#kid i won’t promise but i’ll tell you it’s something i’m sure determined to get back for us

[cherubemojie]

little pat on the back for myself for remembering to take my meds every day this week and being able to read just over half of one of my tbrs tonight w/out getting distracted and giving up 🫂

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Through The Portal: Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The strange girl slowly begins to reveal her secret past and her true connection to the brothers, and her terrifying encounters with Bill Cipher.

Pairing(s): Stan x platonic!reader, Ford x platonic!reader, Bill x reader

Warnings: flashback, mentions of torture, angst, fluff, mentions of hopelessness, unrequited love, self confidence issues. Age gap (reader looks 21).

A/N: The events and ideas are based on a theory I have about the Nightmare Realm. This is in no way canonically true, just my theories based on what we canonically know about the Nightmare Realm.

The next couple of days were a bit weird. I didn’t sleep very well as thoughts of waking up in that dreaded world again ran through my mind. I hardly slept when I was in that dimension, and now sleep seemed to be something unfamiliar to me. It was strange not having to sleep with one eye open anymore. My body felt uneasy about it.

Mabel being the good hearted person she seemed, showed me around the house. She made sure I could make my way around easily and not have to worry about being awkward. She was a good hearted person, and definitely seemed like she had a heart of gold.

I noticed Stan had avoided me after his comment about me not changing a single bit. It was true though, I freaked myself out when I first looked into a mirror. Still looking like the 21 year old girl who disappeared 40 years ago.

I didn’t get stuck on that fact very long though, the thing I got stuck on was what he called me. Toots. A pet name I haven’t heard in a very long time. I felt like maybe this comment was also the reason he was avoiding me. It probably felt weird for him to call me that again after so long. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind though, what happened to me all those years ago? He probably thought I ran out on him after promising to stick with him after everything he had been through.

I walked along the beach trying to find scraps of metal, or plastic that could have washed up on shore. That’s when I noticed a man walking around with a metal detector. I decided to approach him wondering what wonders of the world he was looking for.

“Hello.” I smiled as I walked up to him.

“Oh, uh, hey.” He smiled back, taken aback a bit by my kindness.

“What ya doing with the metal detector? Find anything interesting?” I questioned.

“I’m searching for gold, but I haven’t found anything yet.”

“Gold? Not necessarily impossible, but very difficult here on the beach to find. Uless, you know you find a gold earring, necklace, or ring.”

“Huh?”

“And what are you doing looking for gold anyways?”

“I’m trying to make a fortune.”

“A fortune? Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“So I’ve been told. I can’t help it. I naturally have a curious mind.”

“I can tell. It’s none of your business anyways.”

I looked him over, sensing a sort of sadness with him, “something happened and you owe someone money.”

His eyes widened, “can you read minds?”

I giggle, “no, but I’ve been told I can read people pretty well.”

“I’ll say. Yeah, I may or may not have ruined my brother’s chances of going to his dream school and making millions of dollars. My pa kicked me out because of it, and I’m determined not to go back till I make a fortune.”

“Woah, sadder than I thought it would be. Well, if you need a place to stay while you go on your mission to make millions, I have a spare room you can use. My parents' house is big enough, and they won’t mind.”

“A-are you sure?”

“It’s the least I could do. You look like you could use a friend in this lonely world, and I want to offer my friendship to you.He smiles and nods, reaching his hand out, “name’s Stanley.”

I smile and take his hand to shake, “nice to meet you Stanley, I’m Y/n.”

I walked downstairs trying to remember where the kitchen was. My nightmare last night disorienting me worse than they ever had. I walk in to see Stan making breakfast and the kids sitting at the table whispering to each other. That was till Mabel noticed I was standing there.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” She beamed as Stan froze in place.

“Morning Mabel, Dipper, Stanley.” I greeted everyone.

“Just Stan is fine, thank you.” He kept making breakfast, an unenthused look on face.

“Sorry, Stan.”

I walked over and sat at the table. I looked out the window at the woods surrounding the house. It wasn’t long till my gaze was yanked back towards the kids as they were staring at me. Mabel was smiling, and Dipper looked like he had a billion questions for me.

“So, did you and Grunkle Ford go through the portal together? Or how did you and Grunkle Ford meet?” Mabel broke the silence.

“O-oh, um…we met when he went into the portal. I didn’t meet Stanford until he went through the portal..”

“What was in there anyways? How long have you been in there?”

“Those are hefty questions, I…” I started to speak when Stan walked over with plates of pancakes.

“And ones that should remain unanswered.” Stan spoke, “I’m surprised you’re not helping my brother in the basement anyway.”

“Wh-what would I help with?”

“I’m sure Ford would figure something out. I think you should go ask him.” Stan stated, hinting that I shouldn’t be interacting with the kids. “Come on, I’ll show you where the basement door is.” He offered, gently guiding me out of the kitchen.

“Stan, what’s going on?”

“I don’t want you around the kids. Whatever happened to you there, it was unnatural. I don’t need them figuring out you’re supposed to be like 60.”

“You don’t think I know that? I understand that I’m a freak, but you don’t need to point it out. You have no idea what I went through, and how difficult it was to survive.”

“If it was that hard, why did you go through your darn portal in the first place?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Something went wrong Stan! I didn’t want to leave you. There was a malfunction, and I got sucked in. I’ve spent 40 years trying to survive hoping to get back to you, but I guess that doesn’t matter.” We stop at the entrance to the gift shop of the Mystery Shack, “I know where I’m going from here.” I say and walk through the door to the gift shop. I open the vending machine door and head down to the basement.

Stan had no right to judge me like that. He had no idea what I went through, how hard I tried to find a way back to him, but that didn’t matter to him apparently.

“Y/n?” Stanford’s voice rang out.

“Hey…”

“What are you doing down here?”

“Stan doesn’t want me upstairs around the kids.”

“What? I thought you two were friends?”

“We were…but he thinks the fact I am unaged…if the kids find out it’ll freak them out.”

“The nightmare realm really messed you up huh?”

“You have no idea…Bill was obsessed. Would do anything to get me to reveal where you were. He went as far as manipulating my mind to look like he was torturing Stan…he knew you two were my weakness…”

“Now talk! Or Stan gets it!” Bill threatened.

“You’ve used that on me too many times, Cipher! Stan isn’t here, and I know you wouldn’t go after him in the mind!”

“Is. That. Right.” Bill squinted at me.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you Bill, I don’t know who this Sixer fella is.”

“To think I was starting to like you, but the lying is getting annoying.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t know who he is.”

Bill snaps his fingers making chains appear around my wrists and ankles. He makes me levitate there as one of his henchmaniacs yells to electrocute me to get me to talk. Bill laughs and suddenly my body is sent spasming as hundreds of volts of electricity surges through my body.

“To think I actually liked you. You were the first person to try to build a portal from my decaying dimension to enter yours. I would have loved for us to be partners in chaos had you succeeded. Too bad you decided to lie to me.”

Bill stops electrocuting me for a minute. My body is weak as I float there in front of Bill and his henchmaniacs. “I-I don’t know where he is…he escaped this dimension years ago…”

“And the truth comes out. Maybe you’re still useful to me afterall.”

I shot up in the chair I was sitting in, cold sweat running down my forehead. I pant heavily as I take in my surroundings. I was in the basement with Stanford. I slowly remembered I wasn’t in the night realm anymore. I looked down at my wrists still feeling like I had chains on them.

“You okay?” Stanford’s voice broke me from my thoughts.

“These nightmares are getting more and more vivid.”

Stanford looks at me knowingly. His eyes are filled with concern and guilt. I knew he felt bad leaving us refugees in the asteroid when he decided to venture out to find materials to build his weapon to defeat Bill. I never blamed him though. He only did what he felt he had to do.

“Why don’t you head upstairs. I feel the longer you’re down here, close to the portal, the more of a grasp Bill will have on you.”

I nod, “what about Stan?”

“Tell him I told you that being down here isn’t good. You need to get accustomed to society again, and being down here is not going to be any good to you.”

I nod, “thanks Stanford.”

He smiles softly, “you know, you can call me Ford if you like.”

I smile softly, “thank you, Ford.”

He nods, and goes back to doing what he was doing. I head back upstairs feeling even more disoriented than I did that morning. The nightmares hit me harder and harder each time I close my eyes. I slowly opened the door to see Stan. Mabel, and Dipper are sitting in the gift shop laughing and joking with each other.

Stan notices me and glares, “what do you need?”

“Ford said it wasn’t a good idea for me to stay down there. He wants me to try and get accustomed to society again.”

Stan rolls his eyes, “fine. If you say so.”

“Look, you can be pissed at me all you want to, but I’m sorry I left you behind. I’m sorry it took me so long, but if you had never opened that portal, I wouldn’t be back here. I realized I never thanked you for doing so. So, thank you. Thank you for bringing me back home.”

Stan’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting either of us to thank him. He knew what he did was idiotic and reckless. He smiled at me softly, “you’re welcome toots. I couldn’t leave you there for any longer. But, New Jersey is your home, not Gravity Falls?”

“Gravity Falls is now. It’s where my two best friends are. There’s nothing left for me in New Jersey.”

[medusapelagia]

13 Missing moments

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:"Please, stay?" ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: found footage ) @aug-kissed (prompt: Gentle peck) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: established Steve/Eddie, implied reference to cancer, sick character, mention of vomit, open ending Words: 1141

Eddie knocks on the door softly, not wanting to wake Steve if he’s finally asleep. It was a hard night for both of them. Steve woke up at three am, struggling to breathe and he was determined not to call the ambulance, so the only thing Eddie could do was hold him tight to his chest, brushing away the hair from Steve’s sweaty forehead, promising he would feel better soon and hoping it wasn’t a lie. And when, almost ten agonizing minutes later, Steve’s breath finally slowed down, Eddie took a big breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding.

“Come in. I’m awake.” Steve replies in a graveled voice.

“Did you throw up?” Eddie asks, worriedly, smelling the acrid scent in the air.

“Sorry. I opened the window.”

“Hey, I don't care, I’m just worried about you. You sure you don’t want me to call the doctor?”

“It’s the new meds. We knew it could happen, right?”

Right, they knew Steve’s new meds had some collateral effects but not that Steve was going to experience every single one of them.

“Maybe we should tell Owens you’re feeling like shit.”

“And change meds again? I’m halfway through. Just give my body a few more days to get used to the new meds and I’ll be ok.”

Steve’s thick mane is now as thin as a baby's hair. Stupid meds that are making him feel worse.

“I guess you don’t want to eat, right?”

Steve shakes his head quietly, patting the other side of the bed, “Please, stay?”

Luckily today is Sunday. The girls are at Aunt Robin’s home and he doesn’t have to leave for work, so he moves as slowly as he can not to jostle Steve too much and lies next to him.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Eddie asks, even if he knows by now that getting a true answer from Steve is almost impossible.

“I’m better. Thanks.”

Eddie gives him a gentle peck on the forehead, frowning when he finds it too warm but he says nothing. He knows that Steve’s immune system is way too weak right now and he really hopes that the little fever is his body trying to fight the sickness.

“Do you want me to read something for you?”

“Don’t think I could follow if you read for me.”

“You don’t have to. I know you find my voice really soothing.”

“I love your voice. I’m your biggest fan, did you forget?” 

Eddie chuckles, remembering that both Robin and Steve got to the first official Corroded Coffin’s concert with twin homemade t-shirts with that sentence.

“Yes, you are. Maybe you prefer some music?”

“Yeah. Can you fetch me the first tape you made for me?”

“When we started dating? But it’s almost thirty years ago! I have no idea where it is!”

“Maybe the attic?”

Eddie stares quietly at Steve, “Are you trying to find me something to do to keep me occupied?”

Steve shrugs, “Maybe? I’m going to fall asleep soon and I know you won’t dare to move if you’re in the bed with me and I don’t want you to spend all the Sunday morning lying in bed with me.”

“That sounds like a perfect way to spend the Sunday morning, actually.” Eddie replies, kissing Steve’s cheek, “But I’ll let you rest. I’ll be back with that tape. I swear it on my honor.” he promises.

“I know you will. You’re my champion, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am, my king.” Eddie kisses Steve’s hand before leaving the bedroom, then he moves toward the end of the corridor and pulls down the ladder to the attic.

The attic is dirty and dusty, they haven’t been here in ages. Everywhere there are cardboard boxes with Steve’s neat handwriting. 

Melissa and Elisa’s toys.

Eddie’s show costumes.

Hawkins.

And a little one: VHS.

Eddie opens the VHS box, wondering if inside there are the Disney movies the girls were obsessed with when they were kids: Cinderella, Pocahontas, and The Little Mermaid.

But under the Disney VHS, there are some older recording tapes that Eddie doesn’t remember. He lifts the box and takes it down in his studio, where he still has an old television with a VHS player that he really hopes is still working.

The first VHS is just a mix of blurred images of Robin, while Steve’s voice, out of the screen, asks, “Do you think this thing is recording?”

“The light is red so I think so.”

“You sure? I can’t fuck up! Eddie will be mad if I did.”

“You won’t, dingus, come on, let me see what we recorded.”

“How?”

“Oh my god! Steve! Turn off the camera and let’s see what is recorded.” Robin says, stepping closer while the camera is pointed to the red moquette.

“Dingus! You’re still recording! If Eddie doesn’t have a feet fetish I don’t think he’ll appreciate footage of your feet and the ground. Turn the camera off!”

“I did!”

“You did not! You have to push here-”

The images stop abruptly leaving space for a series of grays and whites.

Eddie smiles, years have passed but Steve’s relationship with technology is still very complicated. He accidentally sent a lovely meme to the family’s group chat instead of sending it to Eddie, causing a series of fake gagging from the girls and a lot of mockery for a couple of months.

After the interruption the video starts again, this time the camera must have been positioned somewhere to film Steve and Robin. Their heads are abruptly cut out from the shot but they are both wearing the ‘Corroded Coffin Biggest Fan’ t-shirt and they are talking about how excited they are for the first official Corroded Coffin’s concert.

Another interruption and then a very clumsy and shaky shot of Eddie, playing The boy with the nailed bat in his heart begins. 

Eddie can barely hear his own voice over Gareth’s drum. The acustic in that forum was horrible, but it was their first officially paid gig.

He can’t hear himself sing, but he can hear Steve’s voice singing as loud as he can. He’s definitely out of tune, but Eddie smiles fondly at the footage. He sounds so happy.

Eddie grabs the VHS cardboard boxes that he found, and he discovers a treasure of memories he forgot. Silly little moments that got lost in all the time they spent together. Robin’s graduation. Dustin’s wedding. Their first family holiday with the twins and many other little precious memories. But Steve is not on the tapes. Not even one. He’s always the voice behind the camera, asking to look at him, or describing what’s going on.

When the last tape ends Eddie’s eyes are full of tears, and he promises himself that he’ll make sure not to miss any moment lived with Steve. 

[rendy-a]

Hi! Apologies if this request is too vague or specific but can I request a fic of Jack Howl x reader who’s a night owl kind of person and is much shorter than him, thank you!

Thanks for requesting. I don't get a lot of asks for Jack, so its a nice exercise to write something for him. I hope I captured him correctly.

‘Crazy,’ Jack thinks for the hundredth time after befriending the strange Prefect of Ramshackle dorm.  You can see this thought pass through his face, but it only makes you laugh more.  “Come on, you know you’ll enjoy it.”  Jack sighs, “Why can’t you ever pick anything to do that occurs during a normal person’s day?”  You lift your hand high to pat your tall friend on the shoulder and laugh, “I’ll convert you eventually,” and chuckle at the resulting scoff.

It is said that opposites attract, and nothing could be more fitting to describe the closeness that has developed between you and Jack.  You were short and he was tall.  You were always laughing, and he was so serious.  The point that seemed to cause you the most contention was that you lived for the late evening hours when the darkness crept in and the sky awoke with stars.  You loved the way the insects would sing in the night and the dampness of the coming dew that settled over everything.  Jack, on the other hand, went to bed early and woke up at some god-awful hour in the morning.  He would tell you any time you brought it up why he liked it, but you just didn’t see it.  Noisy birds chirping?  Bright and garish sunrises?  Having the whole campus to yourself for a jog?  What was the charm in that?  So, you’d taken it upon yourself to show him the beauty of the night whenever you could.  You’d change his mind eventually or at least have fun trying!

“Tell me again why we can’t just watch these movies on the weekend?” Jack asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.  You grab his arm and lay your head pleadingly on his bicep, “Awe, come on!  Late night movie marathons are the best!”  When you see him turn away as though he can’t meet your eye, you know you almost have him.  Time for your most convincing argument.  “Please, please, please, please, please!!!”  Jack sighs with a huff and gives in to your demand but makes you promise to at least have something healthy for a snack.  “Ok, fine,” you offer conceding, “I’ll even prove my commitment to healthy snacks by asking Vil for some suggestions.”  Jack thanks you for going so far out of your way for him and gives you an approving pat on the head.  Finally, your late-night horror fest with your best pal Jack is a go!  And you got a head pat; way to go you!

