tales from the black freighter continues to be dark as our hero moves corpses around, heads to see, monlogues plenty more , and grabs a fucking gull out of the sky and eats it raw. 

Then for an encore when set about by sharks on his raft SKEWERS ONE IN THE FUCKING BRAIN and uses it’s death throws to keep himself adrift. Holy shit that’s badass. It has nothing to add to the plot other than symboliism but it still earns it’s keep. I’ll also go ahead and cover the suplemental this time: it’s simply an article on tales rich history, how in this unvierse the courts didn’t try and screw comics over with a comics code of authority and instead sided with it and as such EC comics not only surivived but is the main publisher of the pirate boom that insued. It’s not nearly as deep or intresting as the last two, but it is a bit of fun and a nice look into this universe if nothing else. 

Anyways as you can tel li’m covering most of the plots on their own as their more isolated this time: they don’t really crash into each other so it’s simply easier, at least for this one issue. Picking up with laurie her situation is...

Since the goverment took all her money and being homeless is STILL better than being with her mother. So Dan offers her a place and deals with his crush on her. That’s about it for them but the first scene is neat since it’s against a mirror and we see the diaouge often in reflectoin. It was kind of confusing to follow but I admire the artistry. 

We also get some extended focus on Adrian for once, as he deals with the toy company wanting some villians for his line.. then an assasian who he beats effortlessly but seemingly fails to save from killing himself. This WILL be important later, but for now it’s just a funa ction scnee and his respponse “Tell them to cancel the villian line.. I have no enemies” is just pure badass. 

The Bulk of the issue though is Roschach getting ready, unaware he’s watched, and general stuff. The above scene though does prove his theory and Moloch seems ready to talk giving him a note to meet him at a prescise time at his place depsite you know, being terrified of the guy

Turns out the how is that Adrian mystery conspirator man left a tip with the police he’d be there and killed moloch ahead of time to lure him out. What follows is a tense and awesome fight scene as Rorschach makes his last stand against the police including lighting one on fire and facing them down... granted alan dosen’t want you to forget this a dumbass so his move is causing a fire.. that forces him otu of the building and into the waiting cops instead of trying to find any other exit. 

The actual arrest though is horrifying, with his face, the homeless doom man I didn’t attempt to hide was Rorshach (whose actually not homeless... my bad), just in pure horror as he SCREAMS to give back his face and put the mask back on.. while the police don’t care who he is. They just got him. 

Final Thoughts; This issue is the weakest so far.. which is to say it’s still gripping, enjoyable and the gimmick is utterly masterful. IT’s not a BAD issue.. it’s just slightly weaker. It feels more like stuff happening to advance the plot than the gripping character stuff we’ve been getting. NOthing really NEW happens other than adrian’s badassery: We’ve seen Roshach rant, Dan have a massive crush on laurie she fails to notice, evne newstand man. We’ve seen most of it before. It’s the standout bits though that remind us we’re in a masterpiece: the final fight with roschach, the symetrical setup, and tales of the black freighter being utterly engaging despite having nothing to do with the plot but foreshadow it. Overall a perfectly servicable issue just one that has the misforutne of coming between two far more unqiue issues.See you next month 

[kasienda]

The Five Minute Adventures of Snake Noir: Ch 5 - Unwanted Revelations

Chapter 1: I Want It To Be You

Chapter 2: Best Friends

Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans

Chapter 4: A Thank You

Chapter 5: Unwanted Revelations

“You okay, dude?” Nino asked. They were sitting on his bed, watching an anime, but Adrien had no idea what was happening in the current episode. 

Adrien’s head shot up from where his cheek had been pressed into his propped up knee.

“Yeah, of course,” Adrien said. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Nino frowned, and paused the show. “You’ve just been quiet tonight. 

“I’m just tired,” Adrien said, which was mostly true. “The photo shoot this morning went seven ways to hell after it was disrupted by that akuma.” 

“That akuma sucked!” Nino said.

Adrien nodded in agreement. It had taken Ladybug, Chat Noir, and five temp heroes (Carapace included) hours to deal with. “And once it was cleared up, father insisted the shoot continue even though we had already lost our lighting. Then afterwards he lectured me for an hour about not being professional enough because none of the shots came out to his satisfaction.”

Adrien trailed off, noticing that Nino had his lips pressed tightly closed. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Adrien said. 

Which had been the wrong thing to say. Adrien knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“Not that big a deal?!” Nino repeated. “Dude, he runs you ragged, doesn’t let you have any fun, puts you in situations where it is literally impossible to succeed, and then he yells at you when you fail.”

“He doesn’t yell,” Adrien defended.

“I don’t know why you defend him!”

Adrien shrugged. “He’s my father.” 

“Is he? Seems more like he’s your boss.” 

Adrien sagged on the floor, and Nino wilted a second later. 

“I’m sorry, dude. I don’t mean to make you feel worse. He just… makes me so angry!”

Adrien smiled then. “It feels good to have you on my side.” 

“How would you feel about me borrowing the Snake?” Nino asked, casually. 

Read on Ao3

Adrien started, sitting up straight. “What?!” 

“I mean, I just want to punch him in the face. Just once, dude, I swear. But I’d prefer not to get thrown in jail with my future career destroyed because your old man is vengeful.” 

Adrien burst out laughing. “I’d pay to see it actually.” 

Nino smiled and bumped his shoulder into Adrien’s. Adrien’s laughter died down, but his smile remained. 

But Nino looked solemn. Adrien frowned and leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

Nino smiled. “Yeah, I was just thinking. Have you ever thought about using the Snake to confront your father?”

“No,” Adrien admitted. “I am trying not to use it for selfish reasons.”

Nino rolled his eyes.

“What would I even say to him?” Adrien cleared his throat. “Hello Father! I bend over backwards to meet your expectations, but they’re impossible to reach. I want you to show me the same respect you expect me to show you.” Adrien shook his head. “What would be the point? He won’t remember, so nothing will change.”

Nino stared at a Jagged Stone poster across the room. “I just… wonder sometimes if he even knows how much he’s hurt you. Confronting him might tell you that.” 

Adrien was silent for a long time. 

���Dri?” 

Adrien looked up at Nino’s concerned gaze, and then turned away again. “I just…” Adrien said. “What if the answer is he does know? And… doesn’t care?”

Nino wrapped him in a hug at that moment, and Adrien let his cheek fall onto Nino’s shoulder. 

It had been easy to visit Nino and Marinette with the Snake Miraculous. Adrien knew that they cared about him. In fact, he had known they had cared about him on both sides of his mask. If anything, he had underestimated how much affection and love they held for him. So he hadn’t been afraid of anything that might come out in a conversation with them that they couldn’t remember. He knew he’d still hold them in the highest regard. 

But with his father, if he learned something he didn’t like - that his father didn’t care about him, rather than was just abrasive and uncomfortable with feelings and affection - Adrien didn’t know if he would be able to keep up the song and dance routine required to keep his father happy. Adrien wanted to keep what little freedoms he had managed to squirrel away. He couldn’t stand it if they were taken away. He was terrified he wouldn’t survive it.

On some days, he knew he was too close to not almost wanting to survive it. 

It was too easy to throw himself in front of an akuma’s blast, too easy to picture his own bubbling cataclysm floating towards his chest without concern.

But things had gotten better, were continuing to get better. Thanks to Nino mostly, and to Ladybug, too. 

“Have you ever used the snake with anyone besides me?” Nino asked, interrupting Adrien’s thoughts.

Adrien didn’t want to mention Marinette. He knew Marinette wouldn’t have minded, and Nino would have listened without judgement. But it felt weird to tell Nino something about Marinette that she herself didn’t remember.

“Ladybug picked me to use the snake against Desperada,” he confided instead.  

“You’re Viperion, too?!”

Adrien winced. “No, I was Aspik, but… it didn’t go well, and I eventually gave it up, and she selected someone else to be the snake. That person is Viperion.” 

Nino looked at him suspiciously. “How long did you stay in the loop before you gave up?” 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Umm… like three months?” 

Nino bolted to his feet. “Months?! Dude! You need to stop torturing yourself!” 

“I just… wanted to impress her as myself. She’s already said no to Chat Noir. I was hoping… that being Adrien was a…” 

“Second chance?” Nino filled in sarcastically. 

Adrien grinned. “Exactly! But… she needed a temp hero in the first place because the two of us weren’t enough. So… I had to give it back, and tell her to find someone else. I feared that Adrien was only a disappointment to her.” 

“You tried for months! What more could she ask of you than that?” Nino pursed his lips. “Like how many loops is that?”

“25,912.” 

Nino’s eyes widened, and he just stared at him until Adrien had to look away. 

“Didn’t you lose count?” 

Adrien shook his head. “The snake doesn’t let you forget the number. You know every time what loop you’re on.”

Nino was really solemn after that. “I think that power is the scariest of them all,” he said quietly. 

“Scarier than the power of destruction?” Adrien teased, trying to lighten the mood again. 

“Yes,” Nino said seriously, not taking the hint.

Adrien sighed. “What was the hardest akuma for you as Carapace?” 

“As Carapace?! I was fighting Anansi as Nino while you were caught in some spider web! That was terrifying.” 

“You were a natural with the baton,” Adrien said. 

Nino ducked his head down - trying to hide a blush.

“I was really threatened by it at the time,” Adrien admitted. 

Nino’s gaze snapped back up. “Threatened?! By me?”

“I… It felt like Ladybug was trying to replace me.” 

Nino shook his head. “She was trying to save you, dude!”

“It kinda feels like she’s trying to replace me now, too.” 

Nino frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“She told someone else her identity. And yeah, she explained why she couldn’t tell me so it’s easier to accept now. But Nino, I’ve been sidelined so many times recently. Rena Rouge removed me from the battlefield when Style Queen attacked. I was so far away that by the time I got back…” he trailed off, his brain spiraling rapidly.

“Dude?” 

“Rena Rouge told me not to interfere with SentiBubbler, too.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to push you aside like that. Alya loves you both as heroes. You should hear her fangirl about working with both of you.” 

But Adrien wasn’t hearing Nino anymore. Rena Rouge knew a lot - more than any of the other temp heroes. She had made plans with Ladybug before Ladybug had even shown up. 

Rena Rouge was the one that knew Ladybug’s identity. 

But Rena Rouge was Alya.

Ladybug had said she told her best friend in her civilian life.

That meant… 

Adrien couldn’t breathe. 

“Adrien? What’s wrong?” Nino asked, urgently.

But Adrien couldn’t answer. All he felt was horror and dread writhing sickenly in his gut. This was knowledge he wasn’t supposed to know. 

He was the one person that wasn’t supposed to know.

But it fit and he couldn’t unknow it. Marinette had… she had burst into tears upon learning his identity just like Ladybug. She had ranted and railed in anger that Ladybug hadn’t realized how hurt her partner had been by her actions. She hadn’t been angry with Ladybug - she had been angry with herself. And then, she had erased her own memory when he had hesitated because they weren’t supposed to know. 

He was going to throw up. 

“Dude! Talk to me!” Nino begged, tapping either one of Adrien’s cheeks.

Adrien turned toward his friend, but his eyes looked past him, remaining unfocused. 

“Plagg! Sass! Help!” Nino called.

The kwamis flew into his line of sight, and conversed together briefly. Adrien heard none of it.  

His body was trembling - shaking so hard it was amazing he hadn’t fallen off the edge of Nino’s bed. Though that might have had to do with the hand clamped painfully onto his shoulder bracing him from tipping over. Hot tears fell from his cheeks and his chest burned. He clawed for air that refused to come.

“Kid,” Plagg called. “Slow down. You’re okay. Nothing’s happened yet.”

“I-I’m n-n-not supposed t-t-to know,” Adrien managed to get out between the body quakes. He had always wanted to know. And Marinette, she was amazing! She always had been. He wanted to be ecstatic at the revelation. “I don’t w-w-w-want to destroy the world.”

Ladybug had said the moon was in pieces.

“And if you get akumatized right now over it, it will be a self fulfilling prophecy!” Plagg snapped. “Now breathe properly already!” 

“Dude!” Nino chastised. “That’s not how you calm someone down during a panic attack.”

“I’d like to see you do better,” Plagg challenged.

But Nino was already ignoring the kwami. “Dri, breathe in with me.” And then he slowly and dramatically breathed in. 

Adrien tried to follow suit. Really, he did. He took in a slow deep breath, but then his throat would lodge close again, and he’d start gasping again. His chest spasmed painfully. 

“Can you reset the last five minutes?” Nino asked Sass. 

The kwami shook his head. “It’s very dangerous for me to use my power without a holder to limit them. It's not worth the cost,” Sass informed. “He already knew everything needed to put it together. He just hadn’t thought about it. We can reset… maybe… without destroying the timeline completely, but he’ll just figure it out again probably within a few days. Plagg and I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“Some warning would have been nice!” Adrien shrieked, his anger cutting through the shaking, but only for a second. 

“Look kid, we don’t know that this is the end of the world. And honestly, it probably isn’t!” 

Adrien’s green eyes locked onto the floating kwami. “What do you mean?” 

Plagg turned to Sass. “You explain it.” 

“My power works differently than Fluff’sss, but from my understanding, the end of the world probably had very little to do with you knowing each other's identities. It was more like that it was an event that was easy to change to prevent a certain series of events. It wasn’t necessarily that you couldn’t know one another. Just that you couldn't know that day.”

“Why didn’t you say any of this before?” Adrien gasped out. He was still struggling to keep his breathing slow. 

Sass shrugged. “Because we don’t know for certain what happened, and anything short of a guarantee wouldn’t have been enough for Ladybug.” 

“Look!” Plagg interjected. “If things truly go to absolute hell and back, Fluff’s holder will most likely show up to fix things again, and since she’s not already here, we’re likely fine.”

The tension in Adrien’s chest broke, and the rest of his body slumped. Luckily, Nino was there to catch him. Adrien clung to his shoulder even as he tried to face the kwamis. As always, Nino was a rock. If he was phased at all, Nino wasn’t showing it. 

Adrien was dripping with sweat, his blond hair was plastered to the sides of his face. He could breathe now, and breathe heavily he did, still leaning heavily on Nino. 

“So, what do we do?” Adrien asked.

Plagg shrugged. “Use the snake to tell Ladybug you figured her out. Then come up with a plan together. She’s a crafty one. She’ll have ideas.”

Sass nodded. “Most likely, she will know more than she’s told you, Chat Noir. She may have a better idea of what needs to be avoided.”

Adrien nodded. “Okay, okay. We can do this.” He turned to Nino. “Help me stand?”

Nino held out his arms, and Adrien hauled himself to his feet with Nino’s support. 

“I’m sorry to cut our illicit slumber party short,” Adrien said. 

Nino shook his head. “No worries, dude. Fate of the world stuff obviously should come first. But… umm… are you going to be okay running over rooftops? No offense, but… you look like shit.” 

“Plagg, claws out,” Adrien called. As the transformation washed over him, Adrien could stand up straight, breathe easier. He sighed in relief. “With the transformation, I’m okay.”

“Can you let me know when you get somewhere safe and outside a time loop, dude?” 

Adrien smiled. “Yeah, sure.” Adrien pulled his baton from his back. “And Nino?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here. Thank you for not asking questions.”

Nino smiled. “Of course, dude. Anytime.” 

… 

Marinette wasn’t on her balcony, but her light was on. He couldn’t handle waiting so he sent Sass through the window. She was up on the roof less than a minute later. 

“Chaton? What’s wrong?” 

He transformed with the snake and activated second chance immediately, and then fell heavily onto the only chair on her balcony.

“You shouldn’t have let me keep the snake,” he began without preamble. 

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, but her eyes were wide. 

“We don’t have time for you to try to misdirect me. It’s too late, m’lady.” 

She wilted. “How? Did you try to figure it out?”

He shook his head. “No. I just…” His fingers tried to tear through his hair, only to find the suit draped over his skull. “You told me to tell someone. So I did. I told my best friend. Only he turned out to be a temp hero. He slipped. He thought I knew who he was when Chat Noir showed up in his room. It’s not his fault.” 

“Breathe, kitty.” 

He took in a shuddering breath, but he was still shaky. The panic was starting to grip him again, and he was trying to keep it from exploding, but he knew he was slowly losing the battle. 

She crouched down in front of him and held his hands. 

And he barreled forward in the story. “Then because I knew his identity, I later realized who Rena Rouge was. And I know that you never told me that she was the one that you revealed your identity to, but… she just… knows too much. And I know who Alya’s best friend is. I swear I never meant to figure it out!”

And he couldn’t breathe. “I can’t… m’lady, please. I’m so scared.” He broke off as the sobs overtook him again. 

She held him, stroked his head and neck with calming hands, and whispered nonsensical soothing sounds into his ears. He leaned into her comfort, into her warmth, fighting to collect himself. He needed to get enough out so she could tell him what to do. How to fix this. Because he didn’t want to be akumatized and he didn't want the world to end. Especially not by his hand.

“Tell me what to do,” he sobbed.

“Who’s your best friend?” she asked. 

“Nino.” 

He felt her sharp intake of breath.

“Please don’t start crying,” he begged. “You always cry when I tell you.”

“It’s too late, Adrien,” she whispered. And when he looked up her eyes were already filled with tears.

“Please tell me you have an idea,” he begged. 

She took up his hands and squeezed them tight as she kneeled in front of him again. “You’re not going to like it.” 

He snorted through his tears. “That’s a given.”

“You’re going to go back and you’re going to pretend you don’t know.”

He sucked in another breath and he closed his eyes against her words. ��How do you expect me to do that?”

“You’re clearly a very good actor,” she said gently.

And he crumpled in on himself at her words. His head fell into their joined hands as his body shook in an emotional earthquake.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, continuing to stroke his head. “I wish it was different. I wish I wasn’t placing this burden solely on you. That I wasn’t asking you to put on mask after mask. You shouldn’t have to.” 

“I just… why, do you need me to pretend? How does that help us?” 

“Nothing can change between Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

He felt himself nod though he wasn’t sure if he could ever pull that off. He felt like his whole world had been thrown out of orbit.

“And nothing can change between Adrien and his very good friend, Marinette. You understand?” 

And suddenly, he did.

“We can’t date,” he concluded.

She nodded. “We can’t date. Knowing who you are… it’s clear to me that it wasn’t the reveal that was the problem. It was that our reveal led to us dating.” 

“Wh-What? What does that have to do with anything?” He asked.

“We can’t date. You have to pretend like you don’t know. Can you do that for me, kitty? Can you wait until Hawkmoth has been defeated?”

“I uh… wait?” 

“I love you,” she confessed. 

And he stared at her in shock. She loved him? 

“And you love me. But our love… it destroys the world.” 

Her words hit him like a never ending monsoon. He felt thrown about, twisted up, and torn into pieces all at once.

“What?” he hissed.

“That’s what Chat Blanc told me. I didn’t know you were Adrien. Adrien was the person who learned my identity that day, but it was Chat Noir who knew. And Chat Blanc… he said it was our love.” 

He shook his head even as he cried. “No, no, Mari, I refuse to believe it.” 

“I still have nightmares of the place. Of you alone, and half insane.” Her hands cradled either side of his face. 

He kissed the palm of one of her hands. 

“Mari, please,” he begged. “Don’t make me pretend with you.” 

She kissed him. Hard. He felt dizzy. 

She pulled away and smiled. “Figure I owe you a kiss that you will remember.” 

Then the world blurred around him. God damn her! This was how she knew how the snake worked in the first place, knew how to activate it when she had him distracted. She was the fucking guardian. 

He was standing again. He collapsed into the chair again and just continued to cry.

“Chaton? What the hell happened? Why are you always crying on the other side of one of your loops? How awful am I to you?”

His arms snaked around her midriff, and he pulled her against him. And just sobbed into her stomach.

“You’re not awful, Mari. You’re amazing.” 

And he loved her. 

Her fingers ran over his head and cat ears, causing them to flick back and forth.

He spent the whole loop crying, and the next one after that. But he recovered faster than he did with Nino that first night with the snake. It only took four loops before he got ahold of himself. Maybe he was  getting better at coping with world-ending fear and grief. Or maybe it’s because his lady is just a little bit more soothing to him, as awesome as his best friend was. 

Now, he just felt numb.

And exhausted. 

“How many loops have you been through?” she asked softly.

“Five” 

“What can I do?” she asked.

“M’lady, you’re already doing it.” 

She stiffened at the endearment. He holds her to him harder. “I know have to pretend that nothing has changed. I have to wear a mask around you all the time. Every moment of every day as Chat Noir and every day as Adrien, and I know that I’ll get really good at it. It’s something I’ve done a million times before. But let me have an extra loop or two okay?” 

He can feel her shaking as suddenly she’s crying too.

“I just… I’m scared,” he confessed. “I don’t know how long we’ll have to do this. I don’t know if I’ll remember how to take the walls down when it’s over. Will I even know who I am?” He squeezed her tighter. “And… I don’t know if you’ll wait for me without knowing,” he whispered.

She was caressing the sides of his face in gentle soothing strokes. Tears streamed from her eyes. 

“You’re so amazing!” she told him. “So resilient, and so much stronger than me.”

He barked a broken laugh that held no humor. “You’re wrong. I’m so broken. I’ve been so tempted so many times to just break the loop and let you remember.” 

“But you haven’t.” 

“You’re usually the one that resets it once everything comes out.” 

She kneels down at eye level with him. “You’re my strength, Chaton. My ability to reset the loop is to keep you safe. And no one else. I love you so much.” 

“I love you, too, m’lady.” 

She moved forward to kiss him and he pulled back. She frowned. 

“Please don’t,” he begged. 

“Why not?” 

“Because there’s already too many kisses that we can’t remember. I want us both to remember them.”

“Chaton, if you feel that way strongly, I can respect it. But if you’re afraid of forgetting what it feels like to be yourself, I want you to feel it, to remember it every single day. You should always know what it means to not have to wear masks. What it means to be loved.” 

“Every single day?” he repeated. 

She nodded firmly. “Every single day.”

“What about not abusing the miraculous?” 

“Abuse it,” she said. “I don’t care. You’re more important.”

He was speechless. 

So when she leaned in again, he let his eyes fall closed. Let her press her lips gently against his own. His whole body melted into the contact like butter. He kissed her like it was the first time and like it was the last time, because in a way… it was. 

They stayed together - sharing their life’s breath, letting their mouths and tongues dance together in sync the way Ladybug and Chat Noir always were. They didn’t stop. Eventually, the world blurred, and he realized she had reset the time loop herself again.

But this time he was smiling when he found himself standing on her balcony once again peering into her concerned blue eyes. 

This time he felt lighter and freer. She loved him. And he loved her.

And they would be together someday. 

He had to believe that.

...

Chapter 6: Miraculous Abuse

[mimi-cee-hq]

Since First Year - Tsukishima x Yachi

31 Days of Haikyuu!! - Day 17: Favourite Pairing - tsukiyachi :D

Summary: Tsukishima has been pining for Yachi over the years. High school, college, and afterwards, he wonders if he ever had a chance in the first place. A series of snippets of Tsukishima and Yachi's relationship over the years.

Tags: Cute fluff, Pining, Canon-compliant (I think), First year, Third year, College, Sendai Frogs, Sendai City Museum, (these are all basically hints about scenes in the story lol)

This one-shot was inspired by @limach-an's tsukiyachi fanart. And I also blame @innovativestruggles for sharing it with me and for loving tsukiyachi more than I do.

Note: If tsukiyachi is your NOTP, you can just filter out the tsukiyachi tag. I’m pretty good at tagging them.

Words: 1,958

*****

Drool fell out of Tanaka's mouth, Hinata was asleep as well, and Nishinoya looked like he could pass out any minute. Kiyoko, holding a tray of food in her hand, looked at Tanaka, wondering what to do with him. Yachi panicked at the sight of Hinata's head on the table.

"He's fine, Yachi," commented Tsukishima. "Just let him sleep."

Yachi bit her lip, glancing at Tsukishima then back at Hinata. "I guess you're right," she replied. As Tsukishima continued to munch on his shrimp, Yachi giggled at him. "You're actually eating," she pointed out.

Tsukishima directed his eyes elsewhere. After the Shiratorizawa match, he had worked up a large appetite, which was absent on a normal day. He took another bite from the shrimp but didn't bother to eat the meat in its tail. His hands were still taped up.

"Umm...," she said while scratching her cheek. "Do you want me to help you with that?" Tsukishima prompted her to go ahead. As she peeled off the skin, she nervously peeked at Tsukishima every so often, as if she wanted to say something. "Y-You were really cool," she finally said after giving him the meat.

Tsukishima felt his cheeks heat up. He remembered feeling proud of his brother when Yamaguchi thought Akiteru was cool. He knew that Yamaguchi looked up to him as well. But it was embarrassing to hear it straight from Yachi. With cheeks still red, he muttered a thanks in reply.