You were halfway through Horror from the Deep when you could feel the sleepiness creep up.  Jack had fallen asleep twice, for which you teased him relentlessly, and so you were determined to make it through the entire retro horror movie marathon without missing a second.  “Should we call it a day?” asked Jack with a raised eyebrow.  You force your fluttering eyes to full-open and ask, “What?  Why?” as though you didn’t know the answer.  He huffs at your ridiculous defiance and remarks, “You’re no better than my kid brother at admitting when you are tired.”  You frown, “So what, I’m like your sibling now?”  Jack seems disturbed by this suggestion and lowers his ears as he stammers an apology.  Well, this was awkward now.  You turn your attention back to the movie, forcing yourself to focus on that instead of the warm (and firm) arm you are leaning against.  Just like friends.  Only friends. 

By the time the monster emerges onto the beach, you are sleeping deeply while pulling Jack’s arm into a hug.  He gives a half-hearted tug before deciding to abandon the effort and leans to rest his head on top of your own.  Sleeping like this won’t be so bad.  But only because he has too, not because he’s been dreaming about this.  No, certainly you didn’t have a friendship like that.  Of course not.

In the deep hours of the night, when you’re not quite sure if you should refer to it as night or morning, you awaken.  Your sleepy noises bring Jack to alertness before you can really take in how close you were.  You sigh and look at your movie partner bashfully, “Guess we will have to rewatch that one later, huh?”  Jack gives you a smug smile in response and suddenly you are laughing together.  There is a strange magic to the twilight and perhaps that is why Jack suddenly asks, “Walk me home?”  You smile at him, glad to have an excuse to drag this time out, “Sure.” 

You walk side by side in the misty fog that rolls off the grass during the pre-morning hours.  The effect was mysterious, like the setting of those late-night horror movies you’d watched.  You decided that you liked it.  You lean toward your companion to share your insight, “See Jack, this is exactly the sort of reason I love the night so much.”  Jack gives you a bit of side-eye and dryly remarks, “That fog is there because its nearly morning.”  You are startled by his comment, “Wait, what?”  Looking around, you realize he is right, it has grown so late that it was nearly morning.  The stars still gleamed in the sky, but you couldn’t deny the hint of brightness that was creeping from the horizon and the music of insects was slowly intermixing with the earliest of bird calls. 

You look around, taking in the atmosphere of the hour, “So this is the death of night, huh?”  Jack scoffs, “So dramatic.”  You smile, secretly pleased at getting such a response from him.  “Is it always this…fresh smelling?” you ask him pensively.  He takes a deep breath and lets out the most satisfying exhale, “Yeah, it is.”  You continue watching him with a smile, “I kind of like it.”  Jack’s ears twitch as though thinking something over, “Yeah but sometimes it’s too bright.  This is nice too, easy on the eyes.”  You give his arm a tap with your elbow, as though to let him know you’d noticed what he did there.  Jack was always fast to reconcile with you when you argued, especially if you admitted you understood his side.

You execute a little hop step and remark, “We should get moving, I don’t want to get any of your morning cooties on me.”  Then you set off in a mild run, laughing as you go.  Jack quickly catches up to you with a smirk, as though to remind you here is a far better runner than you.  You don’t mind, in fact, this is nice.  You reach out and grab his hand, pulling him along after you.  You feel him squeeze your hand but aren’t brave enough to look back and see what expression might be on his face.  You didn’t really need to though.  You went together like morning and night.  They were both great apart but when you combined them, like fog rolling off the grass, it was magic.

[poolsidepanic]

Blondies, Brownies, and Kitchen Catastrophes

4,595 words | read on AO3: here

Chrissy Cunningham/Heather Holloway | Fluff | Humour | Baking | Chrissy Cunningham is a Sweetheart | and lots of little background details :)

.

Chrissy has flour all down the front of her jumpsuit, across the kitchen counter and in her bangs when she finally decides to call in reinforcements. 

She should have relented earlier, but she had been determined that she would make this work. How hard could it be to bake some brownies, after all? It’s supposed to be simple; mix the ingredients, all into one tin, then cut into slices. Turns out, Chrissy is really not made for baking.

The phone is only ringing for a few seconds before it’s answered.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, eyeing the state of the kitchen behind her. “I need help.”

“What? Is everything okay? Are you alright? Do I need to bring the bat? Because I can bring the bat—”

“No! It’s nothing like that, I promise. I just…”

She sighs, letting her head thump back against the wall as embarrassment flushes her cheeks. It feels ridiculous to admit now, in the face of everything they’ve all survived, that Chrissy Cunningham has been defeated by brownie batter.

“I’m trying to bake and it’s going really badly, and I could use some help. Please?”

“Oh,” Steve says, and Chrissy can hear the sigh of relief. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be over soon, Carol and Tommy are here but they won’t miss me for a few hours. I’m pretty sure Tommy’s passed out in my bed after challenging Billy at basketball when the kids were around and Carol is either sunbathing or plotting the downfall of man.”

“Probably the latter,” Chrissy says with a smile, thankful that Steve’s happy just to move on from the fact that Chrissy called him for something so silly. “See you soon?”

“Yep!” Steve affirms and then hangs up.

A smile works its way onto Chrissy’s face. They can definitely fix her mess of an attempt, this is all going to be fine. After all, two heads are better than one.

—

“How did it get worse?” Chrissy frowns, looking down at the grainy mess constituting their batter.

Steve has been at her house for forty-seven minutes and the kitchen is in more of a state than before. The chocolate they managed to get into the pan is burnt, the rest is scattered in unevenly-cut chunks across the tabletop, and there is a concerningly misplaced knife from the chopping board. 

“You were supposed to help me, Steve,” she whines, looking over at him pathetically as he tries to get the sugar and egg out from where it’s stuck between his fingers.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how to make food.”

“You worked at an ice cream place the summer before last!”

That makes Steve’s head jerk up to look at her, a baffled expression firmly in place. 

“I didn’t make the stuff, Chris! I just scooped it” he tells her, before miming a scooping motion with one hand. “With my scooper. And do you even know how many cones I snapped? The floor behind the counter crunched when you walked.”

“Okay, but what about when your parents go off on business trips? You have to cook for yourself, right? You must be at least a little better than me.”

Despite waitressing the last few summers, Chrissy hasn’t really done much cooking up until this point in time. Anyone should be a better cook than her—or baker, in this instance—especially someone who has definitely had to cook for themselves in the past. Her whole hopes of baking something actually decent hinged on this hope. Yet here Steve stands, crushing all her poor little baking dreams by somehow managing to be worse than her, who has never done any of this stuff before.

“I’m the king of chicken nuggets and fries– or just potato chips, sometimes.”

“How are you alive?” she sighs, defeated. “That’s almost worse than Eddie.”

“Hey! No, that’s unfair; I’ve seen what that guy considers a meal. At least I can make nuggets, and pasta sometimes. I’ve seen him just eat sticks of raw spaghetti and— Wait— Hey, where are you going?”

Chrissy looks back over her shoulder from where she has started making her way over to the phone once again. The expression on Steve’s face is betrayed, but at this point they’re left with no choice. If the two of them plus a written down recipe isn’t enough to manage to make the damn brownies, maybe a third person can do it better.

“To call someone else.”

—

Billy’s “Hey, pretty boy” is met by a groan of despair from Steve as Chrissy leads him from the front door into the kitchen.

“Play nice,” Chrissy warns, a teasing smirk on her face.

“I could have played nice with anyone else, Billy’s just going to be a dick.”

When Steve’s face flushes bright red, she looks over her shoulder to see the other waggling his eyebrows. She’s not sure she wants to know what that means.

“No foreplay in my kitchen,” she warns, making Billy cackle and Steve splutter out a choking sound. “Or dying, Steve,” she adds on as his choking turns into a hacking cough. “I want to get these brownies done so I can give them to Heather when she gets home and you’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I’m not sure he’s been helping as much as sabotaging,” Billy grins, looking over the state of the kitchen.

Steve just flips him off, still doubled over and gasping. Neither of them pay him any mind. Instead, Billy turns back to Chrissy, face saying exactly how much of a waste of time he thinks this all to be.

“Why are we even making brownies for Heather?” 

“Because,” Chrissy explains, trying in vain to sweep a clear spot onto the messy countertop for Billy to work at, “she made me blondies a few days ago, and it’s the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Steve finally seems to have stopped trying his best to asphyxiate in the middle of Chrissy’s tiny kitchen space. He glances up at Chrissy—and technically also Billy since the taller blonde has settled himself in to lean against the now somewhat-clear counter space—with a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Wait— did she make you blondies because you’re blonde or is that a coincidence?” 

Billy makes a face like that is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Which, when said like that, it does sound like a bit of a leap in logic. In Steve’s defence, though, he is actually entirely correct.

“She made me blondies topped with white chocolate and strawberries, because I’m her strawberry blonde.” 

“And she said that?” Billy asks.

“Yep.”

“Those words came out of Heather’s mouth?” 

Chrissy frowns at him, utterly lost. Isn’t that exactly what she had just said?

“Yes?” 

“What a dork,” he snorts.

“Hey!” Chrissy whines. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.” 

“I don’t see the problem.” Steve interjects.

Chrissy thinks she sides with him, too. It had been incredibly adorable—as Heather is any time she does something nice for Chrissy, because Chrissy knows it’s just for her. Heather only ever does considerate, sappy things like that for her and remains her usual, wonderful, bitchy self towards everyone else. That fact has turned Chrissy into a blushing mess on more than one occasion. So, yes, Chrissy doesn’t see what the problem is with her girlfriend being a sweetheart.

“It’s lame,” Billy deadpans, face so utterly unimpressed Chrissy would almost want to laugh if she didn’t have the moral obligation to defend her girlfriend. “She made a pun. With cake.” 

“Are brownies cakes?” 

“It was sweet!” Chrissy squeaks, petulant, ignoring Steve’s question.

“Lame.” 

This time it’s Steve that laughs, a sudden, mocking sound. Billy’s eyes glint in warning, not that his boyfriend seems to pay any mind.

“Like I haven’t heard you use the word heebie jeebies,” Steve fires back at him. “You’re the dork.”

“That’s not a pun, though.” 

“Please,” Chrissy jumps in, before the two of them can get too out of hand; “just help me with the brownies.”

—

They do not help with the brownies. 

Despite Billy being adamant that they needed more moisture and so adding milk to the mixture, despite Chrissy and Steve’s protests that there was no milk in the recipe, it doesn’t help. The batter ends up concerningly runny but at this point, after a partially-entertaining partially-exasperating food fight—

“It was not a food fight, Chris.”

“It was a food war.”

“Okay, no. Food implies more than just ingredients. And we’re not kids; we're adults now.”

“You’re just bitter that you lost.”

—they’re just too fed up to do anything about it. It’s worth a try, right? 

So it goes into the oven, at the temperature that the recipe said. When the timer goes off and they stick it with a skewer, though, it is obviously still raw inside. After a quick discussion, they pop it back in for a little while longer.

When it next comes out of the oven it’s shallow, stodgy, and burnt.

“Well this is a disaster,” Carol observes from where she’s perched on the edge of the kitchen table, swinging her legs and watching them all with a spark of mild interest in her eye.

The girl had shown up and let herself in about ten minutes after Billy had arrived. Chrissy doesn’t know if Heather gave her a spare key to their place or if Carol just took one for herself, either way she doesn’t usually mind.

The only problem is that, right now, Chrissy is halfway to overwhelmed and the kitchen is starting to get a little cramped; her and Heather’s place isn’t huge, after all. The apartment is actually pretty small, though it does have the necessary two bedrooms that… probably aren’t all that necessary.

“Who even invited you?” Billy snaps, glaring over as she surveys her nails.

“I was on the other phone when Chrissy called Steve,” Carol explained. “And I got bored of waiting for Tommy to wake up.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Steve accuses.

“Duh.”

“And you came to help?” 

“I came to witness the devastation,” she simpers back, expression unrepentant even when Chrissy groans in misery.

“That isn’t helpful,” Billy says

“Did I say it was?” 

“So, what, you’re just going to stand there and look pretty? That’s my job, why am I not doing that?” 

“Chrissy is your friend,” Carol points out to him.

Chrissy frowns at that, looking up at her with sad eyes.

“Are you not my friend?” 

“Yeah,” Carol sighs, “but I just got my nails done. Plus, none of you expect me to be nice.” 

“People don’t expect me to be nice, either. Even Steve doesn’t and he’s screwing me.” 

“I’m dating you, asshole.” 

“Yeah, but Chrissy’s your exception,” Carol dismisses with a wave. “She bats her sad eyes at you and you come running. It works on everyone.” 

“But not you?” Steve asks.

“I’m the exception.” 

“You’re a bitch,” Billy grumbles, wiping off his hands as he plops himself down into the dining chair.

“Hey!” 

Chrissy groans again.

“Guys, please. What do we do now? Do we call someone else?”

Billy shrugs and Carol kicks him in the shin.

“How about Vickie?” Steve asks, which makes Chrissy perk up a little.

“Oh!” She smiles. “Her and Robin might be back from their grocery store date by now.”

“Gag,” Carol says, rolling her eyes. 

“Hey,” Chrissy defends, “they’re sweet.”

“You have to say that; Vickie is your cousin.”

“And her and Heather are just ridiculously sappy, as well,” Billy throws in.

“It’s… cute…” Steve tries.

“It’s gross.”

“You guys shut up,” Chrissy huffs, “I’ll call them.”

—

Everything goes wrong. Again.

Chrissy is— Chrissy is trying so goddamn hard and none of this is working. It seems that every new person they bring in just makes things worse and crowds the limited space in her kitchen even more. No matter what she’s tried this isn’t working, so maybe she should just give up.

It makes her feel almost pathetic, really, that Heather just easily made something for Chrissy and was so caring… and when Chrissy tries to reciprocate she has to call on all their friends—minus Eddie who is sleeping off a night shift, and Argyle who’s back home visiting his family—and still manages to screw everything up.

The arrival of Vickie and Robin also brought along Nancy, the three of them arm in arm and looking ridiculously happy. At first their addition had seemed like a blessing; they helped wrangle the others into some semblance of peace for at least a minute, and Nancy was quick to step in and organise the process of starting over again. 

With the way everyone, all seven of them, were loitering in the kitchen space, there wasn’t enough room to move around and properly clean up. But, despite that, they cleared a little space and were ready to tackle everything again. 

Inevitably, that seemed to be where the good luck ended.

Working in a cramped little space, knocking elbows with everyone else, is no easy feat. At some point Carol goads Steve and Billy into an arm-wrestling contest for her own amusement; Billy wins, easily, every time. Steve is petulant enough to get grumbly and start up a fuss, which ends in him and Robin bickering like siblings with Vickie and Billy somehow getting involved on their partners’ behalf.

So, after showing Chrissy how to set up a double boiler properly, Nancy ends up having to step away to wrangle her girlfriends. With the argument winding down, Carol moves over to start something with Billy instead—Chrissy doesn’t really understand how they’re friends when the pair of them seem to manage a maximum of two seconds before they’re insulting each other in increasingly indignant tones.

At some point, Chrissy can’t say when for sure, Tommy shows up (apparently having slept off his exhaustion) with Jason in tow. They, as expected, do not help in the slightest. Everything gets more and more out of control, and, at this point, Chrissy can’t take half a step without knocking into someone. She even ends up burning herself a little on the pan when someone else bumps into her.

The chaos of the kitchen is distracting, and overwhelming. She can hardly hear herself think, let alone make any sense of the instructions when Nancy has had to abandon her in the fruitless attempt to stop her ex and her girlfriend from causing more of a mess and destroying the room. 

The second attempt at brownies are no better than the first. In fact, they may be worse; that is the last thing Chrissy can take.

Which leaves her here, sitting on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. Her head is pounding and her eyes sting from the salt of her tears but she can't seem to calm down. This whole thing has been a disaster—a catastrophe—and even having experienced it in the company of friends hasn’t helped. It may even be worse because she feels upset at them and feels guilty about that, and the fact they’ve seen her fail so spectacularly is humiliating.

There’s a knock at the door and then Vickie is slipping inside with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Hey, Chris,” she greets softly. “You okay?”

A sniffle.

“No.”

“Right, stupid question. I wouldn’t be okay in this situation, I can’t imagine why anyone else would be. We’re all very sorry, by the way, and we want to make this right–”

“There’s no fixing this,” Chrissy huffs. “The whole thing was a disaster, I don’t know what I was even thinking.”

“You were thinking about being a good girlfriend, because you are. For what it’s worth, you could come up empty handed and the effort would be all that matters, y’know? To us and definitely to Heather. She’s scary as hell but I’ve seen what she’s like around you; absolutely besotted. The fact you even wanted to do this for her will make her day.”

“How’d you know they were for Heather? I didn’t tell you that.”

“No, but you told Carol and Carol told me. She’s worried about you in here by yourself, by the way. She’s doing the whole unimpressed face, snarky voice routine—complete with the ‘this is why I think romance sucks, I’m not jealous of any of you losers’ thing—but she keeps glancing at the door to your room. She’s not as subtle as she thinks.”

“That’s sweet of her but I’m—” Her voice cracks. “I’m gonna be fine. No need to worry.”

“Every need to worry,” Vickie corrects, sitting down beside her and curling an arm around her shoulder. “We all love you, of course we worry when you’re not happy. Not– I mean– it’s fine that you’re not, we just want to be here. That’s why all of us came today, to help. We’re so sorry we made it worse.”

“It’s fine,” she dismisses. “It wasn’t going to turn out anyway, it was a lost cause from the start.”