"Nishinoya was cool too!" Yachi continued. "And Sugawara too! And I can't believe Hinata jumped into the net!" she laughed. Oh. So it wasn’t just him. But perhaps he should have expected that.

"Yachi," Kiyoko called out to her from across the table. "Could you help me get Tanaka's bowl?"

"Okay!" she replied, leaving her seat.

Tsukishima scowled, fully aware of the empty spot to his right. He continued to eat, biting a bit too firmly on his food. "Tch,” he clicked his tongue, getting frustrated at the strange feeling in his stomach.

*****

"Here," Yachi handed the booklets to the team’s two new managers. "Hopefully, this will help you get oriented," she explained. "I already went over most of the information with you, but I made these in case you missed something or wanted something as reference."

The two first years gawked at the booklet. It was filled with information like names of the members of the team, the volleyball rules specific for the Japanese high school league, and the year's schedule. But that wasn't all. It was laid out with detailed attention to typography and graphics and it was pleasing to look at.

"Are you a professional graphics designer?" one of the managers asked.

Yachi rubbed the back of her head with a timid smile. "I would like to be one," she replied.

The two ran off, after receiving instructions from her. Tsukishima commented, "You're going to be busy with those two this year."

"I don't mind being busy with something like this," Yachi smiled. "I'm glad more people are interested in our volleyball team. Remember when I made that fundraising poster in first year?" Tsukishima recalled it clearly. "I don't even have to do that anymore. I'm glad that I joined the team and I got to see everyone grow."

Tsukishima noted the gentle smile on her face. "I'm glad we both joined," he mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Yachi asked.

"Nothing," he calmly replied. "Why are you talking like we're not playing anymore? We still have the rest of the year."

"Ah! That's right!" Yachi exclaimed, covering her mouth.

Tsukishima smirked at her reaction. Although, he said otherwise, they really did only have a year of high school left. Staring at the top of Yachi's blonde hair, bundled to the side, he sighed, not wanting things to change.

*****

Hinata: Happy New Year!! Please take care of us this year too!!!!!!!

Yamaguchi and Yachi laughed their heads off while Tsukishima covered a chuckle. Hinata sent them a picture of him and Oikawa making a Kagamimochi out of sand. But it literally looked like crap.

“It looks so wrong when you make that with sand!!” exclaimed Yamaguchi.

“That sitting - wait, squatting pose there isn’t doing them any favours either…!” said Yachi.

“They look so proud of their creation. It’s making me mad,” Tsukishima said, somehow still annoyed by them.

It was already New Years Day when they got the text. Yachi came over to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s dorm to visit for the first time in a while. After high school, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi went to Tohoku University while Yachi went to Miyagi University. Although they all lived in the same area, they didn’t see her very often. It was expected, but Tsukishima thought it was nice to see his high school friend again, not that he’d admit it.

“I guess I should go home now,” Yachi said as she stood up from the futon. “This was fun,” she smiled at them. Tsukishima walked her to the door as Yamaguchi started to clean up. “I’m going to miss you two.”

Tsukishima smirked at her. “Well…,” he started, “you could see us more often if you dated me.”

He heard a chopstick fall on the floor. Yamaguchi went stiff. Yachi blinked at Tsukishima, likely wondering if he was serious. “Tsukki, you shouldn’t joke about that,” she laughed. With her coat already on, she opened the door. “I’ll see you two next time,” she grinned.

Right after the door closed, Yamaguchi accidentally let out a snort. Tsukishima immediately glared at him. “I can’t believe you just did that,” Yamaguchi decided to let out his laugh anyway. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and sighed. It was worth a shot, he guessed.

*****

Tsukishima saw Yamaguchi at the other side of the stadium waving him down. He grimaced, clearly recalling that he told them not to come and watch him play for the Sendai Frogs. Both Yamaguchi and Yachi insisted but, trying to deter them, he didn't bother to say when and where his game was. Of course, they found out anyway. To be honest, he didn't want them to come because he knew they would just embarrass him.

“Yamaguchi! Yachi!” yelled out Koganegawa with a large wave. When they got there, Kyoutani greeted them with a nod.

Tsukishima was right. He blushed, knowing they shouldn’t have come. Not when Yachi was wearing a Sendai Frogs jersey with his name on it. He groaned with a strong inkling that Yamaguchi probably talked her into wearing it.

He thought his crushing years were over. But after some food and dessert a couple hours post game, he still found himself averting his gaze from Yachi. Even Kyoutani raised his eyebrow, noticing Tsukishima’s behaviour.

And somehow after their evening drew to a close, Tsukishima found himself carrying Yachi home in his arms. With her head tucked in his shoulder and arms wrapped around his neck, he reluctantly decided to cherish this moment as long as it would last.

He stopped walking to shift her weight to a more comfortable position. "Are you sure you're okay?" asked Yachi.

"Yeah, we're almost there," he replied, wishing what he said wasn't true. "Next time, don't wear heels," he lied.

"Alright."

Yachi hugged him a bit tighter, Tsukishima realizing just how cold the air had gotten. He sighed, deciding he'd have to walk a little faster for her sake.

*****

Tsukishima never expected this to happen. His manager walked Yachi through the Sendai City Museum and later introduced her to Tsukishima and his co-workers.

“Hi Tsukishima!” Yachi said with a bright grin.

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah! Since our first year of high school!”

Since first year… It had been that long. But here she was in front of him, with an opportunity to work together again.

Yachi was hired on contract from her mom’s design firm. Over the next few months, he worked with her to put together pamphlets and posters for the museum. She didn’t need much help from him. The company gave her quite a few resources for her to use. But he took the opportunity to sit and work beside her, saying that it would be much easier for her to ask for help that way.

As time went on, it seemed like they got even closer than they were in high school. Tsukishima would tease her whenever she started to overthink about her work, noting that some things didn’t change. But she would give him a jab right back at him, telling him to get back to work.

But there were times when Tsukishima would see glimpses of hope - glimpses that Yachi was actually interested in him. Normally, he would pick up on people’s emotions easily, nut because he had been pining for so long, he doubted his judgement, knowing it could be clouded by his feelings.

One day, Yachi suddenly started crying. “It’s nothing,” she told him. “Just forget about it.” But he hugged her and told her she could share with him if she wanted.

At first she mumbled her response. When Tsukishima asked again, she clearly replied this time. “I’ll miss you.”

It was the end of her contract. He wasn’t looking forward to this either. But from the way she was crying, he wondered if perhaps she did have feelings for him.

Tsukishima began to analyse back to the past months, looking for clues he might have missed. There were days where she placed her hand over his during his rough days. Another day she placed a hand on his cheek when he was distraught over the results of his work. She would also hug him whenever she thanked him for his help.

At first, he thought close friends would do that too. But as she sniffed, trying to hold back her tears, he wondered if he was special.

“Yachi,” Tsukishima asked, “can I test something?”

“What do you mean?” she replied, wiping her tears away with her sleeve, trying not to touch her mascara.

“Just push me away if you don’t like it.”

 Yachi blinked a few times, not knowing what to do, but she shyly nodded afterwards.

Tsukishima drew his face close to hers, tentatively stopping a couple inches in front of her. Yachi’s eyes grew but after a moment between them, they fluttered shut.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, took a step back to just stare at her. She actually liked him. Yachi caught him wide-eyed, covering his mouth. “What was that?” Yachi said as she pounded his chest with her fist.”

“I-”

“That was so embarrassing!” Yachi exclaimed as she hid her face in her hands. “Why would you do that?”

Tsukishima groaned, not wanting to have to explain why he was being so… stupid. “Well, I’ve liked you for so long that I… was surprised.”

“What???” Yachi freaked out. It seemed like she didn’t expect his admission either. “Just how long?”

He mumbled.

“What?”

“Since first year.”

Yachi's eyes grew wide. Of course her reaction was expected. Who would be pining for the same girl for so long?

Tsukishima hid his face, embarrassed from admitting his feelings.

“So… aren’t you going to kiss me?” Yachi shyly asked after calming down a bit.

“Mmm… maybe a bit later,” he said to tease, but a blush still covered his cheeks and still looking elsewhere.

“What?”

“You can wait, right?”

“Ugh Tsukki!!!”

“Kei.”

“What?”

“You can call me that instead.”

Yachi was dumbfounded. With his initial embarrassment gone,Tsukishima started to have fun teasing her, but he noticed a sly smile growing on her face.

“You can wait, right?”

Tsukishima was caught off-guard, then laughed. He couldn’t help but think how cute she was and put an arm around her as they left the museum.

*****

I hope you liked it. I feel like I got lazy in the end. lol.

FYI, the New Year’s college scene was based off of this translated post from Twitter for New Years 2020

General Taglist: @dorkyama @the-black-birb @hqprotectionsquad @nagichi-boop @moonaaluna @muffins-puffins (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[turtletimewriting]

Logan’s Adventure- To the doctor’s

Summary: What it says on the tin!

Note: Woop woop! I actually found some motivation to write so feeling good about these ones! I will say, there isn’t any tickling in this one so if you’re reading purely for the tickles then sorry! 

This is based on the tickle forest idea by fluffomatic so check them out!

Beginning!--- Patton’s part!

_._._

“Well where do you think we should go?” Virgil asked. Logan took a pause to consider the options.

“Well all options are valid and useful so I guess-”

“Cool because if you don’t really have a strong opinion, then I say we’re going to the doctors,” Virgil stated and marched on the stoned road leading straight into the village. Logan huffed a laugh at him, “Just... I guess now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t want to end up getting bitten or a rash or whatever.”

“Sounds good to me,” Logan smiled before shyly linking their hands together.  

Now it was of course no surprise to see that the side that looked like a prince straight from a Disney film would create a medieval European village. The houses all stood tall with dramatic black wooden frames but still somehow made them feel at home immediately. Maybe it was because everyone they passed waved and nodded at them and the first house they passed had a mother placing a hot apple pie on the windowsill. There was colourful bunting strung up the old fashioned oil lamps and they could both almost hear the Disney-esque music playing in the background. It was a short walk until they came across the doctors. 

Walking in, the receptionist smiled widely and waved them over. Luckily, the waiting room was pretty much empty with only one girl fidgeting and tapping her foot. “Hello lovelies! How can I help?” The receptionist spun on her office chair to face them. Despite how friendly everyone was, Virgil automatically kept looking around the office leaving Logan to do the talking.

“Hello, I’m afraid we don’t have an appointment nor are we actually ill. This is our first time... travelling through and we wou-”

“Oh!” The lady butted in and started typing furiously on the computer, “That’s no problem. So would you like a drop-in session to go over how to protect yourselves and basic aid for the wildlife here, right?”

“That’s sounds great, thank you.”

“No problem. I just need to ask some questions so the doctor knows what to ask you all about?” 

“Go ahead.”

“Right, so firstly names?” The receptionist asked much to both of their surprise. Usually most of Roman’s creativity meant that any imagined space and people knew them. Typically every villager would rave about a certain red clad prince hero, they would bake for a certain lovely young man in bright blue, Logan made an effort to challenge the professors and every villager knew to leave the poor shy man in black to himself. 

They both answered basic questions about themselves before the receptionist boredly asked one last question that froze them, “Okay last one, are you lees or lers or switches?” 

“Uh... what?” Virgil whipped round to actually face her for once and Logan simply bluescreened. 

“Do you prefer being tickled, the ticklee, or tickling someone, being a tickler? Or, of course, a little bit of both?” The receptionist asked as if she was simply asking them what they’re favourite colours were. 

“Of course Remus would also create not only paperwork but... stupid questions,” Virgil grumbled but he already knew he was going to answer quickly. Yes this was an anxious nightmare but then he wasn’t about to cause a scene to someone innocently doing their job. He’d just have to get Remus later.

“I’d say both... switches?” Logan asked with a nervous look to Virgil. 

“Yeah?” The lady asked clearly wanting a bit more.

“I’d agree with that but I do think it’s important to note that Logan here leans strongly to the lee side,” Virgil quickly butted in.

“What?” Logan demanded.

“Okay great! You’re all good to go. You won’t have to wait long. Probably no more than five minutes. The doctor will call you. You can take a seat while you wait but I will say that the girl also waiting was bitten by lersquitos so maybe keep you’re distance,” She smiled widely and submitted the form before Logan could fight against any of their answers. 

“Thank you,” Virgil smiled before dragging his bumbling stuttering boyfriend by the shoulders and sitting them a couple of seats away from the girl. 

“You. Are. A... nightmare,” Logan finally snarked once his mind finally loaded from the betrayal. 

“Eh, the doctor’s need all the information they can grab. That means they need to know about your ‘stress relief’ mechanisms,” Virgil breathily whispered into his ears while trailing his fingers up his arms, leaving Logan flinching and childishly giggling. They stopped however when the girl groaned at their teasing. 

“Uh, excuse me. I’m sorry if this is really rude, but we heard you got bitten by... a something. Do you mind telling us about that?” Logan asked 

“Oh, uh a lersquito,” The girl answered with a judgemental look. She answered as if they had asked what colour the sky was. 

“Yes. That... What is that?” He asked. The girl took a deep breath and releasing an obnoxiously long sigh.

“Yeah it’s just a bug. It bites you and you get into a ler mood. It’s like...” She awkwardly paused but continued while never once looking at them, “you can’t get the idea out of your head and it’s like your fingers can’t keep still, y’know. They mostly hang out around water, so yeah.”

“That has got to be a Remus creation,” Logan nodded to himself and the girl simply shrugged them off and continued staring at the wall while slowly flexing her fingers. 

“Yeah wait!” Virgil suddenly perked up, “how on earth do we fight against that! A bug that bites you! I didn’t pay attention to any bugs. We may have already been bitten! And, and, the map goes through the forest. How on earth are we meant to-”

“That’s why we’re here. Surely the doctor can help us,” Logan answered and smoothed his bangs out of his eyes, much to his dismay. 

It wasn’t much longer until they got called by the doctor. She was dressed like any other doctor with no indication that she specialised in any tickle related stuff. “Hello, c’mon in!” She waved them inside a room. It looked also completely normal. There was a typical notice board behind her desk filled with different flyers and information. This was the only indication that they were in a world created and based on tickling. Even Logan had to admit that it was distracting to see a massive poster of a a cartoon man getting absolutely destroyed by bugs with glowing pink mushrooms in the background. 

He snapped back to attention when he noticed the silence. The doctor laughed at them both considered Virgil was still entranced by the poster. “Sorry! Uhm, can you repeat that?”

“I just asked if this was your first time through?” She asked with a polite smile. 

“Oh yes! Right. Yes this is our first time travelling and we would like to be prepared for anything that may get us... in trouble.”

“Ah well there’s not much advice I can give,” She responded.

“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” Logan mumbled under his breath but the doctor kept talking without pause.

“Just apply basic common knowledge and you’ll be alright. Don’t mess around with any weird plants, leave the white flowers alone, be careful around animals. Remember if you do get into trouble then come see a doctor if you’re worried. Did you have any more specific questions?” She asked Logan who was still flicking back and forth between the blatant poster and her.

“What is the most common reason people visit?”

“Well usually it’s the ants. Not a lot of people remember to look where they’re standing and, to be honest, their colonies are not obvious. They sting you and can almost triple your sensitivity. Not a problem if it’s a kid but if you’re in the middle of work then it can be a nuisance. Also, if you do get stung and it lasts more than four hours without treatment then seek medical help immediately.”

“Is there any way to... cure the sting?”

“It’s a simple lotion. It won’t make it disappear, you’ll still be quite sensitive, but it really helps dampen the effects. The sting is enough so that your clothes tickle you so a lot of people will buy it in bulk,” She answered while handing them both the tiniest travel bottle of the lotion. It wasn’t much but then he guessed it made sense that they wouldn’t hand them loads of it. 

They chatted but otherwise the doctor was reluctant to give them anymore considered her stance was thoroughly ‘just use common sense’. Virgil kept his gaze fixed on the notice board but the longer they talked, the more confused he looked. Even Logan ended up nudging him to try and get him to pay attention. 

As they were leaving, Virgil finally spoke up. “Wait, can I look at something?” He asked but he was already leaning over her desk to pull off one of the notes. Unlike the other leaflets, it was just plain paper with a scrawled hard to read chicken scratch. 

He showed it to Logan with a concentrated frown. It read:

The treasure is kinda smelly and gross but you’ll love it!!!!

“Is that a clue!” Logan gasped, intentionally snatching it from his hand. 

“It just stuck out as weird,” He pretty much said to himself because now Logan’s mind had latched on. Any mind based puzzle and Logan was in his happy place. The wording all screamed that this was a treasure that Remus created or at the least Remus made the clue. Had they missed more clues? Were they supposed to have any idea what this means? This was so vague! It spoke about the treasure but not about what the password to unlock was. Maybe the password is what the treasure is! 

Logan absolutely didn’t pay attention to Virgil saying thanks to the doctor and shoving them out the door. Virgil merely fondly rolled his eyes and pushed them out of the village and up to the path. Back to the adventure! 

The path led straight into a heavy forest with vines and the constant chirping of birds. The bushes seemed like they were always moving with different animals scuttling about and Virgil could already feel himself start to sweat as the heavy trees trapped the heat in the forest. All this time, Virgil had to admit he did feel a little worried about getting unfairly sneak-attacked but also that was nothing compared to now. The thick heavy forest only showed that they were truly in the thick of it now. They weren’t sightseeing around a village. They were in an adventure. 

They had barely stepped through the forest before stopping. Across the path was a weeping willow. It was just as gorgeous as terrifying. The soft pinks and white rustling together in a beautiful dance of a feathery bright petals. But also that was the most obvious trap he had ever seen in his life. Logan was still mumbling to himself staring at the clue so he carefully plapped the clue out of his hands and silently pointed at the tree. 

“Ah,” Logan said.

“Yeah. Ah. What do we do?” Virgil sighed. Logan looked around with a wince. The path carved through extremely thick trees and bushes and dense foliage. 

“There’s no good option here. We could keep to the path and just take whatever this tree does or we could go around it.”

“But god knows what’s in there!” Virgil gasped!

“So do we go forward knowing we will get tickled by these... feathery looking branches or get tickled by the unknown. There isn’t a good option here,” Logan sighed. 

This adventure took 20 minutes!

Total time: 46 minutes.

OOH BOY THAT WAS SOO LONG, I’M SO SORRY!

The adventure continues, but what shall our boys do?!

1) Go forward

2) Go off the path 

Now, Logan and Virgil know about lersquitos, tickle ants and discovered a clue! But now Logan is distracted with figuring out the clue!

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Nine: Home on the Range

AN: I’m back! I had trouble writing certain parts of this chapter and at one point I gave up and started writing for the next two chapters. But finally this chapter is done. I also published a playlist for this story that had been sitting in my drafts. Listening to some of the songs I selected as you read through the chapters is just *chef’s kiss*. After this chapter I’m probably going to take break from the story since writing this particular chapter was so draining for some reason. But hopefully when I return I will be feeling rejuvenated and ready to write again.

Happy Holidays!!!

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: violence, racial slurs/dated language

Taglist: @nerds4life246​

Chapter Ten: The Black Belle of the West

Sabine was fond of saloons just as much as anyone else, but tonight she visiting the establishment strictly for business. The bounty of Percy "The Fiend" Doyle had been issued by Sheriff Horace Lane, a man who usually offered the bounties that Sabine and the rest of the immortals took up. Working with him was quite the eye opening experience for Sabine. The sheriff was in the minority of accepting women and colored folks as a bounty hunters in a usually white, male-dominated occupation. It gave Sabine some comfort to know that there were some men who didn't let ego, bigotry, or ideas of femininity completely cloud their judgement.

Sabine swirled her bourbon around in its short glass as her eyes scanned over the saloon. The billiard room was so thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars that it nearly burned her lungs, and the strains of piano music could be heard far off amidst laughter and chatter in the saloon. Laughter that came from rowdy men and pleasurable squeals from the working women lounging in the arms of their potential clients. Throwing back her shot, Sabine placed her glass down and began her prowl for the wanted man.

It was easier said than done.

There were so many people in the saloon that Sabine was having a hard time finding the outlaw. She moved from person to person, to table to table, until she found a familiar looking face. The unshaven beard, the wild, black hair, and the liver-spotted face. She took out the poster that she had been given, and compared the face on it with the man that she was looking at. No doubt, it was a match.

She stuffed the handbill into her chest and pulled the sleeves on her dress down to her shoulders. And with a vivacious smile, she strutted over to the table where The Fiend was playing poker with several other men.

"Anyone one you fellas named Doyle?" Sabine asked, placing her hands on hips.

"Who wants to know?" The Fiend questioned defensively.

Sabine shrugged, "You see, I'm new here and Charlie told me that you're a regular," she explained, playing the stereotypical vapid floozy. "And you always likes to see the new ones," she said, twirling a strand of her hair.

The Fiend looked Sabine over and smirked, "Never laid with a negress before, but I guess you'll do," he remarked, eliciting a few chuckles from the men around him.

The Fiend picked up his glass and downed his whiskey in one swift motion and excused himself with a wolfish smile, showing off his disgusting teeth. Sticking her hand out, Sabine sent the man an alluring smile and the man readily took it and she began to guide him up the wide staircase, The Fiend swatting her behind as they went. She tried not to tense nor flinch when she felt his hand, his action briefly transporting her back to her time on the Martin Plantation, but keeping her cool Sabine maintained her composure. The two of them made their way down a dimly lit hallway, where prostitutes lingered in their doors, smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Gimme a holler if you want a second inning, mister," one girl called, and winked at him, while another blew him a kiss.

They reach the end of the hall to "Sabine's" room and she opened the door, ushering him into it and closed the door behind her. Sabine smiled coquettishly at him as he began to undress, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What's your name?" he asked, pulling the shirt from his body.

"Lisa,"

"Well Lisa, I hope that you don't mind licking," he commented, his tongue darting out from his lower lip.

Sabine felt bile rise in her throat at the gesture, the very thought of his tongue making contact with any part of her made her want to gag. It was repulsive.

Sabine began tugging at her own clothes, "I don't pay no mind to that," she lied smoothly, allowing her dress to fall to the floor.

"Good girl," he cooed, eyeing her from head to toe. "You know, you're a lot prettier than the last one. Hardly had any teeth, and no tits," he described, shaking his head in distaste. "She was a flat thing, and I never liked flat. I wouldn't have mind all that, if she hadn't been such a bad fucker," he remarked, before letting out a sigh and plopping down on the bed. "I enjoyed seeing that bullet go between those blue eyes," he mentioned casually, tugging his boots off.

Sabine feigned shock, "You mean you killed her?" she asked, her voice slightly high pitched, placing her hand on her chest.

"Sure did!" he boasted, a large grin on his face. "She won't the only one too. Five other whores have been met similar fates all across this state," he informed. "I don't like to kill women folk, but if they disappoint old Fiend here, well I don't have a choice then," he went on. "Men are a whole lot easier to kill, they don't usually scream. When I robbed a bank in the Dakotas, I shot this lady and she screamed like a harpy. A shame that I wasn't able to strangle her instead," he finished, shaking his head and laughing lightly.

"It sounds like you've done a lot of killing," Sabine commented, feeling her disgust rise higher and higher at the sorry excuse of man in front of her.

"Oh darlin', it's what I do. I know it's probably not smart to talk to you about this, but if the noose ain't around my neck by now, then I don't think it'll ever be," he gloated, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned to The Fiend and smiled, "You sound like a very smart man," she complimented, watching him unzip his pants.

"What I am is horny," he corrected, staring at her hungrily. "Now come over here and let me get a better look at you," he ordered, beckoning her over.

Sabine walked over to The Fiend and he laid back on the bed, tucking his arms underneath his head. She planted her foot on the bed and slowly began to draw her chemise up.

"I'm sure many people are wanting your head, mister," Sabine mused, biting her lip.

The Fiend shrugged again, "I've got a bounty. About 7,500 dollars. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, I'm worth a lot more," he proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit.

"You know, I'd have to disagree,"

Sabine pulled her skirt up to her thigh, revealing her revolver in its holster. Before The Fiend could even react, she whipped out her gun and shot him dead center in the forehead.

"7,500 is far too much for you, bastard,"

High pitched screams and confused shouts rung out from behind her door and below her as she heard of flurry of movement downstairs. Blowing the barrel of her gun off, she slid the revolver back into its holster. Sabine picked up her clothes and redressed herself, mentally reciting the words she was about to say to the more than likely frenzied crowd that was going to be at her door in any moment.

"Everybody calm down, I mean no one else any harm," she would begin. "I am Corinna Vance, a legal representative of the Criminal Justice System of the United States of America. And this man here was a wanted man," she would explain, unfolding the warrant that matched Percy 'The Fiend' Doyle's description.

~~~x~~~

The sound of cheers, clapping, and the thumping of feet against wood reverberated in the air alongside the instruments being played. Strumming and singing to the rhythm of the tune, Sabine felt herself smile at the small audience who were clearly enjoying her performance. She didn't plan on doing this, not in the slightest, Sabine thought maybe around this time of the day she would be having a cup of coffee after finally getting up from bed from the long night she had. She had been tracking down another bounty given to her, this time she didn't even go under a pretense, she just sniped him from afar.

A well deserved rest was in store for her, she could taste it on her tongue.

But then, as soon as she rode into Hickory, Sabine was surrounded by children begging her to play on the banjo. And as much as she wanted to say 'no', Sabine could see the way their eyes lit up at the mere prospect of her performing.

And so she played.

So now that I am old and gray Listen close to what I say The white folks, they will write the show If you can't read, you'll never know

Sabine watched as the children swung each other around to the sound of the fiddle player, his bow striking across the strings as he rolled out the notes. She stared off to her side as she plucked the strings of the banjo with her skilled fingers. Bastien was sitting on their porch drinking from his flask, a smile was stretched upon his face at the cheerful kids in front of him.

Weeks had passed since the incident in Bastien's bedroom, and like with the 'river incident' the two of them mutually agreed in silence that nothing happened. Because technically, it was true. Yes, she and Bastien had a...heated moment that came close to a kiss, but did they do it? No. But of course that didn't stop Josef and Nicky from teasing her, because they knew something had gone down behind the Frenchmen's door.

Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Before it goes away

Sabine and the fiddler drew the song to a finish, playing the same notes with much enthusiasm and joy. The last note rang out in the air and everyone from the children to the adults lounging around to hear Sabine play erupted in applause.

She did a little bow, "Thank you, thank you," she said, smiling herself. "Like the song I was just singing," she began, gazing at the young children in front of her. "You all need to get your learnin', so back to the schoolhouse," she ordered gently, and all the children simultaneously groaned. Sabine shook her head and wagged her finger. "I will be hearing none of it. Go on, off with you. Playtime is over," she informed, shooing them away with her hand.

Sabine pushed herself up from her seat on the porch step and turned around to see Bastien looking at her already.

"Quite a dark song to sing to children," he stated, with a chuckle. "'Ol' Massah found out, sure enough. And poor old Nick, he got strung up,'" he recited, putting the cap of his flask back on and tightening it.

Sabine walked closer to him, "It is true though," she responded, holding her banjo by the neck. "The penalty was death if a slave was caught trying to educate themselves," she continued, look down the road where the small schoolhouse was. "I'm glad they don't have to suffer or be beaten for wanting to learn," she added.

"I am too,"

She her turned attention back to him, "Why are you drinking so early?" she asked curiously. "It's only eleven," she pointed out.

"Well, in France I believe it's five o'clock," he retorted, slightly grinning.

Sabine snatched the flask from his grip, "That's not an excuse," she said letting out a laugh and running away from him into the house.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the front door, Sabine felt a hand wrap around her waist and spin her around. Giggles bubbled from her throat as her surroundings whirled around.

"You two having fun?"

Andy's voice shattered Sabine and Bastien from being in their own little world and he quickly placed her on feet, grabbing his flask back with little resistance.

"Morning Andy," Sabine greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck and making her way to the den area.

"Your hunting go well?" she questioned, glancing back down at her newspaper.

"Plentiful," Sabine answered, laying the instrument against the wall. She shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder before reaching into the bag and pulled out a wad of cash. "It's all here. All $7,500 of it," she beamed, walking back over to Andy and handing her the cash.

Sabine remembered bringing the body of the outlaw to the sheriff and him giving her reward. He promised that all the money was there, but she counted the money nonetheless. It was better to be safe than sorry in her opinion.

Andy smiled and nodded, "Nice job," she complimented. "I'd figured you would want to wash up, so I heated some water up for you," Andy explained. "Booker, if you would be so kind to take that pitcher to the washroom," she requested.

"Sure boss," he answered, and walked over to the stove, wrapping the pitcher's handle with a towel.

Sabine watched as his figure disappear down the short hall where the washroom was located, but stopped when she felt like there were eyes on her.

She glanced over to the oldest immortal who had her brow arched, "What?" she asked, removing her hat from her head.

"I've been hearing...rumblings," Andy began, her voice low as she folded the newspaper up.

"Rumblings about what?"

"That something transpired between you and Book while I was away," Andy answered.

Sabine scoffed slightly, "Josef and Nicky said something didn't they?" she questioned, taking off jacket. "What did the two gossipers say?" she asked again, turning around to go hang her things up.

"Nothing compromising if that's what you're worried about," she reassured. "Matter of fact, I'm not completely sure what is going on," she admitted, the chair creaking underneath her as she stood up. "I have an inkling due to Joe's teasing mood as of late,"

Sabine shrugged casually, trying to brush off Andy's suspicions.

She turned around, "It's Josef, when isn't he teasing one of us," she said, with a chuckle.

Andy approached her, "Booker is fond of you," she said bluntly, just loud enough for only her to hear.

Sabine's mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words, "W-Well, I hope he would be, we've only known each other for a decade-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it,"

"Is everything alright?"

Sabine stared past Andy's shoulder and saw Bastien looking at the two of them with a slight frown.

"Yes," Sabine answered, flashing him a smile. "Just us two gals talking," she explained, moving past Andy. "Thanks again for the bathwater," she added, looking over her shoulder at the oldest immortal.

Andy let out a chuckle in disbelief, "Sure, no problem Sabine," she replied, shaking her head.

Sabine went down the hall and pushed the door closed, seeing her clothes that she forgot she left in there folded neatly. Sighing gratefully, she stripped herself from the clothes she was wearing and put them aside before she rinsed her hair. Next, she soaped her face and hands, humming to herself as went. She carefully rinsed her face before taking a wash rag to the rest of her. Finally, Sabine bathed her body and shivers ran down her spine from the chill in the house. She quickly dried herself as best she could and dressed herself in her clothes from the day before.

Dirty clothes in hand, Sabine left the small washroom and out to the main area where Andy, Nicky, and Josef were all seated at the table while Bastien was

Josef's eyes lit up at the sight of her, "My good friends, I think we have a genteel lady in our presence again," he commented, staring at her outfit.

Sabine rolled her eyes and did a little twirl, her skirt dancing at her ankles, "Yes, it is I, Lady Sabine," she announced, straightening her posture and lifting her hand in the air.

Doing a quick bow Sabine left the den, walking towards her bedroom to place her things down and return back to the main area of the home.

"You know that Juneteenth is approaching soon?" Sabine asked, tucking the sides of her blouse into her skirt a little more. "Last year we missed out on the festivities, too busy chasing down outlaws," she remarked, going to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Ah yes! I can hardly wait!" Josef cheered. "Good food, good drink, music, and dancing. Who could ask for more?" he added, leaning back in chair with his arms behind his head.

"We could all use a bit of fun," Nicky chimed in, as Sabine looked up from her cup.

"But not too much fun," Andy suggested cautiously. “I am not trying to play nanny to any of you,” she joked, a smile reaching her lips.

Sabine went to join the group, "Oh come on Andy," she complained, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder.  She walked past Bastien, lightly letting her finger trail across his shoulder, his body stiffening in response. "Bastien is our resident functioning alcoholic," she quipped, taking a seat next to him. "I think we'll be just fine," she added.

~~~x~~~

A light breeze swept through Hickory as Sabine did her afternoon chores outside.

She looked over the clothesline to see children sitting around Hans listening to him tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had the kids attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures, the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...being here.

Sabine pinned another shirt onto the line and lifted her eyes from her work again, just in time to meet Hans' gaze. He sent her a quick wink as he continued his storytelling, she chuckled to herself and shook her head as she bent down to pick up another article of clothing. The sound of a bell being vigorously rung echoed in the air followed by the loud chatter of children passing by her home.

Back to the schoolhouse they go.

Attaching her chemise to the line with clothespins, Sabine could see from the corner of her eye Hans' form strolling over to her.

"Afternoon Miss Vance," he greeted, from the other side of the clothesline.

"Afternoon," she echoed, wiping her hands dry on her dress.

"Hard at work I see," he joked, motioning to the drying laundry.

Sabine chuckled slightly, "Trust me, I've done harder," she replied, knowing the statement would go right over his head.

Hans didn't know that she was a slave, he didn't ask, so she didn't tell. Sabine always wondered if he didn't ask out of dignity or out of pity.

"Then let me grant you a reprieve," he said, sticking his arm out. Sabine glanced over to the clothesline and Hans chuckled. "I make better company than the laundry, I promise," he assured, a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess you have a point," Sabine agreed, her lips quirking up into a smile as she walked over to him.

"How about a ride to the nearby meadow?" Hans suggested, glancing over at her.

"That sounds lovely Hans," she agreed, before walking over to her horse.

Freedom was a beautiful horse, Sabine knew so. The animal was well built, a white stripe ran down nose, her coat a light brown that seemed to drop into a darker brown around her under belly and legs. Yes, Sabine adored the horse, it was her companion on her many bounty hunting trips. She stroked Freedom gently and in return the horse nuzzled her shoulder.

"Good girl," she cooed, giving the horse a pat and mounting it.

Sabine maneuvered her horse, guiding it to the front of her home where Hans waited on top of his own steed.

"Race you there," Sabine said, squeezing her legs on the horse's sides.

Freedom's light trot turned into a sprint as she took off, Sabine felt her plait bounce on her back as she sped off, looking back at the German with a wide unmistakable smile on her lips. Hans flashed his soft gray eyes at her, smiling back as he tugged on his reigns to catch up with her and ride at Sabine's side. Leaning her body back a little, let out a whoop as she felt the wind rush past her.

Soon, the two of them found themselves at a wide meadow full of flowers and tall, green grass.

Slowing her horse down, Sabine gazed at the scenery with a small grin and dismounted Freedom. Hans followed behind her, hopping off his saddle and dusted off a sprinkling of dirt on his horse's rear. Sabine lowered herself onto the ground and laid on her back, not caring if grass got in her hair. Without taking her eyes off the clouds in the sky, Sabine could hear Hans plop himself down next to her.

"Not that I'm not grateful," Sabine began, staring at a cloud that reminded her of a feather. "But why did you bring me out here?" she asked, lazily turning her head in his direction. "The porch is a very comfortable place to sit as you know," she joked.

"Too many prying eyes," Hans answered, staring down at her.

"What? My friends?" she questioned, with a chuckle. "They're harmless," she assured, giving a dismissive wave.

"You sure about that?" he asked back, letting out a laugh of his own. "What's his name, Samuel? I don't think he's that much fond of me," he commented, taking his hat off.

"Oh, Samuel is like that with everyone," Sabine replied, knowing that was lie.

"Miss Vance, I think you're lying to me," he stated, tearing some grass from the ground.

Sabine snickered, "Was it that obvious?" she wondered, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Just a little," he replied, pinching his fingers closely together.

"Samuel is...Samuel is something else," Sabine explained lamely. "He can be a bit cold towards people he doesn't know. I wouldn't take it personally," she instructed.

Hans hummed, "I'll take your word for it," he responded, stroking his beard, clearly not sold on the idea.

Sabine laughed lightly, "Anyways, did you have fun telling your stories today?" she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"It was wunderbar!" Hans answered, with a grin. "The children seemed to be hooked onto my every last word I said," he recalled proudly.

"I don't doubt it," Sabine agreed. "It makes me wonder why you're not a teacher in some big, fancy school in New York," she commented, looking at him in curiosity.

"I use to tutor children from the upper class for many years and life soon became monotonous for me," he explained, staring out into the meadow. "I kept hearing people say that 'The West' is full of opportunities and new experiences and I couldn't help myself," he went on, shrugging a little. "I know I'm a bit old, but I couldn't shake that sense of adventure off me," he finished, turning towards her with a grin.

"I think you're never too old to have a sense of adventure," Sabine disagreed. "You only get one life, why not live it?" she questioned, managing to keep a straight face as the hypocritical statement slipped past her lips.

"And what about you?" Hans inquired, lightly tapping her thigh. "The children have told me that you are quite the singer," he informed. "Your voice could take you places," he suggested.

Sabine scoffed, "Where would I sing?" she challenged. "In a fucking minstrelsy show to humiliate myself?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Goodness no," he disagreed vehemently. "And I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that," he added. "I just thought with your singing-"

"There isn't a stage in America that would let my colored ass perform," she cut in. "Look Hans, you may not know this, but being a female bounty hunter sometimes isn't really the most grateful job. Whether it's because you don't have a cock or your skin is not the color of milk. But at the end of the day, I still enjoy what I do. It helps me provide for myself and my friends, takes me to new places, and meet new people along the way," Sabine continued, running her hand through the grass. "Plus, I get paid to kill white folks," she added, a smirk on her face.

"An added bonus I'm sure," Hans responded, with a chuckle. He began to play with his hands before looking at Sabine again. "May I hear you sing?" he requested, with a hopeful look on his face.

"What?" Sabine asked, raising her brow. "Come on," she complained, throwing her head back.

"I haven't had the pleasure of hearing you sing," Hans pointed out.

Sabine exhaled dramatically, "Okay, fine, fine," she conceded, pushing herself up completely.

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were blue, her lips as red as wine. And he smiled as he gazed upon her, did that sly bold Reynardine.

"That's it, I'm not singing any further," Sabine stated, lifting her hands in the air. "If I sing anymore this week, I'm gonna have to start charging people," she quipped.

"But my appetite has not been sated yet," Hans pouted humorously.

Sabine grinned, "Too bad," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"Where did you learn that song from?" he asked curiously.

"Some English fellow that I met this past winter," she replied, a faint smile on her face. "He was a...very pleasant man to be with," she commented, thinking of fond memories about Oliver.

"You meet the darnedest of people out here, don't you?"

"It's like I said, perks of the job," Sabine reminded.

A silence fell between them as another breeze swept through meadow, blowing strands of hair across Sabine's face. She turned her head and stared at Hans with intent. Something was off about him today, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Was there another reason you brought me out here?" Sabine asked, staring at him.

The smile on his face lessened at her question, "Actually yes," he replied, tossing some blades of grass back onto the ground. "I received a telegram from Texas. A friend of mine is having trouble. You've heard of Theo Beck, I take it?" he asked, returning her gaze.

Sabine shrugged again, "A little. Sheriff Lane told me that he killed his family and then robbed a bank?" she answered, wondering where this was going.

"That'd be him. He was suppose to hang last week, but he escaped from his cell the day before his execution. Now, my friend is a federal marshal and he's the one that set the bounty. Dead or alive. Everyone's been searching, and his last sighting was in Oklahoma..." he trailed off.

Sabine's mind quickly put two and two together about this conversation.

"You're leaving?" she remarked, both of her eyebrows raised.

"I'm afraid I am my dear," Hans confirmed, nodding his head.

"I feel like you just got here and now you have to leave," Sabine grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I have to Corinna, I might never see an opportunity with the size of this reward like this again," he explained, raking his hand through his hair. "You are the one who told me that we only get one life," he reminded, slightly grinning.

"Yes, but I didn't think your next adventure would be this soon," she retorted, throwing her hands slightly. "Who's going to teach me German now?" she questioned, shaking her head a bit.