“Which is why we’re going to do it right this time.”

That makes Chrissy’s head snap upright.

“This time? What do you mean this time? Vickie, I can’t do this again; it’s not going to—”

“Ah ah,” Vickie chides with a smile. “None of that. Nance pulled me aside—not like that, don’t make a face!—and we’ve figured this out. It’s all going to get sorted out and work fine cause, like, we’ve handled it. Nancy called Jonathan to fetch in more ingredients because we’ve used up all the stuff in your kitchen by this point—and no we will not let you pay us back, it’s only fair since we all made a huge mess trying to cram into your kitchen while you were working so hard (and I’m so proud of you for trying so much, by the way, cause I always seem to give up when things get to difficult unless it’s, like, band).

“And for everyone else, me and Nancy are going to keep them entertained and hopefully not killing each other in your living room—we don’t want another mess to clean up but if there does end up being a murder we’ll deal with it, you won’t even know about it cause Nancy is wildly scary when she wants and can blackmail the witnesses into silence and I’m so good at cleaning messes. Anyway, the point is that we’ll keep the noise out of the kitchen, Jonathan will be here in ten minutes with new ingredients, and Patrick’s just shown up to help you bake. You remember that his aunt is a baker, right?”

“Obviously,” Chrissy smiles, expression still watery.

Vickie smiles back, squeezing Chrissy a little tighter before standing up and making her way back out.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she tells Chrissy before shutting the door behind her.

—

Jonathan drops a kiss to Nancy’s cheek as he enters and only stops in the kitchen long enough to drop off the bag of ingredients before he’s dropping himself down on the sofa next to Robin. When he glances her way, Chrissy offers him a little wave hello before slipping into the now-clean kitchen.

“Hey,” Patrick smiles. “You ready to get started?”

“Not really,” she offers, but obediently moves to re-wash her hands.

“I’ll do my best to help you through it, yeah? We can get these to turn out real nice now the idiots are distracted and it’s just us two.”

“Thanks.”

Patrick doesn’t actually end up doing most of the work. Instead, he just guides Chrissy through the process as the instructions state. He helps her set up a double boiler on the stove, and makes sure she keeps an eye on it and keeps stirring so the chocolate doesn’t burn while they wait for the butter to melt in. 

The sugar gets spilled a little, but it’s easy to ignore that when Patrick doesn’t make a fuss. He simply nudges Chrissy aside and swipes a wet cloth over the surface of the counter to brush it all away as Chrissy moves onto weighing out the brown sugar.

“You want to beat the eggs for longer than that,” he tells her, guiding the hand holding the electric whisk back to the now combined sugar and eggs.

“But… all the eggs are in now – one at a time, like you said.”

Patrick claps her on the shoulder with a grin.

“Yeah, and you did great, just trust me. You want to beat more air into them, that way they’ll turn out better. You keep whisking for a minute and then I’ll add in the chocolate and butter as you keep going.” 

The batter comes together right this time. Under Patrick’s guidance Chrissy ends up feeling a lot less stressed and has a lot easier of a time. She still doesn’t really enjoy baking, but she doesn’t think she’s going to cry again so that’s good as far as she’s concerned.

When the brownies are finally in the oven, Chrissy has time to sit with her friends in the living room. It’s a little cramped with so many people piled in, but the overwhelming feel in the kitchen isn’t here. Nancy and Vickie have seemingly ordered everyone else into some semblance of control so it’s actually… fun.

Chrissy is having fun.

A smile breaks easily across her face, knowing Patrick is ducking in and out of the kitchen to keep an eye on the baking goods. Now she can just enjoy the company, laughing with everyone else as Robin and Steve fight over what actually happened in Back to the Future—which they apparently watched together once while stoned and only half-remember. It turns out Carol has seen it too, her and Tommy having gone out to see it together, but she’s tight lipped on the actual plot.

If Heather were here, Chrissy is sure they’d start bickering good-naturedly over whether her silence was because she just couldn’t remember. The thought makes excitement buzz under Chrissy’s skin. Call her a sap, but she just can’t wait for her girlfriend to get home. The look that Carol sends her is painfully knowing and her cheeks flush a brilliant pink that everyone politely ignores.

“If Tommy went with you then why can’t he clear this up?” Jonathan asks, sat on the floor in front of the armchair Nancy has curled into.

Steve pauses at that.

“Wait, where is Tommy?”

Billy grins, all sharp teeth and shark-like. Carol groans—actually groans—in dismay. Vickie, bless her heart, turns bright red.

“Uhm,” her cousin starts. “I think him and Jason are in the bathroom.”

“Still?” Robin asks from beside her, finally turning away from Steve on her other side.

Billy cackles.

“Think you told your no foreplay warning to the wrong person, shortcake.”

Robin opens her mouth, then closes it.

“I don’t want to know,” she says, shifting to press closer into Vickie’s side.

“Know what?” Patrick asks, poking his head back in from the kitchen.

“Nothing!” Steve squawks, and Billy laughs again, head tipped back in joy and eyes sparkling.

Patrick looks dubious for a second, but then he shakes it off.

“C’mon Chrissy,” he tells her instead. “They’re ready to come out.”

—

Eventually, the flow of visitors ebbs away. Nancy, Vickie, Robin, and Jonathan all depart together; apparently Vickie and Nancy are having a much deserved night in after the chaos they had to deal with. Jonathan and Robin, however, are going out drinking. Chrissy almost wishes she could be there to see the inevitable chaos of a drunk Robin Buckley.

Billy leaves next. He appears behind her as she’s washing up, hands dunked in the sudsy water in the kitchen sink. Two arms circle her waist and she screeches in surprise.

“I’m off now. Bob insists on meeting Steve since I’ve been talking about him so much since I moved in, so we’re doing dinner together. Should be awkward.”

Chrissy snorts at that.

“Yeah, right. Bob’s great, you and Steve are great, you’ll have a fun time.” She dries her hands and wraps up some freshly-cut brownies. “For dessert,” she explains with a smile.

Billy grins at her and then ducks in to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Later short stuff!”

Rolling her eyes, Chrissy helps Patrick with the last of the cleaning before he dismisses himself. 

“Thanks,” Chrissy tells him, earnestly as possible. 

He waves her off and makes her promise to call him first next time. Chrissy promises, on her childhood pet cat’s grave, that there will never be a next time for her baking. Patrick laughs and jogs off down the road, heading home.

When Chrissy turns around, she jumps.

“Carol! Fuck, I didn’t know you were still here.”

“You swearing feels illegal.” At Chrissy’s glare she shrugs, amending: “Fine. Maybe not illegal. Sacreligious.” 

Chrissy huffs.

“You hanging around?”

“No,” Carol scoffs, but her expression is teasing. “I’m just waiting to see if I get any of the spoils.”

“The brownies you mean?”

“No, I meant the scrapped batter.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, but can’t help the grin worming its way onto her face.

“They’re for Heather, Carol. You know, my girlfriend?”

“Is Billy your girlfriend too? Wonder how Heather feels about that.”

A laugh escapes before Chrissy can bite it down.

“The ones I gave him were more for Bob; he let me come over plenty after Billy moved in with him. You can have one though. And I mean one, Carol.”

She just waves a hand and makes a detour to the kitchen on her way out--the shape in her hand when she leaves looks suspiciously like two brownies. Then Chrissy is alone, waiting for Heather to get home from work.

—

She isn’t waiting too long before she hears the front door open. The excitement under her skin sparks into a vibrant display, shining along her nerves and making it hard to fight the impulse to run straight up to the other girl and display her successes. 

They’re just about under control when Heather steps into the kitchen and meets her gaze with a fond smile. Chrissy melts, and then she’s in Heather’s arms before she even realised she lost the battle with her self-control.

“Hey,” she grins, smile smushed into the other’s shoulder.

“Hey yourself. You have company? The living room is a state.”

Chrissy laughs, pulling away to smile up at her.

“Maybe one or two people came over.”

Heather looks doubtful, but then her eyes land on the plate of brownies. They’re laying pride of place in the centre of the kitchen table, and despite the messy edges Chrissy thinks they came out pretty damn good. More Patrick’s influence than her own, but she’s still pretty proud despite the exhaustion. 

It was all worth it, anyway, from the way Heather’s eyes widen and then soften. They turn back to her with adoration.

“You’ve been busy,” she says, and Chrissy flushes. Again.

“Surprise!” she tries, feeling a little embarrassed by the fondness plain for the world to see on Heather’s face. Or, if not the world, just the two of them in their little kitchen. “I wanted to make something for you after you did for me.”

“I love you,” Heather mumbles, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Chrissy’s shy smile.

And that’s when Jason and Tommy appear in the doorway, looking a little dishevelled. The four of them blink at each other.

“Have you been in the bathroom this whole time?”

The pair turn bright red.

[doomedflare]

@frfld [ . . . ]

THERE'S THREE SPOTS THIS TIME. the rules, are they changing? or is this another trick of the fog, a way to divide newly allied survivors? we've gotten so good at this, jake thinks with a quiet huff, that whatever's keeping us here has to take one of us out of the fuckin' game.

‘ you should stay behind for this one, ‘ jake tells dwight, almost a bit too casually. before dwight can argue, jake leans in, voice dropping to barely a whisper, ‘ the notebook, dwight. if - and i mean IF - something happens to us out there, if the rules are changing, you need to be around for it. we can’t lose that. it’s too important. ‘ i can’t lose you.

' try not to worry, though. ' determined, now, as he prepares himself, taking inventory of everything in his beat up toolbox, gears in his head turning as he tries to formulate a plan. it'll be slow going, with only three, but . . . ' we’ll make it work. i'll get them out. i'll keep them safe. '

MAKE SURE THAT YOU'RE SAFE.

it catches them off guard, that emphasis on themself; dwight’s giving them one of those pointed, no nonsense looks, a bright sort of worry burning behind it. ‘ no promises, ‘ they mumble. a beat, two, gaze finally rises to meet dwight’s fully, ‘ i’m kidding. i’ll do my best, you know that. ‘ his best usually ends with his demise, but he won’t remind already stressed leader of that. instead, there’s a rare softness that sweeps over him as gloved hand falls to dwight’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. ‘ we’ll be okay, dwight. all three of us. i swear. ‘

[heliads]

Foresight (Part Four)

You’re Lydia Martin’s twin sister and a banshee, worried by the fact that your hair stubbornly remains a startling white. After a McCall pack meeting goes sour, you end up on the run from hunters. Soon enough, you realize you’re not in Beacon Hills anymore- and the werewolf greeting you, Wyatt Lykensen, is like none you’ve ever met before.

part three / masterlist / part five

For a moment, Wyatt just stares at you. He holds out a hand, as if the sheer reminder that he’s there will be enough to drag you out of whatever nightmare won’t seem to leave you. Then, he starts to speak as carefully and calmly as he can. “What do you mean, I have to stay here? What does that mean?”

You shake your head slowly. Your shoulders are trembling like the edge of your curtains in front of a barely cracked window, like your entire body has been set alight. “The trip to Beacon Hills. You have to stay here, in Seabrook. You can’t go with me.” Wyatt frowns. “Why? What happened?” It’s hard to look at him. Every time you allow your gaze to settle on his face, you only see it contorted in pain, like it had been in your nightmare. You try anyway.

“I had another one of those banshee visions. I was in the woods near Beacon Hills, but not on your side. I was definitely back home, but I was being attacked by hunters. All of a sudden, I turned around and there you were. You’d been shot by one of their arrows.” The words come out like a gasp from a dying man, but there they are.

Wyatt’s face hollows slightly. “You think that if I go with you to those woods, I’ll get shot?” You nod. “I saw it all. You have to stay here, Wyatt, it’s the only way that you stay safe.” He leans back slightly, as if he’s thinking, but then his jaw sets in determination. “I’m still going with you.” You stare at him, eyes wide. “What? Did you not hear what I said? You’re going to get attacked by hunters. I only saw one of us get seriously hurt, and it was you.”

Wyatt spreads his hands. “Yeah, because I took an arrow for you. That means that you get out alive. I’m a werewolf, Y/N. That means I have my moonstone. I’ve been this old for more than a decade, and I heal much faster than you. I’d rather take the arrow than have you get shot in the back because I was afraid of something we don’t even know will happen.”

You look at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Every time I see something like this, someone gets killed. I just watched you die, and you’re telling me that you want to go ahead with it anyway?” Wyatt frowns. “We don’t know for sure that I could die. What about when you first met me? You were able to get from Beacon Hills to here through a vision, but I didn’t die.” 

Your tone is cool when you speak again. “That’s because I killed five hunters in the span of a minute. People still died.” Wyatt winces. “Well, when you put it that way-” You hold up a hand, stopping him. “Look, just listen to me. I can’t let you die. Please tell me that you’re not going with me.”

You’re hoping that he’ll listen to you, understand the gravity of the situation and agree to remain here, at home. At least then you can try to keep him safe. But he just shakes his head again. “Not a chance. If you get attacked by hunters, I want to be there to make sure you don’t die. The future is still uncertain, and this might not happen anyway. You’re not going without me.” You sigh. “This is a terrible idea. I don’t want to get you killed.”

Wyatt thinks for a second. “Then don’t go at all. Stay here. You said it yourself, the hunters can’t seem to find us here. We can all be safe.” You lean closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I want to, but Lydia and my friends were my pack first. I can’t just abandon them. If I don’t show up on that date, they might come find me instead. I have to go.”

Wyatt reaches over to take your hand. “Then I’m going too. I can handle a fight, Y/N, I promise. Nothing’s going to happen, because we’re ready for it now. Trust me, I don’t intend on getting anywhere near a bow and arrow.” You laugh, but it ends in a broken sort of sob. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.” He just grins. “Watch me.”

You’ve planned on leaving at the end of the week, which isn’t for a few more days. All the same, you can’t shake the vision of Wyatt’s death in your head, like your mind is a broken record stuck on the worst possible memory you haven’t even experienced yet. Eventually, you know two things for certain: one, you have to go to Beacon Hills to say goodbye to your sister and your pack, and two, you cannot allow Wyatt to go with you.

So, you form a new plan. You wait for Wyatt to get involved with some of his friends in the werewolf pack, then approach Willa when you’re sure that he won’t notice you. At first, she seems confused as to why you want to speak to her alone, but once you tell her about your vision, she looks just as horrified as you feel.

“You’re sure that it was him? And you saw him die?” You nod, raising a hand to your face. “I could feel it. I was in the middle of the woods at Beacon Hills, and there he was. I saw him get shot, right in the heart. He can’t heal from that, and I can’t let him die just because he doesn’t want me to be alone in the fight.”

Willa nods, her jaw set. “I’m not letting him die either.” You smile, your mouth a grim line. “I was hoping you’d say that.” The two of you discuss your options a while longer, then come up with the barest scrape of a plan. You’re not sure how well it will work, if it will even work at all, but it’s better than going with Wyatt’s hope that he simply won’t die because he’s aware of it now.

You leave that night, packing your bags under the cover of darkness. You told Wyatt you were going to bed early, and said your goodnights as per usual. If he can tell that your smile hurts a little too much to hold when you wave goodbye, he doesn’t say a thing about it. Willa made sure that some of his friends would come over to distract him, so he doesn’t see you slip out of your room and lock the door behind you. No one does.

You meet up with Willa just before you go, to run through the plan one last time. You’ve got the few things you need to make the trip over, and then you’ll be ready to go. You’ll travel through the woods tonight, hope you can make it through Seabrook’s Forbidden Forest and cross over to Beacon Hills without your visions leaving you. 

Tomorrow morning, Wyatt will wake up and realize that you’re not in your bed. Or, he will, unless Willa manages to keep her part of the deal, which involves getting to him before he knocks on your door to no answer and puts two and two together. She’s already got a list of things that she ‘needs’ him to do, like checking out an unexplored part of the werewolves’ cave, correlating with the Seabrook High School to make sure you can join up without any problems, and whatever else she can come up with on short notice.

The goal is to keep him distracted until it’s hours later and he can’t do anything except wait for you to get back. If Wyatt cannot make it over to Beacon Hills without you, and you’re not there for him to follow, he has no choice but to remain in Seabrook, where he’s safe from the hunters that seem to congregate around your every movement back in Beacon Hills.

You’re running on the assumption that he won’t try to find you later tonight, once his friends leave, or that he’ll notice that he hasn’t seen you all day and Willa is doing her best to keep him very, very busy. If he manages to catch you before you leave Seabrook for Beacon Hills, it’s all over and your vision will surely come true. All you can do is hope that the plan will work long enough for you to slip out without too much notice.

The woods are already dark at this time of night. You shiver slightly- you forgot your coat back in Seabrook because you were worried about getting out in time before Wyatt noticed you go, and the wind is cutting into your skin with every step you take. You take one step after another, not sure about any of them. You can’t quite remember the path you took to get out of the woods when you first came here, so you don’t know how to retrace your steps.

Time seems to slip by, too. The night grows later and later, but you don’t recognize the woods as any part of Beacon Hills. How are you supposed to get back home if you don’t even know the way back? Even Wyatt would have a better idea of how to get to Beacon Hills than you right now.