"I'll think you'll do just fine without me schatzi," Hans assured.

~~~x~~~

Sabine and Hans walked alongside their horse as they approached Hickory, deciding to give their horses a rest.

"Before I leave here, I want to give you something," Hans stated, before digging inside his coat pocket. He pulled out the German language lesson book that he had been going over with her. "Something for you to remember me by," he added, extending the book towards her.

Slowly, she pulled the book from his grasp, "Hans, are you sure about this?" she questioned. "We may never see each other again, I'll have no way of returning this to you," she pointed out.

"It's a gift remember?" Hans replied, a small smile on his face. "And when we do meet again, I expect us to have full fledged conversation in German, recalling all our wonderful exploits," he corrected, with an affirmative nod.

Sabine laughed, "I look forward to it," she concurred, clutching the book against her chest.

Hans stepped forward, gently taking her by the arms, "Before I depart I would like to also give you a proper goodbye,"

She arched an eyebrow, "'A proper goodbye'?" she repeated, wondering what he meant as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Yes, something that I've been wanting to do for a while," he continued, as he slid his hands around her waist.

Lowering his head ever so slightly, Hans planted his lips on her mouth. Sabine gladly allowed herself to lean into him, exhaling gently as she reciprocated the kiss. For that instant, they were totally unaware of everything and everyone around them. Hans' grip on her waist tightened, deepening their embrace. From the corner of her eye, Sabine saw a figure emerge from the front door of her home. Abruptly, she pulled away from Hans when she recognized who it was. Bastien. Clumsily, the book slipped from her hands, dropping it onto ground with an echoing thud.

Embarrassment was written all over her face.

"Samuel! I-I-didn't you see there," Sabine said sheepishly, her hands folding into one and other in a nervous, awkward motion.

"I can see that," Bastien responded, with harsh plainness.

Sabine glanced over to Hans, expecting to see the same wide-eyed expression as her, but instead Hans looked smug. Completely unfazed that Bastien had caught them in such a position. Sabine started to believe that's what made Bastien angrier as his nostrils flared and a vein on his forehead protruded out in anger.

Hans faced Sabine again, "Auf wiedersehen," he said, before kissing the top of her head.

The German climbed onto his horse and spurred it forward with his heels, sauntering past the town's wooden placard. As he left, Sabine could hear him humming a little tune to himself and she instantly recognized it.

It was the song Reynardine.

Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed

[thrushpot]

whipped

Billy Hargrove x fem reader

“can you do something with billy where like she has to babysit the party but it’s also date night so she drags billy with her and they all pile up on the couch to watch a movie either scary or romantic and everyone is shocked how gentle and caring billy is because they’re used to see him in a scary way thank youuu” requested by @allabouthargrove​

word count: 3,554

warning(s): swearing

a/n: I loved this idea! thank you for letting me write it, and I will sorta admit I got a teensy bit carried away? c’mon tho we need Billy bickering with the kids, that would’ve been so adorable to see. had trouble since there’s so many characters, I chose to have just 4 out of all of the kids to be there since writing that many characters was a little daunting to me. enjoy:)

—

“Babe, I’m just saying that they’re old enough to fuck off and do whatever they want while their folks are gone. When we were their age we never had a sitter that read fuckin’ bedtime stories and cuddled us all night,” Billy reasons, grumbling as he rips apart the third bag of popcorn he’s made so far for tonight’s movie night with the kids. He shoves the movie snack in the microwave and slams it, huffing more complaints under his breath about hating the children for not allowing him his one-on-one time with his girlfriend.

You’ve of course noticed by now this far in the relationship you’ve shared with Billy how high his temper can elevate to. Maybe it’s directed to someone else, such as his dad (whom infuriates him the most, and rightfully so). However, his anger has never taken a tole on you. Ever. Maybe there’s a sprinkle of a disagreement between the two of you here and there, but he’s proven himself more than worthy of your trust. Thick and thin, he has been outstanding at comforting you and never lashing out at you if he had a hard day.

With that being said, his relationship with the kids is a different story.

Billy blatantly shows his disapproval and not to mention distaste for Dustin and Lucas in particular, whom have shown interest in his little sister. Nothing’s escalated to a full on fight before, he’s never stooped that low to throw hands on a kid. Although Billy vows to protect what’s his and he knows what goes through their heads, given that he was once their age and in awe of girls. So you could imagine the internal battle the teen is going to be fighting, having to sit pretty and stay calm for the sake of his girlfriend. Yes, he could have just skipped the ordeal entirely, maybe reschedule their date for when things could be a little more private. But when you offered that he could still come over while you babysit, with your goddamn puppy eyes and gentle pleas of desperation, fuck him if he can’t say no, alright?

Billy promised to be on his best behavior, but his patience has already worn thin and none of the kids have even arrived yet.

You sigh before sauntering over to where he stands, idly watching the transformation of the popping corn in the microwave with his hands on his hips. Turning his chin so that he meets your eyes, knowing that eye contact always seems to force him to snap out of it, you speak lowly in his ear.

“Listen, I get that they’re not your favorite to hang out with, but I promised you a little something if you play nice, didn’t I?” you pet his dirty blonde curls, another tactic for persuading Billy that you’ve learned. His pout fades a little, and he turns away before muttering a moody “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, look at me. Billy,” you request, turning his head gently once more. His blue eyes meet yours.

“Things’ll be just fine. You’ll do great, I know it. Because I didn’t fall in love with an asshole, I fell in love with you.”

How the fuck is Billy supposed to argue that?

—

All at once, the kids come as promised at seven, riding their bikes to your garage. It’s Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will that have been put under your wing for the night. Max has been on vacation to visit her side of the family, and El is spending her night watching Miami Vice with her dad. Steve wasn’t available either, working tonight at Family Video, which makes the perfect coincidence that you and Billy were to watch them together.

Dustin and Lucas were equally weary about Billy’s attendance at your movie night, shakey and worrisome about getting into it with your boyfriend. Will, however, could really care less. Billy never had any beef with him, probably because he never tried hitting on his sister.

“I’m just saying, Lucas, it would’ve been a good idea if we brought protection! We know he won’t hesitate to fucking murder us, so we need to be prepared!” Dustin whisper-shouts, his anxiety clouding his proper judgement. Lucas rolls his eyes and pushed the curly haired boy’s shoulder, knowing how ridiculous and sensitive he can get. Yes, Billy scares him shitless too, but he has faith in Y/N to tame the wild beast.

“You guys are idiots. God, Dustin, just shut up already. He would’ve killed us a long time ago if he planned on it, he’s had like a hundred chances already,” Mike complains, thinking that that’s somehow going to serve as reassurance to his friends. Dustin’s eyes grew impossibly wider than they already were, and Lucas curses under his breath before the door is ripped open in front of them.

Billy is the one to greet them at the door, chest puffed out as he eyes the shorter boys. He then leans on the side of the door, mocking them with one hand on a hip and a smirk playing his face.

“Well well well,” the older boy says. Without turning around and breaking eye contact with any of the middle schoolers, he shouts to get your attention. “Babe! Your Goonies are here!”

From inside the house in the living room, you squat in front of the television as you continue attempting to set up the film you chose.

“Yeah? And are you gonna let them in?” you ask, already smelling his alpha male behavior from a mile away. Billy reluctantly gives in, knowing he couldn’t deny you of anything you want, and opens the door wider to let the dorky dwarfs in. One at a time, they all rush to get inside, with a quiet Will being let in first by Billy, then come Mike second, and Lucas third. Dustin swallows audibly and keeps his eyes glued to his shoes as to not give the older boy any reason for trouble, and nearly loses it when he’s stopped by a hand on his chest.

“It wasn’t me, I swear! It was all Lucas’s idea, he was the one who was gonna hit on M—“ Dustin is quick to throw Lucas under the bus to save his own ass, and Billy would be lying if he said it didn’t make him wanna laugh for days. Of course this one kid in particular is the narc of the bunch. Makes sense.

“You agreed that you’d be civil, Billy! Ten seconds, you lasted not ten seconds!” you scold him as you march over to the door, livid enough to scare Billy back to being nice again. Without any further stalling, Billy looks down in what the kids see as shame, which they didn’t think he was even capable of feeling, then allows the ballcap wearing kid inside. Like a completely different person than he was not even five seconds ago, has he been fucking possessed, he walks over to where you stand and look knowingly at him. With a kiss on the cheek, and a whisper that none of the younger ones are able to hear, you’re back to normal and Billy is unusually quiet.

All the boys watch the show, seeing him go from alpha dog to obedient puppy instantaneously. Dustin mouthed ’what the fuck was that’ to Mike, baffled by the affect you had on the malicious blonde.

Mike rolls his eyes as he takes off his coat before muttering, “Love makes people crazy. And weird. But mostly crazy.”

—

“Billy was oh so very kind enough to make all you guys popcorn for the movie we’re watching tonight,” you squeeze Billy’s hip when you refer to him before he yelps and blushes. All the kids have no fucking idea how this monster has transformed, blushing because a girl touched him.

“Uh, thanks,” Dustin awkwardly reaches for one of the bowls of popcorn, hasty when he takes a piece and puts it in his mouth, trying to play detective to see if Billy put something in it.

When you and Billy walk to the kitchen he starts a dramatic coughing fit and lets out a string of curses, spitting it out then warns Lucas that he thinks it was poisoned.

“Everything okay out there?” You check in after hearing odd commotion, pulling away from the kisses that Billy was sprinkling all over your neck.

“Yeah, Dustin just choked on a kernel. He’ll be just fine, won’t you, Dusty?” Lucas harshly pats the boy’s back in an effort to cover up his stupidity as an accident. Will shakes his head at his dumb friends, but offers to eat it if he doesn’t want it.

“Hey Y/N, when are we starting the movie? We didn’t come here to sit and wait around, you know!” Mike calls out, all four of them going to the kitchen to see what the hold up was before peeking at quite a sight. It was you sitting on the kitchen counter, Billy between your legs, exchanging kisses and whispers of promises for what’s to come later as he softly combs his fingers through your hair keeping it out of your face. All four of their jaws dropped at the nauseating poster of pure tenderness being displayed in front of their eyes. The other hand that wasn’t in your hair was rubbing your waist, and it didn’t even look that sexual, instead looking just so goddamn loveable that it nearly made them all simultaneously hurl.

“I’ll — We’ll be out there in a minute, guys,” you stutter and laugh when Billy makes a face then traces a sweet line down your jaw with his thumb. “We’re making more popcorn!”

“Okay, no they’re not. That’s not what making popcorn looks like,” Dustin shakes his head and fakes a gagging sound.

“No shit, doofus. Who the hell would ever think Hill-Billy Hargrove could ever be that in love with someone who’s not himself,” Mike mumbles, before wordlessly throwing a pillow that lands directly at Dustin’s face.

When you and Billy finally emerge from the kitchen after whatever gross activities that high schoolers do, nothing but bickering is to be heard. You surrender with a shrug and an empty apology before pressing play on the film.

“So what is it that we’re watching, exactly?”

“Nightmare on Elm Street,” Billy answers the curly haired boy, not taking his eyes off the screen or his hands off Y/N. You two have somewhat of an unspoken language, communicating with nods and gestures that none of the middle schoolers can wrap their heads around. You’d nod your head to the bowl if you’d like to be fed a piece of popcorn, and without any protests on his end, your boyfriend feeds it right to you and then grabs a handful for himself. Mike wants to throw up, Dustin wants to die because of the horrible movie choice, and Will simply sits tight and kicks back his feet, somewhat enjoying himself.

“Uh, who the hell picked this garbage for us to watch?” Dustin asks, shoving his toothless mouth full of the buttery snack.

“The lady gets to pick whatever we do and whatever we watch, because she was sweet enough to even let you come over in the first place,” Billy spits, before earning a certain look from you that says ’you know better’ making him shut his trap. He nestles his face into your neck as a sheepish way to say he’s sorry, that he’ll try better before you get excited when asking him for another one of his heavenly massages. Billy is the number one champion at getting all the knots that sit in your shoulders and your neck out, and he never complains about doing the job either. He loves pleasing you. Turning to the side to give him a better angle at your back, he gets right to work and even puts his elbow into the mix. He always loves the soft sounds you let out from how pleasant the sensations are.

“Mm, you like it here? Want me to go up higher?”

“No no, it’s perfect right there. Wait, little lower. And harder. Yeah, that’s it,” you guide him and he follows your directions flawlessly, ignoring the glares from the dwarfs that have to sit and listen to this shit.

“Should’ve brought those barf bags that they use on planes,” Mike grumbles, turning his head back to the television where Johnny Depp is talking on the phone in a crop top. Freddie Krueger has yet to fuck shit up and kill people, but Dustin still covers his eyes and hides in Lucas’s shoulder.

Halfway through the movie, after Billy had given up massaging you given the cramp that started up in his hands, he gets bored. So bored, in fact, that fucking with the kids sounds like the perfect entertainment for right now. His girl is still nestled under his arm, and he’s sure as shit proud that you barely even flinched while watching Freddie slit numerous bodies open, cheap scare after cheap scare. And then the perfect idea comes to him.

“You know, I actually read somewhere that this movie’s based on a true story.”

Dustin snaps his head to the teenage blonde and gasps aloud, hiding further into the blankets. You on the other hand laugh at the absurdity and his attempt at scaring the kids, but allowing him to continue. It’s the first time he’s actually spoken to them without making a threat or ridiculing the boys anyway.

“You’re shitting me.”

Billy shakes his head, somehow in some way keeping a straight face as he stirs up even more complete utter bullshit. “Nope. They say that there really was a guy in a fedora that would come to you in your dreams, and if he killed you in your sleep, you’d die for real.”

The kids begin to outrage.

“Alright, that’s just—“

“Nuh-uh, no way, man. I’m never getting a second of sleep ever again!”

“Now WAIT a second, that can’t possibly be possible!”

And that’s where you draw the line, deciding they’ve had enough. “Okay, guys, GUYS! He was joking. That was his attempt at a joke,” you silence the chaos, while Billy sits there with a shit eating grin at the gasoline he poured into the fire. He could rile them up without even lifting a finger, and he was happy about that.

“You’re a goddamn demon! Jesus!” Dustin roars, pointing a finger at Billy as he sits and stares, not intimidated by the Little Red Riding Hoods that threaten him.

“Demon Jesus? Never heard of that one,” he smirks, getting up and throwing a blanket over the kid’s face. Dustin scrambles to shove it off him, annoyed at how Billy is Mister Nice Guy to Y/N but a fucking asshole to everybody else entirely.

“Shut up you guys, I wanna finish the movie already,” Will objects, trying to turn the sound up on the television to tune out the dispute. After the whole house finally seems to settle down and finish it up, you end up asleep and cuddled into Billy’s entire side as he pets your arm as to soothe you even though you’re not even awake, Will’s knocked out on the floor, same goes for Dustin and Lucas. The only ones left that haven’t yawned once are Billy and Mike.

It’s somewhat awkward when the credits begin to roll, giving the two boys no more room for something to do as they uncomfortably lay in silence. Mike almost wants to pretend to be asleep just to ditch any attempt at conversation Billy may potentially try, but it’s too late when they accidently make eye contact.

“Um, I’m gonna tuck her in to her bed real quick,” Billy whispers, holding up a finger to his lips to make Mike stay quiet. The younger boy nods in understanding, and then Billy carefully gets up from the couch and grabs you bridal style before carrying you to your room. When he comes back, Mike is still staring at the ceiling, thinking loud enough for Billy to want to say something to the kid.

“I was just messin’ with you kids, uh, about the movie being real and all. I didn’t know it’d piss all you off that much,” he scratches the back of his neck. Mike nods again, assuring him it didn’t freak him out nearly as much as it did his other two dweeb friends.

“Um, would it be cool if I asked you something?” the younger boy whispers after he gets up to join Billy in the kitchen, thankfully more private and away from all the sleeping figures in the living room. Billy stays standing but nods at the chair, signaling Mike to sit. He complies before awaiting an answer.

“Depends on what you ask.”

“Um, you seem really good at like, how to treat a girl. You’re usually terrifying but tonight I witnessed you hand feeding Y/N and giving her a massage for like an hour, not to mention the kissing and other gross stuff, but I just don’t get it,” he finishes, not knowing if he worded any of that right. And also worrying about getting punched for even asking.

“What don’t you understand?” Billy furrows his brows, unaware of what he was being asked here. “I love her and respect her. Which is what you’re supposed to do,” he answers, opening the fridge to grab a beverage. He looks back at Mike, then back to the fridge, then wordlessly snatches a Caprisun and throws it at Mike who barely catches it in time.

“No! No I know but I just—“

“Shh,” the older boy scolds, whispering for Mike to keep his voice down. He shakes his head then beckons the boy to come out back with him. Mike, somewhat frightened and confused, follows his lead not knowing where this conversation is leading. Billy takes a seat on the lawn chair before pulling a pack out of his back pocket, taking a stick out and putting it between his lips.

“Wanna elaborate then, please?” he scoffs with the cigarette in his lips, searching every pocket and even the outside table for a lighter. Mike stands stiffly as he fumbles to do as he was asked.

“I wanna know how you did it, y’know, got all that ‘feelings’ stuff down and then get to the good stuff,” Mike stumbles.

Billy, having found a lighter, pauses as he burns the top of his cigarette then takes a puff before letting out a laugh of disbelief.

“You’re comin’ to me for advice on how to get with my own goddamn sister.” Billy concludes. “Well, I’ll have you know that if you or any of you twerps lay a fucking finger on her I’ll—“

“Woah woah woah, no. That’s not what I want, okay! Your sister is annoying and gross,” Mike defends himself, even holding his hands up in some sort of pussy way to protect himself.

Billy pulls another face, huffing smoke out his nose akin to a dragon before getting even angrier.

“Don’t you dare call her that either, motherfucker!”

“So you don’t want me liking her or hating her. Makes perfect sense,” Mike gives him attitude, seemingly forgetting who he’s talking to.

“Hey, shitbird. I don’t want any of you piss-for-brains even near Maxine, but if you’re not talking about her, who the hell are you talking about?” Billy wonders, finding himself actually curious for once about middle school gossip.

“Wait, it’s not that little girl named after a number, is it?”

Mike’s avoidance serves as a confirmation.

Billy chuckles as he blows out more smoke, then even offers the middle schooler a hit, raiding his brows. He knows how bad the girl trouble gets, especially at that age when you have no idea what’s going on and why girls are hot and make you nervous all the sudden.

Mike’s face scrunches up in disgust.

“Dude, Y/N would kill you if she saw you offering me that.”

“That’s... yeah, you’re right. Pretend nothing happened,” Billy agreed.

“Okay. So were you just planning on making fun of me and then suggesting I smoke, or—“

Billy puts his hand up to silence him.

“Kid, I learned through bad experiences. But it takes the right girl that forgives and forgets when you fuck up. A special girl, not just the first one that walks by,” he explains, ashing the last of his spliff and putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“Y/N did that? Forgive you and forget all the messed up shit you pulled?” he asks.

“Well, yeah. Only ‘cause she loves me. And she keeps me in line,” he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger as he speaks, still giddy and lovesick even after all this time he’s been with you. Mike doesn’t find it cute in the slightest, he snorts at it even, but takes his advice and keeps it at heart. He mutters ”whipped” on his way back inside, before gasping as a hand yanks on the back of his shirt, forcing him backward.

“Good luck with the girl, kid. But I’m holding you responsible for keeping your friends the fuck off my sister.”

—

had to put a dash of mileven in cause adorable, and when I pictured Billy offering the kids a smoke I laughed and knew it had to be written. hope this didn’t suck!

[vsullivan]

Lucky 7 | Steve Harrington x Reader – pt. 5

This chapter is a little shorter than the others, sorry about that! I’ll probably start typing up chapter 6 at work and maybe getting it out tonight! Also, I hope you guys don’t mind me essentially rewriting season 3. I hadn’t intended on changing so much, but I guess my mind wanders too much! I promise that it’ll still have the same general outcome though. And again, be prepared for me to never stop mentioning this, but thank you so so so so so so much for reading. Every like, comment, and reblog means the absolute world to me.

Seven usually wasn’t one to seek trouble - but something urged her to follow the girl’s to Billy’s home. There was something in his eyes that made her sick to her stomach. It was like deja vu. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the last time she’d had that same sinking feeling was when she looked into the eyes of Will Byers when he was being controlled by the mind flayer. She didn’t mention these thoughts to the girls, although she had a feeling they were already thinking the same thing.

Chapter 5: Worry Not, My Dear Friend

Seven usually wasn’t one to seek trouble - but something urged her to follow the girl’s to Billy’s home. There was something in his eyes that made her sick to her stomach. It was like deja vu. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the last time she’d had that same sinking feeling was when she looked into the eyes of Will Byers when he was being controlled by the mind flayer. She didn’t mention these thoughts to the girls, although she had a feeling they were already thinking the same thing.

 There wasn’t much discourse on the way to Billy’s home, the three too nervous jinx anything. Once they’d arrived, Max peered into one of the windows. Waving her hand towards Seven and El, who stood awkwardly a few feet away.

 They quickly joined Max on the porch, and Seven stopped to look between the two girls. Without moving her mouth she told individually ‘We need to be careful, if that vision was true - I don’t know how he’d respond to us sneaking into his house.’

 They nodded in agreement, Seven wiping the blood from her nose as she watch El unlock the door from the inside. Silently, they entered, a rush of cold air embracing them as they walked in - nonof them giving it a second thought considering it was normal to have the AC on blast during the summer. However, no one thought to take a look at at thermometer, which if they had, read a daunting 59 degrees - and still declining.

 Gazing around, nothing immediately looked out of place, but they continued their search.

 Seven made sure that the younger girls remained within reaching distance, but she continued her own scan of the room until she’d noticed a picture frame placed on a side-table. Seven didn’t know why she felt the need to walk over to it, nor why she found herself taking it in her hands. It was just a photo of a woman, one with a sweet smile adorning an aging face as she posed for the camera.

 Seven had never really taken the time to look at photographs before. She usually only glances at them when she visits’ others’ home, worrying that it might be creepy if she went through to examine each one. Hopper didn’t have anything like them at his home, so she really didn’t know what kind of etiquette was acquainted with it. But this time, the owner of this home was not present to make any judgements.

 There was an ocean in the background, but the face took up most of the frame. Seven noticed how the woman had such a beautiful pair of baby blue eyes - ones not that different from the pair that had stared her down from within a car two months prior. Was this woman Billy’s mother?

 Seven looked at her again. She found herself bringing the photo closer to her face, focusing on the eyes once more. She didn’t know why she began searching, why on earth she was drawn to this woman’s eyes...

 Suddenly, she felt the rope in her hands. But this was a picture? Feeling an overwhelming sense of curiosity, she tugged herself into the darkness as she would if the woman was standing right in front of her.

 Seven then found herself standing alone, the familiar black abyss surrounding her until a flood of light poured in. However, unlike any other she had seen, the string of light was short - not stretched out to the point where it looked like it went on for infinity.

 When the light spiraled around her, the call of seagulls could be heard, alongside the sound of ocean waves as they crash into the shore.

 The air tasted like salt, the wind blowing Seven’s hair around. She felt a smile on her lips as she faced a camera. After the camera shuttered, she looked past the lense to see a boy, likely a good couple years younger than Eleven.

 He laughed as he swiped the photo from the device, waving it around as he began singing “Perfect, Perfect!” Seven found her smile widening as the woman’s had in this memory, the feeling of adoration and love filled her senses too. Seven loved when she came upon sweet memories as these, it made having to settle herself in a stranger’s body more bearable.

 Then, her lips began moving as the woman started singing her son a lovely tune. Grasping his hand, she took him on a stroll down the beach.

 ‘Love I get so lost, sometimes - days pass and this emptiness fills my heart’ the boy joined in, squeezing his mother’s hand as they started skipping along the shoreline.

 ‘But whichever way I go, I come back to the the place you are...”

 Their voices faded away as the stream of light came to its end. In the blink of an eye, Seven found herself staring at the picture frame again, into the eyes of the same woman who’s memories she just experienced. That song... she’s heard it before.

 Looking around, she saw Max and El looking at her expectantly. They could tell something just happened by the blood dripping from Seven’s nose. She then put the picture back in the same position as she found it, telling the girls she’d fill them in on what just occurred after they get out of there. They nodded reluctantly, following after Seven as she guided them into the other rooms.

 Nothing seemed amiss in Billy’s bedroom, although Seven did have to shush the girls as they both hissed out ‘ewww’ when they saw a poster of a woman in a bright red bikini hanging on his wall.

 After checking out the kitchen, the only space left to search was the bathroom. They remained cautious as they neared said room, Seven popping her head in before letting anyone step inside. Seeing it was clear, she let the girls slide around her and into the room - noticing it was significantly colder in there compared to the rest of the home.

 Eleven and Max gasped simultaneously, igniting Seven’s sense of fight or flight. Quickly, she stepped forward and her eyes followed their gazes to the bathtub. Taking another step, she leaned forward to see what had shaken them-

 The tub was full of ice.

 “This is bad, oh man.” Max started, her hands bunching into her hair as panic began to overtake her. Seven quickly turned, taking Max’s arms from above her head to set them at her sides.

 “It’s okay, this doesn’t mean it’s-it’s” Max made a face. “The Mind Flayer.” She finished Seven’s sentence.

 Seven sighed, her hands leaving the redhead’s forearms before she placed them on her shoulders instead. “We’ll figure it out.” She managed to smile. “It’s not over yet.” Seven added, feeling the tenseness in Max’s shoulders lessen as she reassured her.

 “You’re right,” the younger teen sighed. “But what now?” Seven turned to El, who’d been silent until she finally spoke “I’ll find him.”

 They’d gone to Billy’s living room, setting his tv to static so Eleven could work her magic. Removing the bandana from around her eyes, El stared back at the other girls. “Heather.” The two looked to each other before turning back to El.

 “Who?”

“Do you really think she’s all right?” Steve spoke, his eyes on the road but Seven on his mind. “Who? Seven? Oh yeah, she’s fine.” Dustin quipped, gathering his supplies together and placing them back in his bag. “You should have seen how she held back the Mind Flayer.” He added, still shuffling around in his sear.

 “I didn’t see it either, but Jonathan said her whole head turned real veiny, blood gushing out of both her nose holes while they were forcing that thing out of Will!” Steve grimaced, but Dustin continued with a voice way too cheerful for the words he was spewing out. “She wouldn’t really talk about it, but she said she saw the Mind Flayer, and it was scariest shit she’d ever-“

 “Okay, okay, I get it.” Steve cut him off, not wanting to hear anymore of how his crush had to endure something like that. “Oh, don’t be such a wussy, Steve!”

 “She helped save Will from that weird demon thing, meaning she’s more than capable of getting El through whatever girl stuff going on.” He added, throwing his hands up in the air, irritated at how pessimistic his friend was being.

 “Yeah.” Steve sighed, discontented. “I guess so.” Realizing his older friend’s moodiness wasn’t going away anytime soon, Dustin rolled his eyes, quickly trying to find something to his distract him from Seven.

 “Hey, why don’t we stop by your house for a second?” He said, Steve threw him a questioning look before settling his eyes back on the road. “For what?”

“I don’t know, supplies? We don’t know how long we’ll be at the mall and I don’t have any money to buy Chinese food!” Dustin heard a sigh, watching how his chauffer turned into a residential driveway, using it to back up and get back on the road in the opposite direction they’d been riding previously.

“Fine, fine. But make it quick.”

-         

ALSO I AM SO DUMB AND LOOKED UP SONGS FROM THE 80′S AND KNEW THIS SONG WAS PERFECT BUT BILLY WAS BORN IN 1967 OMFG CAN WE PLEASE PRETEND IM NOT STUPID LOL its too late to change it, i just now realized this AS IM FORMATTING THE TUMBLR POST 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Tag list: (feel free to let me know if you want me to tag you or take you off!)

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @-thatgirloverthere- @truthdaze @grippleback-galaxy  <33

[daddyzanchez]

Literally just angst I put together in 3 hours, and I am posting it because I am wild and I have clue if it is good or bad. In this story, Diane and Rick did not end up together. They were simply teen lovers, now meeting backstage after 30ish years after a concert by The Flesh Curtains.

1800 words - SFW - F/M - The Flesh Curtains, Diane Sanchez, teen romance, heartbreak, angst and feels  

Link to story on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878262

Silent Dressing Rooms

Rick stubs out his cigarette the moment that he hears a knock on his door. It isn’t a staff-member because their way of knocking is usually followed by them entering with little warning. The person on the other side hasn’t gone in yet. 

People aren’t usually allowed backstage after a gig, especially as Rick and his band has gained the popularity they have; a bigger place would never be so care but then again, The Flesh Curtains has played at the old bar where they first performed. The place is as gross as he remembers from his youth. The walls of his backstage room are dirty and the smoking laws haven’t been introduced here yet, hence why he was enjoying an after-gig smoke.

A second knock interrupts his train of thought and he pushes himself to stand. He dreads whatever is behind the door, not being in the mood for fans. Instead, he wants to sip a beer in peace whilst going back down memory lane. 

“S-sorry, I’m not-” he says greets the woman on the other side but he stops dead in his sentence. It is Diane, and he is suddenly further down memory lane than he expected. More precisely, he is seventeen and back in high school again. His love for music is at its peak and Diane is sitting on his bed as he plays the guitar.

“Diane,” he says instead and she immediately goes in to hug him. She doesn’t quite feel the same but he guesses she hasn’t since they broke up years ago.

“Rick,” she replies and squeezes him to the point that makes him realise that she is a mother now. There’s something different about the way she hugs, some kind of affection that only a woman with children can transfer in her embraces. When she pulls back, she is grinning, “God, it’s been so long. Look at you.”

“Look at me?” Rick finds that he hasn’t got any other reply for that and gives her a smile in return. He steps aside to motion for her to come in, and then closes the door behind her. 

“You look so different from back then,” she elaborates. 

“I-I was seventeen,” he argues as he walks back to sit down once again. Rick holds out his hand, gesturing to a poor quality chair for her to sit down as well. 

“That’s how I remember you,” she pulls the chair in front of him, close enough for their knees to nearly touch. She leaves her coat on when she takes a seat, and Rick can feel a pang of hurt in his stomach. Why does such a little detail tell you so much? It’s suddenly very clear that there’s no big intentions behind her visit, and when he looks down, he even sees a wedding band on her finger. 

“Congratulations,” he tries to make conversation. 

“Thank you,” Diane plays with the ring on her finger, smiles to herself as if remembering something fondly at the very touch of the gold. It’s envy that Rick feels now. He never got to have that with her.

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

“What do you mean we’re not c-compatible?” Rick snapped as Diane’s bottom lip quivered, “Is this some bullshit that your dad has put in your head again?”

“You know how he is, Rick,” she replied, a tear starting to roll down her cheek after she had blinked. Her blush had wet vertical streaks, “I can’t-”

“Yes you can,” he interrupted. The anger he felt in his body was rising above his head soon, and the very fact that he even considered having Diane be a part of his life as a roadie with an upcoming music career was foolish. She could never be that person because she was a coward, “You can, Diane. You just don’t want to because how dare I try to show you anything that isn’t your parents’ boring life of suffocating domestic bliss?”

“Rick.”

“Little miss goody two shoes, give me a break,” he scoffed.

Diane narrowed her eyes, suddenly frantically wiping her tears away. Gotcha, was all he could think. 

“Really, Rick?” She spat, and if he did not know her, he would actually feel a bit scared as she stepped forward to poke his chest, “You really think that you could become anything with whatever you think you can do? Striving to work with music? You really think you’re gonna be able to feed your family with a gig at a bar once a month. You’re set up for failure, that’s what my dad says.”

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

Rick cannot recall the last time he has slammed a door as hard as he did back then. 

“Are you happy?” He asks bluntly. A part of her wants to be miserable so his words from back then were true. He hates being wrong but he can tell the answer already.

“We’ve been married happily for two decades now, own a house, two children; a boy and a girl,” Diane’s face lights up when she talks about them in a way that he remembers so well from back when they were dating. She looks prettier when it happens, younger even and Rick wants to smile to acknowledge her happiness in life, reach out to touch her again but the urge fades and the smile barely makes it across his face when she asks him the same question.

She frowns when Rick shakes his head, and something tells him that it was nothing but a formality instead of a genuine question.

“N-not yet,” he quickly adds to relieve her of her awkwardness, “S-s-something can change though, I’m not out of years, you know.”

“Speaking of years,” Diane quickly changes the subject, and Rick has to admit that he feels just as relieved as she probably does, “How long has it been?”

“Since?” Rick leans back into his chair to reach behind him for his pack of cigarettes. He offers one to her but she declines.

“Us.”

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

“You really think I could tour the world?” Rick asked as he looked up at the ceiling. There was a poster of Mick Jagger, and he smirked at how conveniently it was placed for when you’ were lying here all alone. Additionally, Rick knew it was a hint to why Diane was so crazy about him.

“I’m positive but don’t leave me here. I’ll have to come with you,” Diane curled up at his side, pecking his cheek and didn’t even take a second to look up at Jagger’s face. Rick felt pride when moments went by and she still didn’t look up at the poster but instead kept her nose in the crook of his neck.

“W-what about your parents?” He turned his head to kiss her lips.

“Screw them,” she said between a string of small pecks.

“Why I have never!” Rick clutched his chest dramatically.

Diane giggled loudly, slapping him playfully. Rick grabbed her and pulled her on top of himself, digging his fingers into her sides to tickle her and moments later, she was shrieking and begging and laughing, and Rick felt like his heart was going to burst. 

“I don’t care about them,” she said when she finally caught her breath, “I only care about us.”

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

Us. Rick lights his cigarette to let the word hang in the air for a moment, drags out the moment even further by taking a drag. What he wouldn’t give to go back to that very memory where the word had a different ring to it than it does right now.

“Must be about 30-ish years, right?” Rick blows out smoke, any excuse to face away from her for the brief moment it takes for him to not get all emotional about it. The last thing he wants is to show her how she’s still there, haunting him daily in his thoughts without him even noticing that he is thinking of her.

“34, I think,” she calculates with a tiny laugh, sounding astounded by the mere concept of time. Rick finds it more beautiful than any guitar solo he’s ever heard, “I can’t believe I haven’t bumped into you since.”

“I-I moved away as quickly as I could after graduating,” he shrugs, “Nothing was left for me here, and thank God I got out of this prison. Could you see me here? Working a normal job with n-normal hours?” 

“Funny, I stayed. Even live a few blocks down the road,” she doesn’t sound offended by his insults towards their hometown or maybe she just chooses to ignore them, so they don’t have another fight like that one, “I heard you were playing here through a friend from work.”

“You liked it? The show? The songs?” He awaits her judgement. Some songs are about her.

“Some of the slower ones, you know which ones I am talking about, were they about me?” She asks, and finally, there’s something in her eyes that tell him that this was what she came here to ask for because her cheeks go pink and her breathing speeds up. 

“Some of them,” he admits without hesitation. 

“Naaah,” she says playfully, nearly seems like she is joking and it hurts Rick more than he thought it would, “I don’t remember us quite like that.”

“I remember more than juuu-ust tears and screaming,” he mumbles, and the way her eyebrows go slightly up tells him that she regrets having said it quite like that.

“No romanticising it at all? I don’t believe you.” 

“I mean every word I write, Diane, d-d-don’t fucking try and come here to question my work,” Rick suddenly snarls, throwing the cigarette on the concrete floor and stubbing it out with his heel. The ashtray seems to far away right now.

There’s silence for a moment.

“I have to go,” she quickly gets up from her seat, coat never having left her shoulders because it is part of her escape plan not to have taken it off. 

She’s out the door in less than ten seconds, and the room goes painfully quiet when she leaves. Something about the encounter seems surreal, as if he is high and has imagined the whole thing. 

The next knock on the door is familiar, and sure enough, a broad and tall man enters the room with the bar’s logo on his shirt. He holds onto the doorknob as he speaks, “Sanchez, get up. There’s people out there who would like to get an interview.”

He pauses briefly, then frowns, “Man, you smoked in here? Look at that mess on the floor! We’re gonna need to call the cleaners on your bill.”

The door closes. Rick lights a third cigarette. 

[chezzkaa]

Numb pt 2

Click here for more Numb content OR JOIN THE NUMB DISCORD

Lumberjack AU

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader

WC: 1900+

You and Jeremy stare at one another, trying to find familiar footing after disappearing from each other’s lives for 2 years. His smile is the same, beard the familiar close and clean trim as it had always been, and the glint in his eyes still sparkles with the upturn of his lips. And yet he’s somehow broader than you remember, which is saying something, considering his usual build that sees his shoulders going on for miles. The coat only adds, thick and bulky, fur trim sweeping his jawline. But he doesn’t look at you any differently, no accusations or prying questions, none of the hatred you expect and deserve. Standing before you isn’t a man you’ve wronged, but a childhood friend eager for your next adventure. But guilt taints the warm joy you’ve been wearing all day, lower lip pulled between nervous teeth.

Sensing your discomfort, he waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t even think about it.”

“About what?”

“Apologising.” He smiles, expression brimming with forgiveness and a sense of understanding you’ve never been able to fully comprehend. He bustles to your side, brushing your hands from the cart and taking over, pushing it towards Geoff - who isn’t thrilled to see him again. You follow close behind. Drunk on nostalgia. Broken on history.

He throws a curious glance back at you, his joy overwhelming and cheeks a rosy pink. “So what’re you doing in Motbury? The mountains are pretty far from the city.”

You shrug, making a face and a vague hand gesture. “Figured it was time for a change of scenery. Besides, I’ve always liked the mountains.”

“Wait a minute. You’ve been stationed up here, haven’t you?” He’s eager. Eyes wide and he’s practically bouncing. Geoff wills him to stop from behind the counter, fearful of the items spanning the station. Tattooed fingers protect the goods like cages, gaze critical of the small officer. “You have! God, please tell me this means we get to work together again? I could even get you a desk by mine, if you’d like. Because, get this Y/N, there’s this case that’s-”

A cautionary and firm hand stops his excitement, as well as his potential to destroy anything else. Geoff throws you a thankful look, and you return it with a smile. But Jeremy continues to tremble, ready to explode, bubble bursting as soon as you speak. “I’m not with the force anymore.”

His mouth falls open with an audible pop, appalled and yet still somehow managing to stack your groceries on the counter. Geoff has to catch a few to stop them rolling, but does his best to avoid another casualty. “What?!”

“I quit not long after you left.”

“Quit? Y/N,” his tone turns serious, accompanied with the gentle beep of scanned items. You budge Jeremy out of the way, beginning to load up your purchases with more haste and consistency while he continues to gawp. “You’re the best detective I know. Best in the country. How could you give it all up?”

“Was,” you correct with a smile only visible to the milk cartons you unload, “but I appreciate it.”

“You’ve wanted to be a detective ever since you were a kid.”

You hold back the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake, instead chewing the inside of your cheek until blood cleanses the bitterness from your tongue. “I changed my mind.”

He can’t fathom it. Wrestling with empty hands, he tries to force the air into something he can understand. “But what’ve you been doing for 2 years?”

Shrugging, your mood cools with the dipping of the sun, clouds scattered with purples and deep blues. The store hums with the glow of yellowed bulbs, reflecting against the glass windows plastered with advertisements and missing persons posters. “I taught an arts and crafts class for the local primary schools every Tuesday.”

He hesitates in the face of something so uncharacteristically vulnerable, your words heavy in his restless palms. “Y/N, what happened?”

“You know what happened.”

He doesn’t speak immediately, face falling at your sharpness. Still, he finds his voice eventually. “We all have one case that-”

“I’ve moved on,” you interject rather forcefully, shooting him what you hope doesn’t come across as a glare. He drops into silence, shuffling his feet. “I do other things now, J. Creative things that don’t involve me diving too deep into a murder mystery.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t indulge, just a little? It could be inspirational if you really think about it. You’d love this case, Y/N. It’s got your kinda creepy written all over it. You could always-”

“Jeremy, I can’t. Not again.” You consider asking him to pick his pouting bottom lip up off the floor as you swipe your card, feeling his disappointment pool by you feet. Not for your reluctance, but rather for his vain hope of working together again. For his unanswered prayers, because you’re still not okay. You’d be lying if you didn’t wish for one more day like the old ones, and naive if you think it could be as easy as it once was. “But I really appreciate the offer. We can be friends, rather than colleagues. I’ve got some time to make up.”

He nods sullenly, shuffling his feet and glancing outside to scowl at the sound of a car horn blaring. He motions half heartedly to Michael, who’s gesturing rather forcefully to his watch. “Well, what if I introduce you to the townsfolk sometime? I know everyone in Motbury, and all the best spots.”

“I’d like that,” you admit over the exclamation of another impatient honk, pushing Jeremy’s shoulder and urging him to leave. “You’ve still got my number? It hasn’t changed.” He nods shortly, squaring his shoulders and preparing for a goodbye that won’t last nearly as long as the last one. “Good. Get going Inspector, your partner looks pissed.”

“He’s always pissed,” beams Jeremy, taking large bounds towards the door and yelling profanities out of it. He’s about to leave when he stops, taking in a deep breath and turning back to you. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

The sincerity in his eyes hurts, face softened with unimaginable relief. “I’m really happy to see you.”

And then he’s gone, out the door and racing after the patrol car that tries to drive away without him, cackling laughter erupting from the vehicle he eventually manages to clamber into. You watch him go, rooted in place. It is good to see him; to find him at a point in life where he’s got it together and doing far better than you. If he can find a home in this town, pick up the pieces of the life you’d both smashed down, hell, so can you.

“Every time he comes in here something always breaks,” sighs Geoff, resting on his elbows and watching the two officers disappear into the snow. “But he’s a good kid.” Another pass of his hand over his hair, face worn and eyes returning to you. “Probably the best thing that’s ever happened to this town.”

“He’s always been a good detective.”

“By the sounds of it,” Geoff muses, offering you a biscuit from beneath the register, “so were you. I’m not gonna intrude, but I trust that man’s judgement. Whatever happened, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Clearly intending his words to be more of a comfort than an inconvenience, Geoff visibly struggles with your silence. Then his expression brightens. “You said you like working with kids?”

He’s observant, you’ll give him that. Arguably those Tuesday nights covered in glitter glue and paint had kept you going, the children’s joy making your own life a little lighter. A little easier. He must know that, lips quirking as though he’s seen it all before. “I do,” you reply, almost a little too eagerly.

He nods. “It’s a bit sudden I guess, but you seem alright. On Thursday afternoons the local community garden holds arts and crafts for the kids. I help out with my friend, Jack, who runs the project. Sometimes the scrawny fuck that works here joins in, but that’s always up in the air. We’ve been trying to get Mr. policeman to visit - kids love the damn car - but he was too busy today. That’s why he came in and broke everything I own.”

“Are you looking for volunteers?”

He smiles, a big toothy grin that wipes away all instances of age. “Why would I look for any more volunteers when just I’ve found you?”

 ---

 It’s got to be the 5th time you’ve typed out the text to your best friend, different variations all sounding forced. Still, looking at it, it’s the best you’ve got. And nestled in a small alcove, shielded from the snow and warm glow of streetlights, you press send.

Y/N: Moving went well and shopping all done. About to take it home.

You don’t bother putting your phone away, knowing the reply will arrive before you slide the device into your pocket. Instead you pull out a pen, working small curves and sharp lines across a the portion of skin lining the top of your hand just beneath your thumb. With the black ink of a sigil leaking sticky you start to calm, stress leaching away with every repetition of ‘Everything is going to be okay’ that passes through your head. Your eyes drift closes, each breath bringing in the cold, stinging night until you’re drowsy. The reply doesn’t surprise you, but it drags your eyes open.

Lauren: Congrats!! How’s the new place?

Y/N: Bigger than I thought it would be. Lots of room. It’s gonna be a busy few days. Can’t find most of my herbs or spell books.

Lauren: Once the guys get there you’ll be able to take a break.

Lauren: Trevor says your herbs are in the box labeled kitchen junk. Same with your smudge sticks. Dunno about the spell books though. Have you tried things labelled storage?

Y/N: Doubt it haha. And thanks, I’ll look when I get home. How’s the prep work for them going?

Lauren: Dunno about Alfredo, but Trevor’s suitcase is done.

Lauren: I had to pack it.

Lauren: you should’ve seen it, Y/N. He’s a disgrace.

Y/N: He’s lucky to have you.

Lauren: You bet your ass he is.

Lauren: Stop stalling and go home. Soon as you’re done with the groceries you can pass out.

Y/N: God that sounds nice. It’s been a day.

Lauren: Did something else happen?

Lauren: Y/N?

Lauren: You okay?

Y/N: Yeah. Ran into Jeremy.

Lauren: JEREMY? As in, Jeremy from ex work Jeremy?

Y/N: Yup.

Lauren: Are you ok though?

Y/N: Yeah, I’m okay. He seems happy here, which is nice.

Lauren: I’m glad. That whole situation was fucked up

Y/N: You’re telling me

Lauren: You okay?

Lauren: Bad memories?

Y/N: More hopeful than anything. If he can get past that case, so can I.

Lauren: It wasn’t as hard for him though. He didn’t feel it.

Lauren: You wanna talk about her?

Y/N: Not at all. I’ve gotta get these groceries home. I’ve been sat in this snowbank for the past 20 minutes working on a sigil. I want to get some charms set up tonight as well.

Lauren: Good luck dude.

Lauren: Keep me updated on moving.

Lauren: And any hot guys.

Lauren: Mostly the hot guys though.

Lauren: But your mental state too, I guess.

 ---

 The trip back takes far longer. Weighed down with bags and the surprises of the day. You trudge through the snow now that the sun’s settled. Darkness greets you on the doorstep, orange lights singing from the lanterns that cling to the dark wooden beams. Numb hands wrestle the key into the lock, a vicious chill tearing your scarf away. Shouldering in, you heave the groceries to the floor, letting tins scatter and produce roll. Exhausted, begging to fall to your knees and let the draining day finally take you, you turn back to the garden.

No longer does the sun share it’s light, moon dusting generous servings of silver across the landscape. A right foot forward and you’re descending the steps, body dunked in the night’s cold embrace. No birds sing, and the gentle creaking of trees is all that fills the silence. If you focus, you swear you can hear the snow fall. Another step and you’re sitting on damp, freezing wood, staring at the property line. Nothingness stares back. Barren and empty. Lonely, with no one to wave to the branches swaying for attention. Not even an animal to dance between the trunks, no confident tails or pricked ears. Only a world letting out tired breaths, seconds buried in the white grace falling lazily from the sky.

And you smile, stand, and retrieve your scarf before closing the door. 

[mikesmithrhythmandrhyme]

Tuesday, 4th May, 2021

This is something of an experiment in trying to unpack a moment of experience, the ‘moment’ in this case being a line in the sixth verse from the end - ‘Shocked by what he sees’.

~

It’s very long - more like a ‘story’ ...

~

In leaving the car at the garage

I’ve an hour or so to fill ...

The Supermarket’s handy ...

Do I or don’t I? I will ...

~

Road to be crossed.

Stop at the kerb.

Look for the button.

Find the said button.

Press the said button.

Red. ‘Don’t Walk’.

Waiting for green.

Clearance to walk.

~

Lorries grumbling past ...

Rhythmic flowing cars ...

Now and then a bus …

Green. OK to go.

~

But still the basic instinct.

Look right.

Look left.

Look right.

Nervously dependent.

Clear!

Off we go.

Looking right.

Looking left.

Cautiously uncertain.

Checking every which way.

‘Just in case’.

~

Gain a place of safety.

Island in the sun.

Button duly pressed.

Stand. Watch. Wait.

~

Nothing coming.

Empty road.

Cross it anyway?

Should he ...?

Dare he ...?

Risk his judgement ...?

Independence Day?

~

Button gives permission.

Green.

He’s free to walk.

Still that need.

To check.

Both ways.

‘Just in case’.

~

Safely on the footpath ...

Lorries grumble on ...

Rhythmic flow of cars ...

Now and then a bus …

~

Wander through the car-park ...

Thoughts of yesteryear

Early teenage school-days

Lived not far from here …

~

This we knew as Dairycoates

Never quite clear why

All it meant to me was -

I caught the bus nearby …

~

Outside the corner shop

Forget the owner’s name

East Yorkshire bus to Hull

Every … day … the same ...

~

Those days of Buddy Holly …

Of Eddie Cochran, too ...

Of colour films like ‘Distant Drums’…*

Plus Elvis  … You-Know-Who!

~

Anyway - the supermarket ...

Mask on. Sanitise ...

Thirty-minute visit ...

Reflect on enterprise ...

~

Customer friendly.

Warehouse of plenty.

Aisles of convenience.

Needs, wants and extras.

Shelves of sufficiency.

Paradise of Plastic.

Packaged persuasion.

Product perfection.

Placement precision.

In-store.

For you.

~

Check-out.

Conveyor.

Basket.

Of items.

Organise items.

Smiling and small talk.

Two-bag requirement.

Contactless card.

Wafted and waiting.

Payment ‘Approved’.

Loyalty acknowledged.

Smile, Thanks and Go.

~

Pleasant experience ...

Easy enough ...

Into the car-park

Warm Spring breeze

Car-glisten sunshine

Comings and goings

Stroll down the foot-path

Back to the garage

Pick up the car -

If ready ...

~

Road to cross.

Again.

Lorries grumbling past ...

Rhythmic flowing cars ...

Now and then a bus …

~

Press the button.

Green. ‘Walk’!

But just in case.

You never know.

Look right.

And left.

And right.

~

Safe upon the island.

Lorries grumbling past .

Rhythmic flowing cars.

Now and then a bus.

~

Protocols observed.

Green Pedestrian light.

Now the final crossing.

Looking left and right.

~

Secure upon the path, he stops

Shocked by what he sees

A green and whispering silence

Of bushes … grasses … trees ...

~

Purposefully growing

In a rich and deep profusion ...

A city suburbs tapestry

Of wonder-full confusion …

~

He stands for just a moment

Absorbs the silent scene

Nearly cries with pleasure

At this vibrant world of green

~

Why such soothing solace

To his unexpecting eye?

Why the wish to stand here

And let the world roll by?

~

He has no packaged answers

No simple explanation

He only knows it offers him

A kind of consolation

~

Overgrown with naturalness …

Beautiful … Sublime …

The Engine Sheds at Dairycoates - **

Once upon a time.

~

*   I remember seeing the poster for this film on an A-Board outside the shop, whilst waiting for the bus to school. It was a Western film, starring Gary Cooper.

** This was my understanding of the name at the time. As a teenager I wasn’t too worried about name-place accuracy! It was out of sight, behind a fence and trees; I just thought of it as Dairycoates - something to do with railways, sheds and engines.

[tahlreth]

Winteriron Bakery AU where Tony is the owner of Stark Bakeries and falls for Bucky. Steve and Sam tease Bucky a lot because Bucky always goes out of his way to visit the cake shop. Granted the cakes are delicious but it's way out of Bucky's workplace. Rhodey and Pepper tease Tony a lot whenever Bucky comes. Bucky is always blushing when he talks to Tony. One day Bucky shouts that he loves Tony. Tony immediately agrees to date him. Fluffy, cute story. Happy ending.

AN: Woooow this got totally out of hand. XD Also, it’s barely edited because I’m awful. But yeah. Probably angstier than the asker intended. Sorry! But it’s still pretty fluffy sometimes? idk Hope you enjoy it! Because it is super long, there is a ‘Read More’

Bucky hadn’t been home before 10:30 at night in almost a month and a half.

It wasn’t that he was pulling overtime, though he’d managed to fool his roommates for just over a week with that cover story. Evading their questions had gotten trickier after that, but Bucky persevered for two more blessed weeks. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or embarrassed about where he was spending his time… it was just that he didn’t need Stevie or Sam ruining everything. He’d been certain that as soon as they knew where he spent his time, they’d show up and figure out why he was going there. Once they figured out, their ‘I’m a little shit’ switches would be flipped and the teasing would begin. And yeah, they wouldn’t really mean any harm, and once they both settled they’d be supportive about it, but… It was just that he didn’t need them destroying his new happy place.

He’d discovered the little cafe completely by accident. One day, one horrible awful shitty day, he’d just started to drive. It was something that had always helped him calm down, and he hadn’t had any specific destination in mind. He just… drove, taking turns when the urge hit him, getting further and further away from both his work and his apartment. Bucky hadn’t even thought about stopping until his stomach started to complain, which was when he started looking for diners or maybe a donut place.

What he’d found instead was a shop named 'We Sell Fucking Cakes’, except the 'u’ on the sign had been replaced with an adorable looking cupcake capped with what looked like a wrench. Intrigued, he’d found a place to park and found his curiosity further peaked by a poster in the window that announced they’d defeated 146 attempts to force them to change their name. It had seemed like Bucky’s kind of place despite the cutesy looking decor - when he’d opened the door, it had been to the sound of hammers hitting an anvil instead of a bell. He’d thought it was the weirdest and cooling fucking thing ever.

And then… then he’d fallen in love.

Not with the food or the coffee, though both were pretty amazing. Their menu of 'real’ food was pretty limited - some sandwiches, one kind of soup every day, the occasional taco or casserole special. Where they really shone was in their desert selection. It was as varied as the baked goods were delicious, and Bucky often wondered why they hadn’t opened up a bakery that was only a bakery.