Wyatt. Thinking about him makes you sigh, your breath turning into a white mist from the cold. You watch as it drifts up to disappear amongst the treetops. Is this wrong, what you’re doing? All you want is to keep him safe, to say goodbye to your old pack so you can move on with his. Are you being too greedy, to want to embrace this life with him? The rest of your friends will keep on fighting the hunters until the day they die, but you get to choose to leave it all behind. Doesn’t that feel wrong?

The only thing that you’re certain is right is Wyatt. The way he makes you laugh is so pure, so good, that you could have sworn you’d never been truly happy before him. Even though you’re partially choosing Seabrook because it means that you finally get to step out of the werewolf-hunter war and be safe, being with him makes you feel so alive that every new day comes with a rush of adrenaline that you’ve never felt before, even in the thickest parts of a shootout when you were never sure whether or not you would make it out today.

That’s what Wyatt is to you, life. Beacon Hills means survival, making it to the next day. Wyatt makes you want to see a new dawn, not because it means you made it through the last one, but because there is so much you could do with the time you’re given. Is that such a crime, to want to smile with your eyes opening each morning instead of on your dying breath? Lydia once told you that she knew she loved Stiles because she knew she couldn’t take him dying, but you know you love Wyatt because the thought of being alive with him overpowers everything else.

Your steps are more sure now as you think about him. The two of you had started exploring the forests around Seabrook in the last few days. It’s amazing how much he knows, how even with his eyes closed and his hands bound behind him, he could find his way from the deepest thickets back to his home. He would know where he is, but you have this odd feeling that you do, too. 

You’re almost afraid to focus on the world around you lest you lose your confidence again, so you force your thoughts back on the boy you’ve just left behind. You do your best to remember every detail of the enigma that is Wyatt Lykensen so that even in the days you’re without him, you don’t forget a single thing. You remember the way his eyes shine under the stars, the deep sound of his howl echoing up through the stone caves of the werewolves’ home, the way he smiled even when he was trying to be serious because he saw you enter the room. It is all here, in your head, and it is all good.

There is more, too, more you haven’t quite thought about yet. Wyatt was always the fastest to offer you his jacket if he saw you shivering. If he were here with you now, if he saw the way you gripped your arms for even the barest hint of warmth, he would be slinging his coat around your shoulders so fast that the rush of heat would shock you like a bolt of lightning. He’d press a kiss to your cheek as he did it, then keep glancing back at you every few minutes just to see how his jacket looked on you, and smile. You know this is how it would go, because it’s happened a few times before.

For some reason, you come to a stop. You’ve been moving faster and faster, almost running, but it’s all gone now, all that adrenaline and rush evaporated into the brisk air. You look up slowly, unsure of when you started tuning out the world around you but even more unsure of why you’ve suddenly rejoined reality. Gradually, you realize that you know exactly where you are. In fact, when you look back behind you, everything looks the exact same as the Beacon Hills Preserve of your memory. How could you have ever gotten lost?

So you’re back, then. You’re not entirely sure what changed in your mind to help you remember, but you’re in Beacon Hills now. For some reason, thinking about Wyatt helped you focus and concentrate long enough to lose yourself to the vision of getting here again. Looks like he’s still helping you out, even if he isn’t here to do it in person.

A sound echoes out of the woods in front of you, and you’re instantly alert again, looking around for any sign of hunters. However, the group of people walking into the clearing with you are not hunters, or enemies of any type. Instead, they smile upon seeing you, and you smile back upon seeing your friends. One girl in particular leaves the rest of the pack to greet you first, one with strawberry blond hair and a last name that you share. “Hey, Y/N. Good to have you back.” She says, and you grin. “Thanks, Lydia.”

disney tag list: the person that would allow me to enter a trance so i could get from seabrook to beacon hills  @rogueanschel​, @lovesanimals0000​, @thatfangirl42​

[forever-rogue]

hi! if requests are open for bucky, i like the concept of him being unsure of himself with reader (not a superhero/avenger, maybe just a mutual friend) and pining after them compared to how easy it was to get dates in the 40s. thank you!

tfatws revived my love for bucky im not ashamed

A/N: tfatws has definitely done the same for me! no shame whatsoever!

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You tore your gaze off of the television before you turned to look at Bucky. His blue eyed stare was trained on you, intense and unwavering. Sometimes it had managed to unnerve you, but you’d gotten used to it over the year you’d known him. He was more than just silent...he was calculating, but it never felt wrong. Waving your hand in front of his face you made a small sound to get his attention. 

“Bucky?” you whispered his name softly and that seemed to snap him back into attention as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Even in the dim lighting of the room you could see that a warm flush of red had crept up in his cheeks, “everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, more at himself than anything else, a self-annoyed look crossing his features, “spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” you couldn’t help but laugh at him, watching his features soften when he realized you weren’t going to chastise him for zoning out, “I for one was watching the movie, which is more than I can say for you - you should love the Hobbit if you actually read the book when it first came out. And these movies are actually good. Pay attention, Bucky!”

You grabbed one of the pillows off of your couch and lobbed it at his head; but he was quicker, reflexes still sharp and honed after all this time. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smirk as he held the pillow before determining whether or not to throw it back at you. Immediately sensing what he was doing, you shook your head and jumped up, ducking behind the couch.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart, why are you hiding?” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as you peeked up at him. The nickname rolled easily off his tongue as it caused a shudder to run down your spine. You knew it meant nothing, that it was just something he tended to call people; it was definitely just a thing. It was nothing particularly about you or targeted at you but you couldn’t help but pause. You knew that you wouldn’t have minded if he called you that intentionally. But that could never, ever happen. This was Bucky after all and you were just...you.

“I know your game, Barnes,” you grinned at him, deciding to let the nickname slide, “I’ll call it a truce and we can go to your favorite place to get some dinner. I’ll pay! I’m waving my proverbial white flag.”

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he set the pillow back down on the couch as he stood up and raised his hands in surrender. Slowly you raised to your full height, but kept a wary eye on your best friend, “I keep my promises, you know that.”

“Fine,” you agreed as you grinned at him. Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked you over and he felt his knees go weak momentarily. He could stare at your smile for hours, “get your jacket and let’s go old man.”

He scoffed in jest as you grabbed your shoulders and jacket off the coat rock and motioned for him to follow, “I’m not that old-”

“106? Isn’t that old?” you raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain your giggles as he rolled his eyes dramatically, “just kidding, Bucky. You know I just love teasing you.”

“I am in my 30s,..technically, thank you very much,” he insisted as he slipped on his shoes and you handed him the leather jacket, “don’t push your luck, kid.”

“See,” you grabbed the keys and he opened the door, ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back, “I swear Bucky Barnes, you’ve been an old man since you were a kid. Now let’s go! There’s pancakes with my name on them waiting.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner with Bucky was easy...then again, everything with Bucky was easy. Every time you were with him, things just felt natural and normal, conversation and everything flowed freely. You’d met Bucky completely by chance, running into him, quite literally, on the street as you walked out of your favorite coffee shop and proceeded to spill coffee over both of you. He’d been apologetic, claiming it was his fault, but you’d been insistent that it was yours. One thing had led to another and soon enough you became inseparable friends. 

Much to his surprise, and delight, you’d never treated Bucky as anything but...Bucky. That’s how you’d met him and that’s all he was to you. Bucky. Of course, he was much more than a friend, at least in your mind, but you weren’t about to divulge that little piece of information. At least not yet. Maybe one day...or not. Probably not. No. You weren’t about to make a fool out of yourself and confess your feelings for a man that saw you as nothing but a friend.

Bucky, always alert and cunning, had noticed you’d become quiet throughout dinner as you both ate in silence. Normally he wouldn’t question it, but he knew your tells and could easily read you by this point and knew that something was up. 

“What?” he gently nudged your foot with his and you snapped back into attention as you looked at him, “you’re awfully deep in thought for someone that just wanted some pancakes.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted nervously, swallowing your bite down and clearing your throat, “just...tired?”

“Mhmm,” he wasn’t going to push you, know you’d come around eventually, “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

There it was again, and you felt a warmth flush over your face as you focused your attention on the syrupy mess on your plate. It was silent for a few more minutes before you noticed a few women sitting at the diner’s counter, giggling among themselves as they cast longing glances at Bucky. Something in your stomach twisted and your heart constricted. Of course they were looking at him, women often did. And you couldn’t blame them; Bucky was handsome in almost every way, and you yearned after him as well. But unlike most other people, you weren’t about to be so obvious about it. 

“Looks like you have a little fanclub,” you murmured softly under your breath as you lightly motioned towards them women. Bucky slyly followed your gaze and studied the newcomers and huffed in annoyance. He abhorred any sort of extra attention, especially when it came from people that only liked him because of his looks. Besides that, it often didn’t last terribly long; usually people realized who he was - used to be - and that scared them right off.

“They’ll leave soon enough,” he shrugged them off before turning his attention back to you, “besides, I-I’m not interested. It’s not like it used to be…”

“Back when?” you quickly snorted in amusement as he jokingly glared at you, “back in your day? I bet you had them all over you then too.”

“Well, it certainly was easier,” he admitted as he played with the straw in his almost empty milkshake, “nowadays people are harder to read. They all either want one thing, or they just stick around until they find someone else. It’s not worth it...and honestly, now one has caught my eye.”

“No one?” you asked as you pushed your last bite around the plate, letting the fluffy pancake soak up the syrup, “I find that hard to believe, even for you, Buck. Everyone has someone they’re interested in.”

“Huh,” he mused as drained the last of the milkshake, “well then, is there someone that has captured your interest?”

“I...no, not really,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Instead he immediately made a sound of small disbelief; you should haven’t even bothered to try and lie to him. He could see right through you, “there’s nobody.”

“I thought you said everyone has someone that they’re interested in?” oh yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to let this go at all. 

“Except me.”

“I find that doubtful.”

“What about you then, Bucky Barnes?” you decided to deflect by throwing the question right back at him, “has anyone captured your interest?”

Bucky paused for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he mulled over his next words carefully, “yes. There is someone.”

“O-oh,” you stammered as his gaze shifted back to you, blue eyes keenly studied your features, “you gonna tell me who it is?”

“Well,” he started slowly, tapping his fingers on the table as he leaned towards, "there is someone, but I don't know if she knows or thinks of me as more than a friend, but god, I hope she does. She's been my friend for a while now and I kind of want to ask her on a date, a proper date, but don't quite know how."

"Do you...do you think she could feel the same about you?" butterflies erupted in your stomach as you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Surely he couldn't mean you. But then...why was a light flush of pink in his cheeks? Why was he watching you so intently?

"I don't know," he confessed with a light shrug as he sat back in the booth, an arm extended over the back, the picture of ease, "sometimes I think she might, but I don't want to think she does and mess anything up. I'd rather keep her as a friend than lose her."

"I guess you won't know unless you ask her…" you were positive that he could hear your heart beating rapidly, "you never know until you try. I have a feeling she won't turn you down if you ask...just a hunch…"

"Hmm…" a smile, dazzling and brilliant, grazed his features, "well then sweet-"

"Excuse me," one of the girls from the counter had approached your table and was leaning into Bucky, with her back to you. She was twirling her hair around her finger as she offered him her most dazzling smile. She was definitely beautiful and you really had nothing to base your annoyance off of, but she rubbed you the wrong way, "I was just wondering if you'd-"

"Hi, excuse me?" you couldn't help yourself as you gently tapped her arm. Bucky raised an eyebrow as she gave her a surprised look on her face, "I don't want to interrupt but he's mine. And if you don't mind...we're on a date."

"O-oh," her eyes widened as she looked between you and Bucky, who was currently sporting the most shit eating grin, "I didn't know. Sorry…"

She scurried back to her friends as you looked back down at your plate. Bucky cleared his throat as he leaned in, hardly believing what had happened. You could feel his curious blue eyes on you, searing and questioning.

"So she feels the same way or she's a good liar," he said softly as you chanced a glance, biting on your lip, "I'm yours, huh?"

"Shut up," you groaned, "it was to get her away from you, so you're welcome."

"Mhmm…" god that smile made you want to melt.

"Bucky!"

"Thank you," he bowed his head slightly, "what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing...why?"

"Can I take you on a date?" he asked as you looked at him in surprise, wide doe eyes meeting his, "a proper date?"

"I...yeah, Bucky. I'd like that a lot," you agreed softly, "see...I told you she won't turn you down."

"Guess you were right," he was causal, but inside his heart was fit to burst as he reached across the table and gently put his hand on top of yours, "I'm already hers, but she's my girl too."

Yeah. You could definitely get used to that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[miekasa]

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually. 

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side. 

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.” 

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.” 

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her. 

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting. 

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”  

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter. 

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it. 

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

[earliebirb]

i’ll save you a seat

steve/tony, established relationship, canon divergence, 1673 words

(inspired by this deleted scene from the avengers [2012])

“Waiting on the big guy?”

“Ma’am?” Steve looks up from his sketchbook, eyes squinting against the sunlight. 

He meets the gaze of one of the waitresses working at the café. Her long blond hair flows down to her chest and she is dressed in the café’s signature uniform: pastel orange blouse, black skirt, and a white half apron tied around her waist. 

“Iron Man,” the waitress clarifies, lips quirked up in a knowing smile. “A lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” Steve says, lips twitching at their inside joke. He opens his mouth to say something else, but a familiar silhouette in the distance catches his eye and breaks his train of thought. “Uh, actually…”

He nods at the sky. The waitress follows his gaze.

The object grows larger, approaching at a high speed. It morphs into a blur of red and gold that streaks across the blue sky right above them, sending a gust of wind that ruffles the waitress’ blond locks. The figure lands a short distance away from the café with a distinct metallic thunk — the sound of gold-titanium alloy hitting concrete. 

All around him, people begin to whisper among themselves with excitement, some even taking out their phones to document the spectacle. Although Steve can’t really say he enjoys the attention, warmth still blooms in his chest as he observes the approaching figure. He finds himself hiding an involuntary grin behind his hand.

“Always a dramatic entrance, huh?” The waitress chuckles.

“You know it.” Steve sighs with fond exasperation. All eyes are on Tony as he walks toward the outdoor area of the café, the nanotech suit peeling away from his body. The excited murmurs and whispers increase in volume.

When Tony finally arrives at the table, he bends down to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “Good morning, beloved.”

“Mr. Stark-Rogers,” the kind waitress greets with a smile. “The usual?”

“Please, Beth. I told you to call me Tony.” Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses a few inches down the bridge of his nose, giving her a disapproving look that makes her chuckle. “And yes, please. Thank you.”

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says before disappearing into the indoor part of the café to relay the order. Steve knows she means it, too. She’ll make sure of it, just like she always has for the past few years.

The café had been Steve’s favorite café, at first. He visited the place often, especially during his first few weeks in the twenty-first century. He developed a fondness for their sesame seed bagels and the lovely view of Stark Tower from his favorite outdoor table, although the latter is a fact Steve would never admit to Tony even on pain of death. 

However, the café quickly became Steve and Tony’s favorite café when their reluctant camaraderie bloomed into friendship all those years ago. Even before they started dating, Steve and Tony already established a weekly ritual of having brunch at the café whenever their schedules aligned. 

Tony did eventually admit to Steve that he found the café’s coffee to be subpar. He did, however, insist that the café was his favorite, albeit for reasons different from Steve’s. Not for the bagels, not for the exceptional view of Stark Tower, and definitely not for the coffee, but because the café was a place full of memories. His memories of the two of them, his memories of Steve:

“That café was where I first made you laugh. Like, really laugh. I’d seen you smile or chuckle before, but that kind of full-body laughter? That was a first. And I remember thinking that… I really, really liked the way you laughed.”

It has been seven years since Steve first sat at this very table and sketched the figure of Stark Tower looming before him. Beth is still working at the café, having made her way through the ranks. Now a co-owner of the café, she has developed a friendship of sorts with Steve and Tony — both of whom she claims to be her favorite regulars. Tony likes to joke about how she probably says that to all of her regulars, something Beth always denies vehemently. 

Steve turns his attention back to Tony, who has taken off and folded his sunglasses, letting them hang from the collar of his shirt. 

“Would it kill you to take the elevator and walk?”

“It’s not like I do this every single time. Besides, why take the elevator when you have a flying suit? That’s just ineffective.” Tony makes a face as he pulls his chair out.

“‘S good exercise.”

“I exercise plenty.” Tony sits down on the chair across from him, scooting closer to the table. Under the table, his ankle brushes Steve’s. “Besides, we just engaged in a vigorous workout session this morning.” Tony bites his lower lip, giving Steve a lascivious wink.

“Tony,” Steve reprimands, but finds himself unable to say anything further, not when the back of his neck is heating up at the memory of what they were up to just a few hours ago. While Steve immediately showered afterward and headed straight to the café, Tony decided he wanted to sleep for a few more hours, promising to join Steve later. 

Tony grins before leaning forward on his elbows to peer at Steve’s sketch.

“Which lucky building are you sketching today, honeybunch?”

He squints and frowns when instead of a building he finds a rough and nondescript sketch of a person’s face. 

It could be anyone to the untrained eye, but Steve’s pen strokes are sure and confident, having rendered the same jawline countless of times. 

Every single time, Tony’s figure never fails to fascinate him. Always so beautiful from every angle, in every light. Steve knows it well enough by now to be able to sketch him simply from an image in his mind’s eye. 

Still, nothing beats the real thing. Steve takes in the sweep of Tony’s dark lashes and his coffee brown eyes as he appraises the drawing.

“It’s not a building,” Steve says instead. 

Tony hums noncommittally, tilting his head at the sketch and giving it one last look before leaning back in his seat. “How was your morning run?”

“Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tony says distractedly, his attention on Beth who is once again approaching their table with his cup of coffee, black as midnight.

Tony engages in more small talk with Beth as she sets the cup and saucer on the table, asking after her husband and kids. There is an easy and carefree smile on his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

All the while, his fingers are fiddling with two sugar packets Steve knows he will only use one of. He is always buzzing with energy, parts of him always in a state of perpetual motion, finding it near impossible to stay still. 

Steve also knows that he won’t finish the coffee because it wasn’t made by Steve or himself.

These little idiosyncrasies are details that make up Tony, the little quirks that only Steve knows.

The little things that make you mine, Steve thinks privately. He feels something inside him softening at the thought.

“Sorry, honey,” Tony says when Beth eventually leaves to take another table’s orders, his smile soft and affectionate. “You were saying? Running was uneventful?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, “nothing really interesting.” He admires the way sunlight turns the tips of Tony’s dark hair into a lighter shade of brown. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still the highlight of my morning.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes, but his lips curve up into a pleased smile and his brown eyes are warm with affection as he meets Steve’s gaze. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The band of vibranium around his husband’s ring finger gleams in the late morning sunlight.

“I better be, after waking you up with one hell of a—”

“Tony!” Steve exclaims, knocking his ankle against Tony’s in warning. “Stop it.”

“What? It’s the truth! You really did enjoy it when I—”

“There are children around,” Steve hisses, casting a furtive glance at a nearby table occupied by a family of four. 

Tony laughs softly, his shoulders shaking with it. Still holding his gaze, he brings Steve’s hand to his lips, pressing two feather-light kisses to the back of his hand. He continues holding Steve’s hand against his mouth, and when he speaks Steve feels his lips and the bristles of his goatee brushing his skin.

“Sorry, baby, I can’t help it.” Tony hides a smile against Steve’s knuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you blush.”

Steve looks down, avoiding Tony’s eyes in favor of staring at the cookie crumbs next to his half-full cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. His cheeks are still burning, and Tony’s words are not helping.

“See?” Tony says, before planting a kiss to his knuckles. “So pretty.”

Steve shuts his eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please just drink your coffee.”

Tony chuckles again but Steve hears the clink of ceramic, a cup being lifted from its saucer. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

He only allows himself to open his eyes when Tony gets distracted by some pigeons, immediately launching into a spiel about the one time he was attacked by a pigeon who was apparently really determined to steal his sandwich.

Steve nods along dutifully, reacting at appropriate times throughout the story, but all he can think of is that sitting there, at a café’s outdoor table on Park Avenue on a bright Sunday morning, his husband sat in front of him talking a mile a minute, is that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

His gaze falls down to where Tony’s hand is still holding his, even when his other hand is gesturing animatedly as he tells his story.

Yes. Steve thinks, smiling helplessly at the twinkle in Tony’s eyes — the one that appears whenever he gets excited. I’m home. 

[etherealino]

fake dating, skz.

ot8 scenario.

content/warning(s): fake dating au, just small scenarios. some are idolverse, some aren’t. swearing, hating on jype, nagging mother. tell me if i missed something!

note: i might do full length fics for each babies. what do u guys think?

chan. —

the one where he’s being pestered by his best friend to bring a plus one to his best friend’s wedding and it can’t be a random person but someone he’s actually dating.

minho looks at chan who just whines. “please?” minho says which is unusually gentle than his nagging teasing tone. “it’s been years and i think it’s time for you to finally go back to dating.”

“i will bring someone, i promise.” chan says, smiling lightly. minho could be annoying about this whole dating thing but he knows minho just wants him to be as happy as he was before.

“not just anyone?” minho says and chan nods. “someone you’re dating.”

chan looks up, eyes widening and minho frowns. what the hell does he do? chan knows how determined minho is, he won’t stop. “hyung, jeongin’s on the verge of asking his girlfriend of marrying him and—”

“y/n.” chan cuts him off with the first name that pops in his mind causing minho to raises his eyebrow. “i’m bringing y/n.”

“i said someone you’re—” minho cuts himself off, looking at chan with his eyes widening. he looks behind, seeing you having a conversation with his fiancé probably helping her with something on the wedding as she is showing you a sample from the magazine. minho looks back to chan who looks at him nervously. “hyung?”

“two weeks.” chan lies.

“why didn’t you tell me before?” minho asks and chan shrugs.

“i.. wanted to be sure.” chan says, seeing minho’s shock expression not going away and is probably not going away anytime so soon. “but now, i’m sure.”

“then, i’ll tell my girl that y/n will sit with you.” minho says and chan nods, mumbling a thanks. when minho’s fiancé pulls away from you to go to minho, chan immediately goes to you to explain the mess he has dragged you into.

oh, how frustrated you are going to be. chan could already see it.

minho. —

the one where you two are roommates and he can’t help but overhear how your mother would always bug you about not having a boyfriend among other things, so he decides to just save your ass because deep down you’re one of the few people in his list who he would do everything for.

throughout dinner, all minho has ever heard how your mom would pick on the littlest things that you would do and not do. minho was starting to get irritated because clearly, your mother doesn’t know how much of an amazing person you are (but of course, he’d rather go to jail than let you know that). 

as minho cleans on the table, you are still by the door with your mom.

“i didn’t want to bring this up earlier right in front of your roommate because it would be humiliating,” your mother says and minho rolls his eyes. as if she hasn’t humiliated you the whole night. “but do you ever plan on having a boyfriend?”

“mom, i just graduated college. i have a lot of things to focus on, i don’t have the time—”

“well, do it faster. no one is available forever.” 

that was it. minho couldn’t hold it any longer. he just wants your mom to stop and let her know how unbelievably amazing you are. as he puts the table rug down, he loudly says, “my love, can you help me?”

you turn your head to him, looking at him and minho doesn’t do anything but shrug. “y/n, love,” he calls again, walking to you and acting as if he was surprised to see your mother is still there on the doorway. “mrs. y/l/n, i’m sorry. i thought you went off already.”

“are you two together?” your mom slowly asks and your jaw drops, minho placing his hands on your shoulders. “why didn’t you tell me?” she asks and you look at minho.

“we decided to keep it between the two of us for now.” minho says and you let out a noise, eyes widening at minho as you pull away from his hold.

“you could have just told me, you silly girl.” your mom says and you look at her. “alright, i’ll be going. you help your boyfriend with the cleaning. remember the things i told you and bring minho by the house when there’s a gathering if he’s allowed to.”

you blink. “o-okay.” you stutter, leaning forward to kiss your mom on the cheek. minho does the same and your mom smiles. “take care, ma.”

“stay safe, mrs. y/l/n.” minho says and she nods, thanking the two of you as she walks to the elevator. you shut the door, glaring at minho. damn, this is going to be a long night of scolding.

changbin. —

the one where people think he’s dating an idol and keep insisting that that person is the inspiration behind his songs but in order to not drag that other idol into the mess, he drops the name of his non-idol best friend that nobody’s ever heard of.

changbin jumps when he hears the door of his room barge open and he sees you glaring down at him. “what. the. hell?” you grit your teeth, fuming at your best friend as you glare at him. changbin whines, knowing how fucked up did he do about the whole situation.

sure, he was thinking about the other idol who he never has exchanged at least one word with but he never though about his best friend. he was.. caught up in the moment.

“y/n, i’m really sorry. i didn’t think this would bring so much chaos.”

“you think?!” 

changbin whines. he may be all buff and strong and one of the most feared in stray kids but when it comes to you, he’ll fold even before you come at him. “y/n, i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking. plus, you’re profession is different from us they wouldn’t just..” changbin trails off when he sees you tapping your foot impatiently. right, dispatch could be a big bitch.

“y/n,” changbin calls, standing up from his bed and walking forward to place his hands on your shoulders. “just please, go along with it? just for a few months, i promise. i wil protect you from the reporters, i swear. just.. do this favor for me, please.”

you sigh, brushing your fingers through your hair. you wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him in and changbin returns the hug. “fine.” you say and changbin sigh in relief. “also, go take a bath. you stink.”

changbin laughs, kissing your temple.

hyunjin. —

the one where the company is being a huge pain in the ass by telling the two of you to pull a public stunt which is fake dating one another.

“what?” you and hyunjin said in unison. you looked at your manager in disbelief who just shrugs, shaking her head in disagreement as she turns away with a sigh.

“just for a couple of months.” the staff says in a gentle, manipulative tone. “just to get the heat off of the company.”

hyunnjin brushes his hand through his long locks, hiding his frustration even though he knows you feel the same just as he does. you sigh, putting your forehead on your palm as you close your eyes.

“it will help you with your upcoming comeback.” the staff says to you and you visibly scoff, causing your manager to lightly nudge you behind. you groan, looking away. “it will also help you with the votings and streamings.” the staff tells hyunjin and he only looks down, playing with his fingers.

silence takes over, everyone feeling your and hyunjin’s anger to the staff. but after a few minutes, hyunjin speaks up. “how many months?”

silence takes over again and you look at the woman in front of you who sighs. “12 months.” she sheepishly smiles.

“that’s a whole ass year.” you say and she smiles.

“we’ll send dispatch something tomorrow. so just be ready.” she says. “you’re dismissed.” the moment those two words left her lips, you and hyunjin immediately rose up to exit the office. when your manager closes the door, you went straight to the wall, covering your face with your hands as you lean against the wall with a groan leaving your lips.

you feel a hand on your shoulder and you look up to see the tall long haired boy. “hey.” you greet and hyunjin chuckles.

“we’ll get through this.” hyunjin encourages and you smile, holding your fist out.

“yeah, we will.” you said and hyunjin looked at your fist, blinking then back to your eyes.

“i’m going to be your boyfriend tomorrow and you’re giving me a fist bump?” hyunjin deadpans and you laugh, lightly pushing him as he laughs loudly.

jisung. —

the one where he’s your best friend and someone takes a liking on you but you’re too soft to reject someone so you randomly ask jisung to be your fake boyfriend.

“what do you want?” jisung says and you pout lightly, looking into his eyes.

“ji..” you softly call and jisung crosses his arms over his chest. “i think.. changbin’s going to confess tomorrow.”

“and?”

“i need you to swoop in and tell him we’re dating.” you say as you play on chips of his door. jisung’s eyes widen, laughing lightly as he blinks.

“come again?” jisung says and you whine, looking at him. “no!”

“why not?” you ask.

“just say you like me instead of pulling this stunt!” jisung says.

“hey, i don’t!” you say, scrunching your nose as you look down. “i just really don’t want to confront changbin about it and you know me. i’d just end up saying yes and—”

“it’s okay to say no.” jisung says but you only pout looking at him. jisung pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “y/n, i swear to god—”

“free cheesecakes as long as this goes on.”

“—you’re the bestest friend ever.”

felix. —

the one where you’ve been wanting to experience what’s it like to have a boyfriend so felix being the best friend, he lets you have the experience you deserve once you have an actual boyfriend. (got it from here.)

“lix,” you called and felix turns to you with a smile on his face. “i’m kind, right?”

“yeah,” felix answered. you truly are. whenever felix is in need of your help, you would always be there. and by always, i mean even if you’re about to do something for yourself, you’d put felix first.

“i’m not that dumb, right?” you ask.

“you’re actually really smart, y/n.” felix answers. you are. felix would always ask for your help when he’s having trouble with some subjects. and everytime you two would get into talking and there’s a test that’s to be taken by that day, felix knows you didn’t study. you never study. but how the hell do you still get high scores?

“i’m not that ugly, right?” you asked.

felix looks at you weirdly, eyebrows scrunched together as he shakes his head ‘no’. “everyone finds you extremely attractive, y/n. your beauty is simple, unlike the others.” felix says and you blush lightly, but still you want to continue with your drama.

“then why don’t i have a boyfriend?” you asked and felix just chuckles at you, continuing on doing his work. “hey,” you said with a pout. “i’m serious.”

felix softly smiles at you and places the slate and marker on his chair. “i’ll be your boyfriend,” felix answers and leans in to place a kiss on your forehead. your eyes widens, but felix continues to move as if nothing happened.

still with the soft smile on his face, felix grabs the slate and goes outside to seungmin.

seungmin. —

the one where you both decide to fake date for the sake of the annual movie fest happening in your university and the genre assigned to you is romance but seungmin, the director and you, the scriptwriter have no experience in that area which makes it hard for the two of you to bring it to life.

you softly sigh, rereading jisung’s text over and over again. seungmin gazes at you, noticing the expression that he was unable to decipher. “what did jisung say this time?” he asks and you look at him, turning the phone screen to him. seungmin reads the test and he leans on his seat, not removing his eyes on the text.

well, it’s not bad actually.

“what do you think?” seungmin asks and you shrug, softly sighing.

“it’s not a bad idea.” you softly say. “are you alright with it?”

“well, it is a good idea and we could work on it together.” seungmin says and you nod. “so, we’re doing this?”

“i guess?” you say, a bit unsure of it. you look at your wrist watch, seeing the time making you fix your things. “i have class in a few minutes, seung.”

seungmin nods, standing up as he helps you. when you sling your bag on your shoulder, he takes your laptop bag putting it on his shoulder and grabs your books as well. “what are you doing?” you ask.

“what kind of boyfriend lets his girlfriend go to class alone and on top of it, with so much bag as if she’s going to run away from home?” seungmin deadpans and you look at him.

“oh, we start now?” you mumble.

“we only have four weeks to pass the script.” seungmin says and you chuckle, nodding with a sigh.

“gosh, you need to be my boyfriend to help me with carrying my stuff.” you mumble and seungmin looks at you, pulling his tongue out.

jisung: this maybe stupid but also makes sense

jisung: date each other even just until you passed the script

jisung: just so you know what to do and stuff

jisung: just don’t fall in love

jisung: but if you do, please mention me in your wedding vows and speeches

jeongin. —

the one where he thought it would be a good idea to get his fangirls off his back by telling them he’s dating you in secret.

jeongin knocks into your apartment, giving you his charming cute smile. you raise your eyebrow, lightly chucking. “what’s up, yang?” you say, looking at him. jeongin gestures with his hands to go inside your apartment and you open your door wide to let him in.

“you know how were the bestest of friends?” jeongin asks, looking at you with his smile that not even a second did it fade.

you look at him. “no, not really.” you deadpan and jeongin sighs, frowning as he looks at you. “what do you need?”

“remember when you mentioned about the girls in uni going crazy about me?” jeongin says and you nod. “i kind of told them that i was dating someone in secret.” jeongin told you and you nod.

“you are?” you ask and jeongin shakes his head. “so you lied just to get them off your back?” you asked and jeongin nodded. “okay, so?”

“they wouldn’t let me go until i tell them who it is.” jeongin said and you nodded. jeongin just stares at you and you raise your eyebrow, not getting where the conversation is going. jeongin slowly tilts his head, staring at you and your eyes widen, hitting his arm. 

“you told them it was me?!” you exclaimed.

jeongin blinks at you. “ow?” he says and you groan.

“jeongin!”

“i know it wasn’t the smartest decision—”

“the smartest?” you repeat with emphasis because it wasn’t even smarter, it wasn’t smart. it was the dumbest. ever. “jeongin, those girls are oing to—”

“i’ll give you hyunjin hyung’s number after all of this is over.” jeongin cuts you off and you look at him. “it was obvious. he’s just... dense as fuck.”

you sigh, “you pick me up tomorrow at 7.”

“thank you, y/n!” he exclaims, hugging you as he presses your body against his. “thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“alright, go home.” you say and jeongin laughs, pulling away from you. jeongin giggles, kissing your cheek as he exits your apartment to go home.

make me do it a full length au thanks. lmAO SDHBJHS,, im going to !! tell me if u want to be tagged <3

[can-youimagine]

Work In Progress Chapter Three

NSummary: After leaving the BAU, you promised you would never go back. But then, you meet your replacement. Your genius, caring, loving replacement, and you can't stop yourself from being pulled back into that world.

Chapter TW:

Word Count: 978

A/N: It's my birthday!!! Two chapters today!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Your head is swimming with thoughts of Spencer. Though, he is not nearly the mystery you are. You replay his message over and over again until you have it memorized. If he hadn’t sounded so excited to see you, you would be a bit ashamed to admit how excited you are to see him.

Still, something stops you from letting yourself from getting too excited. He is part of the BAU, not exactly a selling point. His job, your old job, is a lot. You watched it tear Gideon apart, Rossi before him. Hell, you could see it start to break Hotch before you left. It broke you. You don’t want to see it break Spencer. You don’t want to see anything break Spencer.

He obviously had his first rough case not too long ago. You can’t stop yourself from hoping that things don’t get worse for him, but you know that won’t happen.

You’ve always been a dreamer, that’s what got you into the BAU in the first place. You can’t stop yourself from thinking of what happens when it finally does break Spencer. The thought pains you more than anything.

But, the thought of not being with him at all hurts you more than anything, so you go to sleep with a smile on your lips, dreaming of seeing Spencer tomorrow.