“Because I need coffee like I need air,” the resident genius baker had told him with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye. He’d also had flour streaked across his nose and on his cheek, and Bucky had ached to brush it away with a few tender swipes of his thumb. “If we sell it, I get to drink it for free. Duh.” It wasn’t fair that the wink he’d given before disappearing into the kitchen made Bucky a little weak in the knees.

It was for him that Bucky made the hour-long drive everyday after work. He’d been purposefully vague whenever he was asked about his job and where he lived. From the way Pepper’s eyes danced, he wasn’t fooling the woman who handled both the register and all of  'We Sell Fucking Cakes’  marketing. She and Rhodes (who the guy Bucky desperately wanted to impress called Rhodey) were very clearly aware of his gigantic crush, and they were always making sly comments whenever the man who’d stolen Bucky’s heart came out from the back to mingle. At first, Bucky had fucking panicked, sure that they were going to ruin this as surely as Stevie and Sam would.

Thank fucking Christ that Tony seemed oblivious as to why they were teasing him the way they were.

Tony (whose last name he didn’t know, but it was fine, Tony could just take his) sometimes blushed or darted quick looks Bucky’s way, but he seemed oblivious to Bucky’s feelings. That was both a blessing and a curse. Because sure it meant Bucky was too chicken-shit to ask him on a date, but it also meant that they could talk without things getting awkward. Tony not knowing about Bucky’s infatuation meant he could sit in the warm, welcoming cafe for a couple hours a day. It meant they weren’t avoiding each other’s eyes or pretending things didn’t get weird when one person was crushing and the other person wasn’t.

And Tony definitely wasn’t. He came out and talked to Bucky all the time, but he tended to talk to most of the patrons. Everyone loved meeting the man behind the baked goods, and Tony seemed to thrive on the attention. He preened and boasted, and it was so well-deserved that Bucky found it endearing instead of ignoring. The fact that he lingered or even sat at Bucky’s table was easily explained away; Tony was a nerd. A total, complete, unapologetic geek. In Bucky he’d found a kindred spirit, and their discussions usually revolved around things like Star Wars, Star Trek, Dune, and various books and video games. They even had a book club of sorts, where they traded beat up paperbacks and then argued over what the author was trying to say. It was friendly, it was Tony wanting someone to talk nerdy to, and not anything more.

Bucky was the one who wanted a romantic relationship, and he was the one who was too scared of losing what they had to ask for it.

It was fine though. He liked being Tony’s friend. Eventually his crush would (probably) fade, and he’d get to keep Tony’s friendship for a lot longer than dating would likely last. So it was fine. He had a great little spot to hang out, eat dinner, and spend all his money at. He had Tony stopping by his table for chats, and he had Pepper and Rhodey shooting him knowing glances without giving up his crush to the object of his affections. Bucky had it good, really, and he was thankful for it.

Then Sam and Stevie got curious and way too nosy, and he knew that his good thing was living on borrowed time.

~.~.~

“Hey! This is the street that goes to our apartment! Where the hell are you going, Buck?”

“To drop you punks off,” Bucky said, trying his hardest not to gnash his teeth. “Your fucking car’s not even having any problems, I’d bet my goddamn life on it. You and Stevie are just trying to be nosy.” He growled when Sam leaned forward and peeked around his headrest, hands gripping Bucky’s shoulders. “Get the fuck off of me while I’m driving.”

“Awww, someone’s being a grumpy bear,” Sam teased, grinning at Bucky when their eyes met in the rearview mirror. “C'mon Bucky. Take us to your secret hideout!”

“Someone’s going to murder you in your sleep tonight,” he muttered as he tried to shrug Sam’s hands off. “I ain’t taking you anywhere but home.”

“If you drop us off, we’ll only tail you in Sam’s car,” Stevie pointed out calmly from the passenger’s seat. He looked highly unimpressed when Bucky whirled to face him and bared his teeth in a snarl. He even threw a fake yawn in for effect, and Bucky was officially Not Amused.

“I knew it! I fucking knew you were lying, you assholes. Gonna murder you both now.”

Despite the threat, he took a turn that would eventually lead him to 'We Sell Fucking Cakes’. Steve meant the threat, and the pair of them would be impossible if he forced them to sneak after him. Even if he just stayed home for a day, they’d just tail him the next, or maybe the one after that. He was totally unwilling to give up his favorite cafe or his crush for as long as it would take the two idiots to lose interest. So he just drove, putting up with their teasing and their rambunctious behaviors - he wished they would just fuck already to work out some of that tension sizzling between them.

When they realized just how far away the cafe was, he sank down in his seat, shoulders nearly touching his ears in a show of defensiveness. They wisely didn’t comment, but he could feel their judgement. If they thought he didn’t see the knowing looks they were exchanging then they were as stupid as he was annoyed by this turn of events. They’d know that he wasn’t going to this place just for the food and the atmosphere. Bucky didn’t think it would take them longer than a few minutes to realize that he was going there for Tony, and he really, really didn’t want to deal with that. 'We Sell Fucking Cakes’ was his - he didn’t want to share, not even with his best friend and their slightly more shitty roommate. He wanted to keep it and his massive crush for himself, and he lowkey hated Sam and Stevie for putting him in this position.

He flirted with the idea of just taking them somewhere else, but they’d know.

Observant assholes.

They got to the cafe far too soon for Bucky’s taste - once he’d killed the engine, he locked the doors before the other men could leave. “If either of you do anything to ruin this for me,” he growled, looking as menacing as he possibly could. He had it on good authority that that was pretty damn menacing, and Steve and Sam looked suitably concerned. “I won’t just murder you - you will beg me for death before I’m done with you. I’m not kidding, Stevie, so you can stop rolling your fucking eyes. Keep all your fucking commentary to yourselves - I don’t need any help or teasing from the peanut gallery. I like this place, and if you embarrass me to the point that I can’t come back, you will be on my shit list for the rest of your shortened lives.”

Before they could reply, he unlocked the doors and exited the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stalked toward the cafe - his mood lightened a little when he saw that the number of attempts to get Tony to change the name had gone up to almost two hundred. Maybe when they hit that total he’d throw the staff a little party…

The sound of Steve and Sam walking behind him caused his mood to tank again. Bucky knew that he looked grumpy at the very least. He might even have his 'murder face’ on, but he couldn’t help it, not when he was sure this was going to go terribly. Steve snorted when he heard the sound of a forge that announced their arrival, and he wanted to throttle the idiot. Tony had inserted lots of little quirks like that - his second love was engineering, and he wasn’t ashamed to make that obvious. His shoulders were close to his ears again, and he stormed over to his usual table and flung himself into his seat. And it was his, at least at his usual time of day; it was always empty and waiting for him, which he appreciated. When he was sitting there he could sort of see into the kitchen, so he got little peeks at Tony happily baking and puttering around.

Steve and Sam paused, both looking over at him in confusion. Despite the way he was glowering, arms now crossed over his chest, he jerked his chin towards the front counter. Even if he was pissed that they’d forced him to bring them here, he wouldn’t let them leave until they’d tried and praised the food and coffee the cafe served. Once he’d calmed down a little from his snit, Bucky would be placing an order of his own. He could feel two more pairs of eyes on him, judging and concerned in equal measure - he hoped like hell Pepper and Rhodes wouldn’t take his bad mood personally. Not even catching a glimpse of Tony was enough to make him smile; he just slouched down in his chair, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

Because even if his shitty roommates were being normal and not terrible just then, he was pretty sure that would go out the window as soon as they met Tony. It had been… a while, a long while, since Bucky’d shown interest in anyone. The pair of them would know he was into Tony right away (so sue him, he had a type) and they’d be so fucking delighted that their manners and common sense would fly right out the window. God, Pepper and Rhodey might even join in, and they’d all be making fun of him and his crush, and Tony couldn’t stay oblivious forever.

He’d worked himself into a state that was just shy of a full-blown panic by the time Steve and Sam joined him at his table. His table that now he had to share, and Sam’s stupid head was blocking his view of the kitchen. He briefly thought about forcing them to change seats - Stevie was short enough that he wouldn’t be an obstruction - but realized that would only give them more ammunition. If he went up to the counter he could maybe take a peek in and give Tony a greeting that could also be a warning… When he looked over that way, he met Pepper’s eyes - she mouthed an 'are you okay?’ and he could only shrug in response.

“So this is where you’ve been coming every day?” Sam asked, sounding both confused and deriding. “It’s a cafe, man. Can’t be anything that special - we drove an hour for this?”

“Hey,” Steve said, knocking his shoulder into Sam’s arm. “Don’t knock it 'til you’ve tried the food. It smells great in here - if it all tastes even half as good, I’m gonna have Buck start bringing stuff home for me.” Bucky shot a grateful smile his way, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Maybe… maybe this could be okay. Maybe he could get through this relatively unscathed. Tony didn’t always come out right away, and Bucky hoped that this was one of those days. If he could hurry his nosy friends out of here, he could pass this place off as a quirk - somewhere quiet that he’d stumbled on and used to unwind.

Unfortunately, just as he’d started to relax the universe proved that it hated him.

“Bucky!” Tony sounded so happy to see him, just like he always did. For the first time it made Bucky want to run, and he thought seriously about returning the greeting gruffly just to throw Steve and Sam off the scent. But it was Tony, and it wasn’t his fault that Bucky was in a crappy mood.

“Hey Tony,” he answered, looking up with a smile that he knew was too soft. Sure enough, he saw his roommates go stiff from the corner of his eye, and he just knew that soon they’d have matching, shit-eating grins on their faces. His crush was standing by his table, absolutely beaming at him; despite everything, Bucky felt himself start to cheer up a little bit. “Saw you’re getting close to two hundred.” Tony’s expression changed to one of pride, and his attention was still completely focused on Bucky - he hadn’t glanced at Steve or Sam even once. “Maybe when you get there you should change the sign.”

“Noooo! Not you too Buck. I thought you liked the name,” he said, pouting even as his eyes danced with laughter.

“Not the name, Tones,” he soothed, straightening in his chair. “But you should put a sheet over the words, get people’s hopes up. Then, while they’re still smug in their victory… you can very dramatically pull the covering away to reveal that you’ve replaced the cupcake with a cookie.”

Tony practically cackled when the full genius of Bucky’s plan hit him, and he couldn’t help but duck his head to hide his pleased smile and the way he was blushing just a little bit. Beneath the sound of Tony’s delight, however, he heard Sam give a low wolf whistle. Nobody would ever be able to prove that he was the one to deliver a vicious kick to the idiot’s shin.

“You have the best fucking ideas, Bucky-babe! We are definitely doing that - maybe we’ll reset the counter to zero too… oh! Sorry, I’m being rude. You’ve got friends. Hello, friends of Bucky. I’m Tony - owner and resident baker extraordinaire.” Bucky half expected Tony to bow, and when the man side-eyed him with a grin tugging at his lips, Bucky knew that he’d been sorely tempted to do just that. “Buck’s never brought anyone with him before. I was starting to think that maybe he didn’t think this place was good enough to tell anyone about. Which reminds me!” He turned back to Bucky with a scowl, putting his hands on his hips. “What the hell was that book you had me read? That was such bullshit, and I’m pissed you made me read that with my own two eyeballs.”

“Why should I be the only one to suffer?”

“Ass. Anyway! So yeah, I’m Tony. I see you already ordered - tell me how you like the cake, friend one,” he said to Sam, cocking his head to the left. “I used a new recipe for the ganache, and I’m not quite sure about it. Reviews have been good so far, but I’m always open to more opinions. And friend two - why would you get such a sweet drink when you’re eating something sweet enough to give some people a toothache? I’ll go get you something more bitter - you can try both and then tell me how right I am. Do you want usual A or usual B, Bucky-babe?”

Steve and Sam were staring at the whirlwind that was Tony, and Bucky was probably taking too much pleasure in their gobsmacked expressions. “I think maybe I’ll switch things up and take not-usual C. And this is Sam - friend one - and Stevie, er, Steve - friend two. They suspected me of nefarious plots and decided to tag along to foil any evil plans.”

“They’re too late for that - already read the damned book. Nice to meet you, Sam and Steve! I’m Tony - wait, told you that already - and that’s Pepper at the counter. Rhodey went to run an errand, but he’ll be back soon. And now I’m off to get Bucky’s order and a not-so-sweet drink for Steve. Be right back!”

Tony left as quickly as he’d come, and Bucky watched him go with way more interest than was appropriate for someone who was just a friend.

“Wow. Just… wow. Guess we know why… Bucky-babe,” Sam’s voice was a drawl, and he got another kick to the shin for his trouble. Bucky was also wearing his fiercest glare, because Tony was the only person allowed to call him that ever. “Is driving an hour to come here.”

“It is all becoming clear,” Steve agreed, wearing a wicked little smirk that could only mean bad things. “Have ya asked him out yet, or are ya pining?”

“I’m not pining,” he said, flinching at the pout even he could hear in his voice.

“He’s pining,” Sam remarked in an aside to Steve. “Probably has been since he started coming, poor guy. I think we need to help put him out of his misery, Steve.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I dunno if even our words of wisdom’d be enough,” Steve mourned, knocking Sam’s arm again. “Maybe we oughta watch. And laugh.”

“This Tony might have untoward thoughts about Bucky, man. I think we need to find out what exactly his intentions are.”

“’S a good idea. You wanna be good cop or bad cop?”

“Good cop. You’re scarier than me, even if you are a shrimp.”

“Will both of you just stop? Please?” Bucky hissed, feeling a blush start to creep over his cheeks. “I told you - don’t ruin this for me! I like coming here–”

“Doesn’t seem like there’s been much 'coming’, not with you so tense.”

“Shut up Stevie.”

“New plan - let’s help the man get laid. Tony seems like he might be into it.”

“That’s a much better plan. Operation: Let Bucky Come Here has now begun.”

“… what the fuck is that name, Steve?”

“Shaddup. I’ll come up with something better later.”

“I’m kicking the both of you out and I’m gonna get roommates who aren’t such fucking trolls.”

“Oh, you guys live together?” Tony’s cheery voice made him jump in surprise - he hadn’t realized the man had come back. Bucky felt his cheeks heat as he prayed that Tony hadn’t heard the rest of their conversation. “Then maybe you can help me solve a little mystery that me and Rhodey have been working on. Pep’s not super interested, but I think that’s 'cause she already has it figured out.” As he spoke, he set a plate with two huge chocolate chip cookies in front of Bucky, along with a tall glass of ice cold milk. Steve got a cup of coffee that probably only had a little bit of sugar and cream in it - he knew from experience that it actually paired really well with the pie that Steve had chosen to get. “Where the hell do you guys live?” Tony plopped down in the only free chair, the one that just happened to be next to Bucky. It was a struggle not to sling a casual arm over the back of it.

“He hasn’t told ya?” Steve asked slyly, shooting a look in his direction. “I’d have thought he’d be giving you directions so ya could drop by sometime.” Unlike Sam, his best friend was a lot better at evading Bucky’s kicks even when he couldn’t see them coming. Tony just looked a little confused before shrugging.

“He’s a private guy,” he said, looking over to meet Bucky’s eye with a smile. “I didn’t want to push.”

“Oh, but you have no idea pumping my friends for information?” Steve’s smirk made him realize that he’d chosen his words poorly.

“If you’re going to be… pumping anyone, it really oughta be Buck.” Before he could yell at his friend, Steve quickly bounced to the actual subject of the conversation. “We live about an hour away, actually. It’s a nice drive though. Might hafta stop in for myself sometime.” Bucky gave him a 'you do and you’re dead’ look, but Stevie happily ignored it.

“An hour away? Huh! Never seeing you around ever suddenly makes a lot more sense. Mystery solved.” Tony blinked, then looked over at Bucky with wide brown eyes that he could stare into forever. “Wait. So do you work nearby, or like… halfway between here and your house?”

He promptly occupied himself with eating his cookies. There was no fucking way he was answering that - he’d much rather stare at his snack and eat. Besides… he was sure Sam and Stevie would be jumping right in.

Sam quickly proved him right.

“Nah. Bucky actually works in the opposite direction,” he told Tony with a grin, leaning back in his chair. With a casual ease that Bucky envied, he draped his arm over the back of Steve’s chair, completely missing the way Steve’s cheeks turned a little pink. “We were wondering where he kept disappearing to. Now that I’m here, I can definitely see the appeal.” That drove Steve’s blush away, and the small blond went so far as to elbow Sam in the stomach. Bucky approved, because the only one he wanted to notice Tony’s appeal was himself. Sam could fuck off and find his own crush, or he could finally admit that he wanted Steve and put them all out of their misery.

Bucky flicked his eyes up at Tony, who was slack-jawed as he stared at Bucky. He felt himself start to blush again, and this time the heat rose all the way to the tips of his ears. After a second of the scrutiny, his shoulders started to inch upward and he started to slouch over, wishing that he’d murdered his two friends before this day could happen. “So you… you drive…” Tony sounded a little faint, and Bucky wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “You’ve been here every day except weekends. Bucky-babe, that’s two hours in a car every day. I know you like my baking, but holy shit. You don’t have to go that far! Fuck, I could send you home with a box of deserts to tide you over for a few days or something.”

“… I like it here,” Bucky told him gruffly. “’S nice and quiet, and I like to drive anyway. Don’t mind that part. Plus I get to see you. And Pepper and Rhodes,” he added in a hurry. “I’d miss our book club.”

“That doesn’t happen every day!” Tony told him, flailing in his seat. “We could schedule days, you dope, so you don’t have to drive so far all the freaking time. That has to waste so much gas!”

Bucky wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a waste, that he didn’t mind using the gas or buying enough snacks and coffee each visit to justify his several hour stays. The words to let Tony know that he liked when they just talked, or when Tony was dealing with some irate patron and made faces at Bucky as soon as they turned away. It was nice, when they caught each other’s eye while Tony was working in the kitchen - Tony didn’t wink every time, but whenever it did happen his stomach started to flip and his heart would beat just a little faster. Seeing Pepper and Rhodes was nice too, and their teasing was a hell of a lot more subtle than Sam and Stevie’s.

That wasn’t completely fair, because his roommates would settle after a few days of being merciless, but still. Rhodes and Pepper were almost as big a draw as Tony was.

He’d sort of thought Tony might enjoy having him around too. Maybe not the same way Bucky did, since he was so far out of Bucky’s league it wasn’t funny, but he’d thought they had made a connection. They were friendly, if maybe not exactly friends - they’d probably have to exchange numbers and see each other outside of the cafe to claim that much. Tony always stopped to talk to him and had started using Bucky as a test subject for new recipes. They had inside jokes and running arguments about a multitude of subjects, and he had really thought that Tony was glad to see him whenever he walked through the door.

Judging by Tony’s efforts to convince him to stop in less frequently, he’d been wrong.

“I like coming here,” he reiterated, jaw clenching once he’d bitten the words out. “Thought I was welcome to stop by any time. Sorry for bothering you so much.”

Tony didn’t immediately rush to say that Bucky wasn’t bothering him. He didn’t say anything at all, just sat there and looked uncomfortable, and the atmosphere had turned awkward. Steve and Sam were both squirming, which fucking served them right. This was their fault - if they’d just kept their noses out of Bucky’s business, he’d still think Tony liked him, if only as a friend. Maybe some people would appreciate knowing the truth, but he’d been happy with his ignorance, thanks. They’d ruined it, just like he’d thought they would. After a few seconds of silence, Bucky shrugged and dug around in his pocket so he could set a few bills on the table.

“Thanks for the cookies,” he managed as he stood and walked away. The sound of a hammer and anvil irritated him when he yanked the door open - what the fuck kind of noise was that for a cafe? Rhodes was coming in as he was going out - he ignored the man’s smile and his greeting, walking past him with nothing more than a shrug. On reaching the safety of his car (doors locked and windows rolled up all the way just in case), he took just a few seconds to breathe, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

Once he’d gotten himself under control, he started the car and headed for the apartment, not waiting for Sam or Stevie.

They could find their own damned way home.

~.~.~

Bucky didn’t go to the cafe on Wednesday or Thursday; when Stevie had ordered him to go back on Friday, he’d flipped his friend off and hidden in his room for the rest of the night. Both of his roommates had been apologetic, but that didn’t fix anything. He’d lost one of the few places outside the apartment where he’d felt comfortable and happy, and he’d lost what probably could have been a really great friendship once he’d gotten over his crush. There was no way he was going back there just to be embarrassed and hurt when Tony avoided him while Pep and Rhodes looked on with pitying eyes. That was the only way another visit played out, and he wasn’t interested.

By the time Sunday rolled around, he was snapping and snarling at Sam and Steve whenever they spoke to him. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, angry and twitchy and just all around miserable. His friends tried to be understanding, but the way they were hovering and being so damned nice only irritated the shit out of him. Bucky finally told them to leave him the hell alone and just fuck already; when he slammed his door it was too loud in the deafening silence he’d left behind him.

Monday passed by in tentative, awkward silences and long glances and Tuesday was more of the same. None of them seemed able to stand being in the same room as each other, which meant Bucky was back to being sequestered in his own space. He lose himself in his work and mindless internet use, back to having bad days and no longer comfortable with trying to drive away his feelings. Not after how it had worked out the last time.

Before he knew it, three weeks had passed in a listless haze and he realized that something had to give. He couldn’t keep being an asshole to his two best friends. Bucky knew that he owed them a hell of an apology, and that he needed to find a way to get over this before he lost Stevie and Sam’s friendship completely. He hadn’t really meant to go back to 'We Sell Fucking Cakes’, but he passed by the turn that would take him home, and he was halfway there before he started to question the unconscious decision. At that point, he figured he might as well keep going.

Wasn’t like he had anything at the cafe left to lose.

~.~.~

The count had reached 195, and Bucky hated knowing that he wouldn’t be around to see it hit 200. He didn’t find the anvil and hammer sound as annoying as he’d tried to tell himself it had always been. In a weird way, it was kind of like coming home. An old one, anyway, one that you’d left behind and couldn’t ever really get back. The place was busy, which was a blessing. Or it was, until he saw a young couple sitting at what had been his table; that hit him like a punch right to the gut. At least Pepper didn’t seem to notice him right away, and he pulled his ball cap down over his eyes and kept his head down too, trying to figure out what he might say when he was finally at the counter and had to make an order.

Bucky was halfway through planning a garbled speech when it happened. He heard Tony before he saw him, and he hunched in on himself further. There was something wrong with Tony, he could tell that almost immediately. His voice, usually so animated and full of life, was much duller than Bucky could ever remember hearing it. When he peeked up at him, Tony looked… well, he looked sad. There were bags under his eyes and he drooped instead of carrying himself with effortless grace.

Shit, had something terrible happened while he was gone? Someone could be sick - Tony could be sick - or maybe there was finally enough pressure to change the name. Maybe the business was going under despite how busy they seemed, or maybe Tony had been dealing with the shitty family he’d dropped vague hints about. Maybe he’d been reading another shitty book.

Maybe… maybe he missed Bucky as much as Bucky missed him.

The thought gave him a burst of courage, and even if he was wrong that was okay. If he just… if he tried, no matter what happened, he could move on. It would give him some closure, and he could work on not being such a prick to his friends. So yeah. It was time to take a chance.

As a bonus, Tony had always been kind of dramatic. He’d probably eat this shit up, which could increase his chances of success. Challenge accepted.

Stepping out of the line, he whipped his hat off - he was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the gasp that left Pepper and Tony’s lips. Keeping his movements exaggerated and theatrical he tossed it to the floor and (just for effect) shrugged off his unbuttoned plaid shirt as well. It had been a busy day in the shop, which meant he’d gotten sweaty enough for his tank top to cling to his upper body, and he knew damn well that he was displaying his muscles to their best advantage. He didn’t even mind the oil and dirt streaked over his skin, because Tony’s eyes had gone wide and his pupils had dilated; if he was happy with what he saw, Bucky was happy to let him see it.

The other patrons were muttering now, and he was sure more than a couple of them thought he was insane, but he didn’t give two shits. He only cared what Tony and (maybe) Pepper and Rhodey thought. Refusing to feel as silly as he might look, he pointed at Tony, who obligingly put one hand over his heart.

“I came here every day to see you!” Bucky declared loudly, putting all the confidence he didn’t really feel into his voice to keep it steady. “The first time I came in here was an accident - I just needed to drive. Then I came in, and you had chocolate all over your cheek and it was fucking adorable. After I ordered you came out and talked to me for half an hour about Stargate Atlantis, because you’d had a marathon the day before. It was awesome, and I don’t think I’ve ever had a piece of cake as good as that one. It was orgasmic, Tony. You bake the best shit ever, but that wasn’t why I made the hour drive every day!”

Tony was still staring, shock warring with a tiny smile, cheeks slowly turning pink. He could hear a couple women cooing at him, and Pepper looked pleased as punch even with one hand covering her mouth.

“I came because…” he dropped his arm and shrugged, scuffing the toe of one boot over the floor. “I came because I wanted to see you, and I wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t get up the courage to ask you out, but–”

“Yes!” Bucky blinked at Tony’s interruption, and for a few seconds they just stared at each other. Tony’s face was turning a very appealing shade of pink, and God Bucky wanted to kiss him.

“What?”

“I mean… what? You… you weren’t… nothing! It’s nothing.”

“Jesus Christ.” Now Bucky was staring at Pepper, because he’d never heard her use anything even remotely like foul language before. “You are the two most frustrating men I’ve ever met. Bucky!” He snapped to attention without even thinking about it, eyes on her. “Did you really think Tony was coming out to talk to you for the hell of it? Do you honestly believe that he comes out and spends that much time talking to just anyone? Why are you such a moron? And Tony!” It was such a relief when Pepper shifted her attention, because she was a lot scarier than he’d have thought. Tony shrank beneath the weight of her gaze, his eyes darting from her to Bucky and back. “The man was driving an hour each way to come and see you! He picked his table so he could see you working in the kitchen! He brought you books and movies and weird geeky things that I didn’t understand at all but that you loved. He was not coming for your cupcakes, you idiot. You are driving me insane, and I’m tired of trying to gently nudge you into realizing that you both have giant, embarrassing crushes on each other.” When she pointed to the kitchen, her finger was shaking with what was probably rage. “Get your asses into that kitchen and sort this out, or so help me.”

She didn’t need to tell them twice, and they both booked it to the kitchen to the sound of their 'audience’ clapping with a few wolf whistles thrown into the mix.

People were such assholes.

Once they were in the kitchen, Bucky took hold of Tony’s hand and tugged him into a corner he knew for a fact wasn’t visible to anyone else. He probably should have let go when they were tucked away, but instead he focused on tangling their fingers together. One of them should probably talk too, but they were busy avoiding eye contact. He tried a couple times, even opened his mouth, but the words didn’t want to come. Pepper was going to end up murdering them both at the rate they were going.