Across the city, you and Spencer mirror each other. Both waking up before the sun, getting some light reading done (though his definition of light is War and Peace and yours is An Offer from a Gentleman), all before shuttling yourself to a job you couldn’t be happier with. Once you got to said job, you both got quite the teasing from you coworkers who seemed to have an inhuman ability to tell when you were just a little too happy.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Jenna asks as soon as you walk into the building. “Last time I saw you like that, you were going on a date with Cody.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, remember how that ended?”

She frowns. “Alright, fine. Who is he?”

“It’s nothing,” you lie. “Just meeting someone from my old work,” not a lie.

“I thought you hated that job.”

You shrug. “Like the people.”

“But you like us better, don’t you?” she jokes, batting her eyes.

“Keep it up, and I’ll go back.”

You are able to make it to your classroom before anyone else is able to question you. By some miracle, you are able to make it through the entire day without any more questions. Sometimes you still feel like you’re working with profilers.

When the last kids are dismissed, you glance at the clock. 4:15. Still way too early to be at the trail, but after spending the week here, you can’t wait to leave. You decide that there’s no harm in being early and leave for the trail, ignoring Jenna’s questions.

You are rather surprised to see Spencer walking towards the tables when you arrive.

“Hey,” you grab his attention. “Didn’t expect you to be here this early.”

He turns around in surprise. “It was a paperwork day.”

“I was never able to finish early on paperwork days. I’m pretty sure I actually ended up staying later.”

He shrugs. “I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

You pause on your way to a table. “Alright, smartypants. I’m sure that comes in handy.”

“It can.” He sets his bag on the table. “The eidetic memory is more useful.”

“Oh, now you’re just showing off.”

He blushes and fiddles with the strap. “I, um, I brought food.”

You smile, pulling a box of craft supplies out of your bag. “Then, let’s get to work.”

Watching as he tries to draw the outline, you can’t help but smile. Despite his determination to get this right, he looks almost peaceful. His hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to push it away, knowing that it’s only going to fall back. “I’m really glad you actually wanted to do this,” you admit. “I would have felt really stupid if you had just wanted to hang out, and I had a box of craft supplies.”

“I did want to spend time with you. I just, I didn’t know how to ask.” He keeps his gaze focused on the paper in front of him.

“Well, then.” You rub your palms on your pants. When had they gotten so sweaty? “Spencer, would you like to abandon your masterpiece and go on a walk?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He drops his pen and starts picking up the empty take out containers. “I’d love to.”

Giggling, you follow his lead, shoving the box back into your bag. “Let me just put this in my car, and then we can go.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You start your walk back to the parking lot, surprised that he isn’t following you. “You gonna take yours?”

“Oh, um, I don’t drive.”

“No worries. If you don’t want to lug it around, you can leave it in mine.”

He fiddles with the strap for a moment before agreeing, following you to your car.

“I still have some leftover decorations,” you give him a quick disclaimer. “I promise, the giant pencils are supposed to be there.”

He smiles and assures you that it’s fine before dropping his bag in the trunk next to yours.

On your way back to the trail, you speak up. “I can drive you back home if you want. I don’t want you traveling alone on a Friday evening.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Do it every day.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to.” You pause for a moment, realizing what you just said. “I don’t mean to force you to or anything. I just, I thought-”

“I appreciate it, really.”

You nod. “Anytime.”

[fruitcoops]

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

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

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 17

Chapter 1     Chapter 16

Marinette shook her head and tried to hide her giggles. Red Robin had to have thought he was being discrete, right?  Unless he was intentionally making himself known as a way to intimidate any more rogues from trying to get to her.  He was discrete enough that the average person probably wouldn’t notice him, but anyone paying attention, looking for him, would see him easily.

She waited until he was looking down at her again and waved at him.  He smiled and waved back before blushing, shaking his head, and motioning for her to continue. Marinette grinned and looked back at the map on her phone.  The restaurant Jason chose was around here somewhere.  One of the places he just ended up at a lot, he said.  Low key and cozy, exactly the kind of place she needed right now.

After that, he said he was planning on following her around for the rest of the day.  He’d said it in a joking tone, but she knew there was nothing joking about his intent.  He would be shadowing her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t hide the gravity behind the statement.  He couldn’t mask the concerned questions, no matter how casually he tried to play them off. The insistence on seeing her apartment, make sure the view was good enough and the kitchen was stocked enough. The way he casually suggested she teach him how to make a baked good she liked.  

Honestly, she was shocked he let her walk there on her own, but he said he’d be have eyes on her anyway.  She looked back up at Red Robin with a smile.  Clearly, he wasn’t kidding.  White lensed eyes.  The smile quickly morphed into a frown when she couldn’t see him.  He hadn’t been hidden this whole time, so where was he now? She squeaked and whirled around into a fighting stance when she heard someone land behind her.  She barely had time to put her hands down before Red Robin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder while he looked around, eyes sharp and calculating.

Marinette followed his lead and scanned the crowd. In lieu of knowing what she was looking for, she kept her eye out for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked normal though. Nothing seemed suspicious.  There were a few people throwing them odd looks, but nothing that seemed hostile or calculating, instead it seemed more curious and fearful of what having a vigilante dropping down in the middle of the night meant for them.

Red Robin turned back to face her.  “Let’s get you somepl…” his hand went up to his ear. “Shit!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in fear.  “What happened?  Did someone get hurt?”

Red Robin’s eyes looked around them again and narrowed at one of the buildings.  He moved his arm to her back and firmly pushed her toward the building. “Nobody is hurt.”

She looked at him doubtfully.  “But…”

“There’s just an issue that needs attention, but nobody has been hurt,” he assured her, looking down briefly to meet her eyes.

Marinette nodded uncertainly, not feeling calmer with his reassurance.  She couldn’t see his eyes past the white filters to gauge his sincerity, and it was unsettling.  “So my friend and brother, my… the Waynes, they’re… nobody is hurt?”

Red Robin paused almost imperceptibly.  If she hadn’t become used to his constant pressure on her back, she wouldn’t have noticed.  He looked back down at her as they walked, the tense muscles in his face softened considerably.  “They’re all safe.  Your friend and brother and family.  They’re all safe.  I promise. I just need to go assist someone, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.  “I can defend myself you know.”

Red Robin gave her a deadpan expression. She’s sure if he didn’t have a mask, he’d have his own eyebrow raised at her.  “After last night, you can understand that we and your family are a bit concerned and perhaps a bit overprotective just right now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn’t fight him.  “So you’re going to, what?  Hide me in some abandoned office until everything blows over?  That sounds safe.”

Red Robin huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely safe.  That is our standard approach.  I’m glad you understand how we operate.”  He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher with his mask in the way.  “No.  I think your family would hunt me down if I did something so reckless with you.  They’re quite protective, you know?”  

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly.  He was a stranger.  There was absolutely no reason to get into her family dynamics with him.  “No,” he continued, oblivious to her uncertainty. “I’m going to stash you with someone we know we can trust.”

Marinette looked up at him with narrowed eyes.  “A babysitter.”

The corners of Red Robin’s mouth quirked up. “Well, if you’re going to whine like a baby…” he teased.

Marinette gasped dramatically.  “If you want whining, I can show you whining.  I grew up with the most spoiled brat in existence.  I can give new meaning to the word.”  Red Robin actually laughed as he opened the door to the business.  “You know, I’m supposed to meet my… um… br… brother,” she stuttered over the word.  “Jason’s going to wonder about me.”

Red Robin cringed slightly.  “You should probably text him.  It isn’t a good idea for you to go out until this is resolved.” Marinette nodded and shot a text off to Jason letting him know she was okay and Red Robin was putting her somewhere safe for a bit.

They heard movement from the building, finally drawing Marinette’s attention to the business they had gone into.  “Can I help… T… Red Robin?  Marinette?” Roy asked pushing out from behind a motorcycle with its transmission in his hands.

“Hey, I was hoping you could watch Marinette while I take care of something.  You’re a friend with the Waynes right?” Red Robin asked pointedly.

Roy stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in.  “Yeah. Yeah, we’re like fam…” he looked over to Marinette, “well, not family family.  But, uh, yeah.”

Red Robin cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.  “No, I’m pretty sure you are con…” he was cut off by something in his com.  He paused for a moment to listen before turning back to Roy with what Marinette was pretty sure was supposed to be a glare.  “I’m trusting you,” he growled.  “There’s some madness going on.”

Roy’s face turned serious and he gave him a determined nod.  “I’ll protect her.  Go.”

Red Robin looked between them for a second then nodded and took off.  Roy and Marinette watched him leave for a second before turning back to each other. Marinette gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she waved sheepishly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Roy gave her a welcoming smile and motioned to the garage bay.  “Not at all. I guess you’re just visiting sooner than we anticipated.  Can’t say I’m upset at all.”  He moved some parts off of a stool and motioned toward it for her to sit.  “I should say sorry that you have to hunker down here. You definitely look like you were going somewhere a bit nicer.”

Marinette looked down at her outfit analytically, a blood red, long-sleeved blouse, black skinny jeans, and black heeled boots. She’d wanted to wear ladybug colors after the previous night in the Riddler’s facility and the Wayne dining room. Ladybug colors always reminded her of the strongest, most resilient parts of herself.  She looked back up at him, her eyes catching on the coat rack behind him.  “Excuse you. All I need is that jacked over there and I’d fit right in.  In fact, I’d match your baby.”

Roy looked to where she was looking, seeing his black leather jacket hanging up.  He blushed slightly at the idea of her wearing his jacket.  He could picture it on her, the jacket hanging loosely off of her significantly smaller frame, her clinging to him as they rode on his bike… He looked back at her with a soft look. “And you would still be too classy to be here.”

Marinette pouted at him.  “You say that like I don’t fit in.”  She didn’t want to say the ‘with you’ that was running through her head.  Did he think she wouldn’t fit with him?  “I can fit. I can even be helpful.”

Roy shook his head.  “No, not at all just…”  He motioned to his own clothes, an old tee, stained jeans, and a backwards ball cap that was just as stained with grease as his jeans, and then motioned to her.

Marinette looked between the two of them and grinned. “You underestimate my ability to get dirty.  Give me a few minutes and I’ll be as dirty as you.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to the wrench in his hand. Based on the complete lack of amusement or sultriness in her eyes, she did not at all realize what she just said. He took a few seconds, it may have been minutes, to calm his heart and mind.  “Okay, how about you prove it?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.  “Prove what?”

“That you can be helpful.  Roll up those sleeves and help me with this engine.”  He motioned to the transmission on the workbench next to her.  “I can also get you some coveralls so your outfit won’t get dirty if you prefer.” He looked back at her with an amused glint in his eyes.  “They’ll be a bit big on you…”  Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but his eyes danced with even more amusement at her reaction.  “Since you’re so litt…”

“You know what…” she cut him off, standing to get in his personal space.  She stared up at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before her cheeks burst into color.  She looked away and cleared her throat.  After a second to recover, she motioned to the transmission as she rolled up her sleeves. “Just tell me what you’re doing and how I can help.”

Roy grinned and twirled the wrench in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.”  

He leaned over the transmission and started loosening one of the nuts holding the piece together.  His hand faltered for a fraction of a second when Marinette leaned next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath as she let out a sigh, close enough to feel her body heat.  Close enough he could easily wrap his arms around her and pull her against him.  He had to tighten his hands to keep them from reaching over.

He took a breath to focus.  Now was not the time.  She had just been kidnapped and people could take a bit of time to recover from something like that, especially considering the things she had said about having a breakdown.  He flicked his eyes over to her trying to assess how she was doing.  Her eyes were intently watching his hands as they moved around the transmission.  They were sharp and her body seemed to be relaxing the longer she watched him work.  If he didn’t know better, he’d never know she had been kidnapped and threatened the night before.

She looked up at him questioningly when his hands stilled as he analyzed her.  He gave her a small smile and motioned toward the tool box.  “Um… I need… Can you, um, get me the, um… 5/16th wrench, please?” he stuttered.

Marinette jumped up to search through the wrenches in the box.  She frowned, her lip jutting out as she searched.  “I don’t see it here.  Is there somewhere else it could be?”

Roy’s face scrunched as he tried to remember where else he might have used it.  He’d been working on the bike almost all day.  He looked back at the motorcycle trying to remember what he had done with it. He was broken from his concentration by Marinette’s light giggle.  He looked over to her with a raised brow.  

Marinette looked away quickly, another blush on her cheeks.  She followed where his line of sight had been and searched around the motorcycle, focusing her energy on her search for the wrench instead of the adorable face he made when he was concentrating and the way his nose wrinkled up in thought and his lips quirked to the side.  After a minute of looking she shook her head and held her empty hands out for him to see.

“Any other ideas?” she asked as she came back over to her stool.

Roy sighed deeply and scanned the workbench. He had a backup set of wrenches, but he knew he had used that one recently.  It couldn’t have gone too far. His attention was brought back to Marinette when she giggled again, her giggles turning into full blown laughter.  He gave her a confused look which made her laugh louder.  She reached over the workbench, almost climbing onto it to grab the wrench that was behind the transmission.  She held the wrench out to him triumphantly with a smug, teasing smile on her lips.

Roy fought choking on air at the sight of her climbing onto his workbench and all the images that immediately flooded into his mind involving that particular scenario, especially in his jacket… and nothing else.  He took the wrench, hoping she believed the blush he knew was on his cheek was from embarrassment rather than where his thoughts had gone.  “Thanks,” he managed to mutter out.

“Anytime,” she grinned back.  “See?” she motioned to herself.  “Helpful.”

Roy chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

Marinette chuckled and let her focus settle back on the part he was working on.  She watched his hands move effortlessly and confidently over the pieces.  “Flathead screwdriver,” he asked, holding out his hand for her.  She quickly grabbed one and slapped it in his hand like he was a surgeon.  He looked up at her with a grin.  “Thanks, nurse.”

Marinette shook her head and let her gaze pass over the garage bay.  She quirked her head to the side when her eyes settled on a bow leaning up against the wall by the door.  “What’s with the bow?”

Roy’s head jerked up.  His eyes immediately found his bow and quiver.  He looked back at her with an almost natural smile. “Oh, I just… like to shoot.”

“It’s yours?” she asked perking up.

“Yeah… I just pulled it out… recently.”  His eyes flicked to the cut on her cheek quickly before returning to the transmission.

Marinette looked back at the bow.  “That sounds fun.  I always wanted to learn.  How did you learn?”

Roy’s eyes took on a far off look and a sentimental smile spread on his lips.  “My father, my adopted father.”

“Oliver?” Marinette asked, confusion clear in her voice as she tried to reconcile the sentimental smile with his description in the bar.

“Ah, so you know,” Roy said quietly, eyes suddenly in focus and pointed at the transmission.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile.  “Sorry.  Damian… he um… thought I knew,” she stuttered out.  She really didn’t want to get into that conversation right now.  She was sure Roy would be upset and it was just something she wanted to leave between her and Damian, not someone else.  “He just mentioned it yesterday.”

Roy nodded and flicked his eyes up to her for a second, gauging her reaction, waiting for the questions.  There were always questions.  Questions about Oliver, questions about their relationship, questions about their money.  The exact combination might change but they were always there.  “Sorry for bringing it up,” she said quietly.

Roy shook his head, with a small smile.  “No.  It isn’t your fault.  No not Oliver.  It was before Oliver.  My birth father died saving me from a forest fire and a man named Brave Bow adopted me. He raised me.  He was a really good man.  He taught me how to be a good person and how to shoot… and just about everything else I know.”

The smile on Roy’s face made Marinette smile too. “He sounds like a good father.”

Roy nodded.  “He was,” he said quietly.  He looked over at her hesitantly before focusing back on the piece he was working on. “How are you feeling?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side.  “Feeling?  Not as useful as I could be.  A burden on you more than a help, if I’m being honest,” she shrugged.

Roy snorted.  “Sorry, I’ll try to get you to do more of my work for me.”  He sent her a smirk that got an eye roll out of her.  “And I would never call you a burden.  In fact, I’d fight to keep you nearby,” he added quietly, no longer meeting her eyes.  He tried to focus on the transmission but he could feel her eyes on him, making it impossible to think of anything else.  

After a few seconds he cleared his throat.  “I mean after,” he motioned toward her face, his hand still grasping the gear he had just removed.  “How are you handling it?  The Riddler’s no joke.”

Marinette scoffed and picked up a wrench.  She spun it in her hand as a distraction while she spoke.  “He really isn’t.  I didn’t find him funny at all.”  Roy gave her a flat look and returned to working on the part, letting her decide to continue discussing it or not.  “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“He broadcast it to all Gotham.  Everybody knows.  Everybody saw you deliver the verbal smack down of the century,” he grinned at her.  “It was inspiring.  You were amazing.”

“I was pissed is what I was,” she grumbled.  She looked away and sighed, running her hand over her face and grimacing when she accidentally touched her cut.  “I forgot everyone would see that.”

She stared at the wrench as she twirled it in her hands.  She knew the Waynes probably knew she was taken.  She’d called Jason to let him know she was fine, but had pretended she had to go talk to the police and cut the call short.  She really didn’t want to talk to them after the scene at dinner. She didn’t want to have the conversations she knew they were going to want to have.  She just wanted to move on.  It didn’t have anything to do with them, especially the kids.  It was her past, one they had no way of knowing about and no way of helping with.  There was no reason to hash through it all again.

But she hadn’t realized they would get to see the full video.  She frowned at the thought.  She’d said so much while she was yelling and she couldn’t remember what all she had said. It was a moment of weakness that now the entire city, possibly the world now knew about.  Thankfully she was positive she didn’t mention anything about the miraculous so to anyone watching she would have looked like any other normal, non-miraculous wielding person.

And on top of it all, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset that M. Wayne hadn’t reached out to see if she was alright. All of the kids had even Lucius had, but not him… or Alfred.  After the way she left, he might not feel like he’s allowed to.  But still… he hadn’t bothered to check on her at all.

She looked up with a weak smile.  “Guess I’ve truly experienced Gotham now.”

Roy grimaced.  “Sorry about that.”  He watched her as she seemed to work through her feelings on the matter, going from annoyed to hurt.  He returned his attention to the engine part.  “I think I need to start calling you Fire Flower.”

Marinette looked up at him curiously.  “Fire Flower?”

“Yeah,” he looked up briefly with a spark in his eyes. “It’s like a fire cracker, but cuter. More impressive to look at.” Marinette blushed and looked down, accidentally dropping the wrench she had been playing with.  Roy grinned widely at her before focusing back on his work. “You sure you feel safe?” he asked, still focusing on the engine.

Marinette nodded.  “I have Adrien and Max.  We might not look like we can protect ourselves, but we’re pretty good at it.” Actually incredibly well.  She was possibly the best protected person in the world right now, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that.

“I’m actually pretty surprised Adrien isn’t with you right now or Max.”  He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette nodded.  “You’re not wrong.  They would be but Max just started work and couldn’t really take a day off immediately and Adrien had a job interview in Metropolis today.  And this is the one he’s really excited about.  I was supposed to go with him and check out Metropolis, but then I wouldn’t have had anyone with me while he was in the interview and that made them a bit too nervous.  Here at least they know I have the bats following me at all times so, they were pretty confident I was safe.”

“The bats are keeping an eye on you, huh?” Roy asked with a secretive grin.

Marinette nodded.  “I’m not sure if they’re trying to be subtle, but yeah.  I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with the Waynes. They mentioned… the bats certainly act like they talk a lot and know each other well.”

Roy froze for a second.  Well, they certainly weren’t being as discrete as they normally are, it would seem.  Although after last night, he could imagine they were pretty flustered.  He had been and she was just an acquaintance to him. He wanted it to be more but… that wasn’t the point.  But at this rate, she was going to figure it out before they told her and he didn’t imagine that going well for them.  “So you’ve caught them a few times?”

“Caught is a liberal term for it.  Is it catching if they aren’t really hiding?  I think Red Robin might have been trying… maybe, but Batman was on our balcony, standing vigil all night last night.”

Roy glanced over for a second.  “Batman was watching over your apartment last night?”

Marinette nodded.  “Markov said he was there until Red Robin took over some time around breakfast.”

Roy paused for a few seconds then tapped the screwdriver against the workbench.  “And… Bruce? Did Bruce check in on you?”

Marinette looked away and licked her lips before pursing them.  She twisted the wrench around a few more times, focusing entirely on that, not meeting Roy’s eyes.  “No,” she finally said in a falsely calm voice.  “I… I didn’t…  Dinner didn’t go so well.”

Roy moved closer to her until he was close enough to reach her comfortably but still gave her space so he wasn’t crowding her. He ducked his head to try to meet her eyes.  She yielded quickly and met his eyes.  “He’s worried about you.  I guarantee you he is.  He’s just… shit at emotions and reading a room.  

“If you guys fought, I promise you he isn’t less worried about you, he’s just afraid that seeing him or hearing from him will upset you more.  I promise you he’s finding out everything he can about how you are from anyone that will tell him.  He cares. Your fight didn’t push him away. He’s just a fucking idiot.  And an asshole, so there’s like a 97% chance if you did fight, it was his fault.  And he probably knows that, just not how to make it up to you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh despite her eyes suddenly turning glassy. “I don’t need him to make it up, just… it’s not even his fault.  It was mine really.”  She fiddled with the wrench in her hands, testing the strength, trying to bend it, focusing on that as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I doubt it.”  He sighed and readjusted his cap as he tried to come up with the right words.  “I’ve found that when bad things happen at the manor it’s almost always because Bruce was being a controlling little bitch.”  Instead of laughing, she frowned at the wrench. Right, calling her father, she’s trying to connect to a ‘controlling little bitch’ probably isn’t really helping. He sighed and looked back up trying to figure out how to remove the frown.  It didn’t look right on her face.  She should be smiling.  Always. “Do you want a hug?”

Marinette finally looked up from the wrench in surprise.  After a second she gave him a weak smile and shook her head, returning her focus to the wrench.  “I’m fine.”

Roy lightly placed his hand on the wrench to stop its motion. “That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.

She blinked at him a few times before a smirk quirked her lips up. “I mean… I’m not going to object to a handsome man wrapping his arms around me,” she answered slyly, throwing his words from days earlier back at him.  Roy grinned and wrapped his arms around her, gently at first but holding her tighter as the hug went on.  His arms were strong and reassuring, giving a sense of warmth and safety and Marinette quickly found herself melting into his embrace.  She nuzzled into his chest and dear God, she could feel his muscles moving through his shirt with every minute movement.

She tried to hide her frown when he pulled away after a few minutes. But, it turned into a smile when he stopped after a few inches, just enough to look down at her.  Roy smiled softly and rubbed her cheek with his thumb a few times.  Marinette leaned into his hand, captivated by the feel of his hand on her face.  He started to lean down but jumped away with the sound of clattering right next to them.  Roy moved in front of her, caging her in behind him as he looked for the source of the sound.

Marinette grimaced and leaned down to pick up the wrench that had slipped through her fingers when she was looking at Roy.  He chuckled awkwardly and moved back to his transmission. He started working on it again a lot slower than he had been before.  His hands were shaking slightly.  He could still feel the traces of her on his fingers and around his chest, trilling through him.  “Can you… um… the.  Can you hand me the Phillips head, please?” he stuttered, unable to get his mind settled.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, her cheeks still bright red, as her mind tried to kick back into gear.  She looked at the tools in the toolbox and back to him. “Is… that’s a tool, not like a horror movie thing, right?”

Roy blinked a few times before breaking out in laughter.  Marinette smiled at his laughter, beyond grateful for the change of topic.  “The one with the cross for a head,” he said motioning toward the screwdrivers.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded in understanding. “Tournevis cruciform,” she muttered to herself as she searched through the tools for the right screwdriver. “Americans and their naming things.”

Roy grinned at her outrage.  “And what do you call it?  The cross screwdriver.” he teased.

“That is literally what it translates to,” she deadpanned.

Roy puckered his lips in an attempt at keeping a smile off his lips and make his annoyed wrinkled brow more believable.  “Oh, well I bow to your superior naming capabilities,” he snarked with a fake bow.

Marinette nodded graciously and passed the screwdriver to him.  “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Roy laughed and returned to the transmission, pretending like he could focus on that instead of the kiss they almost had. Marinette watched, almost transfixed as he moved the gears synchronously on the transmission, creating intricate and ever changing patterns.  She pulled her sketchbook and pencil out to capture a sudden idea.

“The wrench?” Roy called out, not looking up from the transmission.  He held out his hand and waited for a few seconds before adding, “Please?”  He waited a little longer before repeating it a bit louder.  “Wrench, please?”  He finally looked up when she still hadn’t handed it to him.  “Marinette?”  He looked over to her concerned.  His face immediately softened when he saw her.

Marinette’s face was frozen in intense concentration on her sketchbook as she drew confidently and without hesitation.  She held the sketchbook out and tilted it slightly. She narrowed her eyes at it and tilted it a different way.  Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk before she added in more details and notes. Her eyes lit up with inspiration, bright and clear.  She shook her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands too busy committing her inspiration to paper to waste time with such trivialities.  Roy shook his head, mentally berating himself for having backed off before.  She had been right there and leaning toward him.  Maybe Jason and Dick… and Tim and Damian, were right.  He was an idiot.

Before Roy realized what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck it behind her ear, being careful to avoid her cut as his fingers brushed her face.  Marinette jumped at the unexpected contact.  She looked up at him wide eyed but a sheepish look quickly overtook her expression. She looked down in embarrassment, but that only pressed her face further into Roy’s hand, which made her embarrassed blush deepen but not due to embarrassment this time.  “Sorry.  Did you need a tool?”

Roy shook his head.  He smiled and moved his hand slightly so it was cupping her face this time.  “It’s fine. I was enjoying watching you get caught up in inspiration.”

Marinette looked down again and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.  It is probably the most embarrassing face.”

Roy smiled softly at her, his eyes shining with sincerity and fondness.  “No. It wasn’t.  It was cute.”  He took a step closer to her and leaned a bit closer, more intimately.  “I wouldn’t mind seeing it more.”

“More of my too distracted to pay attention to you face?” she smirked and leaned closer to him.

“Any version of your face you’ll let me see. Although I would prefer to see it with fewer cuts,” he frowned at the cut on her cheek as he rubbed a soothing line just below the bruise that had formed around the cut.  He leaned closer to examine the cut until his lips were centimeters from her cheek.  He flicked his eyes to her half lidded ones and leaned to close the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Dick boomed as he came into the room. Marinette and Roy jumped apart, or rather Roy jumped away and Marinette straightened up on the stool, grabbing the workbench to keep from falling off.  “Sorry I’m late.  And sorry I’m here instead of Jason.  He got… caught up in the attack.  Not personally!” he rushed to assure Marinette when her eyes widened and body stiffened.  “I meant he’s dealing with the fallout.  Jason is fine.  He’d just be really, really late and asked if I could come over here instead.  If that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded, but her eyes were still slightly widened.  “Of course. But you’re sure Jason’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Dick shot her a charming smile.  “He’s just going to need a bit of time to deal with things,” he lied smoothly.  He looked between Marinette and Roy with narrowed eyes and moved between them as he hugged Marinette.  “He really, really wanted to be here with you today.  I think he’s planning on attaching himself to you tomorrow though.”

Marinette chuckled lightly.  “That’s okay.  We’ll have fun doing something.”  Her face suddenly sobered.  “Oh, no, wait.  I have lunch with Duke and Cass tomorrow.  I mean… I think I have lunch with them.  We had planned it, but that was before…” she trailed off, not wanting to go into detail at all, but especially in front of Roy.

“I’m sure you still do,” Dick assured her.  “They’re probably just waiting to get confirmation from you in case the last few days were a bit much and you wanted a break.”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed.  “No.  I’ll text them.  Thanks.”

“But I get you for tonight.  How do you feel about a movie marathon?” he grinned widely, already planning a full night’s marathon with her, Adrien, and Max.  She had to love Disney movies, right?  Who didn’t love Disney movies?

“I like movies,” Roy chirped with a teasing grin.

“No,” he answered sharply.  He turned back to Marinette with a mock sympathetic smile. “You must have been so bored here.”

Roy narrowed his eyes back at him but Marinette jumped up to defend Roy.  “Not at all. It was interesting watching him working on the bike.  I got some good inspiration too.”

Roy raised a pointed eyebrow at him with a smug grin.  “Motorcycles remind her of her grandmother.”

Dick looked back at Marinette who was looking back at Roy with a surprised expression.  “Good memory.”

“I remember important things,” he shrugged.

Dick glared at him.  “Uh huh.  But not to check if things are loaded.”  He looked back at Marinette.  “You’ve got something just there,” he motioned to the cheek Roy had stroked earlier. “You might want to get that grease off.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed grabbing her cheek, almost succeeding in covering the blush that flushed on her cheeks.  “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Roy nodded and motioned toward the bathroom. “Just right over there.”

As soon as the door closed, Dick punched Roy’s shoulder.  Roy frowned at him.  “What?”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dick hissed and motioned toward the bathroom.

“What?” Roy answered rubbing his shoulder.  At least it was just Dick.  If it was Jason, he’d be rubbing his jaw right now.  “Tim dropped her off here.  What was I supposed to do?  Ignore her?”

“You were supposed to not hit on her,” he grumbled.

“That’s just unreasonable,” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned back against the workbench.  He motioned to the bathroom.  “Have you met her? She’s smart and sassy and really sweet.  She's funny and obviously gorgeous.  Who doesn’t want to hit on her?”

“Yeah.  I’ve met her. Didn’t hit on her.” Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Jesus, Roy!  I’ve had her as a sister for like a week.  I don’t want to lose her because I’m in jail for killing you.”

“You’re her brother, you don’t count in the hitting on her count.  And please,” Roy scoffed, “you’re too good to go to jail for it.”

“True.  Just…” he narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him threateningly, “if you mess around and hurt her… I’ll choose her over you.  And I won’t forget to load the magazines and Jason will be more than happy to use them.”

“That’s hurtful,” Roy groused.  “One time.  I forgot to load the magazines one time.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a mission!” Dick whisper hissed.

“You survived,” Roy shrugged.  “Stop being such a baby.  But I get it.  I’d choose her over me too.  Or you. But if you were going to kill anyone for hurting her, Riddler wouldn’t still be alive… or Bruce.”

Dick pursed his lips at the reminder of how Bruce had treated Marinette, of everything that had come up the night before. His anger quickly deflating.  He looked toward the bathroom, his eyes softening. They really needed to work harder to support her, to assure her they weren’t holding her at arm’s length. Maybe talk to Bruce about telling her the truth.  That seemed like the only possible way to salvage this.  “How does she seem to be doing?”

Roy shrugged and watched the bathroom door to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on the conversation.  “Actually doesn’t seem too bothered by the Riddler incident.  She’s more anxious about the family knowing.” He pursed his lips and picked up a transmission piece, pretending to examine it.  “Bruce hasn’t said anything or made any attempts as far as she knows.”

Dick sighed and massaged his temples.  “That should surprise me more than it does.” He let out a heavy sigh.  “Last night… dinner didn’t… some things came out that Bruce didn’t know.  Things she had to go through.  He’s beating himself up over it.  Too ashamed to talk to her.”

Roy sighed and shook his head.  Bruce was going to lose her before he even had her at this point.  “That have anything to do with why she’s so unaffected by having been taken captive by one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham?” Dick’s resigned sigh was enough confirmation for him.  “Fuck,” he grumbled.  “She thinks it’s her fault he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore.”

“Damn it,” Dick grumbled, drawing out the words in frustration.  He ran his hand over his face and collapsed on the stool she had been on earlier.  “Good to know.  Thanks.”

Roy nodded and threw the part back on the workbench.  “How’s Jay doing?”

“He’ll be okay.  Tim got there in time to stop him from going too far, but he’s going to need a few hours, maybe the night to let the Pit Madness recede.  And I think he’s really nervous about showing any part of that to Marinette.”

They both snapped their attention to Marinette when she came back.  “My cheek look better?” she turned her cheek for them to see.  “I mean obviously not the cut.”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.”  Roy assured her and handed her purse to her.  

Dick glared at Roy.  “Could you stop hitting on my sister for five seconds?” he hissed low enough for Marinette not to hear.  He turned to Marinette before Roy could respond.  “Ready to go?  I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Dick walked ahead of her, pretending like he didn’t notice her lag behind. When he was almost out the door, she turned to Roy and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you for babysitting me today and for the tour the other day.  I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Roy nodded and handed her his phone with a spot for Fire Flower already started in his contacts.  “If your plans ever get canceled again or you need to hide out or you need to borrow a jacket so you fit in, give me a call, Fire Flower.”

Marinette put her number in and passed it back to him with a grin.  “You have extra you can just loan out?”

Roy grinned back and nodded.  “A few jackets, suit coats, shirts, ties, clean pants, even a few pairs of coveralls, none of which would fit you, but if you ever need them… Or even if you don’t need anything, just want to talk or hang out, let me know.”

“Marinette!  I thought you were ready to go?” Dick yelled.

Marinette shook her head and sighed.  She waved to Roy as she rushed out.  “Thanks again!”

Roy watched her leave until he couldn’t see her anymore.  He let out a deep sigh and collapsed against the workbench. He looked at his phone and quickly sent a text with a smile.

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

[crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already]

The Man Needs His Cat

Bucky x fem!reader

Word count: 1,960

Warnings: mentions of animal death, fluff, Tony/Bucky interaction

Summary: Bucky and Reader stumble across a kitten in the woods and Reader is tasked with asking Tony for a huge favor. 

A/N: y'all- I'm head over heels in love with catperson!Bucky

The situation had to be dealt with carefully, (Y/n) knew. She didn't want to come on too strong or he'd be quick to turn her down. Maybe a hypothetical would be the best course of action... She took a breath and pulled her shoulders back. Then, with only a second of hesitation, she entered Tony's lab. 

He greeted her from his hunched over position at one of the many cluttered tables, barely sparing her a glance. In the heat of engineering, he worked on some odd piece of tech he had yet to fully present to the team. She echoed a small 'hello' back and rocked awkwardly back and forth on her feet. 

Still not looking up, Tony indulged the girl with idle conversation. They spoke of their day, of current world news, of the weather. That's how he knew she wanted something. The girl would always engage him in casual conversation just before asking a favor. Tony didn't mind much, of course. If anything, he found it entertaining how intently she tried buttering him up. But today he had quite a bit of work to get done so he wanted to get this show on the road. 