Talking was maybe not the way to go here, so Bucky gave up on them for a while. Using his hold on Tony’s hand, he carefully pulled the shorter man into his chest and settled his chin on the top of his head. Tony melted against him almost immediately and wrapped his free arm around Bucky’s waist. They both took a deep breath at almost the same time, and he couldn’t help but start to chuckle. Tony started laughing a few seconds later, and Bucky let go of his hand to wrap both arms around him instead. Moving carefully, he backed them up until he could lean back against the wall, fingers rubbing gentle circles into Tony’s back.

“Pepper’s my new favorite,” he murmured at last. “I’m going to bring her presents so I’m in her good graces when she eventually takes over the world.” Tony snorted, then pressed his nose against Bucky’s neck.

“Why can’t I be your favorite?”

“… you’re my favorite when it comes to things of a relation-date-ship-romantic stuff,” Bucky said after a moment of thought. “Don’t wanna kiss Pepper the way I wanna kiss you, that’s for sure. She’s more my favorite potential future dictator.”

“She would be a just and fair ruler,” Tony allowed, shifting his hands to rest them on Bucky’s hips. “So… you do wanna kiss me?”

“Wanna kiss the fuck out of you.”

“Why didn’t you, you know… do anything about that?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to kiss me.”

“Dude. Really? Pep and Rhodey have been teasing me about you for weeks. I thought you were, you know, politely ignoring it.”

“No… I thought you didn’t realize that they were teasing me.” Tony pulled back just enough that they could stare at each other in disbelief. Pepper was right - they were both idiots. Bucky huffed out a quiet laugh, then shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, so your friends were too subtle, and my friends were like a wrecking ball to the face.”

“Oh my God, I wanted to die.”

“Me too. … I wanted you to come after me when I left,” he admitted quietly, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Or at least say I wasn’t bothering you, or that me coming here wasn’t a waste.”

“… I didn’t know how to do it without shoving the crush I thought was hopeless in your face. And then you were just gone, and I had no idea how to find you.”

“Well we can’t have that. We’re swapping numbers before I head out. And, uh. Do you wanna make a da–”

“Yes! Yes to that. That’s what I tried to say yes to earlier, only then you acted like maybe you weren’t trying to ask me out so I got really embarrassed and there were a whole bunch of people watching which, you know, was kind of great. Especially when you took that other shirt off,” he emphasized the words by skimming his hands up and then down Bucky’s arms. “Like, they’re all super jealous of me now, and it was kind of romantic, declaring your all-consuming love for me in front of so many people–”

“Woah, hold on. I wanna date you, kiss the fuck outta you and maybe get to know you well enough to fall in love and all that junk. 'All-consuming love’ at first sight is for like… Romeo and Juliet. I want something real.” Tony was gaping at him, and Bucky shrugged self-consciously. “Or. Uh. Something like that.”

“That is so much better, and yes please. So before you leave we’ll set up a date and get each other’s numbers, right?

"Yup.”

“You like me and I like you, and we’re gonna date - exclusively - with the aim of maybe making it a long term thing. Right?”

“Mm. That’s the idea. You cool with that?”

“So cool. Like, ice age cool. Details are sorted, kiss the fuck out of me now please.” Grinning, Bucky cupped the nape of Tony’s neck, toying with the ends of Tony’s hair. When he didn’t immediately go in for the kiss, Tony began to pout at him, then lifted up onto his toes to steal one of his own. Bucky evaded the attempts several times, then swooped in to catch Tony’s mouth in a kiss that turned heated in a matter of moments. After all the dancing around they’d done, Bucky was very okay with diving into the deep end when it came to physical displays of affection.

When Pepper came to check on them twenty minutes later, Tony was sitting on one counter, shirt rucked up so Bucky could run his hands over bare skin. Bucky himself was locked between Tony’s legs, tank top on the floor and Tony’s heels digging into the back of his thighs. They were both breathless with new bruises on their necks that showed they were taken, kiss-bruised lips never leaving each other for long.

She wasn’t too impressed with their lack of concern when it came to keeping food surfaces sanitary, but Bucky didn’t mind the lecture they got. He wasn’t even fazed when she ordered him to help Tony wipe the kitchen down; the way he whistled while he worked seemed to actively irritate her.

Why would he give a shit when he had an all-day date with Tony set up for Saturday and a box full of treats to apologize to his roommates with?

Life was good, and he was really glad Tony had decided to sell fucking cakes.

[july-19th-club]

hey how about a timeless fic

in which: our heroes visit the historical-figure-of-the-week, Charley Parkhurst

(there should be a sick coach chase scene in this, but i couldn’t squeeze it in. you’ll just have to imagine it)

Wyatt

“Get ahold of Charley,” says Luce, right foot already tapping away nervously on the stone floor. We probably can afford to wait another hour or so, but when she’s antsy, we’re all antsy, and besides, it’s not like I know any good places to grab lunch before we get out on the road. Before Luce can say “she” again, I leave to find the driver’s rooms. When I round the corner down the hall, I don’t mean to walk right in on him. But the door’s not latched and when I go to knock, it swings right open. “Ch-” I stop mid-sentence.

He stands with his back to me at one of those old-fashioned sink basins, clearly stripping down to have a quick wash-up. Because I’m on his left, he doesn’t immediately notice that I’m here. I back up, ready to close the door again and give him space, but it’s too late. He’s seen me now.

“Sorry,” I feel lame; I don’t know how to reassure him that I’m not going to say anything. He half-turns, arms crossed protectively, and I see the flash of alarm in his eye before he schools his face calm. “I’ll - I’ll leave, don’t let me intrude.”

“Close that? Don’t go just yet.”

I swing the door shut in front of me and stand on the hallway side of it and stand guard, looking up and down the corridor. After a minute, he says, “Come in here, will ya?”

I almost protest, bow out graciously. Make some excuse about not wanting to know any more, and let him think I’m going to pretend I was never here. But then he’ll fear my judgement, and that’s the last thing I want. I want to - I want to prove Luce wrong, that’s what. I want to hear the truth from him, and if I’m the one that’s wrong, apologize for that too. So even though it’s probably breaching a whole ton of 1800s etiquette, I step inside the room.

“Go on and get the door,” he says, giving it a nod as he rolls up his shirtsleeves. I make sure to stay several feet away, and I take my hat off. He’s a lot shorter than me, and in the position of vulnerability here. No need to look any more dangerous than I already am. He takes off the eyepatch and turns back to the sink, starts washing his face while he talks. His voice is muffled through the soapy rag. “I don’t say this real often,” he says. “But if you wanna know, ask.”

“I...I’d.” I’m at a loss. I would expect freaking out. If it was me, I’d be freaking out. Dealing with DADT in 2008 was bad enough, I can’t imagine how it’d be to be closeted in the fucking Wild West. For a minute I can’t think of how to respond, and then what comes out of my mouth is a totally different and equally rude question: “What happened to your eye?”

He wipes his face off and runs his hands through his hair so that it’s even messier, but this time with water in it. He gives me a bright, sudden grin. The crushed eye is mostly blue, with a puckered wrinkle of a scar squinting it nearly shut. He doesn’t have much eyelid left over there, or eyebrow, for that matter. The smile nearly hides it all from sight. “You wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

“So, this was about three years ago,” Charley says. He parks himself backwards on a chair near the basin, and gestures for me to find a seat. He folds his arms over the low chair back and goes on. “I’m in shoeing one of my team, she’s a sweet beast but she’s young yet, she’s a little jumpy. And Wilson, he already knows about me, he’s about the gentlest, most understanding man you’ll ever know, I mean, you’ve seen him.”

I nod.

“And he’s great with a skittish animal, so he and I are both concentrating, right, I’ve got my head right down over this old shoe, I’m pulling out nails, and this dog comes barreling in off the street, must’ve been chasing a rat or something. And she spooks, and next thing her foreleg  comes flying into my face.”

I’m picturing the scene, or trying to. I’ve seen a lot of gross shit, but this somehow makes me squirm just as much as the bullet wounds and shrapnel. Maybe because it’s not something that happens in battle, at least not anymore.

“I barely remember it, but ask Wilson, there’s blood spraying, I’m lying underneath the horse, she’s screaming, he thinks I’m dead, the man who owns the dog’s running up into the way -”

He talks with his hands, animating the story for me. Now I can’t stop staring at his eye. “So eventually they get the horse out, and Wilson still thinks I’m dead for half a minute, and then he says I woke up and told him I thought I was dying, and now he’s panicking because he’s trying to find out how he’s gonna bury me without anybody finding out about who I am, because he doesn’t know if I want anyone to find out, and he’s trying to get me to talk to him and tell him, and I’m already gone again.”

“So what’d he do?” I ask.

“Well, he hauls up and carries me - and look, I’m short, but I’m not that light - he carries me over to Price, that’s the doctor, and Price tells him he doesn’t know if I’m gonna live or die, but get out of the way so he can make it the former. And Wilson goes back to the forge to yell at the dog man.”

“What happened?”

“Well, then Price found out, too, because he wanted to know whether or not I’d got kicked in the ribs, and Wilson hadn’t told him any details, on account of he was in such a state. So now Price is panicking too, because if I die on his hands, then these facts are gonna be his responsibility, and he doesn’t want that, and he straight forgets what he’s doing and meanwhile there I am with my eye out of my head.”

He takes a breath, and I wave at him, go on, dude.

“So Wilson has to calm him down and swear him to secrecy, and eventually they decide that I’m not dying, and clean up my eye, but they don’t know if my head’s rattled or not because I’m still in this faint. And the first thing I can think to ask when I wake up is if the horse is all right.”

“Was it?”

“Oh, sure,” he says, “horse was fine. I think I was probably laid up for a week or so? Long enough to let my head heal, anyway. And Price spent the whole time telling me he’d never out my secret because he had plenty of women on ranches dressed as their husbands, and I spent the whole time telling him it wasn’t like that with me, and Wilson and I spent the whole time arguing over whether or not I’d be let to drive again.” He adds, sitting up a little with pride, “You see how that ended.”

“I guess I do. But - you just told me all this, aren’t you...? Worried?” I’m a stranger. I’ve just caught him in a situation he probably fears every single day. What does he do, just run around expecting people to be considerate? How has he survived this long? “You’re crazy,” I say.

He shrugs. “I’m a half-blind mail driver, how do you want me to be?”

I don’t exactly know enough about mail driving in the old west to understand why this comes off so acerbically, but it’s enough to make me remember Lucy’s lecture on the unpredictable harshness of the times. I shush and listen. If he’s decided he can trust me, maybe he’s got a good reason.

“It doesn’t normally go like this. Doesn’t normally go like anything. But when it does happen - well. Last thing I want to do is look guilty. Find that if I don’t, folks are more willing to help than fight.”

It makes sense, but it’s gutsier than I’d be in that situation. Maybe he’s expecting people to make the same assumption the doctor did, and ride by on the misunderstanding alone.

I have a question about that. “You said it wasn’t like a disguise, just now. Was - what was it like? If you don’t mind my asking. I don’t - I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I just wanna let you know it’s safe.”

“No, no, it’s not like a disguise,” he says. “I’ll be honest, I’ll let people think that, if they find out. It’s easier. But it’s not.”

“Okay,” I say. That’s all I really wanted to know. Lucy can suck it, she’s so educated but she has taken the party line on this one and I knew it. It’s only as Charley goes on talking that I realize what an ass I’m being, even in my own head. This isn’t about my argument with Luce. I have to listen to this.

“Was a girl until I was twelve,” he says, all frank, like he’s talking about what he had for breakfast. “But when I got the opportunity to head out here, reinvent myself, I took it.” He rubs the back of his hair, still constantly in motion. “I feel, uh... I feel a man ought to live his life as comfortably as he can. Or a woman,” he adds.

“And you’re not one.”

“Not anymore,” he says, cheery. It’s not a phrasing people would use back home, that used-to-be-a-girl thing. As far as I know, that’s giving way to ‘assigned-an-inaccurate-gender’. But it must work for Charley, and mostly I’m surprised he’s got this many words for it. I don’t know how I expected it to be said. Maybe with more religion involved, I guess? I’m always assuming people will be religious about everything in the past, and I’m always wrong.

“You ever worry, though? If you take the wrong person into your confidence and they spread it around.” I’m still feeling worried and paranoid on his behalf, even though it’s not my job to be. Chalk it up to Team Protector.

“I got some trustworthy people around me,” he says. “I know I’m lucky, but you gotta understand, that’s why I can speak freely. There’s probably others have it different.”

Now I feel like he’s reassuring me. I can’t believe this guy. And I do have one question. “What about when you do die? Someday. I mean, did you ever figure that out?”

“Oh, about how I’m laid out for burial and that?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t care. Won’t be my concern.”

“But...” The answer to this question goes right into Lucy’s assumptions about Charley, hand in hand with what’ll go down in the books for the next hundred years, and he couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s got no idea that any of it’ll happen. “Don’t you want history to remember you as you were?”

Charley laughs out loud. “I’m glad you have faith in posterity, sarge, but posterity doesn’t care about some nobody coachman.”

“You sure?” I say.

“History’s got bigger things to worry about.”

I can’t think of anything to say to this, but before I can, Rufus knocks on the door and says, “Guys? Yo, hurry up, Luce sent me to check on you.”

“Oh, fine,” say Charley, but not like he’s exasperated. He pulls up his suspenders, does his vest, and grabs his hat from the bedpost, pulling his patch back on as we come downstairs. Luce’s eyebrows raise to see the three of us clattering down together.

“What were you guys doing up there?”

He looks between me and Rufus, but I answer. “Our man here was telling me about his gruesome injury. You want to hear the story?”

It’s not the time or the place to tell her what we were actually talking about. I’m past rubbing it in. As far as he knows, I’m the only one of us he’s out to, and it’d be rude not to keep it that way. I’ll tell her later, when we get back. History won’t change, I think, not for him. At least not in the hundred or so years between today and home. But if we have to write  all the articles ourselves, we’ll treat his memory better.

[forsythe-pendleton-jones-iv-blog]

Float -Part Four- (Jughead Jones Fic)

A/N: This part’s a little different from the rest of the story but I wanted to introduce the other characters at this point. Hope you like it! As always, send an ask over for any requests/tags. As usual, this is not proofread.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Words: 1715 

-

The weekend went by in a whirlwind of late night coffees and days spent around town. Streetlights whipped around in a blur, schooldays went by as a mirage of desks and pencils. The nights were spent in my car, darkened alleyways and the Wyrm. Any semblance of routine was destroyed with every breath taken in Riverdale. Some things, no matter how much we may wish, never did change.

 Chatter of the infamous back to school formal spread throughout the school like wildfire. Whipped around every direction of you, leaving you disoriented and struggling to understand. You could call it a mess. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a bombshell. Cheryl-bombshell, that is. She had taken it upon herself to turn the entire debacle into yet another memorial for Jason. Posters with his face plastered on the walls, ginger hair like a siren. Loud, recognizable no matter what. It seemed everyone and their mother had decided it was the place to be. People were rushing to find dates, scrambling for dresses. For what it’s worth, if nothing else, it reminded people that some things in Riverdale will never change. There was always a nice party to distract yourself with, if nothing else.

 Sitting in my fifth block for the day, science, I looked around the room. Everybody had already partnered up, leaving the spot by my desk empty. It wasn't surprising, and it saved me from the useless chatter. Glancing at the front, I turned down my music, looking sheepishly at the teacher who sent a pointed look in my direction. Propping my leg underneath myself, I rested my head in my hand, staring at the pattern of the desk below me.

 As I turned to grab a pencil out of my bag, I felt a body slide into the seat next to me, dropping their notebook on the table with a notable thud. Without looking up, I mutter, "There's other seats left." 

The truth is, I had been so distracted lately by Joaquin and my life, I had taken up my habit of people watching again. Late night conversations and drunken confessions in the back of the Wyrm opened up some interesting avenues of discussion. Most notably, that Clifford Blossom himself had walked into the basement, suavely ducking behind a rowdy crowd of serpents and weaving his way against the walls. Perhaps if I had followed-

 "Yeah, but this is my table." The familiar voice says, breaking me out of my reverie. There's another shuffling noise, before the feet shift and a beaker is set on the table.

 Smirking, I look up. "I don't see your name on it." I was taken aback. Had I known it was Jughead, I wouldn't have responded. The way his slightly curled hair tucked into a beanie, the signature plaid and black combo. It was distracting, and I had no time for distractions. An inconspicuous smile hinted at his lips.

 "Actually, that's where you're wrong." He points to a piece of tape haphazardly placed in the centre of the table, with the words 'Property of Jughead Jones III' scrawled over it.

 "I'm never wrong." I state, going against my better judgement and ripping the tape off and rolling it into a ball. Suppressing a smirk, I drop it onto the floor. With an small, but astute thud, I set my notebook on the table, looking over at him expectantly. “You have a thing for vandalism, don’t you?”

 He blinks, opening his notebook to copy down the notes on the board, and without looking at me states "Me? Never.” He rolls his eyes with a faux-casual smirk. “I saw you at the drive in. Last night. Nice car, by the way. Is it even legal for you to drive it?”

 I shirk back, shifting my eyes towards him and setting my mouth in a thin line. "No, but I haven’t been pulled over yet. It’s in someone else’s name." I respond, making a point not to look at his face.

 "You were at the drive-in.” His statement held a final note, and I was glad I I didn’t have to mention that I’d also seen him. I had no idea how to approach his living situation, or if I even should at all. "Why?" His voice took on an acidic tone. I shirked back, narrowing my brows as I scoffed. Somehow, this conversation went from being a simple banter back and forth to an interrogation, with a simple question.

 Had it been anybody else, I would've lied and called them crazy. Certainly I had nothing to do with the Serpents. This wasn't someone else, this was Jughead. A boy I barely knew, mind you. "I was visiting someone." I said, "He spends some time there."

 Jughead nodded, his eyes downcast. "Has he been using Jason Blossoms death as an excuse to get out of school? I haven’t seen you hanging around anybody. But if he is, he might be onto something there." The false laid back tone in his voice set my nerves on fire. Or, that’s what I pretended it was. Truthfully, I was much more interested in how he knew I spent my time alone.

 "You shouldn't joke about that." I deadpanned, knowing damn well I did the same thing more often than both usual and necessary. "He doesn't go to school." I left it at that, knowing he was just fishing for information.

 "Can't help it, I relate to the world through sardonic humour." He replied, very evidently unhappy with my answer. He went to continue, before being interrupted by a high pitched squeal.

 "Jughead's talking to a girl Betty! A real life girl." Veronica smiles, sauntering over. Instead of the typical antagonistic smile one would expect, she wore one of happiness. "You know what that means- right?" She looked at me pointedly, and paused. "I may be new here but I thought I knew everybody. What's your name? I'm Veronica, Veronica Lodge."

 "I know." I said, looking between the confused faces of Jughead and the small, thin smile of Betty. "Noah DeSantos"

 "Well you're talking to our little Juggie here, so I'm sure you're already making plans." Betty smiles, "You can come with me and Ronnie! We're going with Archie, and have to buy our dresses today, why don't you come with us?" She had an open, friendly air to her.

 Blinking, I took in the situation. I was very confused, what plans, why were they buying dresses and what did I have to do with it? Then it hit me. I raised my eyebrows, a look of shock taking over my features."Jughead was not asking me to a dance, huercas. He was asking about-"  

 "Science questions." Jughead interjected, his brow furrowed. Almost imperceptibly, I noticed his cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

 Veronica raised a brow, "Science, huh?" She looked back at the board. "Well Noah here is still coming with us- date or not. We have practice with the Vixens today so why don't you wait around the school? We'll be done by five."

 I blinked, eyebrows raised. "Alright."

 ~

 I leaned against the bleachers, watching the Vixens practice. Glancing at my phone, I saw the time read 4:52.

 Turning up my headphones, I blinked, thinking about the way today had unfolded. It had started with my usual routine. Wake up in some kind of alley, or the drive in. Leave before someone said something, go to school, and restart the entire process all over again. Yet instead somehow I managed to get roped into dress shopping for two girls. It wasn't my ideal Monday afternoon, but these days I don't think I had an ideal anything.

 A tap on my shoulder caused me to turn, hair whipping whoever it was directly in the face. A mumbled 'ow' floated through the air. "Shit. My bad." I said, turning to see the slightly scrunched up face of Jughead Jones III. With an eyebrow raised I looked at his slightly disheveled appearance. "What do you want, Jones?" I ask, crossing my arms.

 "Nothing." Jughead replied quickly. He just blinks, walking away with a furrowed brow and a frown. He looks over his shoulder, pausing. "Actually, meet me at Pop's on friday."  I watch as his figure melts into the shadows beginning to cast across the ground, like claws making their way through the mud.

 I raise my brow, “Isn’t that the night of the dance?” I call to his retreating form.

 “Are you busy?” He questioned, voice cutting through the air. I shake my head, and turn away. Looking down at the field, I see the Vixen’s dispersing, making their way towards the changerooms. Or, almost all of them.

 "Noah? Are you coming?" Betty's voice calls, and I rush down the bleachers towards the field.

 "Yeah." I mumble, following the two vixens.

 "So, what kind of dress are you going to get?" Veronica asks Betty, looking at her pointedly.

 "I'm thinking something nice and pink, but no sequins."

 Veronica nods. "I think that would be cute, I'm definitely getting something purple. Any excuse to wear a cute party dress.." She trails off, chuckling. Betty looks over at me expectantly.

 "What about you? I think something green would look cute on you!" Cocking my brow, I look at her incredulously.

 "Maybe I'll get a t-shirt dress or something. Those are in now, right?" I reply, sarcasm heavy in my voice as Betty looks towards Veronica for approval.

 "Maybe, if you pair it with a belt or a cardigan or something. You should expand your horizons, the entire world of fashion awaits you." Veronica beams, reaching her car and pulling open the passenger door. As Betty climbs in, I take up residence in the back seat.

 Quickly, Veronica speeds out the parking lot, taking a hard right towards downtown. “So, Noah, you were talking to Riverdale’s most reclusive emo, what’s what about?”

With a shrug, I look out the window. “He just started talking to me- and he didn’t ask me to the dance, so I’m not really sure why I’m here.” I really had no clue, I had never spoken to either of the two girls before. Now, I’m shopping with them like we’re best friends.

 Best Friends. The term felt foreign in my mind, a reclusive ideal I was always chasing.

 “Really?” Betty asks, a small smile on her face. “Nobody should go to their first dance alone.”

 I snorted, side eyeing the blonde. “That’s why I’m not going in the first place. Plus, it really isn’t my scene.”  With a gasp, Veronica turned her head to face me, road forgotten.

 “What do you mean you’re not going? That’s not even an option. Betty, did I give her that option?”

 However, Betty was ignoring her, instead reaching across the wheel to try and keep the car from crashing. “Ronnie, you might want to watch the road. Especially since, from a legal standpoint, none of us should be in this car.”

-

A/N: Cant say this is my favourite part so far, but it certainly gets better. The next part will be out sometime in the next two days! :)

tags; @thatsadbreakfastclub @tinytephrite @riotballad77 @tasteofswallowedwords @thekillingquill @gottaryanross23

[itstimeforspring]

i can see the clouds are moving faster (3 of ?)

title from ‘Hold On’ by TobyMac. this is chapter 3 of my CSSS gift for @thegladelf. many apologies about how long it took for this to happen, but it is here at last. 

(tumblr) chapter 1 chapter 2 // ff.net // ao3

Mary Margaret decided to skip on the lamp for the time being and they all walked back to the Nolan house. Henry immediately migrated back to his room to do boring teenage things and Emma and Killian sat down on the couch.

Emma tucked herself into Killian’s arm like always. He chuckled into her hair and rested his left hand on her thigh so she could easily massage at his no-doubt aching muscles. She rested her head on his shoulder when she took his hand, not able to hold back the familiar chills of remembering that terrible day. Killian smiled and closed his eyes in relief.

Mary Margaret and David sat down on the couch opposite them with matching happy sighs. David noticed Emma’s motions and Killian’s hand and couldn’t hold back a wince. “What happened to your hand, Killian?” Mary Margaret gasped before Emma could stop her with warning eyes or David could hold her back with a comforting hand on her knee. Emma inwardly sighed. They hadn’t worked out this story.

Killian’s eyes snapped back open and he looked not unlike a cornered puppy for a moment. Sad and slightly scared, not dangerous, thankfully—Killian, not Agent Jones. Emma felt him tense then relax when he thought of something. “Boating accident just before I went to work for the insurance place Emma and I met,” he answered. Emma patted his wrist. That was a good one. Very nearly true, too—they had been on a harbor when the fire started. Just left a few details out, like how they’d already been married five years and this accident had only happened two months ago, and it was basically a medical miracle that he could use the hand as much as he could. The doctors had really wanted to amputate, but Killian had refused through his pain meds-induced haze and Emma had fought for him.

“I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret replied, with a time-and-repetition-patented yet completely genuine sad face. Emma sensed David’s judgement softening again. But it wasn’t enough to stop the next questions.

In a rapid-fire sequence, David asked Killian basically every question from “Where did you come from”—London, as he’d already told Henry—to “Why did you start working at the insurance company”—needed some cash in this land of plenty and insurance was basically the only option with his qualifications—to “Where does your family live”—brother died four years back, mom died when he was two, and father disappeared to the ends of the earth right before he was born—to the all-important “How long have you two been dating, and what are your intentions regarding my only daughter?”

Emma took that as her cue to stand up and go visit Henry. She kissed Killian, whose face had sharpened from my father-in-law is going to murder me in my sleep into a smirking I’m going to tell my wife’s father exactly what my intentions are, on the cheek, and motioned for her mother to join her. Mary Margaret thankfully understood that this was a father-potential-son-in-law conversation, despite her desperate longing to hear whatever Killian said.

They both went up the stairs before the conversation could really start, and Emma poked her head into Henry’s room. The kid was sitting on his bed, watching something on his TV—how long had he had a TV?—and he grinned when he saw her.

“Can we come in?” Emma asked cautiously, absolutely no idea if Netflix time for teenagers was a thing much-older sisters and moms could interrupt.

“Yep!” Henry said, nodding vigorously. He was probably the exception to every rule.

Emma sat down on the bed next to Henry, and Mary Margaret sat down on the other side. “What are you watching?” Emma asked. She hadn’t really had time to watch much Netflix lately, aside from Parks and Rec.

“It’s The Flash,” Henry explained excitedly. “That’s Barry, he’s the Flash, he got his superpowers when he was struck by lightning, and that’s Iris, she’s awesome…”