Putting his tools down, he looked at her pointedly with a knowing grin. "Alright kid, what's up?" He asked.

(Y/s)'s eyebrows raised in question, playing dumb. "What do you-" 

"Drop the act, (Y/n)," he chuckled, and grabbed an already greasy rag off the desk next to him to wipe his hands. He stood and made his way to her, tossing the rag back on one of the several tables in the lab. "I know when you want something, so just go on. Ask." He said, his face light with a smirk.

(Y/n) flushed with warmth, embarrassed by his boldness. But she continued anyway, determined to fulfill her promise to Bucky. 

The night before, she and Bucky were on their way home from the movies. It was a beautiful night out and in their comfortable silence, they found themselves on a slight detour through the woods. At some point, Bucky had pulled over off the side of the road and onto a look out.

Bucky, ever the silent communicator, simply stared at (Y/s) confused face with the softest smile on his own, before stepping out of the car. While (Y/n) scrambled to open her door, Bucky walked the couple of feet towards a barrier fence overlooking the river beneath him. His eyes followed the shine of the water as it drowned the boulders lining the river bed. He thought for a second how exciting the challenge of rock hopping sounded, never really having gotten the chance to as a child.

The call of an owl pulled his attention to the tree line which he observed with such intensity that (Y/n) nudging his arm made him tense. She flashed him a smile to calm the surprise on his face and in an instant, his arm was around her, pulling her close. They both looked out at the shadowed woods and (Y/n) was even sure to point out the moon and stars themselves. 

In the silent moments that passed, they both had turned to embrace each other wholly. They stayed like that for a moment and then Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back to look at his warm, loving face, she found acute concern instead. He was glancing just past her head, off into the bush leading down to the river bank. 

"What's the mat-" she asked quietly, shrinking away. 

Bucky pressed his fingers to his lips and hushed her quickly and gently and then slowly gestured to his ear. Listen, he was telling her. 

She didn't hear anything at first. Nothing but the rush of the river below them and the gentle night breeze above them.

But then, just as she was about to ask again, she heard it. The faintest of mewling. Barely audible but definitely there. 

Bucky grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes once more before he squeezed them tightly and moved past her. He approached the thicket and hesitated for only a second before pressing forward. The branches hurt his skin but he'd suffered worse.

(Y/n) tentatively called his name to which he responded "I've almost got it." His voice sounded distant and strained and it worried (Y/n) that she could no longer see him through the darkness, being so close to the river and all. But as long as she could hear his grunts of discomfort from the branches whacking him in the face, she remained calm enough. 

Eventually, he emerged. Even in the dark, (Y/n) could see the pure white fluff sticking out between Bucky's fingers. As he approached, the fuzz ball revealed its face from its careful hiding spot in the crook of Bucky's arm and glanced around. Two dark eyes and the palest little nose swung in her direction, its whiskers twitching with cautious curiosity.

A kitten.

The poor thing was trembling but so was Bucky. Placing a hand on his forearm, she beckoned his attention and spoke low.

"What was it?"

To bide his time, he shifted the kit closer to his chest and took a deep breath. He didn't meet her eyes but he mumbled just loud enough to hear.

"A whole box of them but…." He didn't dare finish the sentence and instead held the kitten in front of his face, ignoring the unwarranted feeling of loss he felt for its siblings. Swallowing hard, he finally met the girls soft, understanding eyes and smiled sadly. 

Before she could say anything, the small creature let out another indignant mewl that seemed to reassure Bucky just a bit. With that, (Y/n) moved to his side and slung her arm around his waist.

"Alpine," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I think I'll call him Alpine." Bucky said fondly. His eyes never left the baby and the girl knew he was in deep.

"Oooh, I know that look." She tittered. Bucky only stared, his eyebrow creased, questioning. "That's the way you look at someone you love. That's the way you look at me." She said with a blush, nudging him lightly.

His face melted into that soft loving one she cared for so dearly. The kitten settled into the warmth that embraced him as the couple kissed.

"Let's get a move on. It's getting colder and colder by the second and I'm sure this little guy agrees." The kitten mewled one last time.

With a light chuckle, they spared one last glance over the look out before returning to the car where Alpine slept peacefully in Bucky’s lap the whole way home.

The two couldn't help but discuss what they were going to do with little Alpine. Bucky was set on keeping it and had even decided to clear his schedule the next day to make a vet visit. The only issue was their living space. They weren't too sure how Tony would react to them bringing a cat in off the street. But the girl could see how much the kitten meant to Bucky already so she promised to talk to Tony in the morning. 

Well, morning came and now here she was.

Tony crossed his arms impatiently. "Well?" He pressed, tilting his head up.

(Y/n) anxiously grasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward a bit. "What would you say to the idea of us getting a pet?" She stared openly at his face as he stared back at hers. The question bounced around in Tony's head, leaving his eyebrow slightly creased and the room painfully quiet. (Y/s)' nervously raised eyebrow gave him a clue into the situation.

"Right….and who exactly is this 'us' you're referring to? Cause something tells me I'm actually being iced out of this decision." Before she could even get a full breath in, he continued on. "All right, what are we working with, huh? A rabbit? A goldfish? If it's a parakeet, it won't even get past the front door, so help me god." 

The girl shook her head as she let out a laugh. She could tell he wasn't overly fond of the idea. It was clear by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But judging by the way his voice didn't fall completely flat, he wasn't opposed to it either….not entirely, anyway.

"No, no. Not quite. It's a cat. A kitten, actually, so there's still time to train it and all," She reassured him. "And Bucky should be getting home any minute from the vet with him if you'd like to say hello."

Tony caught himself before he let his expression drop at the name of the elusive ex soldier. He'd gotten better at watching himself since the two of them moved in. Bucky and (Y/n) weren't together when they did, but being only a few steps down the hallway certainly allowed them a closer relationship.

Tony nodded his head reluctantly and dropped his arms to his sides. 

He followed the girl down the various halls as she recounted how they found the poor kit, and found themselves approaching the common room. Or the family room, as (Y/n) preferred to call it, while simultaneously prattling on about how much time and energy the team wastes pretending to hate each other. Huh.

They could hear the tinkling of a bell being wacked around from down the hallway. As they entered the room, they stopped in the archway and took in the sight before them. 

Bucky sat crisscrossed with his back to them. In his hand was a feather wand, standing out bright purple, blue, and white against the dark brown floor. In front of him, white fluff darted back and forth. There was the smallest sound of tearing as its tiny claws ripped against the carpet, no doubt leaving it frayed.

Tony tried his very best to suppress his dissatisfied grumble...

They watched for a bit as Bucky went back and forth with the kitten. Tony didn't have to look hard at all to see how much the ex soldier cared for the tiny thing. No only because of his undivided attention towards the cat but also because of the many beige bags labeled "PetsPlus+"  full of toys, treats and towers scattered around the sofas. 

He thought it might be good for Bucky to have another companion around. Maybe it would help him relax. Maybe even lighten up a bit.

Tony stepped forward.

"So, uh, I'm not a big fan of funky smells so that's got to be top priority as far as pest control goes with this thing, alright?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and Alpine followed suit, hackles raised. Bucky quickly scooped him up and held him close. "Of course." (Y/n) made her way over to them. "Our rooms are big enough to keep him there most of the time and we have already worked out all the responsibilities between us. We've got it covered."

Tony stepped back a bit looking them up and down, humming. "I expect weekly visits in the family room," he said pointedly, then waved his hand. "Keep it tidy, folks." And with that he left the couple to their new fascination.

Tony lingered at the doorway on the way out. While the couple was distracted, he found himself watching that wretched arm. The dark, intimidating metal turned soft and gentle as it reached out fearlessly to antagonize the tiniest, weakest thing in the room. No hesitation, no fear. Not in Bucky or the kitten. Tony knew then that it stayed, no question.

The man needed his cat. And damn it, he'll get it.

[dreamerstreamer]

Telltale Talent

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] When Dream tries to teach you how to spar, he learns that you’re more than what meets the eye.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: this was requested by an anon who wanted a fun sparring practice with a surprise! here’s to the first fic of 2021, and i hope you enjoy <3

Clay stared down at the map on his desk, his fingers curling tighter around the quill in his hands. A mess of scribbles and circles gazed back up at him as he made another mark. He bit back the sigh that threatened to escape his throat, his brow twitching.

You were doing it, again.

He could feel your eyes on him from the other side of the room, practically boring a hole through his skull. He clenched his jaw, chewing on his lip as he tried to focus his attention on the map lying before him. If you were going to do what he thought you were going t—

At that exact moment, you opened your mouth, but he spoke before you could.

“No.”

Almost immediately, a whine flew from your lips, and you thrashed your legs in annoyance. “What?! Why not?” You frowned, determination etched into your features. “It’ll be a good experience!”

This time, he actually did sigh, lifting his head to look at you dead on, balancing his quill between his fingers. “For one, it’s not like you’re not going to go into battle, anyway.”

Your frown deepened, a line forming between your brows as you shot him a longing look. “That doesn’t mean you still can’t teach me how to spar.”

He pursed his lips, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. “There’s no need to.”

For a few seconds, you simply stared at one another, your eyes swimming with resolve as he grimaced. Then your face lit up, and you shot your arm into the air, making him jump. 

“Self-defence!” you shouted, your entire body practically glowing with hope. “If you teach me how to spar, then I could use it for self-defence purposes.” Before he could open his mouth to retort, you cut him off with a cold look. “Clay, you can’t tell me that there’s no chance that I won’t ever have to defend myself—you just can’t.”

Clay blinked at you, glowering. You weren’t wrong, per se. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but there was still a very real possibility that at any point, you could be in danger, regardless of whether or not you were on the battlefield. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you were capable of keeping yourself safe, but teaching you how to fight would mean having to admit that there may come a time where he couldn’t be there for you.

The mere thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He stared at you for a long moment, taking in the sight of your pleading face and clenched hands, your eyes desperately searching his. Then, he sighed once more, setting his quill down in its holder. “Fine.”

You let out a delighted squeal, springing to your feet before bounding over to his desk. Bending over, you pressed a quick peck to his cheek. His heart skipped a loving beat in his chest, and his cheeks flushed pink.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Clay!” you cried, flashing him a bright grin as you pulled back. Your eyes curved into crescent moons as you giggled with glee. “You won’t regret this, I promise!”

He rested his head on his hand as he watched you cheer to yourself, pumping your air in a successful dance. A small smile flitted across his face, his emerald eyes crinkling at the corners as his map lay forgotten on the desk.

Oh, who was he kidding? You were far too cute to say no to, even if he wanted to.

“So, what’s first?”

He hummed, tucking a hand under his chin. Above you, the midday sun beat down on you both, the clouds watching with eager eyes as Clay paced around the clearing.

He was lucky to have found a spot within the forest that was both open and had plenty of soft grass. This way, you’d have a proper spot to practice while also having some semblance of cushioning beneath you in case you fell. As much as he wanted to simulate a real fight scenario for you, he didn’t want you to actually get injured. He could hardly manage to keep his cool when you got a simple scrape on your finger—there was no way he’d remain calm if you got hurt in a fight, practice or not.

His steps suddenly came to a halt, and he turned on his heel to look at you with a thoughtful glance. “Before we even properly start practicing,” he began, raising two fingers, “there are two things you should know and remember.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you let out a small whine, your shoulders sinking at your side. “Aw, is this a lecture?” You frowned. “I just want to skip to the fun part, already.”

Clay rolled his eyes as shook his head, but you didn’t miss the tiny smile on his lips as he wagged his fingers at you. “Ah, ah, ah. I’m the teacher here, so you better pay attention.”

You shot him a sour look, then quietly grumbled, “Well, you’re not a very fun teacher.”

He scowled at that, placing a hand on his hip. “We’re getting there!” His gaze softened, and his tone grew gentle as he offered, “Let’s just do this first, okay? I promise I’ll keep it short, and you will get to try a real spar, today.”

Your frown was slowly replaced by a smile, and you sent him a keen look, shifting forward onto your toes. “Okay.”

He grinned, taking a few steps back from you until he was standing on the opposite side of the clearing. “Good. First,” he said, pointing his two fingers at his eyes then to yours, “never take your eyes off your enemy.” He cocked his head as he lowered his arm. “It may seem obvious to you, but you’d be surprised by how often people forget in the heat of the moment.”

Your gaze was serious when you nodded, and he was almost taken aback by how quickly your demeanour had changed. “I can do that.”

He blinked for a second, then sent you another encouraging smile. “Perfect. Second,” he carried on, pointing downward, “remember that your feet exist.”

“Okay—wait.” You froze, your eyebrows furrowing together as confusion flickered across your face. “What?”

He chuckled at your confused expression, dropping his arm. “I know it sounds dumb, but it’s true! You see,” he explained, tapping a finger against his temple, “the human brain is kind of dumb, and a lot of the time when it comes to fights, a person’s first instinct is to focus on their enemy’s hands and immobilize them.” He raised his hand toward you, curling it into a tight fist. “After all, they are pretty effective weapons. But your feet can be just as, if not more, powerful.” His gaze darted back to yours. “Do you follow?”

Slowly, you nodded, your eyes staring directly at his knuckles. “In the same way,” he continued, “it’s also good to remember that your elbows and knees are two of the strongest parts of your body.” He raised one hand, the other reaching over to tap his elbow. “Don’t be afraid to use them, because they can be especially useful.”

Your lips parted as you bobbed your head. He could practically see the gears churning in your head, and he almost wanted to coo at how focused you looked. “Feet, elbows, knees,” your murmured quietly to yourself, huffing. “Got it.”

He dropped his arm, his lips quirking. “Awesome.” He turned slightly to the side, shifting his weight onto his back foot. “Now that the so-called boring part is done, do you just want to give it a first go and try a practice fight? First person to knock the other person over wins.”

Your eyes lit up, and for a split second, Clay could have sworn he saw something dark flicker through your gaze. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, and he was soon blinded by your dazzling grin. “Sure!”

His expression mirrored yours as he brought his arms up in front of him, his hands forming fists. In front of him, your eyes quickly scanned him up and down, and you slowly moved to copy his stance. He felt a tinge of satisfaction shoot through him. You were a fast learner.

“I’m ready when you are,” he called, cracking his neck with a grunt.

Your eyes narrowed, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, and for a moment, all was still.

Then, in a flash, you were charging toward him, stopping only just in front of him to throw your fist at his skull. He smiled at your earnest effort, quickly twisting to the side. You nearly toppled forward when your fist met empty air, and he reveled in your widening eyes. A split second later, you leapt back, swinging your left leg up and into his side. But just before your shin made impact with his hoodie, he lifted his arm, his hand quickly latching onto your ankle and holding it in place.

“Ooh, nice try, sweetheart,” he hummed, shooting you a crooked grin. He drank in the shocked look on your face as his expression grew a fraction darker and his grip on your ankle tightened.

“But not nice enough.”

He swiftly threw down your foot, watching as you stumbled back at the force. You didn’t get the chance to regain your balance before he was suddenly looming beside you, his fist flying toward your nose. With a yelp, you ducked, your arm shooting above your head to grab his arm in midair. He blinked as your fingers dug into his sweater, curling tightly into the fabric. Then, a devious grin crept onto his face.

As much as you may try, he had the upper hand when it came to brute strength.

But to his shock, he felt something sharp and hard slam into his gut, knocking the air straight out of his lungs. He quickly back-pedaled, but your hold on his sleeve didn’t let up. He only barely caught a glimpse of your kneecap before you stepped behind him, twisting his arm around and pinning it to his back. Just then, he felt something brush against his ankle.

No way.

In the blink of an eye, his legs were flying out beneath him, and he was flipping into the air. With a thud, he slammed into the ground, a dull ache shooting through his back as the grass cushioned his fall. Before he could even react, you quickly placed your foot on his chest, keeping him thoroughly pinned down.

His eyes were the size of saucers as he took in your half-shaking figure, your eyes trained on his fallen form. You panted above him, your fists slowly uncurling. “Was—was that good?”

Clay gaped at you, his head spinning with what you’d just done. You had just knocked him, a trained soldier and practiced assassin, flat on his back with practically no instructions whatsoever. He had only given you two—well, two and a half—simple tips before putting you on the spot, and you still managed to take him down.

There was no sugarcoating it—you were a prodigy. 

If he wasn’t in love with you before, then he definitely was, now.

Pride swelled in his chest as he closed his mouth, swallowing. He stared at you for a moment longer before shaking his head free from his reverie. He couldn’t wait to teach you more.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, his lips stretching into an awed grin, “you’re amazing.”

You blinked, pointing to yourself in surprise. “I-I am?”

He nodded without even an ounce hesitation, his grin growing even wider. “Very.” With a small grunt, he pushed himself back onto his feet, dusting off his behind before turning back to you. “Now,” he said, “do it again.” His eyes glinted with something akin to mischief. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

You tilted your head at him as a devilish smile of your own tugged at your lips. “In that case, neither will I.”

He raised a brow at you, but he couldn’t stop the affection bubbling up in between his lungs. He felt his heart beat faster as you settled into a fighting stance, your arms raised in front of you. “That’s the spirit.”

Your eyes locked onto each other, and for a moment, all was still.

Then, you came barreling towards him, your eyes glimmering in the sunlight. His lips curled into a smirk as he raised his foot.

Perhaps teaching you to fight wasn’t too bad of an idea, after all.