Emma zoned out for a few minutes while her brother continued to explain the show and her mom nodded attentively, pretending to understand what was going on in the show. She couldn’t help wondering what was being said downstairs, whether her dad liked Killian enough to not throw him out on his handsome face, whether Killian was going the whole route and asking for her father’s blessing to marry her, whether they were just sitting there awkwardly after only pretending to intimidate and be intimidated. It was a mystery.

“And that’s Joe, he’s Iris’s dad, he’s a police officer, and he knows that Barry’s the Flash, and he’s also awesome!” Henry wrapped up his summary of the show with far-younger-than-his-age enthusiasm, and both Emma and Mary Margaret smiled and nodded, like it had all made perfect sense. Not much had made sense, aside from pretty much everyone being rather awesome. “Why are you two up here, anyway?” he asked suddenly. “Weren’t you all double-dating or whatever?”

Mary Margaret grinned. “Your father wanted to have a talk with Emma’s suitor about his intentions,” she said conspiratorially. Henry laughed and Emma sighed.

“What if they end up fighting to the death over Emma?” Henry asked, still laughing. “They should use lightsabers. That way they’ll get their wounds cauterized immediately, and Mom won’t have to deal with blood on the carpet.”

Emma groaned, head falling into her hand. That was honestly what she was imagining, and her father was not doing well in her mental image. Killian had taken swordsmanship as a geeky teenager at his brother’s advice. “I’ll have to kill whoever comes out on top, then,” she said, matching Henry’s grin.

Mary Margaret checked her watch. “They’ve had long enough to discuss like the manly men they are, and it is time for bedtime, young man,” she said to Henry. He sighed but hugged Emma, kissed his mom on the cheek, and bounced off to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

“Why is he the perfect kid?” Emma asked her mom.

“I have no idea,” Mary Margaret replied, staring after her son. “Goodness knows you weren’t that obedient.” She wrapped her arm around her daughter as they stood up to check on their husbands.

“Which is why I wonder how he got to be so good,” Emma muttered.

--

Twenty minutes later, Killian was brushing his teeth and Emma was curled under her blankets.

“What did you and Dad talk about?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes open.

“My iblurghfs, cocenerigneg ooo—” He choked and quickly spit. Emma giggled and waited for him to finish in the bathroom. “My intentions, concerning your lovely self,” Killian said as he stepped back into Emma’s bedroom. He pulled back the covers, letting just a little cold air inside. Emma shivered, and he got under the blankets quickly.

“Mom and I were starting to worry that you two were going to duel to the death, as Henry said. He was hoping for lightsabers. I probably would have preferred those huge sabers—katanas.”

Killian laughed, lightly pulling Emma into his chest. “Your father considered it, I believe, but he thankfully decided against it. The resulting fight would probably have messed up the delicate living room arrangement your mother fixed up so nicely.” He nestled his face against the back of her neck. “I would have been Luke, I suppose,” he whispered into her hair. “Or maybe Han. Dashing space pirate, he is. And your father is Vader, and you’re the lovely Leia.” He nuzzled into her hair once more.

Emma smiled at the Star Wars commentary—Killian was definitely Han, down to the low-cut shirt and chest hair—and sighed. Their little game was going well so far, and her family couldn’t see the slight deception at all.

“What’s wrong, love?” Killian asked, trailing his fingers along her side, making her shiver slightly.

Emma tangled her feet with Killian’s. His were always akin to an oven, and hers were more like a freezer. Comfortable combination, it was, once they both got past the initial shock. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until we came home. I should have been there for them and for Henry.” she whispered.

Killian kissed her jawline. “I’m sorry, love.”

“I don’t like pretending to them.” She nestled further into Killian’s chest.

Killian was silent for a moment, and Emma started to think he had fallen asleep before noticing that his breathing pattern hadn’t changed enough for sleep. “Your father asked if I intended to marry you, since we’ve been ‘dating’ for so long. I put us at three years, by the way.”

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I told him I did.”

“Good answer, you married man. What did he say?”

“He nodded, seemed pleased with that answer. Then we discussed football.”

Emma rolled over and glared at her husband. “You and my father discussed football while my mother and brother and I were nearly sure one of you was going to be murdered?”

Killian laughed and kissed her quickly. “Meant that the discussion for your hand was over, love. He basically gave me permission to ask you to marry me, if you must know. I’ll ask again if we go through with this second-marriage thing. But I believe he thinks I’m a fantastic catch.”

“Really,” Emma said, vaguely surprised. She would have expected her father to make Killian wait for such a momentous answer, take a few days to decide or something. He’d known Killian for exactly one day and apparently the bromance had quickly grown strong without her realizing. She should have expected it, of course, but still.

“Go to sleep, love,” Killian muttered, his voice dropping off into slumber.

Emma stared at his face for a few moments, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “I love you,” before falling asleep.

--

“Good morning!” came the happy voice of Mary Margaret Blanchard from outside Emma’s room. Emma jumped and blinked for a few seconds before recognizing the cat poster on the wall. Killian sat up immediately, reaching for the gun he’d stowed under the mattress, until he realized where they were—not on a mission, and that was not the voice of a kindly landlady about to attempt double murder of newlywed house guests—and fell back to Emma’s side. She laughed hollowly as Killian’s eyes darted around the room before landing on her and relaxing.

They smiled at each other for a moment. “Good morning,” she echoed her mother. Killian leaned over to kiss her deeply for a second, then jumped out of bed. “Where are you going?” Emma asked, leaning back in the bed. If he was going where she expected, she wasn’t going to have to move from this bed for another half-hour at least.

“I’m going to assist your mother with the morning meal,” he said, flattening his hair slightly. Emma grinned. That was exactly her prediction. All hail six years of knowledge about each other. “May as well gain some points with my mother-in-law.”

Emma heard a squeak from outside the door, then footsteps quickly descending the stairs, and she groaned.

Killian looked from the door to Emma and back again. “Was your mother right outside the door?”

Emma nodded slowly, her mind racing. “What do you want to do about it?” At this point they had two options. Make something up or admit to the entire thing. It all depended on what her mom had heard.

Killian leaned over for another quick kiss. “If she heard that, I’ll tell her I said ‘future’ or something like that.”

“She still won’t believe that. They all think I’m too anti-commitment to consider marriage.”

Killian chuckled, preening a bit. “That’s what they think.”

Emma sighed. “Yeah, they do. They really do. Ruby and Belle had an intervention for me one time when I hadn’t gone on any sort of real date in a year due to the one night stands.” Killian smirked, no doubt imagining the Emma she was when they met the third time. She’d been in a skin-tight red dress splattered with red wine, just off of a shorter job that required catching a cheating drug lord. Even then she’d been able to read his eyes, and they said most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Even now he was smiling that you’re-my-favorite-person-place-and-thing smile that made her heart skip beats.

Killian leaned down and kissed her hand carefully, his lips moving over her knuckles slowly. “I’m going to help your mother with breakfast, all right, love?”

Emma nodded and tried to push him towards the door. From her position on the bed, it was more like a light struggle-filled tap on the chest. “I want bacon,” she said.

Killian laughed. “As you wish.” He left the door slightly ajar and she wanted to murder him. Believe it or not, that was the man’s most annoying flaw. The day he finally learned to close the door completely, she’d probably—she didn’t know what she’d do, but it would be a truly great day for both of them. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Emma woke up again to the smell of bacon permeating the house. “Emma, Henry!” Mary Margaret called. “Breakfast!” Emma heard Henry’s I-am-awake-and-not-pleased-about-anything-life-can-offer-me-today groan that turned into a cheer when he smelled the bacon. They raced each other down the stairs, Emma pretending excellently that she wasn’t approaching thirty years old. She won the race, just barely. The boy was getting to be bigger than her. Their parents watched with no small amount of amusement and slight confusion.

Killian stood unruffled at the countertop with spatula in hand. “Your breakfast is served, milady and good sir,” he said with pleasant alacrity. “Do help yourself.”

Emma kissed Killian as Henry tore through the pancakes and bacon, leaving barely enough for the other four. Killian smirked when Emma pulled away, and she sighed, knowing that her dad had been trying not to stare at them in slight annoyance at the dreaded PDA.

“Did Mom mention the slip of the tongue?” she asked in a whisper.

Killian shook his head and gave her a thumbs up. Emma breathed a sigh of relief and got her plate of breakfast goodness.

They sat down at the kitchen table with their food and Mary Margaret instantly spoke. “Emma, why don’t you take Killian around Storybrooke today? Just a pleasant walk—the weather’s lovely, isn’t it, David—and show him your old wandering places.”

Killian turned pleading, longing, bright blue eyes to Emma and she nodded. “Sounds good, Mom,” she agreed. It was beyond past time for Killian to see Storybrooke, the place that’d started to make her into who she was today. She took a bite of her bacon. “Has anything changed drastically?”

Her parents sighed sadly and reproachfully in unison. Their sighs said You should have visited more often, Emma, because then you’d know what’s changed and what hasn’t, what’s stayed the same for the past sixty-four years and what changed yesterday, but no, you weren’t here, you were working in New York. We’re fine with that. “Not too much has really changed,” David said, musing. “Mr. Gold’s shop is scarier than ever, the library’s open again, and August has actually moved to a camper next to the well.”

“August actually lives next to the well now?” Killian chuckled, taking a bite of scrambled egg.

Mary Margaret glanced at Killian with eyebrow slightly raised and bemused smile. “Emma’s mentioned August?” she asked before Emma could change the subject. Would be hilarious if this was when her mother found out that Killian knew literally every detail of her life. Her surprise was quite logical; the Time of August was a subject she usually didn’t care to discuss.

“Once or twice,” Killian agreed cheerfully, not paying attention to Emma’s IF YOU LOVE ME AT ALL YOU WILL ABORT eyes. “High school boyfriend, rather odd, slightly too old for her. Obsessed with the tale of Pinocchio as I recall, right, Swan?” He turned to Emma with a pleasantly bland expression.

Emma nodded with a grin despite herself and her fear that Killian’s knowledge of her would start to give them away. August had been somewhat… peculiar. Always insisting she was a genuine fairy tale princess regardless of her insistence to be a social worker or something else decidedly less glamorous. Such as CIA agent.

“What did you put in the pancakes, Mary Margaret?” David asked out of the blue, changing the subject to Emma’s relief. Her dad had taken a bite of pancake and was chewing it thoughtfully. Killian glanced at him and his eyes widened in sudden and abject fear. Emma tried not to smile; Killian thought that her father hated the pancakes and was now going to murder him. So sweet and innocent.

Mary Margaret giggled. “Killian made them! Aren’t they delicious?” Emma leaned back in her chair to watch the proceedings. Henry glanced back and forth between the adults and took his empty plate to the sink, Mary Margaret giving him permission with a waved hand to escape to his room. She probably wouldn’t see her brother again until dinnertime. Alas.

David turned to Killian. “What did you add to them?”

Emma waited for Killian to speak, prepared to tell David that the amazingness about her husband’s pancakes was—“A few pinches of cinnamon,” Killian blurted out. Emma patted his knee.

“Well, Killian, they are in fact good,” David said with a nod and a grin. Emma rolled her eyes, for her father’s mission—intimidate daughter’s boyfriend—was still continuing.

Killian breathed a relieved laugh. “I’m glad you approve, sir. At this point, I’m fairly sure that Emma’s only alive because of these pancakes.”

“I never managed to teach her to cook,” Mary Margaret lamented. “I tried so many times, but every time we ended up with a scorched pot, a blaring fire alarm, and angry neighbors. Eventually she mastered ramen and David decided she was set for college.”

“I survived throughout four years of college without anyone cooking for me,” Emma protested. Killian’s raised eyebrow reminded her of the doctor’s appointment not long after they were married that told her how poor her assorted vitamin levels had been. Then Killian had started cooking for the two of them. Emma had started taking multivitamins.

Based on their own raised eyebrows, David and Mary Margaret seemed to agree with Killian about the whole Emma-eats-like-a-middle-or-high-schooler-unless-supervised-properly thing, so Emma changed the subject. But she had survived just fine. See? She was alive and speaking. That’s all someone really needs.

“We’ll leave after breakfast then, and we’ll go meandering,” she said. Killian nodded with a closed-lip smile; he had food in his mouth. Mary Margaret beamed, her hands clasped under her chin, and David copied Killian’s nod, food and all.

--

After they finished breakfast, both of them took quick showers and brushed their teeth. Emma tossed a dark blue button-down at Killian’s face and Killian put it on without argument, as per sometimes. Emma chose a red sweater for herself, tugging it on quickly. They both found their skinny jeans—or straight, as Killian preferred—and their boots, gun, and knife.

“Ready, Swan?” Killian asked, breaking the silence as he pulled his black leather jacket on, securing his favorite knife in. He stepped around the newly made bed to grasp her hips gently.

Emma nodded slowly. “I’m not sure how I’ll react if it’s too different or too similar to how I remember it.” She straightened Killian’s lapels.

Killian merely nodded in return. “I know how you feel, my love.” And she knew he did—if he were to go back to London, the place he’d grown up, where he and Liam had been so happy and yet so abandoned, he wouldn’t know how to react.

It still amazed her how truly similar they were and how good of a team they made. Emma found herself repeating the sentence—the theme, perhaps—of this vacation. “Let’s do this.” Killian smiled then leaned forward to kiss her, a kiss probably intended to be naught more than a peck, but when Emma opened her eyes again they were sprawled across the bed and Killian had his hand up her shirt and her hands were at Killian’s shirt buttons.

Killian opened his eyes and the same surprise was in his face. He kissed her one more time and stood, straightening his jacket. “My apologies for that—” He shook his head. “Actually, no, I don’t apologize. I’ve not yet in six years and I will never apologize for kissing you.” He grinned down at Emma as she straightened her own shirt and she raised an eyebrow up at him. “But are you ready, love? Better get moving if we want to see the whole town by sunset.”

Finally the Joneses were outside of the apartment twenty six minutes after finishing breakfast. They took the steps down slowly until they were in the great metropolis of Storybrooke, population approximately one-thousand. Killian took Emma’s hand and squeezed. “I’m so glad you brought me with you, Emma,” he said contemplatively.

“Why in particular?” she asked. “And if you say it’s because you would have been bored at home, that’s a legitimate answer that I won’t argue with, but I won’t be very pleased.”

“Oh, just looking forward to seeing more of where you came from, Swan. It’s always an honor. And I do love getting to spend time with you without being consistently shot at.”

Emma tilted her head and considered. Yeah, that was when they got to spend the most time together. The CIA was good for something after all. Except for the chances of imminent death it offered. Not so great there.

They wandered throughout Storybrooke, Killian wide-eyed and excited throughout the entire walk. He admired Mr. Gold’s pawn shop with a practiced eye at the Creepy Factor; he would have spent hours in Belle’s library if not for the desire to see more stuff; he laughed as long and quietly as she did when they saw August next to the well singing to the nymph of the water and crying for Geppetto.

Emma introduced him to those they passed as her boyfriend Killian from work, and he greeted them cordially. After the sixth introduction, he commented, “It does hurt that we’re not married in the eyes of this town, love.” Emma nodded vehemently and Killian took her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “Also, do you know everyone here?”

“I’m the daughter of the best schoolteacher and the sheriff of this town.” She leaned in conspiratorially, Killian practically resting his head on her shoulder. “Yes, I know everyone.” Killian pulled back to look her in the eye, amusement written across his face. They kept walking until they got to the church.

Eventually it was time for some sort of food, and Emma texted her parents to inform them that Henry was free to eat their share of the lunch. He’d appreciate that, at any case. “Granny’s?” Emma asked as they stepped up to the front of the restaurant.

“Why, Emma, you should know better than to have to ask me that,” Killian reproached, squeezing her left hand. With his own left hand, he absently rubbed over the place where his wedding ring should have been. Now that Emma thought about it, he’d been doing it all day—apparently the man she could have named I’m-sorry-love-I-do-love-you-with-all-of-my-heart-but-I-probably-won’t-wear-the-ring-it’ll-get-in-the-way-of-everything missed his wedding ring.

Emma grinned, both from her husband’s newly revealed area of sappiness and his insistence upon eating at Granny’s. “Why should I not have to ask you that?”

“This is Storybrooke, and this is apparently the best eating establishment,” he said, motioning toward the fluorescent GRANNY’S sign. “Or so my lovely wife has informed me many times.” He turned to Emma as if to interview her for a high-end cooking magazine. “Emma Jones, what do you—”

“What?” said a voice from the side of the patio. Emma and Killian turned in unison toward the unexpected voice, their hands moving toward their concealed knives. Ruby stood up from a table where she’d apparently been sitting for a while. “You two are married?”

Emma sighed. “Oh, bloody hell.”

tagging @cat-sophia and @kmomof4

[thunderbirdcarebear]

Photo Shoot - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Visit to England

"Scott, are you done in that bathroom yet?" Alan said, hopping around outside. "You've been doing your hair in there for about half an hour now!"

"Alan, there are other bathrooms on this island, use one of them!" Scott shouted through the closed door.

"Yeah, but the others are all in use too!"

"Well, go dance outside someone else's!"

Alan left, grumbling.

Virgil sat in the kitchen with Tin-Tin with his sleeve rolled up. "How did you manage to cut your arm so deep just chasing Alan?"

"He knocked one of the pictures off the side and I tried to catch it, but ended up landing on a piece of glass instead."

"Oh." She continued to dab at his arm with a cotton bud. He winced a couple of times, as she pressed too hard. "Sorry. Why were you chasing him?"

"He stole one of my CD's and I wanted it back," he replied as she put a dressing over it.

"Right. Go on, go get yourself sorted, we're leaving soon."

He rolled his sleeve back down and smiled at her. "Thanks, Tin-Tin."

"Anytime, but not too often, I don't want to be forever patching you guys up."

John sat in his room reading an astronomy book when Jeff put his head round the door, knocking on the frame as he spoke. "Knock, knock! Can I come in please?"

John looked up and smiled. "Sure. What's up?"

"Are you nearly ready to go? We'll be leaving in ten minutes."

"I was ready ages ago. I've been waiting for someone to tell me what to do for most of that time."

"Oh, well, uh, good. Take your bag down to the plane then, son."

"Bag?"

"Yes. One of those things you pack when you're staying somewhere over night."

"Oh." He looked a little embarrassed.

"Don't tell me you haven't packed one."

"No one told me we were going over night! Gordon only said we were going to visit Penny."

Jeff shook his head, chuckling. "Typical Gordon. I told him specifically we were going over night and to tell you the same thing. Ok, you pack a bag then. You've got about 5 minutes now."

John pulled a face that displayed his embarrassment and his annoyance with Gordon and pulled the suitcase from under his bed.

Finally, they were all ready to go. Their suitcases had been loaded into the plane; the plane itself had been fuelled and had the maintenance checks performed.

On the runway beside the cockpit ladder, Scott and Virgil were arguing.

"Scott, I'm flying!" Virgil said, grinning with his hands on his hips.

"No, Virgil, I am!" Scott answered, in a similar pose. They were both leaned forwards, heads meeting in the middle.

"Scott, it's my turn!"

"No, it's not! It's mine! You missed your turn!"

"I didn't, Alan took my turn!"

While the two brothers playfully argued, Jeff wandered behind them and climbed into the pilot's seat. The boys stopped their arguing and turned as one to glare at their father. Jeff smiled down at them. They narrowed their eyes.

"Dad, it's my turn!" they said in unison then turned to face each other again. "No, it's not, it's mine!" They grinned. "Stop that!"

Jeff watched them from the pilot's seat, amused at their impeccable timing. "Just get in; we don't have time to argue."

They arrived in English airspace and the five boys leaned towards the window to look out and looked at the countryside of Foxleyheath, very close to where Penny lived. Jeff spotted her massive mansion and circled the plane round to land it in a field near the house.

Penny was outside waiting for them with her butler, Parker.

Jeff landed the plane and jumped from the cockpit. The five boys climbed down and stood together in front of the house. They'd been to many places, but never a British stately home.

"Wow!" Alan whispered. He stood looking up at the building, his head tilted back and his mouth open. Gordon looked about amazed, too. The three eldest glanced at each other and smiled discreetly. They snuck up behind the two youngest and pulled on their shoulders, making them topple over. They fell to the floor and lay there stunned, looking up at the others.

"What was that for?" Gordon asked, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"Because you didn't give me the full message and I nearly got left behind!" John responded.

"No, you didn't! They wouldn't have left you!" Gordon said.

"And why did you knock me down?" Alan asked.

"Dunno, didn't want you to feel we'd left you out!" Scott said and Virgil chuckled.

"Thanks!" Alan said, sarcastically.

"You're welcome," Virgil said. "Isn't he polite?" Scott, John and Virgil all laughed and wandered off.

Jeff looked up in time to see Alan and Gordon tumble to the floor. "Oh dear, I hope they behave themselves!" Jeff said, watching them nervously.

"I'm sure they will, Jeff. They just need a change of scenery. Maybe you should stay here for a little while after the photo has been taken. The island is all very well for hiding a secret organisation…"

Jeff looked at her, wide-eyed and threw a glance at Parker who was emptying the bags from the plane.

"It's alright; Parker is in this with me. He knows everything."

"But, Penny, he was a criminal!" Jeff said, the shock registering clearly in his voice.

"Jeff, please don't be so judgemental. I've found him to be very trustworthy."

Jeff seemed clearly uncomfortable about this new revelation, but shut his mouth and let her finish.

"As I was saying, Jeff, the island is all very well for hiding a secret organisation, but there's very little for the boys to do and explore there. They're restless, they need something to do."

Neither of them had noticed that Virgil had snuck over to the plane and had climbed on nor that he had started rummaged through the bags. He found what he was looking for, a clean, white football and jumped back out.

Jeff noticed him at this point and watched him curiously. Curiously, that was, until he saw them start a game of football between them. He smiled and turned back to Penny. She had seen them too. "How often do they play football on your island?"

"Not very, they keep kicking the ball into the sea and only Gordon's ever willing to go get it back so they stopped."

"Precisely my point. This change of scenery is already doing them-"

A loud crash made them both jump. Behind them, the ball had gone through one of the downstairs windows, shattering it.

Jeff stared at them opened mouthed, while they stood there, looking as surprised at their action as their father. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Penny. I'll pay for it to be mended."

Penny smiled. "Boys will be boys. No worries, Jeff. At least it wasn't stained-glass."

They left the scene of the accident and went inside. Out of her many rooms, Penny had put one aside for each of them and Parker was taking them on a tour round the house, stopping at the various rooms to put down their luggage and inform the relevant person that this would be their room for the next day or so.

Leading the way, Parker was at the head of the group with as many bags as he could possibly carry on and under his arms and in his hands. He stopped outside a door and Scott stepped forwards and opened it for him.

"Thank you, sir," Parker replied. "H'if you'll follow me, h'I'll show you your room."

Scott looked at Virgil who glanced back. They dropped behind the group.

"You know, some of these English accents and dialects are so hard to understand!"

Virgil tutted and shook his head.

"What?"

"You never change, do you, Scott?"

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I mean that you said a similar thing about Brains when he first arrived. You complained that you didn't fully understand his stuttering."

Scott opened his mouth to reply but no noise came out. He closed it again.

"You know, they probably think the same thing about us, so don't worry about it, just stop going on about it."

Scott grinned at his brother and was about to say something to respond when someone jumped in.

"Come on, you two, don't wanna get left behind or you'll be sleeping on the couch! Sightseeing later!" Gordon shouted.

Scott and Virgil exchanged glances then, after rolling their eyes, ran to catch up.

They had each been shown to a room now, all on one corridor as well. There were four rooms on either side of the corridor with stairs leading to the kitchen at one end. Down one side of the corridor were the rooms occupied by Scott, Virgil, John and Gordon and down the other side were the rooms occupied by Jeff, Brains, Tin-Tin and Alan.

Penny's room was on another corridor, quite a distance from her guests' rooms. 'Presumably,' Jeff thought, 'because she knows what this lot are like.'

He settled down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling then glancing round at the luxurious décor. He had a four poster bed with curtains running between each post, various portraits dotted round the room, and many, many expensive looking ornaments. He worried about this. With all the extra energy the boys had, he could see something else getting damaged.

He sighed then settled down for a nap, which he'd just realised he desperately needed after such a long flight with them in the plane!

Alan was in his room, exploring all the cupboards, drawers and anywhere else he could have possibly poked his nose into. He also took time to look at the impressive collection in his room. His curiosity was getting the better of him as he wandered round and he picked up a small model of a very old car and looked it over carefully.

"What are you looking at, Alan?" came Tin-Tin's voice from the doorway. He hadn't heard her come in and jumped, dropping the model on the floor. He cringed as pieces of it fell off on impact. He looked up at Tin-Tin who smiled. "What were you looking at, Alan?"

He smiled back. "A model of a car."

"Ah, no surprises there then." She looked at the pieces on the floor and walked over. She crouched down on the floor, picking up a piece or two and looking at them. She looked up at him and held out her hand. He looked at her, momentarily confused as to what she wanted. Then it dawned on him and he handed her the model. She turned it this way and that. "Shouldn't be too hard to fix. Come on, it's nearly dinner time."

She got up, putting the remnants of the model and the loose pieces back on the mantelpiece.

Alan grinned at her then linked his arm through hers and led her out.

Scott was in his room, dozing soundly on his bed. Soundly, that is, until Virgil wandered in. He opened the door silently and peered in. Scott was lying on his side, snoring. Virgil grinned then crossed the room. Kneeling down silently beside him, he leaned close then pulled something out of his pocket. He grinned again then put it in his mouth and blew hard, making the streamer attached straighten out.

A loud noise ensued making Scott wake with a start. He sat bolt upright staring straight ahead then turned and saw Virgil smirking at him with a curled up party blower in his mouth.

"What the hell did you do that for?"

"It's nearly dinner time, come on, we gotta go downstairs."

Scott rolled his eyes. "And you couldn't have woken me by conventional means? Where'd you get that thing from anyway?"

"I kept it from Alan's last birthday. You know what he's like."

Scott knew all too well. The thought that the blower had something to do with Alan had crossed his mind due to the fact that Alan had once played a trick on him using a very similar item. He didn't like to think about that.

"Ok, ok, I'm coming. Just let me sort myself out."

"F.A.B." Virgil grinned widely. The phrase was new to them but they'd just got to grips with using it. Using it too often as Jeff had noticed. They seemed to say it whenever they would say all right, yes or ok. "I like that phrase."

"Mmm, I've noticed. You use it more than any of us and we haven't even started operations yet."

Virgil looked at him. "Hmm, I'll leave you now. You know you were right about having to sort yourself out first. Does someone drag you through a hedge while you're asleep?"

Scott looked up at him glaring, but Virgil had already left.